Koder was suffering excruciating pain from the shackles and from the way he had been mounted on his horse, a manner unfamiliar to him. Each time the horse climbed upward along the path, he leaned backward, and the fetters cut into his limbs as though about to sever them, inflicting torment and agony. And each time the horse descended, he lurched forward and the pain grew sharper still. He remained in this condition until his horse stumbled, casting him down; yet he did not fall to the ground, for he remained suspended, bound, while the horse raced on.
The animal carried him across fields thick with grass, thorns, and branches, which struck and tore at his body and limbs until his blood ran freely, soaking his head, face, body, and the trousers that still clung to him.
Onward the horse sped until it entered the land of Pouchal and made its way toward the king's palace, for it knew the path well.
The people of Pouchal were horrified to see Koder's horse racing past with him dangling in such a state. Those who beheld the sight followed in haste, seeking to aid him and to learn what had transpired. But the horse pressed on, straight into the courtyard of the palace, where the king of Pouchal was at leisure with his steeds, his queen gazing upon him. She was then lost in thought, her mind preoccupied with the necklace Koder was meant to bring.
Suddenly, the king was confronted by Koder's horse halting before him, while a great crowd of Pouchalites clamored at the palace gates and the guards rushed forward in alarm, their faces stricken with fear, until they surrounded the horse before their king. A heavy silence fell, stunned by the dreadful sight: Koder hanging limp, drenched in his own blood, grievously wounded.
The king advanced toward him with slow, deliberate steps, his gaze fixed upon the ghastly sight of his brother drenched in crimson. He reached out his hands to loosen the fetters, and the guards hastened to aid him with trembling fingers. Koder collapsed into their arms, unconscious, beyond speech, though they pressed him desperately for words to ease their terror. They bore him to a sickbed, tending his wounds with sleepless vigilance, but he remained mute and unresponsive.
The king grew somber, withdrawn, and taciturn. After days of tireless care, Koder's eyelids at last lifted, revealing vacant eyes and wandering glances. His brother, the king, hurried to him in desperate hope of finding answers to the storm of questions in his mind. But he recoiled in despair when nothing came, and the king sank again into silence and distraction.
The people of Pouchal, meanwhile, were in great tumult over what they had witnessed and heard. Each tongue turned rumor into tale, and imagination wove threads of suspicion and fear until a shroud of uncertainty clothed the land. At last, Koder spoke. The cry of relief spread swiftly to the king, who rushed to him, breathless, to gaze upon his brother's face and hear his words.
"What has happened?" the king asked.
With a broken voice, trembling and faint, Koder whispered:
"The Rudam!"
The king, agitated, pressed his weakened brother until, with great struggle, Koder recounted the whole story.
At once the herald was sent forth: "Gather in the palace square, for the king summons you!" And soon the Pouchalites crowded the court until it overflowed. Their king appeared before them clad in armor, and when they beheld him thus, they knew his command would be for war. Their obedience was swift and absolute.
When silence fell and all eyes turned to him, the king declared:
"O people of Pouchal, prepare yourselves to march on the morrow! For now the Rudam and all they possess are yours to take! Surely you have heard what they have done to my brother Koder. They shall meet nothing from us but the edge of our swords, severing their heads. At sunrise I go forth against them. Fail not to join the march, lest you forfeit the spoils, the treasures, and the jewels that overflow in the land of the Rudam!"
At dawn, the king of Pouchal set out at the head of his vast army, thirsting for vengeance upon the Rudam for the insult to himself and his brother. Many days must pass before he reached his enemies, while Amer had already returned to the Rudam with Pouchal captives, all bound together by a single rope.
When the queen of Rudam saw Amer return with such a number of Pouchal prisoners, her astonishment grew, for never had she imagined her people capable of confronting the Pouchal, let alone capturing them and binding them so ignominiously. She turned to Amer in wonder:
"A marvel this is, what I behold! That the Pouchal should fall captive into our hands? Never did I dream to see such a sight!"
Amer replied, "It is the power of one who holds the right, when he believes in it and defends it. Marvel not."
"But surely this will bring war upon us!"
"Therefore we have raised these fortresses."
"O noble guest, how did you manage to face the Pouchal, to capture them thus, without a single one of us slain?"
