The Wanderer's Necklace by H Rider Haggard

Author:H Rider Haggard [Haggard, H Rider]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Classics, Adventure, Historical
ISBN: 9780554375236
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 552002
Publisher: BiblioLife
Published: 1914-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER VII

VICTORY OR VALHALLA!

A minute later I heard a rustle as of branches being moved by people thrusting their way through them. A choked voice commanded,

“Take him living or dead.”

Armed men appeared about us, four of them, and one cried “Yield!”

I sprang up and drew the Wanderer’s sword.

“Who orders the General Michael to yield in his own command?” I asked.

“I do,” answered the man. “Yield or die!”

Now, thinking that these were robbers or murderers hired by some enemy, I sprang at him, nor was that battle long, for at my first stroke he fell dead. Then the other three set on me. But I wore mail beneath my doublet, as Irene had bade me do, and their swords glanced. Moreover, the old northern rage entered into me, and these easterners were no match for my skill and strength. First one and then another of them went down, whereon the third fled away, taking with him a grizzly wound behind, for I struck him as he fled.

“Now it seems there is an end of that,” I gasped to Heliodore, who was crouched upon the seat. “Come, let me take you to your father and summon my guards, ere we meet more of these murderers.”

As I spoke a cloaked and hooded woman glided from the shelter of the trees behind and stood before us. She threw back the hood from her head and the moonlight fell upon her face. It was that of the Empress, but oh! so changed by jealous rage that I should scarce have known her. The large eyes seemed to flash fire, the cheeks were white, save where they had been touched with paint, the lips trembled. Twice she tried to speak and failed, but at the third effort words came.

“Nay, all is but begun,” she said in a voice that was full of hate. “Know that I have heard your every word. So, traitor, you would tell my secrets to this Egyptian slut and then murder my own servants,” and she pointed to the dead and wounded men. “Well, you shall pay for it, both of you, that I swear.”

“Is it murder, Augusta,” I asked, saluting, “when four assail one man, and, thinking them assassins, he fights for his life and wins the fray?”

“What are four such curs against you? I should have brought a dozen. Yet it was at me you struck. Whate’er they did I ordered them to do.”

“Had I known it, Augusta, I would never have drawn sword, who am your officer and obedient to the end.”

“Nay, you’d stab me with your tongue, not with your sword,” she answered with something like a sob. “You say you are my obedient officer. Well, now we will see. Smite me that bold-faced baggage dead, or smite me dead, I care not which, then fall upon your sword.”

“The first I cannot do, Augusta, for it would be murder against one who has done no wrong, and I will not stain my soul with murder.”

“Done no wrong! Has

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