"I can defend myself!" cried Banfi vehemently.
"And I too!" replied the lady proudly.
The next instant fresh squadrons came streaming up from every quarter, as if they had fallen from the clouds or sprung from the earth—infantry and cavalry with long muskets, bows and arrows, and ribboned darts.
"Ali! Ali! Allah akbar!"
The Hungarian forces ranged themselves in battle array, with their backs to the churchyard wall, and awaited the attack. From the end of the street a glittering array of horsemen was seen approaching; it consisted of a picked corps of Spahis[39] on stately Arabs, whose emerald-set saddles sparkled in the firelight. In their midst rode Ali on a slender, snow-white Barbary steed, in his hand flashed a diamond-hilted scimitar; on his head he wore a turbaned helmet; his long black beard fell down over his silver breastplate. On coming within gunshot of Banfi's host, he halted and marshalled his squadrons.
[39] Spahis. Light Turkish cavalry.
Hitherto Banfi had not touched his pistols, the wonderfully-carved ivory handles of which peeped forth from his holsters. But now he drew them forth and handed them to Dame Vizaknai.
"Take them!" said he; "you must have wherewith to defend yourself."
Meanwhile Ali Pasha had sent forward a herald, who, drawing near to the Hungarians, delivered the following message to them—
"My master, Ali Pasha, informs you, O ye unbelieving Giaours, that every loophole of escape is closed. Wherefore then strive against him further? Lay down your weapons and throw yourselves upon his mercy."