She sprang away in horror, but he laughed softly.
“Marie,” he said, “that is well. Instead of a sleeping camp our guns will rake the Pass, our men await only the signal. Up here, where one is near God, one sees clearly. I am the faithful servant of Theos, even though the King had been my enemy. See!”
He listened for a moment, and then crossing the hill, took a torch from the stand and plunged it into the heart of the great beacon. Tongues of fire leaped up to the sky, and a hoarse murmur passed like a wind through the camp. Then the ground beneath them shook with the roar of artillery. Nicholas took her by the arm.
“Ride for Theos at once,” he directed. “You will be quite safe, for no Turk will pass alive through the Pass. Tell the King that I am his faithful servant.”
About halfway to Theos, Brand, galloping furiously out from the city, came face to face with Marie riding leisurely home on a small pony. He leaped from his horse in amazement.
“Marie,” he exclaimed, “what is happening at the Pass? How came you here?”
She was very tired, but she smiled at him reassuringly.
“Nicholas has over ten thousand Turks in the defile,” she said. “They must either surrender or be killed.”