Algar nursed his
revenge: he dared not act openly, for our house was as noble as his
own--nay, nobler!" she added haughtily, "but he bided his time. Haco's
tower was near the shore, a pleasant, lovely, spot. One night the news
was borne to me that enemies had landed, and that his dwelling was in
flames; I hurried towards it; I was stopped by armed warriors; Algar's
men, they said, had hastened to the rescue; the chief had ordered that
no women should leave their homes. It was in vain that I urged and
protested. When at last I reached the spot the struggle was said to be
over, and the assailants, beaten off, were declared to have sailed away.
Algar himself came to me with well-assumed grief. He had arrived, he
swore, too late to save. The tower had been fired whilst the inmates
slept, the wife and child had perished; Haco, after performing
incredible feats of valour, had fallen before the strokes of numerous
foes; when he himself had come with a chosen band, while sending the
rest of his forces to other posts which the unforeseen danger might
threaten, nothing remained but to avenge the murder. Why recount the
caitiffs lies? Where were the signs of landing, of hasty re-embarkation?
Where were the dead of the strangers? Thrown into the sea! he said; it
was foul falsehood, and fouler treachery.
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