XLIX
DEATH IN THE DESERT
As Thorgills and Eogan sat at supper in the house of the latter’s Arabian friend, a horseman of the desert drove up. Their host invited him into the house and to a seat at the table. The stranger, who was an Arab and a physician, said that he must leave in the morning to return to the desert. “I have left a hermit in his cave, ill and alone. He hath dwelt there solitary for many months, but will dwell there not many more days. I would only leave to bring him some medicine, for he is ill unto death. I marvel that such a man should lead such a humble, solitary life. He is wonderfully handsome, tall and blond, and when he walks he seems as a king or as a mighty warrior coming home from victory.”
Thorgills’ heart stood almost still. He could scarcely find voice to say, as he rose and bowed to the Arab doctor: “Friend, when thou dost return on the morrow to the desert and to thy—thy hermit, I would crave as a precious boon to go with thee.”
And reading Thorgills’ thought, Eogan rose and said: “I, too, would ask the same boon, honored sir.”
