"It's for me to decide what I will do, but you let go the knife!"
The king pulled the knife out of Ramose's hand by force and threw it aside.
"Woe to us! God will not save him who ruins himself!" the old man muttered, sinking into an armchair heavily, exhausted by his wound.
Tuta lay at the king's feet.
"Is it true that you have done it?" the king asked him.
"Not I, not I, sire, God sees it isn't I...." Tuta babbled, pointing his finger at Merira.
Merira stood at a distance without moving; he looked so unconcerned that he seemed not to see or hear anything. Someone had tied his hands behind his back.
The king went up to him and asked:
"You wanted to kill me, Merira?"
"Yes."