"Here I take oath that they shall cause their gift
to prove its value! It shall be meat and drink to me, and honor and life
itself. Many happenings shall spring from this gift, for I will put my whole
strength into the holding of it; Odin himself shall not wrest it from me! I
will be such a king that there will not be many to equal me; such a king that
they will wish they had given me happiness and left me a man."
Whirling, he flung out his bleeding hand toward Elfgiva, and his mouth was
distorted with its bitterness. "Hear that, you who were so mad to have your
lord the King of England that you could not spend a thought on the love of
Canute of Denmark! You have got your wish,--go back now to your
Northamptonshire castle and think whether or not you are gladdened by it."
"Go back!" Elfgiva fell from her height of injured dignity with a piercing
scream. "What is it you say, King? Now by the splendor of heaven, you depart
not for London without me! Be it known to you that I am going to be your
Queen."
At first he looked at her in genuine astonishment; after that he laughed,
neither angrily nor bitterly, but with the quietness of utter contempt. "I
will have the London goldsmiths send you a crown if you wish," he said. "That
is all you understand about being a queen."
She tried to protest, to cajole, to threaten. She tried to do so many things
at once that she accomplished none of them.
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