Never fear; I will be an owl of discretion. Give you
favorable dreams over your horns!" He picked up his cloak and was turning to
depart, when one of the warriors flung up a hand.
"Soft, my lord. Yonder comes Wikel making strange signs to you." All heads but
Randalin's turned in the direction he was looking. She was still too lethargic
for curiosity; and she found a kind of dreamy content in lying with her eyes
upon the Etheling's handsome face. Though its prevailing characteristic was
the easy amiability of one who has known little of opposition or dislike,
there was no lack of steel in the blue eyes or of iron in the square chin; now
and then a spark betrayed them, thrilling pleasantly through her drowsiness.
Presently, however, between her and the comely apparition there intervened the
brawny figure of a yeoman-soldier. He said breathlessly, "Chief--before you go
to the King--be it known to you that those horse-feet you heard--belong to the
mounts of Edric of Mercia and his men--and he is with King Edmund now!"
The three stolid old warriors got to their feet with curses. The Etheling bent
forward to gaze incredulously into the man's face.
"Edric of Mercia? With the King? Why do you think so?"
"I was a little way beyond the King's fire, watching a fellow who was showing
how he could jump over the flames, when I saw the Gainer ride past; and I
followed him, as near as the guards would permit--near enough to see that the
King received him--let him settle it with Saint Cuthbert!"
There was a pause of utter stupefaction; then, from all within hearing, a
clamorous outburst: "It is the Gainer's luck again!"--"The messenger knew what
he was saying!"--"No sharpness of wit can comprehend it!"--"It is the magic of
his flattering tongue.
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