“Oh! Sire, I fear not death, and feel that I am not now to die. Yet would I still implore that I may be spared this trial. Once more, I lay myself at the foot of the throne, to supplicate its mercy.” “For thyself!” cried his enemy, with a scornful taunt. “For myself and for thee!”—was the firm reply—“that I may be spared the pang of sending thee before the Eternal Judge, with all thy unatoned crimes upon thy head.” The voice and words of the venerable speaker, deep and solemn, thrilled, with a sensible effect, throughout the assembly. Whence should he derive this confidence? From heaven or from hell. The conclusion to which they came, more than ever confirmed their belief in his reputed sorceries; and his words inspired a deep and silent terror among the crowd. But the accused, strong in his skill, courage and panoply of steel, if not in the justice of his cause, mocked scornfully, and defied the doom which was threatened. Some of his friends, however, shared strongly in the apprehensions of the vulgar. “He hath no visible armor,” was their cry; “with what would he defend himself? How know we that he hath not magic arts, and devices of hell, with which he secretly arms himself?” “Thou hast weapons—visible weapons, as I hear”—remarked the King. “They are at hand, Sire;—they are here.” “Thou hast dealt in no forbidden practice?” “None, Sire, as I stand uncovered in the sight of heaven. The reverend father in God, to whom thou did’st give in charge this inquiry, is here, and will answer to your majesty. He hath heard and seen the secret of my strength—that strength which I know and declare is powerful to destroy my foe. He knows it to be a secret of mortal wisdom only, as patiently wrought out by human art and labor, as were the sword and axe of him who now seeks my destruction. I have warned him already of the fearful power which they impart. I would still have him live, unharmed by me.” “Peace, insolent!” cried the accused; “I am here, your majesty, to fight, not to prate!—to chastise, not to hearken to the speeches of this pagan sorcerer. Let his power be what he esteems it: I trust to my good sword, and to the favor of the Mother of God,—and I doubt not of this good steel, which hath been crowned with a three-fold conquest, on the plains of Saracem. I entreat that your majesty will give command for the combat.” CHAPTER IX.