Some, who had slept and mercifully forgotten all, sat up in bewilderment, others leaped up, thinking the hour had come. As we stood blinking at the lights, Mehemet spoke a few words, and the soldiers flashed their torches into our faces until they lighted on mine. Then Mehemet stepped forward and laid his hand on my shoulder, and drew me toward him; and the soldiers closed about us.
David sprang toward them.
“You shall not take him alone!” he cried. “Let us go with him, every one of us. We shall go to death together.”
And others sprang forward too, clamoring, beseeching. “Take us all!” they cried. “Take us together!”
Mehemet shrugged his shoulders and turned away. The captives flung themselves before the soldiers, who hesitated.
It was then that the old bishop, who had never ceased to mumble, I think, came quietly up to us.
“It is all right. Let him go,” he said gently. “He will come to no harm.”
A tall man with a black beard and a curved sword sheath that clanked on the stones.
I recognized in him Mehemet the Turkish commander
“It is my orders,” said Mehemet, looking with respect at Bishop Alfred. “I have come for him alone.”