Free The Harp and the Blade by John Myers Myers

interested me, because it seemed so appropriately in character. For such a definite mind Christianity supplied adequate answers with no vague nonsense about them. It not only explained life here but told all about the next world, complete with instructions as to the procedure on arrival. A final prayer was the requisite introduction to that new life, so a prayer he would give. I had an instant’s quiet mirth at the vision of the capable aplomb with which Conan would take up flying and other angelic properties.
    “We’re for it now,” I said, seeing a group making toward us. “Good luck in whatever happens.”
    “Good-by, brother.”
    We knew how near done we were, but they weren’t sure and approached warily. They were not happy about being leader-less, but they knew that if they went away without finishing us they would never forget it. Oliver would have been enraged at the way they crowded each other, but we could no longer take advantage of it. Loss of blood was abetting my general weariness. After a few minutes I felt dizzy and could not see too well.
    How long we held them I don’t know. I only remember that a song I’d once made started running through my head, and I sang it over and over again as best I could with the little breath I had. After a while I was down with Conan standing over me. Then as I tried to rise he fell to squash me down painfully, and when I pushed out from under him everybody was gone.
    It was puzzling, and I was annoyed at being puzzled. With some dim notion of finding out what had happened I tried to climb over the wall, but when I’d got as far as straddling it I bogged down from weakness. I was bleeding badly high up on my chest, and I sat in a sullen stupor watching the gore well and spread.
    Somewhat later, however, men were standing around, staring at me. I spat at them, making the only attacking gesture of which I was capable. “Well, come on and get it over with!”
    “Who are you? ” one wanted to know.
    This infuriated me. “Does a man have to have a formal introduction to get killed around here?”
    “He’s got a leg on each side of the wall, but I’m damned if I know which side he belongs on,” another said. “Any of you fellows ever see him before?”
    “Of course not!” I raged. “You never saw me before, and I didn’t kill any of you and carve up a lot more. Next thing you’ll be saying you never heard of Conan, and it was all a mistake. Get it over with, I say!”
    “Somebody helped Conan,” a voice said, “and as he’s the only one alive we’ll give him the benefit of the doubt—for the time being. Better look to that wound.”
    A young fellow started fussing with my chest. I was too feeble to push him away, but I glowered. “What are you doing that for?”
    “To save your life.”
    “You mean to say you’re not going to kill me?”
    “No,” he said patiently, “I’m trying to help you.”
    I had been keyed for mortal enmity, and now that I was on the way to delirium I wasn’t going to be placated by anybody on any account. “You bastardly busybody!” I cursed him. “Go to hell and drink toad sweat! Here I’ve been killed all day, and now you say I can’t die. I’ll show you whether I can die or not, because I wouldn’t stay alive for any of you snake fangs!”
    After pronouncing that dictum I don’t recall any ensuing events until I was being lifted off a horse. My head cleared enough to let me know I was in great pain and that I was being carried into a small house. “We’re leaving you here,” a man said. “It’d be bad for you to go any farther with that wound.”
    “What did you bring me this far for?” I asked testily. “It was bad for me to go anywhere with this wound.”
    “Conan shouldn’t travel any more today either,” a voice remarked.
    “Yes, but there’ll be hell raised if he isn’t brought home,” another said.
    “What for?” I butted in. “Conan’s dead.”
    “Oh, no. He’s still alive.”
    “I