Stifling a
gasp, she shrank behind a tall chair.
He did not see her, however, for his eyes were fastened upon the King, who had
turned back to the window. He had cast aside the splendor of the royal guards,
wearing over his steel shirt a kirtle of blue that made his florid face seem
redder and gave to his fiery hair a hotter glow. Two sentinels carrying
shining pikes had followed him in, uncertainly, and now one plucked at his
arm. But the Jotun shook him off to stride forward, clanking his heels with
intentional noisiness upon the stone floor.
At the clatter the King looked around, and the tone in which he spoke his
friend's name had in it more of passion than all the lover's phrases he had
ever paid Elfgiva's ears. At the same time, he made a sharp sign to the two
sentinels. "Get back to your posts," he said.
Hesitating they saluted and unwilling they wheeled, while one spoke bluntly
over his shoulder. "It would be better to let us stay, King, if you please.
You are weaponless."
"Go," Canute repeated. In a moment the doors beyond the curtain had closed
behind them, and the two men were alone save for the girl hiding forgotten in
the shadow of the chair.
Rothgar laughed jarringly. "Whatever has been told about you, you have not yet
been accounted a coward. But I do not see how you know I shall not kill you. I
have dreamed of it not a few times.
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