"Cur yourself!" growled a man, somewhere in the dark—"you have most at stake in this. Try the stair yourself if you are so keen. We will follow fast enough!"
"God strike me dead if I do not!" shouted Otho; "if it were only to shame you cowards."
He paused to prepare his weapons.
"Follow me, men!" he shouted again; "all together!"
Again there was the clatter of iron-shod feet on the stone steps beneath me.
My grip on the Red Axe became like iron, but my joints were loose and swung easily as a flail swings on well-seasoned leathers.
"Welcome, Otho von Reuss!" I cried; "ye could not be crowned without the death of Helene my wife! Come up hither and I will crown thee once for all with the iron crown."
There, at last, was mine enemy at the turn of the stair, rushing furiously upon me, sword in hand.
"Traitor!" he cried, and his sword was almost at my breast, so fast he came.
"Murderer!" I shouted.