"We fell upon them by surprise; the shock delivered them into our grasp. And we sent Koder, the king's brother, back as a warning, should their king dare approach you with greed or menace. They know but one language, and we shall answer them in kind—the language of strength. Yet we must remain vigilant, for surely they will come to war after Koder's return. But they shall gain nothing here. These impregnable walls will stand between them and their desires, and at last they will depart in disappointment, their purpose thwarted."
Then Amer urged the queen to rouse her people to readiness, and she herself oversaw the sharpening of spears, the storing of stones, the hoarding of provisions. The Rudam labored day and night in tireless preparation for the coming storm.
At last the drums of alarm thundered!
The entire kingdom leapt into a frenzy unlike any before. The Rudam hastened into their city, sealing the gates fast, manning the high walls in silence. Hidden behind battlements and stone ramparts, they watched and waited. Anxiety pressed upon every heart, yet the towering fortifications filled them with confidence.
Then, at last, the Pouchal appeared—a mighty host, bearing with them the tools of ruin and devastation, their king astride a massive steed at the fore. When they drew near the walls, the king halted, astonished, his army staring in equal wonder at fortifications the like of which they had never seen.
A great bewilderment seized the king. He paced upon his steed, back and forth, in silence, taking in this unfamiliar sight, this strength he had never before encountered. One of his guards followed close, gazing upward at the massive walls in awe and dismay, his mind consumed with confusion over what course to take. He completed his circuit of the fortress and returned to stand before the great army he had mustered for destruction.
The king's perplexity deepened. Pride swelled within him as he looked upon his vast host, but when his eyes turned again to the walls, he felt only helplessness. His men saw the turmoil written on his face, until one of his guards stepped forth and said:
"The Rudam built these walls only out of fear of our might. Let us trick them into leaving their fortress, or opening their gates, and then we shall deal with them."
"How so?" asked the king.
"Let us call to them, address their queen, and say we have not come to attack but to make peace. That we wish only to reclaim our captives and then depart in friendship."
"What a splendid ruse! Yes, and let us tell them we will hold a grand feast, distributing food and drink in celebration of peace and reconciliation."
"Indeed. They will come forth to join the feast, and once they mingle among us, the Pouchal shall execute the plan."
At this, the king's face lit with joy at the cunning stratagem. He ordered his guard to approach the gates and summon the queen of Rudam with the words agreed upon.
The guard obeyed, calling out loudly as the queen, hidden behind a stone parapet, watched intently. She nearly stepped forth to answer when Amer signaled her to silence. So she remained quiet.
Still the guard shouted, demanding that someone of Rudam reply or step forth. No answer came. At last he cried:
"O queen of Rudam! We have not come as enemies, but in peace, to make a covenant of reconciliation, that we may depart in harmony, our captives restored, and let amity reign between us!"
When the queen heard these words, her heart was gladdened, and she rose in eagerness to respond. But Amer restrained her:
"My queen, these are treacherous men. Do not speak with them."
"But they offer us peace!"
"It is a ruse. They mean to deceive you."
"How know you this?"
"Were they sincere, they would not have come with so vast an army. They would have sent but one or two to propose peace. A true treaty needs no such host of war."
"Perhaps they brought it to celebrate the covenant."
"If that were so, they would not bear such deadly weapons."
"What army marches without arms?"
"I have given you my counsel. I trust them not. Better we keep silence until they despair and turn away. Their request comes only after these high walls have defeated their schemes."
"But they offer me peace. What excuse have I to refuse? I will test them, though wary, and see."
The queen would not heed Amer further. She ordered one of her ministers to reply to the king's guard, declaring her acceptance of the treaty. She then commanded preparations for the meeting of peace, though Amer pleaded in vain to dissuade her. Her heart was fixed on avoiding battle with the Pouchal.
At once the Pouchal began their charade, feigning joy in the covenant. By command of their king, they danced, sang, spread tables of food, slaughtered beasts for feasts, and laid aside their weapons. They gave themselves to revelry, eager to cloak their treachery in the guise of peace and harmony.
