e monastery.

HIS name was Igor. Some whispered he was the son of a great nobleman.

NONE knew for sure.

AT first his clean soul rebelled at the thought of war, his dark eyes
flashed.

THOU shalt not kill called from afar--but the cannons deafened him

* * * * *

THEY entered the courtyard--into the castle hall.

HAD its dwellers fled along the muddy roads and fields of Belgium

NO

SOME women still--

A YOUNG one, watching for escape

ANOTHER with graying hair and soft eyes. She had stayed. Her sins
perhaps would be forgiven on the Altar of Sacrifice. Burning anguish.

SHE had sinned against God.--Against her husband. Long ago.

REMORSE still clung in her heart.

IGOR drew back--but was pushed on by others, rude, boisterous, toward
the wine cellars.

THOU shalt not kill faintly--but a breaking bottle dimmed the sound.

THE wine heated, wakened dormant senses.

MORE wine

WITH shouts and cries the tottering men came from the cellar--Laughed at
the woman with graying hair

SHE was shielding a girl whose eyes resembled Igor's. The girl who had
watched to escape.

AND could not

THE uniform, the sabre--

GONE was the memory of a brown habit.

HE came nearer. Was it a woman--

HE clasped her. Her soft hair brushed his face.

OTHER soldiers came--dragged her from him. Fought over her like powerful
beasts, heeding not the mother--

IGOR--protect her

IN a drunken rage he caught the girl to the open window--

I'LL kill her he screamed. You--who seem to know my name.

THE crime was spared him.

HER lifeless body slipped from his arms.

IGOR, gasped the mother, You have killed--

I'LL kill you!--the wine had infuriated--he lifted his sabre--

STOP--you are my son

DAZED--he heard the words but understood not.

* * * * *

A NIGHT of drunkenness, of horror, had passed in the Belgian chateau.

THE captors had damaged--broken--destroyed.

THE sun was setting on a second day--when Igor awoke.

THE first time in his life he awakened from drink. He reached out
expecting to find the rough wall of the monastery

HE felt a dead body--the sharp edge of a sabre--

WHERE--

ORDERS had come

THE army

HAD there been battles--

--AND slowly memory returned--

STOP--you are my son.

WHO had said it--was it long ago--No. Only after the wine cellar--

HE sat up--on the floor--where drunkenness had overcome him.

THE h