"Not for one man shall the whole people perish, one man and a maid. I, for one, will strike a blow for the priest and the god!"
Up flashed his spear and drove straight at the breast of Minos. Before ever the king could spring aside or guard, it struck him on the breast, struck hard and clanged and fell on the marble floor.
Minos threw his cloak from him and leaped forward, the torchlights glittering strangely on the suit of armor which he wore. He wrenched from its sheath the good broad sword he had forged, and struck. The keen blade hit the smith on the point of his shoulder and hewed through to his ribs, so terrible was the stroke. With a scream Istos fell and died.
Made mad by fear and superstition, the men in the hall pressed forward. Up the steps they sprang to avenge the smith and seize the king. Minos met them with sword aloft and a fierce smile on his face.
"Never thought Minos to slay his own people," he cried bitterly, "but here be blows for the taking!"
The unarmed nobles fled from the dais. Only Garlanes and the lad Patrymion tarried, seeking weapons. From the rear of the throne poured a score of Minos's hunters.
"For the king!" they shouted, and ranged themselves at his back.
Just as the battle hung in the balance a lad leaped through the door by which the priest had departed. He sprang to the side of the king.
"From Zalos I come," he gasped. "He bade me to tell thee that Karnaon taketh his daughter, the Lady Memene, to the Gateway!"
Three Sardanians lay dying on the steps to the dais. Those behind shrank back from the whirling ilium blade.