All men heard him, for his piercing scream, echoed from the precipices, came to the ears of each. All men heard him, and, even in that fierce hour of vengeance, all obeyed. The spear that was poised was not thrown, and the kerry lifted over the fallen did not descend to dash away his life.
“Hearken, Hafela!” called the king, stepping forward from the ranks of the attackers. “He whom you have set on high to bring defeat upon you charges me to give you peace, and in the name of the conquering Cross I give peace. All who surrender shall dwell henceforth in my shadow, nor shall the head or the heel of one of them be harmed, although their sin is great. One life only will I take, the life of that witch who brought your armies down upon me to burn my town and slay my people by thousands, and who but last night betrayed Hokosa to his death of torment. All shall go free, I say, save the witch; and for you, you shall be given cattle and such servants as will cling to you to the number of a hundred, and driven from the land. Now, what say you? Will you yield or be slain? Swift with your answer; for the sun sinks, and ere it is set there must be an end in this way or in that.”
The regiments of Hafela heard, and shouted in answer as with one voice:—
“We take your mercy, King! We fought bravely while we could, and now we take your mercy, King!”
“What say you, Hafela?” repeated Nodwengo, addressing the prince, who stood upon a point of rock above him in full sight of both armies.
Hafela turned and looked at Hokosa hanging high in mid-air.
“What say I?” he answered in a slow and quiet voice. “I say that the Cross and its Prophet have been too strong for me, and that I should have done well to follow the one and to listen to the counsel of the other. My brother, you tell me that I may go free, taking servants with me. I thank you and I will go—alone.”
And setting the handle of his spear upon the rock, with a sudden movement he fell forward, transfixing his heart with its broad blade, and lay still.
“At least he died like one of the blood-royal of the Sons of Fire!” cried Nodwengo, while the armies stood silent and awestruck, “and with the blood-royal he shall be buried. Lay down your arms, you who followed him and fought for him, fearing nothing, and give over to me the witch that she may be slain.”
“She hides under the tree yonder!” cried a voice.