“The arm is torn and inflamed from shoulder to wrist, as I make no doubt you have been told!” he cried. “For very shame, man!”

“Draw them tighter,” said my lord, between his teeth.

The men knotted the cords, and rose to their feet, to be dismissed by my lord with a curt “You may go.” They drew back to the foot of the ladder, while the master of the ship went and perched himself upon one of the rungs. “The air is fresher here beneath the hatch,” he remarked.

As for me, though I lay at my enemy’s feet, I could yet set my teeth and look him in the eyes. The cup was bitter, but I could drink it with an unmoved face.

“Art paid?” he demanded. “Art paid for the tree in the red forest without the haunted wood? Art paid, thou bridegroom?”