"Unhand the Lord of Ivarsdale, my chiefs," he ordered. As they sent him
incredulous glances over their shoulders, he further explained his will by a
gesture; and they fell away, murmuring, the swords gliding like bright
serpents back to their holes. Then he made another sign, this time to the
stranger. "We will accept your greeting now, Englishman, even though you have
been hindered in the giving of it," he said politely.
Standing there, watching the young noble advance, it seemed to Randalin that
there was not room between her heart-beats for her breathing. How soon would
he look up and know her? How would his face change when he did? His color now
was a match for the warriors' cloaks, and there was none of his usual ease in
his manner when at last he bowed before the King. Presently it occurred to her
to suspect that he had already recognized her,--perhaps from the doorway,--and
in her rush of relief at the idea of the shock being over, she found even an
impulse of playfulness. Borrowing one of Elfgiva's graces, she swept back her
rustling draperies in a ceremonious courtesy before him.
Again he bent in his bow of stiff embarrassment; but he did not meet her
glance even then, returning his gaze, soldier-like, to the King. Suppose he
were going to treat her with the haughtiness she had seen him show Hildelitha
or the old monk when they had displeased him! At the mere thought of it, she
shrank and dropped her eyes to the coral chain that she was twining between
her fingers.
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