I was turning away, but paused, to make sure of them. “Have you heard the news from the palace?” I inquired.
“No.”
“The king has given the crown to Lentala, and the command of the army also.”
It surprised them. “Where’s Gato?” asked one.
“He disobeyed the king, and is dead,” I answered. “Tell the news to the priest. Spread it among the crowd.” It was on my tongue to add that the queen would soon appear with the army and disperse the crowd, but there were dangers in it, and I held my peace. Sufficient for the present that I had stopped the pursuit.
On arriving at the road to the clearing I found a commotion, and learned that the army was rapidly approaching. The people did not know how to take that news,—whether it meant a forwarding or a breaking up of the sacrifice.
There came a scrambling of stragglers to escape the army, which advanced on the trot, Christopher running in front. He saw me, wheeled, and raised his hand. I knew that his glance at my face had told him the whole story. My heart swelled to see Lentala, borne aloft in an uncanopied crimson velvet palanquin emblazoned with the royal insignia. Her dress was the one she had worn at the feast, with the addition of the crown. In her hand she carried a naked sword, fine and lean.