re he got out of her alarm for
him, even while he answered as lightly as he could that it was no more
than the fatigue of his three days in the saddle; and a lack of food,
perhaps, as he had been somewhat pressed for time; and a lack of sleep
because of--

But she was a warrior's daughter, and she would not be put off. Coming
close to him, she pulled aside the dusty cloak, hot as a live coal in
the glare of the day, and there--behold!--there were blood stains on the
breast of his blue kirtle. Forgetful of everything else, she flung her
arms around him as though to shield him. "Sebert, you are wounded! What
is it?"

Nothing that troubled him very much, apparently, for his haggard
face had grown radiant with gladness. Yet he was enough afraid of
the reaction to answer her as gravely as possible: "It is Rothgar
Lodbroksson, whom I met coming from the City as I was journeying back
from my errand in Northampton. Little affection has ever passed between
us, and this time something more than usual seemed to have stirred him
against me, for--"

"He tried to kill you!" The words were not a question but a breathless
assertion as she remembered the Jotun's last threat.

"He tried to kill me," the Marshal assented quietly. "And his blade did
manage to pierce my mail; he is a giant in strength as in other things.
But it cut no more than flesh; and after that, Fortune wheeled not
toward him."

"You slew him!" Her lips were white as she gasped it, but he knew
now that it was no love for the Jotun that moved her, and he answered
promptly to her unspoken thought: "No, sweet,--for the King's sake,
I spared him. Before this, his men have taken him aboard his ship and
England is rid of him."

Murmuring broken phrases of thanksgiving, she stood holding the cloak
she had grasped, but he dreaded too much the moment of her awakening
to await its coming inactive. Slipping his arms around her, he began to
speak swiftly, the moment her silence gave him an opening.

"Never did I blame Rothgar much for his enmity against me, and now I
thank him for this cut as for a gift, for through it I know that at
least you have not outlawed me from your love. Dear one, as you are not
unkind to so slight a thing as this wound in my flesh, so neither be
without pity for the one that is so much deeper, in my heart! As the
scratch stayed your anger for a while, so, in the gentleness of love,
let this which is mortal stay it for all time."

With his arms