Then the gates were opened, and from them emerged those who had once been prisoners of the Bouchal, walking in military order, now dressed in splendid garments bestowed upon them by the Queen of the Rodam. Leading them was a delegation from the Rodam, bearing gifts for the King of the Bouchal in gratitude for his declaration of peace and reconciliation.
The procession arrived amid shouts of joy and exclamations of delight before the king. The head of the Rodam delegation advanced, greeted the king with utmost respect, presented the gifts, and showed how their queen had honored the captives and clothed them in the finest attire. Then the king said:
"We have come only to make peace with you and to begin a new era of cooperation and harmony. And here is the document of peace."
He then handed the head of the delegation a written document, sealed with his signature, which read:
"The King of the Bouchal and the Queen of the Rodam have agreed to begin a new chapter of cooperation and brotherhood, establishing a noble relationship between them that will bring benefit and prosperity to their peoples. Both pledge that the King of the Bouchal and the Queen of the Rodam, together with their nations, shall stand united in times of hardship and of ease."
The king requested that the head of the delegation present the document to the queen, that she might sign it as a sign of her consent.
The Rodam delegation returned, filled with joy at what they had witnessed of the king's desire to spread peace and security. They presented the document to the queen, who rejoiced exceedingly upon receiving it. Then she looked toward Amer and said:
"My belief has been proven true. Here is a written document, signed by the King of the Bouchal himself, affirming peace and harmony between us. This is the utmost we had hoped for and all that we could have wished."
Amer did not reply, but gazed at her with pity and remained silent.
The queen took up a pen and began signing the document, her face aglow with delight. She then handed it to the head of the delegation to return it to the King of the Bouchal. The king rejoiced greatly at the queen's approval of peace and security between their peoples. He ordered his subjects to increase the celebrations and joy on this occasion and invited the delegation to join in a circle of dancing and singing. The finest foods were brought forth, and the king said to the head of the delegation:
"Invite the Queen of the Rodam to join us in the festivities."
When the head of the delegation returned to the queen, he conveyed to her the news of the magnificent welcome and the great honor with which he had been received, bearing the document of peace. He also delivered the king's invitation for her to join in the rejoicing of the Bouchal. The queen accepted at once, prepared herself to go forth, and commanded her people to accompany her to the ongoing celebrations.
All this unfolded while Amer watched her and her people with a gaze of pity, his attempts to persuade her to be cautious having been swept away in vain.
Then, from the great gate, there emerged a grand procession of the Rodam, led by their queen, singing in sweet voices hymns of joy and peace. The King of the Bouchal received the queen with greetings and magnificent hospitality. Their peoples exchanged food and drink, and the celebration lasted long, with displays performed by both sides before the king and queen. The Rodam mingled with the Bouchal, who showed them warmth, courtesy, and overwhelming welcome.
And Amer, from atop the walls, beheld it all with eyes of sorrow and glances of lamentation. Then what he had foreseen came to pass: the Bouchal fell upon the Rodam with a sudden and crushing assault. Cries for aid rose everywhere, the multitude was thrown into turmoil, and the Rodam fled in every direction seeking escape, turning their faces away from flashing swords, gleaming spears, and darting arrows that scattered limbs, struck off heads, and ground flesh into bone. The throngs, surging in all directions, sent sparks flying and blood bursting forth from heads and bodies alike.
The cries availed nothing to stop the massacre, nor did attempts to escape the carnage succeed, nor did the pleas of the weak or the mercy of the young avail them. The deceived queen was struck with horror; her senses fled at the dreadful sight. She tried to rise, but the king gestured with his sword for her to sit. The deceived one sank to the ground, her reason driven away by terror. Her eyes sank within her from the weight of dread and fear, her color faded until she seemed among the dead though still alive. Each time she sought to moan or cry to lessen her torment, her voice was trapped, her throat parched, and the wretched woman hovered on the brink of madness.
All were preoccupied—some killing, others expecting death—when Amer, with a small band of Rodam horsemen, charged upon the King of the Bouchal. They snatched the queen from his clutches, and Amer struck down the king's sword as he raised it to fend off the raiders. They fled with the queen toward the fortress gate, racing the wind, while the king shouted to his men and aides to pursue them. A troop of Bouchal horsemen dashed after the kidnapped queen, and their steeds were swifter than those of the Rodam. They overtook them at the great entrance.