But this was the tide of battle only as seen through unprejudiced eyes. At Steve's shoulder, the priestess Beth's golden body was tense with rage and hatred, her hands gripped his arm hotly.
"You see, O Dwain? Behold how the vandals lay waste the flower of our womanhood; Vengeance, Eternal One! Cast a spell upon them; yea, call down the fury of the Ancients upon those who would despoil our—"
Steve turned to Chuck.
"Well, chum? You still itching to get in the war?"
Lafferty's eyes were mirrors of surprise.
"Who—me?" he gasped. "Hell's imps, no! Why, them guys ain't wild animals at all. They're not matinee idols, I grant you, but they're no worse than—well, than a couple of hundred pro wrestlers from our own time. Steve, they're men! Like—"
Steve said, "What do you say, von Rath?"
"I am confused," admitted the German, "but I believe your friend is right. These are barbarians, but nevertheless true members of the genus Homo sapiens. This battle is stark madness! Gross Gott! Women against men—"
The priestess had drawn away, was staring at them as one aghast.