to pronounce any sentence against the Augusta Irene, and
whatever may have been my private wrongs, I pronounce none. Yet, as I
am still your general until another is named, I order you to free the
Augusta Irene and to work no vengeance on her person for aught that may
have befallen me at her hands, were her deeds just or unjust."

When I had finished speaking, in the silence that followed I heard Irene
utter something that was half a sob and half a gasp of wonderment. Then
above the murmuring of the Northmen, to whom this rede was strange, rose
the great voice of Jodd.

"General Olaf," he said, "while you were talking it came into my mind
that one of those knife points which pierced your eyes had pricked the
brain behind them. But when you had finished talking it came into my
mind that you are a great man who, putting aside your private rights and
wrongs and the glory of revenge which lay to your hand, have taught
us soldiers a lesson in duty which I, at least, never shall forget.
General, if, as I trust, we are together in the future as in the past, I
shall ask you to instruct me in this Christian faith of yours, which can
make a man not only forgive but hide his forgiveness under the mask of
duty, for that, as we know well, is what you have done. General, your
order shall be obeyed. Be she Empress or nothing, this lady's person is
safe from us. More, we will protect her to the best of our power, as you
did in the Battle of the Garden. Yet I tell her to her face that had
it not been for those orders, had you, for example, said that you left
judgment to us, she who has spoilt such a man should have died a death
of shame."

I heard a sound as of a woman throwing herself upon her knees before me.
I heard Irene's voice whisper through her tears,

"Olaf, Olaf, for the second time in my life you make me feel ashamed.
Oh! if only you could have loved me! Then I should have grown good like
you."

There was a stir of feet and another voice spoke, a voice that should
have been clear and youthful, but sounded as though it were thick with
wine. It did not need Martina's whisper to tell me that it was that of
Constantine.

"Greeting, friends," he said, and at once there came a rattle of
saluting swords and an answering cry of

"Greeting, Augustus!"

"You struck before the time," went on the thick, boyish voice. "Yet
as things seem to have gone rather well for us, I cannot blame
you, especially as I see that you hold fast