The Iron
Crown

Unhappily I did not understand the challenge and sent Wollis as an emissary. Most loth was he to depart, and clung to my calves with cringing pleas to be excused on the grounds of a sore foot. But I was firm.

Eventually he set out, looking back and scowling every few paces, occasionally stumbling and cursing gracelessly, pretending to see other emissaries and feigning combat with them, spitting and wailing, once openly urinating, until he came within recognizing distance of the fifteen.

I had considered it a very poor display, but it seemed to meet with the approval of our aggressors for they embraced Wollis, especially a wraithlike character who held himself aloof from the others and sported an iron crown. Evidently they came in peace, for they used Wollis well, and no volley of burning arrows or poisoned projectiles came our way as they slowly approached our tiny encampment.

The great board was yet on their shoulders, and it seemed to be equipped with long straight poles and swathes of coarse material, calico or jute perhaps, as I thought. But as they came closer the heat of the sun and the warmth overcame me and I fell into a gentle slumber.