They won through to the bridge--through and over, in a dash that drove the few guards before it like dry leaves before a gale. Alfric turned gasping to Ganimos. "Hold the bridge," he said. "As soon as we're all over, hold the bridge. That'll protect our rear from cavalry--hengists can't go through that steep gully. And when the foot soldiers have gathered enough wits to come after us that way, you can throw spears down on top of them." "Aye, your majesty." The title came without thought to the soldier's lips, as he saluted and turned to hail a squad to stay with him. Alfric led the assault of the rest on the Temple. There were fewer guards on this side of the gully. He hewed at one and felt the shock of the splitting skull through his arms and shoulders, rattling his teeth. Howling, he yanked the weapon free and brought it up to knock aside a sword-thrust and beat the foeman to earth. Back the Household drove the guards, back to the scowling walls of the Temple. Weird battle, in darkness and cold, with the moons and the great rising flames for fitful illumination. Strange, to trade blows with men who were only red highlights against the roaring night. For a timeless interval, it was all clamor and death and flying steel. But the Household was being carved away--man after man fell--and now the palace besiegers were streaming through the gully, Ganimos and his squad cut off on the bridge--hai, Hildaborg, it had been a lovely fight but it was nearing its end. Alfric looked up at the mighty sky, and he saw the majestic shield of Dannos slip over Amaris. Her light was cut off, the hilltop grew dimmer--the Moons were mated. "O Hildaborg, if only--" He looked along the wall, against which he now had his back, and saw the torches which swept up the hill, saw the dark mass of humanity and heard its beast cry for blood. And his heart leaped into his throat, and he laughed aloud under Dannos, for here was life again. "_Hai, Hildaborg!_" he roared. The remaining troopers heard him and lifted their weary heads to see. They answered his cry, then, and hewed a way to where he stood. And now the dismayed Temple forces were breaking--the Household swept along the walls toward the Temple gates. Battle raged there, as the rebel guards and the blood-howling mob bore down on the garrison. Fire was already licking at the rafters where flame arrows had struck; the Temple would soon stand aflame even as the palace was burning, as the Empire was burning and sundering. The two pillars of Valkarion were crashing to earth, and what would be left when they were gone? By the leaping fire-blaze, Alfric saw the torn and trampled bodies of priests and slaves. He recognized one battered face and stooped over for a closer look. Therokos lay dead. His wound somehow bandaged and braced, his body cased in armor, he lay where he had fallen. Well, the High Priest had been a brave man in his way--Alfric gave him warrior's salute and passed on to join the fight.