For a moment the swarthy mob hung back, as well they might in face of that glittering sword.

Then with a cry of "Salah-ed-din! Salah-ed-din!" on they surged, with flashing spears and scimitars.

The overthrown table was in front of them, and one leapt upon its edge, but as he leapt, the old knight, all his years and sickness forgotten now, sprang forward and struck downwards, so heavy a blow that in the darkling mouth of the passage the sparks streamed out, and where the Saracen's head had been, appeared his heels.

Back Sir Andrew stepped again to win space for his sword-play, while round the ends of the table broke two fierce-faced men.

At one of them Rosamund shot with her bow, and the arrow pierced his thigh, but as he fell he struck with his keen scimitar and shore the end off the bow, so that it was useless.