But ere ever the stroke fell, the huge
stone struck him full and broke in his breast bone, and he staggered
long, and fell like a tree, and the black blood came up through his
bearded lips, and his life left him.
Then the multitude of the barbarians that stood gazing at the fray drew
yet further back in fear, and the Wanderer laughed like a God at
that old score paid, and at the last great stroke of the hands of the
City-sacker, Odysseus.
VIII
"TILL ODYSSEUS COMES!"
The Wanderer laughed like a God, though he deemed that the end was near,
and the foes within the camp and the friends without looked on him and
wondered.
"Slay him!" cried the foes within, speaking in many tongues. "Slay him!"
they cried, and yet they feared the task, but circled round like hounds
about a mighty boar at bay.
"Spare him!" shouted the host of the Achaeans, watching the fray from
far, as they stood behind their inner wall, for as yet they had not
mingled in the battle but stayed by their ships to guard them.
"Rescue!" cried the Captains of Pharaoh without, but none came on to
force the way.
Then of a sudden, as Fate hung upon the turn, a great cry of fear and
wonder rose from the ranks of Pharaoh's host beyond the wall. It swelled
and swelled till at length the cry took the sound of a name--the sound
of the name of _Hathor_.
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