Then Sambor stepped forward; “I accept the offer,” he said, “if you will add to it a safe conduct from this place and from hence forward, in presence of these witnesses.”
“I accept the conditions,” replied Nicolas.
“Then,” said Sambor, “the woman who lies there, crushed and a bloody corpse, was your own mother! And as surely as Lord Zawis has met his death, as you say, by the hands of his own men, so surely has your mother met this fearful fate by your treachery and violence.”
Nicolas turned away, and departed covered with ignominy. Stout hands raised the remains of the dead women; and Sambor contrived to withdraw, no difficult albeit a bloody task now, the golden key and chain that hung around the neck of one of them.
Returning to the fortress, Sambor sought Agaphia, and handed her the still bloody trophy. “I promised you that,” he said. “Take it. But I impose no conditions. I cannot look upon a woman’s face without recalling the horrible scene I have witnessed. Let us part simply as friends.”
Agaphia, strangely wondering, took the gift and laid it away where only her own hand could find it.
With fiercer fury than ever Nicolas renewed the fight. The strength of the garrison declined. The assailants possessed the country, and reinforcements. Witek, and Wok, finding that Wenzel’s presence rendered resistance hopeless, resolved to retire to Hungary, leaving to the garrison the terms of accommodation offered. Nicolas prepared beacons to illuminate the hills in case of attempted escape.
