"With drawn swords they made for me, but before I went down beneath
them they had tasted of the steel of my father's sword, and I had
given such an account of myself as I know would have pleased my
sire had he lived to witness it."
"Your father is dead?" I asked.
"He died before the shell broke to let me step out into a world
that has been very good to me. But for the sorrow that I had never
the honour to know my father, I have been very happy. My only
sorrow now is that my mother must mourn me as she has for ten long
years mourned my father."
"Who was your father?" I asked.
He was about to reply when the outer door of our prison opened and
a burly guard entered and ordered him to his own quarters for the
night, locking the door after him as he passed through into the
further chamber.
"It is Issus' wish that you two be confined in the same room," said
the guard when he had returned to our cell. "This cowardly slave
of a slave is to serve you well," he said to me, indicating Xodar
with a wave of his hand. "If he does not, you are to beat him
into submission. It is Issus' wish that you heap upon him every
indignity and degradation of which you can conceive."
With these words he left us.
Xodar still sat with his face buried in his hands. I walked to
his side and placed my hand upon his shoulder.
"Xodar," I said, "you have heard the commands of Issus, but you
need not fear that I shall attempt to put them into execution.
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