fashion to pit him in a bout against one of our own folk, so that if he
leaves us alive he may speak well of his entertainment."

"I am willing," said Aimery. "I have but my sword for weapon."

"We have no lack of swordsmen," said the Ilkhan. "I would fain see the
Frankish way of it."

A man stepped out from the ring, a great square fellow shorter by a head
than Aimery, and with a nose that showed there was Saracen blood in him.
He had a heavy German blade, better suited for fighting on horseback
than on foot. He had no buckler, and no armour save a headpiece, so the
combatants were fairly matched.

It was a contest of speed and deftness against a giant's strength, for
a blow from the great weapon would have cut deep into a man's vitals.
Aimery was weary and unpractised, but the clash of steel gave life to
him. He found that he had a formidable foe, but one who lacked the finer
arts of the swordsman. The Tartar wasted his strength in the air against
the new French parries and guards, though he drew first blood and gashed
his opponent's left arm. Aimery's light blade dazzled his eyes, and
presently when breath had grown short claimed its due. A deft cut on the
shoulder paralysed the Tartar's sword arm, and a breaststroke brought
him to his knees.

"Finish him," said the Ilkhan.

"Nay, sire," said Aimery, "it is not our custom to slay a disabled foe."

Houlagou nodded to one of his guards, who advanced swinging his sword.
The defeated man seemed to know his fate, and stretched out his neck.
With a single blow his head rolled on the earth.

"You have some skill of the sword, Frenchman," said the Ilkhan. "Hear,
now, what I have decreed concerning you. I will have none of this
journey to my brother Kublai. I had purposed to slay you, for you have
defied my majesty. You sought to travel to Cathay instead of bearing my
commands forthwith to your little King. But I am loath to kill so stout
a warrior. Swear to me allegiance, and you shall ride with me against
the Caliphs."

"And if I refuse?" Aimery asked.

"Then you die ere sundown."

"I am an envoy, sire, from a brother majesty, and of such it is the
custom to respect the persons."

"Tush!" said the Ilkhan, "there is no brother majesty save Kublai.
Between us we rule the world."

"Hear me, then," said Aimery. The duel had swept all cobwebs from his
brain and doubts from his heart. "I am a knight of the Sire Christ and
of the most noble King Louis, and I can