The first bird awakens. A new day has arrived, and a pale light appears through the narrow window. The heavy iron bars in front of the window seem dark, ominous, fixed, and immovable. Teuns Stegmann, the big, blonde South African in the French Foreign Legion, looks upon the new day wearily. His eyes feel heavy and reluctant because he had hardly slept a wink last night. How can a man sleep if you know that you will die before sunrise the next day? A shiver runs through his lean body, and he places his hands behind his head.
He is currently in a small cell in Dutra, the capital of the Dulacs, where they had locked him up the previous night after he had been condemned to die. He has relived the trial of the night before so many times already. He sees the big throne hall of the palace again,
