Brass Borgar spoke with the utmost deprecation: "I say nothing against your
feelings, chief; and there are not a few who think as you do; yet I ask you to
remember one thing. I ask you to remember that no Dane has ever held back in
battle because he had the Traitor's help. Canute uses him to strengthen his
back; never to shield his face. The Islanders' own mouths have admitted that
the odds are against ten Englishmen if they face one Dane. I think it is
because he is out of patience with the war that the King makes of the Gainer a
time-saver. It has been told me that he fights not for love of it, nor yet for
glory, but because he covets the land of--"
Like the bellow of an angry bull, Rothgar's voice broke through his. "Land!
Quickly will I proclaim my opinion of any man who sets his heart on that! He
who forgets glory in his eagerness for property, deserves the curse of Thor!"
"Prepare yourself, then, for a thunderbolt, Rothgar Lodbroksson," a clear
voice spoke up suddenly.
None but had forgotten the red-cloaked figure munching its bread in the shadow
behind them. One and all started in surprise. And the chief turned over his
shoulder a face that was livid with anger. "You--you dare!" he roared.
But Randalin's heart was too full of bitterness to leave any room for fear. At
the moment, it seemed to her that it did not matter what happened.
Pages:
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180