Ildibad.
Sire, if I might beg a favour for myself.
Teja.
Still favours, at this time?... I believe thou wouldst flatter me, old companion!
Ildibad.
Sire, I am old. My arm would grow weary with bearing a spear, more quickly than is good for thy life. And by my fault shouldst thou not fall, Sire.... If no one else sleeps, think not evil of me, and let me sleep away the two hours.
Teja.
(With a new gleam of deep anxiety.) Go, but not far away.
Ildibad.
Surely, Sire, I have always lain as a dog before thy tent. In respect of that, on this last night, nothing will be changed.... Hast thou orders to give, Sire?