ASHES OF VENGEANCE
Dun was a hard little city, proud and harsh; but impregnable because it was built upon a high rock. The host of the Visigoths had besieged it for months in vain. Then came a fugitive from the city, at midnight, to the tent of Alaric, the Chief of the besiegers.
The man was haggard and torn. His eyes were wild, his hands trembling. The Chief held and steadied him with a look.
“Who are you?” he asked. “Your name, the purpose that brings you here?”
“My name,” said the man, “is the Avenger. For thirty years I have lived in Dun, and the people have been unjust and cruel to me. They persecuted my family, because they hated me. My wife died of a broken heart, my children of starvation. I have just escaped from the prison of Dun, and come to tell you how the city may be taken. There is a secret pathway, a hidden entrance. I know it and can reveal it to you.”
“Good,” said the Chief, measuring the man with tranquil eyes, “but what is your price?”
“Vengeance,” said the man, “I ask only the right to revenge my sufferings upon those who have inflicted them, when you have taken the city.”
Alaric bent his head and was silent for a moment. “It is a fair price,” he said, “and I will pay it. Tell me the way to take the city, and I will leave at your command a troop of soldiers sufficient to work your will on it afterward.”