Above them, among the scrub and along the lower slopes of the kranzes, I could see further lines with the same gleaming weapons.

The Place of the Snake was in strong hands that night.
I dismounted and called for a man to take my horse.

Two of the guards stepped forward in silence and took the bridle.

This left the track to the cave open, and with as stiff a back as I could command, but a sadly fluttering heart, I marched through the ranks.
The path was lined with guards, all silent and rigid as graven images.
As I stumbled over the stones I felt that my appearance scarcely fitted the dignity of a royal messenger.

Among those splendid men-at-arms I shambled along in old breeches and leggings, hatless, with a dirty face, dishevelled hair, and a torn flannel shirt.