The Iron
Crown

My attention turned to Wollis.

He was shrouded in garments of strange design, very like those of my forgotten lady of the castle.

I was hardly surprised, though nonetheless annoyed, when my questions failed to raise more than a murmur of an answer.

He was clearly very weak, and how close to death I could not tell.

Denis, remaining calm in spite of my anger, reported that Wollis had lain like this for the past three weeks, and though Denis had treated him with every known potion that could be concocted from the herbs and roots of the surrounding forest, he had shown no signs of improvement.

My face fell when Denis mentioned that the potent Terbinestria root had caused a positive worsening of his condition.

Even my meagre herb-lore left me in no doubt as to the gravity of the situation.

But my train of thought was interrupted by sounds of brawling outside the tent.

I rushed outside to find some of the men setting into the image of Denis, while others attacked them, evidently intent on preventing such iconoclasm.

I shouted an order but was roundly ignored.

Furious, I hurled my large hunting-knife at the statue.

It was cleft in two the moment the knife touched it and the men fell back, astonished.

I chastised them unsparingly and warned that those who ignored or disobeyed my orders would meet the same fate as the brazen Denis: they slunk off.

Time was pressing and I began to feel sure that something would certainly happen soon.

With my hunting-knife I hacked such boughs as I judged fit for a stretcher for Wollis, and gave orders that he be transported by the stoutest of the men and attended by all but the sweetest of the women.

This arranged, we set off into a pale afternoon.

Some of the men sang with the joy of the expedition, but mine own heart was heavy.

Something, somewhere was amiss.