not got it into your head that I
am your King?"

Rothgar gave a short laugh. "I do not know if I have got it into my
head or not," he said; "but I am certain that my body is aware of your
kingship." He did not even move his eyes toward the stump of his wrist,
but Canute turned from him suddenly, his lip caught in his teeth, and
once more strode up and down the narrow space.

After the fourth round, he stopped and laid his hands affectionately
upon his foster-brother's shoulders. "Too long have we endured each
other's roughness, comrade, for you to think that unfriendliness is
in my mind because I foam over in this way. I tell you, you would
not wonder at it if you knew the state of my feelings. And I will not
conceal it that I am glad you have come to share them--though I have not
the intention to heed a word of your advice," he added, half laughing,
half threatening. Pushing the other down upon the rough bunk, he seated
himself beside him, his elbows on his knees, his chin cupped in his
palms.

"The host is full of impatience; and I am weary unto madness. Never do
we come to any end, nor ever shall until that time when the wolf shall
catch the sun! I have nowhere heard of a more foolish war than this. It
was in my mind, as you came in, that I would send a favorable answer to
the Englishman and get the matter decided, one way or another."

Even Randalin uttered a cry; and Rothgar caught his King by the arm
as though to snatch him out of bodily peril. "Only one way would be
possible, Canute! Your waist is not so big as one of his arms. His sword
would cleave you as if it cut water."

Half laughing, but more resentful, the King freed himself. "Now do you
hold my power so lightly? More than once have I gotten under your guard.
If skill could accomplish anything, you would not have to wait long for
what I should fix upon." He broke off with a shrug and flung himself
back upon the straw of the bunk. "Let us speak of something else," he
said. "What did the boy say about having seen Edmund?"

Somewhat ramblingly, as uncertain of his interest, Randalin told him of
her glimpse of the Ironside; and he listened lying back on the straw,
his eyes fixed on the ceiling. She had begun to think he had forgotten
her, when all at once he shot out a swift question: "Did you never find
out what the wool was that Edric Jarl pulled over his eyes?"

"Not unless one could guess it from what King Edmund said, lord,--that
the Jarl had fou