He
stood studying the Lord of Ivarsdale with eyes in which malicious amusement
was growing into open mirth. It came out in another laugh. "Now it would be
more unlikely than the wonder which has occurred, yet I begin to believe you!
I myself will guide you to your Fridtjof, only for the pleasure of watching
your face. The Fates are no such step-mothers after all!" He turned in the
direction from which he had come and made the other a sign. "This way, if you
dare to follow. I am not afraid to go first, so you need give no thought of
the chances of steel between your ribs."
The Etheling took his hand off his weapon with a twinge of shame; but he was
not without misgivings as he strode along at Rothgar's heels. Unless the
youngling had made a decided change for the worse, what satisfaction could the
Jotun expect to get from witnessing their meeting? Before his mind, there rose
again the tear-stained boyish face which had bidden him farewell that night at
the postern, and his pulses throbbed with a fierce pity.
"He took himself from the one person who was dear to him, poor little cub," he
murmured. "If they have maimed him, I swear I will tuck him under my arm and
cut my way out though there be a wall of the brutes around him."
His musings came to an end, as the man preceding him stopped suddenly where
one of the milky panes broken from the cloister window gave a view of the
cloister garden.
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