she mounted the platform and stood, with the piled faggots
at her feet, clasping a crucifix to her breast. Father Hieronymus stood
with the assistant executioners at the foot of the platform. Once again
the archbishop rose, and his words seemed the only stir in the intense
silence.

"Let them begin, and God defend the right."

Again the trumpets thundered, and as the sound died away champion and
challenger engaged in combat. The great swords gleamed in the bright
air, fell heavily on the lifted shields. All the spectators held their
breath. No one expected the fight to last long; and indeed it did not
last long. Everybody was confident that the challenger would easily
overcome the aged champion, but everybody's confidence was ill-founded.
After a few blows hotly exchanged the sword of Theron struck the helm of
his enemy, and to the amazement of the spectators the King's challenger
reeled and fell heavily, clattering to the ground. In a moment Theron
was over him with the great sword at the fallen man's throat.

"Yield or die!" he cried, in a voice in which exultation and
astonishment struggled for the mastery.

The fallen man propped himself on one arm.

"I am defeated," he gasped. "The maid is innocent."

XIX

ROBERT THE RIGHTEOUS

"Glory to God!" cried Theron, and flung away his sword. He turned and
ran towards the stake, from which Perpetua was at once unfastened, and
caught her in his arms. Hieronymus hurried to the side of the fallen
man, whose head was now raised on the knee of one soldier, while another
unfastened his helmet. All the great multitude in the arena leaned
forward eagerly to see the face of Hildebrand. Only the figure like the
King remained unmoved and impassive. But when the challenger's helmet
was removed, the spectators saw with astonishment the twisted features
of a face that they knew for the face of the fool Diogenes.

A strange murmur of surprise rippled along the tiers. Sigurd Olafson
called out the name in wonder to the archbishop.

"The fool Diogenes!"

Theron, leaving Perpetua, leaned over his antagonist and muttered, "The
fool Diogenes!"

All over the great amphitheatre the words ran, "The fool Diogenes!"

The archbishop turned to the kingly image:

"It was an ill chance, sire, that found you a fool for a champion, but
there's no help now. By the laws of Sicily the field is fought and won."

Robert, lying conquered on the ground, gasped out one word:

"Perpetua