"They do say that the Earl poisoned him," he blubbered. "But none say that you
bade him to do it. No one dares to say that."
"How could they say that?" Randalin cried in amazement, while the King drew
back as though the grovelling figure at his feet were a dog that had bitten
him.
"I bid him do it?" he repeated. All at once his face was so terrible that the
man began to crawl backward, screaming, even before Canute's hand had reached
his hilt.
Before the blade could be drawn, Rothgar had stepped in front of his royal
foster-brother with a savage sweep of his handless arm. "Do not waste your
point on the churl, King," he said in his bull's voice. "If you want to play
this game further, deal with me, for I also believe that you bade the Gainer
murder Edmund."
As though paralyzed by his amazement, Canute's arm dropped by his side. "You
also believe it?"
Little Dearwyn hid her face on the Danish girl's breast. "Oh, Randalin, would
he do such a deed?" she gasped. "The while that he seemed so kind and gentle
with us! Would he do such horrid wickedness?"
"No!" Randalin cried passionately. "No!"
But even as she cried it, Thorkel the Tall dared to lean forward and give the
royal shoulder a rallying slap. "Amleth himself never played a game better,"
he said; "but is it worth while to continue at it when no Englishmen are
watching?" And his words seemed to open a door against which the others were
crowding.
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