"Is it your wish that I help you to lower your hood, lady?" the Danish girl
made offer.
Elfgiva's half smile deepened into a laugh. "Not so, not so!" she said. "What!
Have you seen so much of war and battle axes that you have forgotten the ways
that are pleasing to men? Yet methinks you must needs have taken notice that,
always before he goes into battle, a soldier tests the sharpness of his
weapon. It is to that end that I endure the gaze of these serfs,--to test the
power of my face."
"It would not be unadvisable for you to whet your wits as well," Frode's
daughter muttered scornfully, and somewhat rashly, since Elfgiva's wits had
been sharp enough to guess the significance of her hand-maiden's interview
with the young English noble, and the knowledge had given her a weapon which
she was skilful in using.
"Has the sharpness of your mind brought you so much success then, my sweet?"
she inquired with her faultless smile; and had the satisfaction of seeing her
rebel shrink into silence like a child before a rod.
The crowding of the highway became more noticeable as they neared the point
where the Watling Street swerved from its old course, toward the ford and the
little Isle of Thorns, to bend eastward toward the New Gate. Some obstruction
at the forking of the roads impeded their progress almost to a walk. After a
brief experience of it, Elfgiva spoke impatiently to the nearest soldier.
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