h of laurels for his head the
crowns of fallen Kings.

Such was Merimna, a city of sculptured Victories and warriors of
bronze. Yet in the time of which I write the art of war had been
forgotten in Merimna, and the people almost slept. To and fro and
up and down they would walk through the marble streets, gazing at
memorials of the things achieved by their country's swords in the
hands of those that long ago had loved Merimna well. Almost they
slept, and dreamed of Welleran, Soorenard, Mommolek, Rollory,
Akanax, and young Iraine. Of the lands beyond the mountains that
lay all round about them they knew nothing, save that they were the
theatre of the terrible deeds of Welleran, that he had done with his
sword. Long since these lands had fallen back into the possession
of the nations that had been scourged by Merimna's armies. Nothing
now remained to Merimna's men save their inviolate city and the
glory of the remembrance of their ancient fame. At night they would
place sentinels far out in the desert, but these always slept at
their posts dreaming of Rollory, and three times every night a guard
would march around the city clad in purple, bearing lights and
singing songs of Welleran. Always the guard went unarmed, but as the
sound of their song went echoing across the plain towards the
looming mountains, the desert robbers would hear the name of
Welleran and steal away to their haunts. Often dawn would come
across the plain, shimmering marvellously upon Merimna's spires,
abashing all the stars, and find the guard still singing songs of
Welleran, and would change the colour of their purple robes and pale
the lights they bore. But the guard would go back leaving the
ramparts safe, and one by one the sentinels in the plain would awake
from dreaming of Rollory and shuffle back into the city quite cold.
Then something of the menace would pass away from the faces of the
Cyresian mountains, that from the north and the west and the south
lowered upon Merimna, and clear in the morning the statues and the
pillars would arise in the old inviolate city. You would wonder that
an unarmed guard and sentinels that slept could defend a city that
was stored with all the glories of art, that was rich in gold and
bronze, a haughty city that had erst oppressed its neighbours, whose
people had forgotten the art of war. Now this is the reason that,
though all her other lands had long been taken from her, Merimna's
city was safe.