We passed the bend in the road with no sign of the Dwarf or his deadly missiles. As far as we could see there was nothing ahead of us but a straight line. I looked along it in the hope that I would see some object or other that would give us hope.
My eye rested on a speck. It was small and far away and black. It came nearer little by little. The captain and the men noticed it too and kept their gaze upon it steadily. The rays of the sun glinted upon it for a second and then I was able to see that it was a man on horseback, fully equipped with armor that shone and glittered in its newness. The closer he came the more of the details we could distinguish. He had on his head a casque with the closed visor concealing his face, and gauntlets on his hands that were of the same blackness as his armour. He was quite small and rode with an ease that assured us of long years spent in the saddle. As for weapons he carried no spear or lance like most knights on their way to tournament or field of battle, but only a sword that hung from his belt in a scrolled scabbard and a mace of tough wood with the knots pointed with steel, that dangled loosely at his side.
He kept to the middle of the road. Not once did he urge his horse nor swerve to the right or the left. When he was finally abreast of us, he let the reins fall on the horse’s neck.
Then I was stirred by the strangest feeling that ever possessed me. I lost all interest in the man and his armor and in my captors. When the horse neighed I gave a sudden start. I examined him from his fetlock to his mane and from his head to his tail. At first a certain sense of familiarity shot through me. Then by degrees every suspicion of mine moulded itself into solid fact. Like a blast my brain told me that I had seen that horse before. It was the roan which I had brought with me from home—which I had ridden as far as the scrivener’s house in the woods—which was stolen from me by the two men whom De Marsac had set upon me. That horse, in one word, was mine!
The man in armor raised his hand. We had all come to a halt and for a second there was empty silence.
“You cannot pass,” he said in a voice that was strong and steady. “The prisoners which you have there must be given up.”
His hand dropped.
The captain thought before he spoke.
“And who are you?” he demanded.
“I am the ruler of all this waste land,” came the reply with a smoothness that went through us like a jar, “—of all these rocks and trees and the people, I am lord and master.”