f Lodbrok took the land before ever this Angle's kin had seen
it. He built the tower that stands on it, and the name it bears to this
day is the name of his giving. Under Guthrum, a weak-kneed son of his
lost it to the English Alfred, and we fell out of our fortunes with the
tipping of the scales, and Angles have sat since then in the seat of
Lodbrok's sons. But now the scales have risen again. Under Canute,
Ivarsdale, with all other English property, comes back to Danish hands.
By all the laws of war, my kinsman's inheritance should be my share of
the spoil."

Ending roundly, he drew himself up in an attitude of bold assurance.
Wherever a group of scarlet cloaks made a bright patch upon the human
arras, there was a flutter of approval. Even the braver of the English
nobles, who for race-pride alone might have supported Sebert in a valid
claim, saw nothing to do now but to draw away, with a silent interchange
of shrugs and headshakes, and leave him to his doom.

In the shadow of his hand, Canute nodded slowly. "By all the laws of
war," he affirmed, "your kinsman's inheritance should be your share of
the spoil."

Again an approving murmur rose from Danish throats; and Rothgar was
opening his lips to voice a grateful answer, when a gesture of the royal
hand checked him.

"Recollect, however, that just now I am not only a war-chief, but also a
law-man. I think it right, therefore, to hear what the Englishman has to
say for his side. Sebert Oswaldsson, speak in your defence."

Not even a draft appeared to stir the human tapestry about them. Sebert
started like a man awakened from sleep, when he realized that every eye
was hanging upon him. Swiftly, his glance passed around the circle, from
the averted faces of his countrymen to the foreign master on the throne,
then bitterly he bent his head to his fate.

"I have nothing to say. Your justice may most rightly be meted out."

"Nothing to say?" The King's measured voice sounded sharply through the
hush. For the first time, he lowered his hand and bent forward where the
fire-glow could touch him.

As she caught sight of his face Elfgiva shrank and clutched at her
women. "Ah, Saints, I am thankful now that it is dark!" she murmured.

Sebert sustained the look with proud steadiness. "Nothing that would be
of use to me," he said; "and I do not choose to pleasure you by setting
up a weak plea for you to knock down again. The right which gave Britain
to the Saxons has give