“Nay, best let him go.  If he is touched, our hostages will die.  Moreover, doubtless Constantine and the Armenians are at the back of him, or he would not dare to speak thus.  Would that we were clear of this business which has been thrust upon us.”

Then he called aloud, “Let the prisoner be removed.”

Down the long Court I was marched, only now guards, who had been called in, went in front of and behind me, and with them the four executioners by whom I was surrounded.

“Farewell, god-mother,” I whispered to Martina as I passed.

“Nay, not farewell,” she whispered back, looking up at me with eyes that were full of tears, though what she meant I did not know.

At the end of the Court, where those who dared to sympathise with me openly were gathered, rough voices called blessings on me and rough hands patted me on the shoulder.  To one of these men whose voice I recognised in the gloom I turned to speak a word.  Thereon the black executioner who was between us, he whom I had dismissed from the jail for cruelty, struck me on the mouth with the back of his hand.  Next instant I heard a sound that reminded me of the growl the white bear gave when it gripped Steinar.  Two arms shot out and caught that black savage by the head.  There was a noise as of something breaking, and down went the man—­a corpse.

Then they hurried me away, for now it was not only the judges who were afraid.

It comes to me that for some days, three or four, I sat in my cell at the palace, for here I was kept because, as I learned afterwards, it was feared that if I were removed to that State prison of which I had been governor, some attempt would be made to rescue me.

This cell was one of several situated beneath that broad terrace which looked out on to the sea, where Irene had first questioned me as to the shell necklace and, against my prayer, had set it upon her own breast.  It had a little barred window, out of which I could watch the sea, and through this window came the sound of sentries tramping overhead and of the voice of the officer who, at stated hours, arrived to turn out the guard, as for some years it had been my duty to do.

I wondered who that officer might be, and wondered also how many of such men since Byzantium became the capital of the Empire had filled his office and mine, and what had become of them all.  As I knew, if that terrace had been able to speak, it could have told many bloody histories, whereof doubtless mine would be another.  Doubtless, too, there were more to follow until the end came, whatever that might be.

In that strait place I reflected on many things.  All my youth came back to me.  I marvelled what had happened at Aar since I left it such long years ago.  Once or twice rumours had reached me from men in my company, who were Danish-born, that Iduna was a great lady there and still unmarried.  But of Freydisa I had heard nothing.  Probably she was dead, and, if so, I felt sure that her fierce and faithful spirit must be near me now, as that of Ragnar had seemed to be in the Battle of the Garden.