"But have you none of your own to carry?" said Amer, surprised, supposing that his cloak covered it.
"No," he said, "I am a man of peace. I dropped my armour long ago and find that I can do as well without it. Come," he added, "let me help you to carry your sword."
"No," said Amer, remembering the warning of the Ambassador, "I will keep my sword, but if you are so kind as to lighten my burden by helping me to take off my shield for a bit I shall be glad. The day is hot and I have been walking so fast that it will be a comfort to get rid of it for a moment."
"Stay," he said, as they reached the summit of the hill and the stranger made as if he was about to turn to the left, "I have been given directions never to lose sight of the Radiant City or I should lose my way. I must go straight on, neither turning to the right nor to the left."
"But," said the stranger, "the straight path leads across that bare desert, and will, besides being full of enemies, take you days to cross. Now, this path which I will show you, is a short cut to the City. You will find that you meet a few enemies only, and that the way will be one long triumph from beginning to end. You are not by any means an ordinary pilgrim, but have shown yourself strong to do battle and to gain victories. You are not like that poor pilgrim who is always tripping, that you have just seen, and who needs the experience of the desert to give him the strength that you already possess. Come with me and you will never regret it. And has not your Guide Book told you that 'He shall give His angels charge over you?' Why then fear?"
So after some little hesitation Amer followed the stranger and certainly he found himself apparently wonderfully free from enemies. Nevertheless he did not feel altogether comfortable when he found that directly he determined to follow this man the Radiant City began to fade from his sight. Neither was he pleased to find that he was going down hill into a somewhat dark valley. But his companion talked away in a sprightly manner, comparing him so favourably with many other pilgrims that he had come across, that he had not the courage even to hint to him that he was beginning to fear. Darker and darker grew the way till at last, suddenly, with a shout, a band of men confronted him, and tearing his armour from him, flung him to the ground, and binding his feet together brought him to a dark cave and threw him into it.
It had all been done so quickly that Amer had been taken entirely by surprise, and now realised to his great discomfort that all his armour had been wrenched from him and that he had nothing with which to fight the enemy. There he was left, after all his bragging and pride, a prisoner in a dark cave, armourless. And then he began sorrowfully to think how it had all happened. He remembered now that he had not been altogether easy while walking by the slow pilgrim's side. He had felt a sensation as if some antagonistic influence was near. Could it have been all the time the stranger who had enticed him to his fall?
Then he remembered how he had talked about his own experiences and his victories, and had quoted texts in his own favour. He remembered, too, how he had looked down on the traveller who was walking so slowly and carefully, thinking himself to be altogether a superior soldier of the King's, and how he had deemed it quite safe to put off some of his armour for a while, although the Ambassador had expressly warned him never to part with it.
He lay and groaned. The chains hurt his feet and wrists, but the physical pain was as nothing to the mental anguish caused by the remembrance of his terrible fall, and the recollection that there was no sight of the Radiant City possible in this dark cave.
For some time he sat with his head hanging down, a picture of despair. Then he began to look around him. The first thing he saw were the following words painted in large red letters on the walls of the cave:—