There followed a babble of voices speaking all at once; afterwards the
same shrill voice took up his challenge, wailing like the wind--
"Spiridion, open the door before we break it in."
Prosper said again--"Will you have me for Spiridion?"
"We will have both, by God," rang a deep note, the voice of Galors.
As if at a signal swords began to batter at the door, pommels and
blades. One pierced the panel and struck through on the inside.
Prosper snapped it off short. "One less," he said; "but they will soon
be done with it."
"My friend," said Spiridion, who was shivering with cold (his night-
shirt being over short for the season), "my friend, I must die. What
can I do for thee? The time is short."
"Brother," answered Prosper, "get a sword and harness, and I will keep
the door till thou art ready. Then we will open it suddenly, and do
what becomes us."
"Dear friend," Spiridion said mildly, "I have no sword. And since I am
to die, I will die as well in my shirt as in a suit of mail."
"Certainly you are a great fool," said Prosper. "Yet I will defend you
as well as I can. Get behind me now, for the door is shaking, and
cannot hold out much longer."
Their assailants, without any further speech among themselves, beat at
the door furiously, or with short runs hurtled against it with their
shoulders. It seemed impossible it should stand, yet stand it did.
Then one, Galors, cried suddenly out, "Fetch a hatchet!" and another
ran helter-skelter down the corridor. The rest seemed to be waiting
for him; the battering ceased.
"Here," said Spiridion, standing in his night-shirt before the shelf
of images, "here are images of Christ on the Cross, of Mahound (made
by a Maltese Jew), of Diana of the Ephesians, and Jupiter Ammon. Here
too, are a Thammuz wrought in jade, and a cat-faced woman sitting
naked in a chair. All are gods, and any one of them may be very God.
Before which should I kneel? For to one I will as surely kneel as I
shall surely die."
Prosper flushed red with annoyance. "Brother," said he, "thou art a
greater fool than I thought possible. Die how you will. God knows how
little of a god am I; but I will do what I can. Hey, now! look about!"
he called out the next minute, and leapt back into the room. The door
split in the midst and fell apart. Two men fully armed, with their
vizors down, burst into the light; they were upon him in a flash.
Prosper up with his shield and drove at them. They were no match for
him with swords, as they very soon found when he penned them back in
the entry. One of the pair, indeed, lost his arm in the first passes
of the game, but the press of men behind forced them suddenly and
violently forward whether they would or no. Prosper skewered one of
them like a capon, against his own will, for he knew what must happen
of that. Precisely; before he could disengage his weapon two more were
at him in front, and one dodging round behind him with the hatchet
slogged at his head with the back of it. Prosper tottered; it was all
up with him. Another assailant slipped in under his guard with a pike,
which he drove into his ribs. A second stinging blow from the hatchet
dropped him. Prone on his face he fell, and never knew of the
trampling he had from the freed pass.