“Don’t worry about me, I can take care of myself.”
“So can I!” replied Maxim stubbornly.
At this point the boyar re-entered the tent, sullen, red of face and frowning morosely. Burunda had shown himself even less kindly disposed towards him than before and greeted his proposal to exchange Maxim for their free passage reprovingly and in the end barely agreed to it. The boyar began to feel an increasing tension around him as if the iron bars of a prison were pressing themselves ever closer upon him.
“Well?” he said sharply, not glancing at either his daughter or Maxim.
A bright thought flashed into Peace-Renown’s mind.
“Everything is all right, father,” she replied, “only . . .”
“Only what?”
“Maxim’s magic words are such that they are ineffective unless pronounced by his own lips.”
“Well then, the devil take him!” muttered the boyar wrathfully.
“Wait, father and listen to my counsel. Order his chains removed and go with him to the Tukholians. Here is the signet ring Peta gave me, with it the guards will let him through.”
“Oh! Thank you my daughter for your very kind advice! ‘Take him to the Tukholians!’ And that means throw away my last chance of success. The Tukholians will take the prisoner and drive me away! No, I won’t do it. I will go myself and without his magic words.”
Peace-Renown saddened. Her brilliant eyes filmed over with tears. “My darling!” she said, kneeling down beside Maxim, again putting her arms around him. “Do as I ask you, take this ring!”
“No, Peace-Renown. Don’t worry about me!” said Maxim. “I have already planned what to do. Go and help our people and may our Sentinel aid you.”
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