Part 53 (2/2)

She told me, moreover, that it would remove the spell from the Fena, and bring back their strength and heal their wounds, if they could get to drink from it.”

Conan, being near, overheard this conversation; and he inwardly resolved that he would try to secure the drinking-horn, if perchance he might be able to heal his wounds by means of it.

Not long after, the giant again came to the prison, sword in hand, and addressed Conan in these words--

”Come forward now, O big, bald man, for I am about to fulfil my promise to you! Come forward, that I may strike off your large head; for I see that your wounds have not killed you!”

But Conan, instead of coming forward, fell back even to the farthest part of the dungeon, and replied--

”You must know, Dryantore, that I, of all men alive, am the most unwilling to die any death unworthy of a brave hero. You see my evil plight, all wounded and faint from loss of blood; and, being as I am a valiant warrior, it would surely be a shameful thing and a foul blot on my fame, to be slain while in this state. I ask only one favour--that you cure me of my wounds first. After this, you may put me to death in any manner that is most agreeable to you.”

To this Dryantore consented, seeing that Conan was secure; and he called to Ailna and bade her fetch him the magical golden drinking-horn. ”For I wish,” said he, ”to heal the wounds of yonder big, bald man.”

But Ailna replied, ”Of what concern are his wounds to us? Is it not better that he should die at once, and all the other Fena with him?”

Conan spoke out from where he stood, ”Lovely Ailna, I seek not to escape death. I ask only to be healed first and slain afterwards!”

Ailna went to the palace and soon returned, bringing, not the drinking-horn, but a large sheepskin, covered all over with a long growth of wool. Dryantore took it from her, and doing as she told him, he fitted it on Conan's back, where it cleaved firmly, so that his wounds were all healed up in an instant.

As long as Conan lived afterwards, this sheepskin remained on his back; and the wool grew upon it every year, even as wool grows on the back of a living sheep. And from that time forth, the other Fena were always mocking him and laughing at him and calling him nicknames.

As soon as Conan felt his wounds healed, he again spoke to the giant--

”It is my opinion, Dryantore, that it would be a very unwise thing for you to put me to death. I see plainly you want a servant. Now, although I am large of bone and strong of body, and very brave withal, still I am very harmless. And if you let me live, I shall be your servant for ever, and you will find me very useful to you.”

The giant saw the force and wisdom of Conan's words; and he felt that he wanted a servant very much, though he never perceived it till that moment, when Conan reminded him of it.

So he said, ”I believe, indeed, Conan, that your words are truth.

Wherefore, I will not put you to death. You are now my servant, and so shall you be for the rest of your life.”

He then led Conan forth from the dungeon towards the palace; and he was in such good humour at having got a servant, that he forgot to kill any of the Fena on that occasion.

He called to him Ailna and Glanlua, to tell them of what he had done.

And he said to them--

”I find that I need a servant very much. Wherefore, I have made Conan my servant. And I am now about to free him from the spell and give him back his strength by a drink from the golden drinking-horn, so that he may be able to wait on me and do my work.”

For Conan, though his wounds were healed, was still so weak from the spell that he was scarce able to walk.

”I do not at all approve what you have done,” said Ailna. ”It would be, methinks, much better to put him straightway to death along with all the others. As long as he is with us as our servant, I shall never think myself free from danger; for the Fena are treacherous all alike.”

”As for the other Fena,” replied Dryantore, ”you need not be in any trouble on their account, for their time is short. As soon as I have got Conan free from the spell, I will go straight to the dungeon and kill them, every man. And when they are fairly put out of the way, it seems to me that we need not fear danger from this big, bald man with the sheepskin on his back.”

When Ailna heard that the death of the Fena was near at hand, she no longer gainsaid her brother. So Dryantore led Conan to the palace; and placing the magical drinking-horn in his hand, bade him drink. And Conan drank; and immediately his strength and his spirits returned.

Now it so happened, while these things went on, that Finn asked Dara to play one of his sweet, sad tunes, that they might hear the music of his timpan before they died. And Dara took his timpan, and began to play; and historians say that no one either before or since ever played sweeter strains.

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