Unhurt, the man was up in an instant, but his work was done. That bull would charge no more. He lay dead at the side of the roadway, his tongue thrust out, his eyes glazing, and his life-blood making a pool on the stones. The Maeronican spear was set fast in his heart.
Hardly was Polaris on his feet again when the armored horsemen rode down on him with lifted spears, cursing him in their own tongue. Oleric had conquered his horse, and he now interposed to prevent another struggle which would have been all too one-sided. For, weaponless as they were, the three other American men clambered down and ran to the aid of Polaris.
Minos, who had returned the child to her mother, who knelt half fainting in her gateway, was the first to reach his side. Though he bore no weapon, the giant Sardanian squared his mighty figure and made ready to withstand the onset of horse and steel.
Polaris leaped to the side of the fallen bull and tore the spear from its body. Then he turned on the horsemen. He could not guess the cause of their sudden anger, but he, too, was ready.
Before blows could be struck, Oleric thrust his horse into the open space between the friends and the Maeronican riders. By dint of persuasion, interlarded with not a few threats, he induced his followers to forego their hostile intentions.
"You fools!" he shouted. "Would you cheat Bel-Ar of the terrible vengeance he is sure to take, and have a part of it fall back on you for balking him?"
When he had quieted his men, the captain turned gloomily to Polaris.
"My brother, your doom is sealed, indeed," he said. "This is one of the sacred bulls from the temple of Shamar, the great sun, that you have slain. When one of these goes mad, as did this one, no man in the land does aught to stay it. That is the law. From its horns to its hoofs, every hair of it is sacred. Bel-Ar may forgive me the loss of a fademe, though it will be a great vexation to him; but the death of one of these sacred bulls of Shamar he will not forgive any man. Sooner might you expect mercy if you declared yourself a follower of the Goddess Glorian of Ruthar. In this matter I cannot hope to persuade him. By the bones of the ten thousand kings, I am sorry that this thing has happened!"
But later, as they rode on toward the city of Adlaz, the red captain seemed to be far from rueful. He rode behind the car, and, when he thought none was observing him, he smiled to himself, as though the course events were taking pleased him very well indeed.