present, and
an honored member of this order. For his death you, and you alone,
are responsible, and, we suspect, under circumstances of no credit
to your sword. Many of our people have been cut off from their
comrades and slain by cowardly stealth, have been led into ambush
and cruelly cut to pieces by an overwhelming number, have been shut
in prison and done to death by starvation or by stabs of a knife
there in your country. Not content with the weapons of a soldier,
you have even resorted to the barbarity of the poison-wasp. Pardon
me, but you Yankees do not seem to have any mercy or fairness for a
foe. We shall give you better treatment. You shall not be killed
like a rat in a trap. You shall have a chance for your life. Had
you halted, had you been a coward, you would not have been worthy
to fight in this arena. You would not have come where you are
standing, and possibly even now your grave would have been filled.
If you survive the ordeal that is to come, I hope it will prove an
example to you of the honor that is due to bravery, of the fairness
due a foe."
Many voices spoke the word "Amen" as he stopped, turning to beckon
into the gloom about us. I was now quite over my confusion. I
began to look about me and get my bearings. I could hear a stir in
the crowd beyond the lights, and a murmur of voices. Reflecting
lanterns from many pillars near by shot their rays upon me. I
stood on a platform, some thirty feet square, in the middle of a
large room. Its floor was on a level with the faces of the many
who stood pressing to the row of lights, Here, I took it, I was to
fight for my life, I was looking at the yawning grave in the corner
of this arena, when four men ascended with swords and pistols. One
of them removed the shackles, letting my hands free. I thanked him
as he tossed them aside. I was thinking of D'ri, and, shading my
eyes, looked off in the gloom to see if I could discover him. I
called his name, but heard no answer. His Lordship came over to
me, bringing a new sword. He held the glittering blade before me,
its hilt in his right hand, its point resting on the fingers of his
left. "It's good," said he, quietly; "try it."
It was a beautiful weapon, its guard and pommel and quillons
sparkling with wrought-silver, its grip of yellow leather laced
with blue silk. The glow and the feel of it filled me with a joy I
had not known since my father gave me the sword of my childhood.
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