Seeing that the youth had been wounded, the riders burst into wild yawps of triumph and, using him as a target, competed with one another to see who could drive more arrows into his fallen body.
One of these arrows struck him in the neck; another slashed the strap of his money belt, and some florins spilt out.
He raised himself up with great effort, and rebuckled the strap. But another arrow pierced his side, and he collapsed onto the bottom of the boat.
“Mother, sweet, loving mother…” he muttered.
It seemed to him that the sun had been extinguished, and that blackest night had spread everywhere.
The current was carrying away Fright and Turmoil, propelling them out of the strait towards the broad river below, where they continued to travel slowly on its becalmed waters.
From under the riverside trees, where he was working with feverish zeal, the master builder made out from afar the twin boats. He thought it strange that he could not see the one-armed man pushing his punt pole, or lying on the prow as he was wont to do, so he cried out to him:
“Ahoy there, countryman! Where are you hiding?”
No one replied. And the boats were coming nearer, ever faster. He thought he could make out a body lying down, but it did not look like the bargeman’s.
“Countryman! Ahoy there, Onearm!” he cried out again. But no reply was heard.
The master builder wasted no time. With the help of his assistants, he threw onto the water the pontoon he was building, and jumped aboard.
“Easy with the ropes there, lads, till I can get midway across the river,” he cried.
From the opposite bank, where the enemy was now encamped, some of the soldiers shot arrows at him and shouted insults.
“Long live the Royal Navy of Witless I!” one of them jeered.
And at that, all the others broke into rude and rowdy laughter.
Unperturbed, the master builder allowed the feluccas to get close enough, till they finally collided with the pontoon and their movement was arrested for a moment. Instantly, he grabbed then the rope that was coiled on the prow, and motioned to his men to pull him back to the shore.
XIV. The Battle
THE PRINCE had come to the river. He concealed his men in the woods, and instructed them not to come out from the trees, so that the enemy would not see them.
His plan was to cross to the opposite bank during the night, assail the sleeping camp with his men, and, taking advantage of the resulting mayhem and the fright that would seize the enemy, drive them far away. There he would strive to hold them, by any means available to him, until he had formed an army and a navy, and then, by fighting hard, force them to the other side of the border.
In order to succeed in his purpose, however, he had to find a way to ferry his soldiers across.
He was going therefore at once to seek Illstar, and propose his plan to him.
From the distance, he saw under the trees many men gathered together, and the master builder bending over a human body that lay on the ground.
“What is the matter?” he asked, drawing near.
The master builder recognized his voice, and turned around. His face was ashen and unsmiling.
“You are the one he asked for, my lord,” he said without rising.
“Who did?” asked the Prince.
And pushing the workmen aside, he bent and saw the bloodied face, where the arrow remained still buried deep in the furrows of his brow.
“Polydorus!” cried the Prince, and fell on his knees by his side.
He lifted up the equerry’s head, held it against his chest, and wiped the blood that dripped from the wet hair.
“Fetch some water, quick!” he ordered.
“It won’t do any good, my lord,” said the master builder, “the gallant youth is dead…”
“That cannot be! He must live! He must!” cried the Prince. “Polydorus… can you hear me! Speak to me…”
He received no reply. The pursed lips remained mute, turned into the marble of eternal silence.
With nervous fingers he pushed away the leather money belt in order to feel whether the heart was beating. The strap came undone, and golden florins spilt out on the dusty earth.
The Prince stood up then, and turned to his men.
“Soldiers!” he cried, and his voice was quivering with the turmoil in his soul. “This noble youth gave up his life willingly for the sake of his country; he has shown you the way to glory. From each of you tonight I expect the same sacrifice, whether it may be to death that I lead you, or to victory! Countrymen! Hail the first fallen hero!”
Everyone around him knelt down in silence.
They buried the valiant youth there where his life’s breath had flown away from him. In the grave where the Prince had laid him, his arms crossed upon his chest, Polydorus now slept his final sleep. A bitter smile had frozen on his lips. The light of his eyes had been snuffed out without their meeting the bright gaze of his lord, who had awakened in his soul so much beauty and such strength, and had transformed him from a mere average man into a hero.
With heavy hearts they all went back to their tasks, for time was passing, and the enemy had drawn very close.
“Master builder,” said the Prince, “I have a plan for tonight. But in order for it to succeed, I need your help.”
“Command me, my lord,” replied the master builder. “Whatever it is you wish, I shall do it.”
“I know you sold everything you had, your house even, so you might pay the workers and build me a navy…”
“I only did my duty,” said the master builder simply.
The Prince stretched his hand out to him.
“I thank you in the name of our country,” he said, deeply affected in his heart. “But now, I must ask you to abandon your ships. I have need of something much more urgent.”
“I have abandoned them already, my lord. Tell me what it is you want.”
“With the army that I have at my disposal, I cannot possibly tackle a regular trained army. I have decided therefore to take the enemy by surprise, strike against their camp tonight with my soldiers, and drive them away. But we will have to cross the river.”
“And you have no ships, is that what you mean to say, my lord?”
“I thought that you might be able to build me a makeshift bridge—” began the Prince.
The master builder, however, interrupted him.
“I have it all but ready,” he said.
The Prince was much astonished.
“Who told you to make it?” he asked.
“The one-armed man,” replied the master builder.
And he recounted to the Prince the words he had exchanged with the bargeman.
“So I have built you many pontoons,” he continued. “At your command, we shall quietly and silently tie one pontoon to the next, and the entire army will cross to the other side.”
“Where is the bargeman?” asked the Prince excitedly. “I must speak to him at once!”
“I don’t know,” answered the master builder. “Since the time when he went up the river, I have not seen him at all. The wounded youth was found in his feluccas, yet the bargeman was not with him.”
“He did not tell you where he was going when you asked him?”
“No. He only said: ‘Secret mission of the State!’ I did not understand what he meant.”
“And Polydorus said nothing to you?”
“He did not have the time,” replied the master builder. “He was unconscious when I laid him on the ground, drenched in blood. I tried to bring him round, but he never opened his eyes again. He murmured your name once or twice, and then he died.”