The Iron
Crown

Suddenly I was once again among my men, greeted with loud cries of surprise from most.

A few seemed to disbelieve that I had actually returned.

Most of them, however, deemed it an occasion for joy and began at once to question me.

It was not that I had any reason to conceal my adventures from them, but I found myself curiously incapable of any words which might render justice to the experience, and became somewhat embarrassed, and the men began to show signs of dismay at my churlishness after so long an absence.

But the situation was saved when Denis appeared from one of the tents.

He showed no surprise, as if he had been expecting me to arrive any minute, and greeted me warmly.

Then he turned to the men and said in a tone at once explanatory and reverent, "See, your quest is blest, our leader wears the Armour of Findrack the Small!" My joy at these words was greatly diminished by the churlish cries which followed.

It seemed that the men had been accustomed, in the period of my absence, to think of Denis as their leader, and I noticed that they had cast a brazen statue of him which loomed above the camp on a high rock.

But Denis himself was all humility, mercifully I thought, for at that stage I should have been loth to slay him.

So we went into the tent and held council.

My joy dwindled again at what I saw therein, for the gloom, were it never so thick, could never have held from my eyes the vision of my beloved Wollis, who lay as if in death on a hard ebony board near the back of the tent.

Suspecting villainy on Denis's part, I rounded on him with a vicious knife and lopped off his right hand.

But he smiled and blest me in his own tongue, explaining that the Sword of Findrack could not hurt him, as he was actually dead.

Only much later did I learn that this was because Findrack was dead, and that my whole apparel was absolutely worthless.