The litter and its escort arrived but just in time. Ere Laval's blade could pierce the heart of his prostrate victim, Theodora had leaped from her litter and thrown her saffron scarf over the prostrate youth.
With all the outlines of her beautiful form revealed through the thin robe of spangled gauze she faced the irate aggressor and her voice cut like steel as she said:
"Dare to touch him beneath this scarf! This man is mine."
Laval drew back, but his glaring eyes, his parted lips and his labored breath argued little in favor of the fallen man, even though the blow was, for the moment, averted.
With foam-flecked lips he turned to Theodora.
"This man is mine! His life is forfeit. Stand back, that I may wipe this blot from my escutcheon."
Theodora faced the speaker undauntedly.
Ere he could reply, a woman's voice shrieked.
"Save him! Save him! He is innocent! He has done naught amiss!"
Hellayne, whom the Count had hurled against the masonry of the arch, bruising her until she was barely able to support herself, at this moment threw herself between them.