I can hide it that I am a girl." Turning in her furry bed,
she rose cautiously upon her elbow and looked about.

The tent was empty, though scattered furs along the benches showed where
sleepers might have rested. But from outside, a clatter of hurrying feet
and excited voices broke suddenly upon her. Did it mean a battle? She
sat up, straining eye and ear. The jubilant voices shouted greetings
that just missed being intelligible. The sun, glancing from moving
weapons, flashed through the doorway in fantastic shapes.

While she was trying to unravel it all, one pair of the hurrying feet
halted before the entrance. After a muttered word with the sentinel,
they came on and brought the son of Lodbrok into view. The girl started
up with a gasp of alarm, then made the strange discovery that she was no
longer afraid of him. Though he showed against the linen wall as brawny
and big of jowl as he had loomed up the night before, she found
herself moved only to dislike. What had been the matter last night?
Understanding nothing of the clairvoyant power of sharpened nerves, she
set it down to cowardice, and put on an extra swagger now as her eyes
met his.

Rothgar surveyed the sprig of defiance with no more than a perfunctory
interest. "It seems that you are the son of Frode the Dane," he said
in his heavy voice. "Frode was a mighty raven-feeder; for his sake I am
going to support you until you can go well on your legs. Have you had
anything to eat?"

As she shook her head, Randalin's heart rather softened toward him. But
it hardened again when the thralls had brought the food, and he had
sat down and begun to share it. Seen in a strong light, his rich tunic
proved to be foul with beer stains, while his great hands reeked with
grease. His thick lips, his heavy breathing--bah, he was revolting!
Before she had finished the meal, she had come to the conclusion that
she hated him.

Perhaps it was as well that there was something to add firmness to
her bearing. As he swallowed his last mouthful of food, Rothgar said
abruptly, "Canute has put your training into my hands. It is his will
that I find out how much skill you have with weapons."

It was nothing more than she should have expected, yet it came upon her
with the suddenness of a blow. She could only stammer, "Weapons?"

The Jotun's voice rumbled hideously as he talked into his goblet. "Have
you the accomplishment to wield a battle-axe or throw a spear? Can you
shoot stra