CHAPTER XXI
HOW HUGH'S QUEST WAS ENDED
The black mutes who had answered Helena's call stood back when their captive was trussed helpless. With arms folded across their chests, they waited like bronze statues in the flickering light of the resin torches set in brackets on the walls. There were six of them, Ethiopian slaves of the palace, who were employed on matters where their dumb loyalty could be turned to account, imperturbably cruel and merciless.
Hugh drew himself erect. He was disappointed, not fearful. He had come expecting to meet Edith, and instead he had met treachery and hatred.
"You serve me most unkindly, lady," he said with simple dignity.
Helena laughed harshly.
"I serve you unkindly? Man, I tell you you know not what awaits you. What I have done will mean nothing. 'Tis but the beginning."
"You have betrayed a friend," replied Hugh steadily. "Certes, that is naught to boast of."
Again she laughed, shrilly, almost hysterically.
"Oh, you fool! What do your Western notions of chivalry mean to me? I am a Greek! I am a woman! When they decided to trap you, I bade them let me try other means first. I thought to save you—ay, to put you in the way of power and might above all other men. And you—you—poor blind worm that you are!—you scorn me—scorn Helena Comnena!"
"It is in my mind that did I accept your means of saving me, I would lose my honour thereby," answered Hugh. "But 'tis a matter we need not argue. If you will but give thought to what you have done, lady, I trow you will see that you may gain naught by imprisoning me or slaying me. My comrades without will ask swift accounting and exact a vengeance upon the Emperor and the city."