A tremor passed over the frame of Aldarin, and his face became pale as that of the corse beside which he stood.
“Wilt thou now say thou art innocent?” exclaimed the stranger-knight. “The corse—the lifeless form of thy murdered brother, shrinks at thy accursed touch.”
“I am innocent!” cried Aldarin, recovering his determined tone of voice. “By the God of heaven and earth, I swear it!”
“What say ye, vassals of Albarone? Is this man innocent?”
Then arose one firm, determined cry from the men-at-arms—
“He is guilty—heaven and earth proclaim it! The dead witness it!”
And the depths of the cavern returned the hollow echo—“Guilty—guilty!”
They all advanced a step toward the accused. Each eye fired with one expression; the sinews of each hand were strained to bursting, as they grasped their well-tried swords.
“One trial more,” exclaimed the figure in armor of azure steel. “Aldarin of Albarone, look upon that awful form which towers above us. Behold the arms outstretched, as if to hurl the red lightning bolt down upon thy guilty head. Mark well those eyes of stone—the fearful look of that dark countenance—the eyes are fixed upon thee; and the brow lowers at thee. Look, Aldarin of Albarone, look upon the Demon of our race. Call to mind the fearful legends of that demon’s vengeance upon all who ever wronged the House of Albarone. Think of the time when those lips of stone have sent forth a voice to convict the guilty; when those arms of rock have been filled with life to crush the wretch whom the voice convicted. Old man, art thou ready for the ordeal?”
Aldarin cast one glance around. A dead silence reigned throughout the cavern. The torches cast a strong light upon the long line of robed skeletons, and upon the stern visage of the murdered Lord. The faces of the men-at-arms glared fiercely upon the accused: their eyes sparkled from under their woven brows, their lips were compressed, and their half-raised swords glowed in the ruddy light.