He cast his eye over the field. Marganice, Governor of Carthagena, was fighting with Roard of Limoges and Itiers of Clermont; Garnaille, King of Ethiopia, confronted Lambert the Short and Humbert, Count of Bourges; M’kamat Iladdada, Caliph of Mecca, was showing a bold front to Riol of Mans, Hoël of Nantes, and Bazin of Geneva. Alis, King of Morocco, was engaged with Pinabel; while Sangaran, who ruled at the source of the Niger, Baimalanko, chief of the tribes on the borders of the Dead Sea--each one of these two blacker than the other--and Zunizum-Kalakh, King of Garbe, pressed hard on Aimery of Narbonne, who was, however, giving them two blows for one. Miton flew to his rescue, and in three minutes, and with twenty strokes of his sword, had ridded him of his foes. Sangaran and Baimalanko fell before his arm, and went to rejoin the Evil One whose livery they wore. “Thanks, I owe you a similar service,” said Aimery to the Count of Rennes. “I shall have finished with this villain in a few seconds. I am not afraid of a single encounter, so leave me and go succour Pinabel, who has scarce blood enough left to keep him alive.” And, in truth, the nephew of Ganelon was fighting in the dark, for he was blinded with his own blood. The King of Morocco, who saw a new foeman coming towards him, determined to abandon the contest with Pinabel and charge at once on Miton, a manouvre he accomplished so rapidly that he took the latter by surprise. For four seconds the Count of Rennes was exposed defenceless to the fury of Alis, and this unguarded moment cost him a gash which laid open his left arm from shoulder to elbow, and marked him with a purple chevron on the wrist. Mita uttered a shriek as if she had received the blow, and hid her face in her hands. “See,” said Himiltrude, “what interest the little Mita takes in the combat, sire. The wound the Count of Rennes has just received makes her heart bleed.” “Keep your nonsense to yourself, madam,” said the Emperor, who hated to be interfered with at the wrong moment. “When men wield the sword, women should not wag the tongue and he abruptly turned his back on his consort. In point of fact, it was not a well-chosen time for talking.” And now Riol of Mans had, with a dexterous back stroke, sent the head of M’kamat Haddada flying, and this new kind of projectile had struck Marganice, Governor of Carthagena, in the face, and so confused him that he neglected to parry a furious blow aimed at him by Itiers of Clermont. This really excusable oversight cost him his life. One sharp thrust pinned him to his horse’s crupper like a butterfly on a cork. [Illustration: 095] Garnaille also perceived his end approaching. Lambert the Short gave him no respite. “It shall never be said,” cried, fiercely, the King of the Ethiopians, “that I received my death-blow from a Christian hand.” Thereupon, resting the pommel of his sword on the ground, he flung himself on the point and expired shouting, “Allah!”