what care he could the defeated fragment of his army. Peter rode with him, unnoticed. They got into the wooded slopes of the mountains, by stopping to hold the Turks back with an arrow flight when they pressed too closely.
When this shelter was reached, it was every man for himself. The army seemed to melt away. At dusk the prince was riding toward his castle attended only by one of his staff. That was the boy Peter, who rode still unnoticed in the rear. Perhaps no one could guess at the bitterness of the prince’s thoughts as he rode over his doomed country.
At midnight they rested for a few hours, and ate from the bag of food that Peter carried.
“Art thou all of my court now?” said the prince bitterly. “It seems thy good fortune is departed.”
“Oh, say not so, Highness!” entreated Peter. “We will fight again and win.”
But the prince shook his head, and retired into his gloomy thoughts.
Before dawn they were on the way again, and soon rode up before the castle. The drawbridge was up, the gate was closed. Armed guards patrolled the walls, and early as it was there were women on the turret. When they looked over, Peter could see that they were the mother and wife of Stephen, with their maidens. Peter’s heart was pierced with a fresh grief. There was the lovely and gracious Princess Zaida, all of whose family had been slain by the Turks. Was such a fate hanging over her head, too? Peter thought frantically that he
