"Fight!" I said.
"Why should I fight?" he asked. "She is already, for most practical purposes, mine."
"Fight!" I said.
"For what purpose?" he asked. "What would I have to gain by fighting?"
"Coward!" I said.
"You do not know that," he said, "and, even if it were true, you could not know it."
"Coward!" I said again, angrily.
"I think I am brave enough, as men go," he said. "On the other hand, it is not my idea of bravery to leap off precipices or fling oneself into the jaws of larls."
"You acknowledge your cowardice?" I said.
"Your insults," he remarked, "are more germane to my intelligence than courage, that you should think to so simplemindedly manipulate me."
"Fight!" I said.
"I gather that you have already put an end to some of my men," he said, "and among them two or three who were presumably my superior in swordsmanship."
"If you do not fight," I said, "you will lose face before your men."
"I am not their captain," he said. "I am their employer."
"What is that which depresses no scale," I asked, "but is weightier than gold?"
"I do not care for riddles," he said.
"What of honor?" I asked.
"An inconvenience," he said, "an impediment on the path to power."
"You seem to me," I said, uncertainly, "one who might once have had honor."
"I have outgrown it," he said.
"The most dangerous lies," I said, "are those which we tell ourselves."
"Once, I had honor," said he, "long ago, in a place faraway, but I sacrificed it for a woman, who then mocked it, and trod it underfoot."
"What became of her?" I asked.
"When last I saw her," he said, "she was naked and in chains, gripping a stirring paddle, slaving over a great tub of boiling water in a public laundry."
"How came she there?" I asked.
"I put her there," he said.
"Recollect your honor," I said.
"Tomorrow will be soon enough to do that," he said.
There was laughter from the men ringing me.
"Send these against me then," I said, indicating the ring with my sword, "one by one!"
The fellows looked uneasily at one another.
"Bowmen," said he, "lift your weapons."
There were now two or three hundred men about. Many more had come in through the gate. The concourse was crowded, save for the open space in which I stood, Ina crouched behind me.
"I wish you well, Ina," I said.
"I wish you well, Master," she whispered.
"Take aim," said Octantius.
I was curious to know what it would be like to see the quarrels in flight toward my body. I wondered if I would be able to follow them in flight.
"Fire!" said Octantius.
I do not know if I closed my eyes inadvertently, or not. Ina had her head down.
I had a sudden, odd feeling, as if I might be denying that I was struck.
But then I saw the bowmen, ten or more of them, almost as though in a dream, turning and sprawling, sinking, stumbling, falling into the dust. I was vaguely aware of quarrels slashing into the dirt, streaking like plows in the dirt, throwing up a spume of dust like water, others darting wildly upward, some lost overhead, passing somewhere, some skittering about, turning head over heels, then some bounding twenty or more feet in the air, turning, disappearing, and I wondered if this was how one in our situation might refuse to accept reality, but then I saw more than one of the bowmen lying in the dirt, quarrels protruding from their own backs, others with blood about their necks, where their throat had been cut. Ina was looking up, in consternation. I could not find metal in my own body. Then I realized it was not there. I could smell the smells of the camp. I could see the turbulence in the crowd, the movements of robes. Octantius had his hands raised. His men were being disarmed.
"We are alive," I told Ina. "I am sure of it. We are alive!" But she had fallen into the dirt. I turned her over. She had not been hit. She had fainted.
"You have led us a merry chase," cried Marcus, angrily, looking over his shoulder. "Why did you not stay in the camp? How were we supposed to know where to find you?" He was tearing open the tunic of Octantius, and then he jerked the gold, on its strings, from Octantius' neck. "Here!" said Marcus, throwing the gold to a large fellow, his face muchly concealed in a wide-scarf, with him. "Here is your gold!"
"Marcus!" I cried.
"You should have stayed in the camp!" said Marcus, angrily.
"What have you done?" I asked.
"I hired mercenaries," said he. "I went to the Jeweled Whip last night and made the arrangements. Things would have gone quite smoothly if you had stayed where you were supposed to be."
"You had no gold to hire mercenaries," I said.
"This fellow did," said Marcus, jerking a thumb back at Octantius who was still standing there, his hands over his head. "So I used his gold."
"My friend," I said.
"We might never have found you," said he, "had we not heard rumors of a berserk lunatic running about the slave camp killing innocent folk. Naturally I assumed it must be you."
"Of course," I said.
"So we hurried over here."
"How many are there?" I asked.
"A hundred, or better," said Marcus. "And I assure you these sleen do not come cheap."
I observed Octantius and his men being tied. Also I noted that their purses were being emptied.
"We will take these fellows a few pasangs from Brundisium," said the leader of the mercenaries, "strip them and set them loose."
"My thanks," said I, and my thanks were heartfelt.
"Do not thank them," said Marcus. "They are sleen for hire. It is all in the contract."
"Do you know with whom you are dealing?" I asked Marcus.
"He is dealing with Edgar, of Tarnwald," said the leader of the mercenaries.
"Of course," I said.
"The mercenary sleen does not come cheap," said Marcus. He had a regular's disdain for his mercenary counterpart. He had not yet learned to distinguish between mercenary and mercenary. That has been the downfall of several commanders of regular troops.
"Why did you not let me know you were here?" I asked.
"We weren't here," said Marcus. "We just arrived."
I swallowed, hard.
"You should have stayed in our camp," said Marcus.
"Apparently," I said.
I went to Octantius who now had his hands tied behind his back. A rope was on his neck. He and his men were to be placed in throat coffle.
"I take it," said Octantius, "that we are now to be taken out and killed."
"You are a brave man," I said.
"It is easy to be brave when one has no hope," he said.
"I am sorry I spoke to you as I did earlier."
"Your ruse was transparent," he said. "I took no offense."
"You are not to be killed," I said. "You are to be taken away from here, and released."
He looked at me, startled.
"Tomorrow," I said, "recollect honor."
He looked at me, and then he was thrust several yards toward the gate, to be held there as more of his men were being added to the coffle.
The leader of the mercenaries hefted the bag of gold in his hand. He looked at Marcus. "You did not tell us that you did not have the gold when you hired us," he said.
"I had prospects of obtaining it," said Marcus.
"What if it had not been here?" asked the mercenary.
"Then," said Marcus, "I would have sold my life dearly."
"I see," said the mercenary.
I was pleased to see that Marcus had formulated a plan for that contingency.
"Well," said Marcus to the mercenary, "you have your gold. You may now be on your way."
"Marcus," I whispered, "please."
The mercenary then went to where Ina lay in the dirt, in the center of what had been the circle. She was still unconscious. "So this is the little traitress and slave," he said. He turned her to her belly with his foot. "Not bad," he said. He then, again with his foot, turned her to her back. "Good slave curves," he said.