Could it be that this woman of The Cid’s brutal race felt sympathy and sorrow for a suffering enemy?
Tanar doubted it. More likely that something she had eaten that day had disagreed with her.
“Now,” cried The Cid, “you have seen a man walk the plank and know what I may do with you, if I choose.”
Tanar shrugged. “I hope I may be as indifferent to my fate as was my comrade,” he said, “for you certainly got little enough sport out of him.”
“If I turn you over to Bohar we shall have sport,” replied The Cid. “He has other means of enlivening a dull day that far surpass the tame exercise on the plank.”
The girl turned angrily upon The Cid. “You shall not do that!” she cried. “You promised me that you would not torture any prisoners while I was with the fleet.”
“If he behaves I shall not,” said The Cid, “but if he does not I shall turn him over to Bohar the Bloody. Do not forget that I am Chief of Korsar and that even you may be punished if you interfere.”
Again the girl laughed. “You can frighten the others, Chief of Korsar,” she said, “but not me.”
“If she were mine,” muttered Bohar threateningly, but the girl interrupted him.
“I am not, nor ever shall be,” she said.