The man had said that, were he too late, he would die upon the road. Well, that might be prevented. Besides, men do not die so easily, and time will heal all heart-wounds. But will it? And were that other woman dead, could Glorian win him to herself—this man whose will was as strong as her own?
He was through the wall now and on the road to Adlaz. Oleric had sent messengers to tell her that. And they had told her, too, of that brave friend of his, who had nearly given his life while opening the way. Many had died—her own countrymen—and many more would die—and why? Because of an ambition which she herself had nurtured and kept bright—now hollow and of no appeal. What should Glorian care who held dominion over Adlaz or over Ruthar—she, who desired only peace and to rule in the heart of a man?
All of a long afternoon she sat there, and a statue were not more still. For the better part of the night the struggle raged on above her pillow, and left it drenched with tears. Then evil fled the field, and she who had mastered her spirit slept dreamlessly until the morrow.
In the morning she sent away her tire-women, and ordered that a horse be equipped for a warrior and left at the temple doors.
When that steed went down the hill there was no one in all Ruthar who would have known that the Goddess Glorian was the rider. For she was arrayed in the glittering armor, silver-wrought above its steel, of a Rutharian zind. She wore a closed and vizored helm. A sword swung at her back, and there were both ax and spear at her saddle-bow.
"I will go down with him into the battle," she whispered, "and let things fall out as they may. Some day, somewhere, my time will come. My soul has promised it."
She crossed the Illia and rode northward through the forests.
After the fall of Atlo the fighting went on at the wall for the rest of that day, the Rutharians storming tower after tower, until they held every turret from sea to sea. Through the afternoon and the night and the next day Oleric pushed on with his road, working his men in relays, and snatching for himself only brief spells of sleep. Through the night in which the king of Ruthar stormed and took Barme, the sappers and miners labored on at the breach.
Morning saw the task completed.