ls, as to the
verdict that you should give."

The applause which my words called forth from those gathered at the end
of the Court died away. In the midst of a great silence the president,
who, like his companions, I could see well, was growing somewhat
fearful, read the sentence in a low voice from a parchment. After
setting out the order by which the Court was constituted and other
matters, it ran:

"We condemn you, Michael, otherwise called Olaf or Olaf Red-Sword, to
death. This sentence will be executed with or without torture at such
time and in such manner as it may please the Augusta to decree."

Now the voice of Jodd was heard crying through the gathering gloom, for
night was near:

"What sort of judgment is this that the judges bring already written
down into the Court? Hearken you, lawyer, and you street-curs, his
companions, who call yourselves soldiers. If Olaf Red-Sword dies, those
hostages whom we hold die also. If he is tortured, those hostages will
be tortured also. Moreover, ere long we will sack this fine place, and
what has befallen Olaf shall befall you also, you false judges, neither
less nor more. Remember it, all you who shall have charge of Olaf in his
bonds, and, if she be within hearing, let the Augusta Irene remember it
also, lest another time there should be no Olaf to save her life."

Now I could see that the judges were terrified. Hastily, with white
faces, they consulted together as to whether they should order Jodd to
be seized. Presently I heard the president say to his companions:

"Nay, best let him go. If he is touched, our hostages will die.
Moreover, doubtless Constantine and the Armenians are at the back of
him, or he would not dare to speak thus. Would that we were clear of
this business which has been thrust upon us."

Then he called aloud, "Let the prisoner be removed."

Down the long Court I was marched, only now guards, who had been called
in, went in front of and behind me, and with them the four executioners
by whom I was surrounded.

"Farewell, god-mother," I whispered to Martina as I passed.

"Nay, not farewell," she whispered back, looking up at me with eyes that
were full of tears, though what she meant I did not know.

At the end of the Court, where those who dared to sympathise with me
openly were gathered, rough voices called blessings on me and rough
hands patted me on the shoulder. To one of these men whose voice I
recognised in the gloom I turned to sp