“But Og,” I suggested. “What became of Og?”
He brightened. “Did I not tell you that? I remember now. I met him—near the end of the battle. He had captured one of our dolphins, and a lance. He came at me—and I fought him—I was mounted as he was. . . .”
The tired old voice trailed away.
“Yes?” I prompted.
He started. “What was I saying? Oh yes, about Og. You asked me about Og, didn’t you? We might have been knights of the Court of King Arthur—jousting with our lances. I can remember it now—clearly. I would have run him through almost at the first tilt, but that girl threw herself between us. I did not like to kill her. That was bad. Accident—I could not help it.”
“You mean Maaret?”
“Maaret? Yes, that was her name, wasn’t it? I remember now. She died in Nona’s arms—after I had killed Og. The girl did not know I had killed him. She died—still loving Og, and glad that she had given her life for him. . . I remember that now.”
“But Nona and your boy? What of them? And you, Nemo—who are you?”
“I—I don’t know. I remember that at the last, I was with Nona and boy. The war was over. I was sick. Yes, that was it—very, very sick. They had me in bed. Nona was bending over me. I can see her now—so beautiful. It was getting dark, but Nona said——”
He stopped short.