"You value my favor rather late in the day, Frode's daughter. It would have
been better if you had shown honor to it when you came in to me at Scoerstan,
by giving me truth in return for friendship."
If she had laughed as though recalling the jest in that scene, it is possible
that he would have struck her with his glove. It was fortunate that her sense
of humor was no more than a bubble on the foam of her high spirits. Her eyes
were dark with earnestness as they sought his.
"Lord King, I was hindered by necessity. Your camp--was it a place for women?
And did not your own mouth tell me that Randalin, Frode's daughter, should wed
the son of Lodbrok if she were alive?"
He struck his knee a ringing slap. "I confess that it is not easy to be a
match for you! But I can tell you one thing which you will not be able to
explain, as heretofore,--and it is a thing which has made me get bitterest
against you. If you had kept your confidence from all it might have passed for
discreetness, but that you should keep it from me to give it to an
Englishman--"
"But I did not give it to the Englishman," she interrupted. For an instant he
stared at her; directly after he burst into a loud laugh. "Now that is the
best thing that has occurred yet! Where you cannot crawl through, you break
through!" He laughed again, and was opening his mouth to repeat some of the
suspicions he had shared with Rothgar when something about her stopped him,--
whether it was the way she bore her head or something in her deep eyes.
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