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 the campfire, watching the smouldering logs crackling and spluttering, which appeared to be red-hot columns of iron. Were they the reflective thoughts of a man who had reached his decision or had some dreadful premonition laid its icy hand upon his heart and sealed his lips? The fact remained that he, a deliberate and experienced man, avoided Peace-Renown’s eyes and only stared into the red-embered fire watching the burning logs turn into ashes.

“My dear,” said he at last softly, without turning his eyes away from the fire.

“Father, why didn’t you kill me yesterday?” whispered Peace-Renown, doing her best to hold back the threatening tears. Her voice though low, chilled the boyar’s heart. He could not find an answer to her pointed query and was silent, continuing staring into the fire until the guard returned from the encampment.

“The grandsons of the great Jinghis Khan send greetings to their friend and invite him to their tent for a military conference.”

“Let us go!” said the boyar, getting up from his place by the fire. Peace-Renown stood up also though her legs obeyed her unwillingly. In a moment the Mongolian guardsmen brought their horses, lifted Peace-Renown up on her horse and surrounding them, led them to the camp.

The Mongolian encampment was arranged in an immense square protected by a deep fosse. There were twelve paths leading to each side of the square, all posted with armed guards. Though no enemy threatened the encampment, it was nevertheless vigilantly guarded according to the strict military rules of the warring Mongols. In contrast, the Christians equaled the Mongolians neither in discipline of their men, aptitude and training of their leaders, nor in the management of huge armies of men.

At the entrance to the entrenchment, there ensued a loud,