there is still one thing wanting
on this side; berries if I have them, or grasses if I have not,--here
are more berries! Oh, yes, I declare that I expect to be very merry
through your spirits! You shall have the rule over my pages and devise
games and junketings without end."

Humming gayly, she began to weave in the bright berries; and it struck
Randalin that here was a good opportunity to make the plea she had in
her mind. She said gravely, "I shall be thankful if you are able to
manage it, lady, so that I may go back with you."

Pausing in her work, Elfgiva looked down in surprise. "Now what should
prevent?" she asked.

The girl colored a little as she answered: "It was in the King's mind
once, lady, that a good way to dispose of Randalin, Frode's daughter,
would be to marry her to the son of Lodbrok. If he should still keep
that opinion--I would prefer to die!" she ended abruptly.

But the King's wife laughed her rippling laughter that had in it all the
music of falling waters. "Shed no tears over that, ladybird! Would I
be apt to let such an odious bear as Rothgar Lodbroksson rob me of my
newest plaything? Whence to my dulness a pastime but for your help?
Though he were the King's blood-brother, he should tell for naught.
You do not guess half the entertainment your wild ways will be to me. I
expect it will be more pleasant for me to have you than that Norman ape
which Canute sent me at the beginning of the summer,--which is dead now,
unfortunately, because Harald would insist upon shooting his arrows
into it. There! Now my work could not be improved upon." Again she moved
back, her beautiful head tilted in birdlike examination. Randalin arose
slowly and stood before her with widening eyes.

But it was not long that the Lady of Northampton had for her or for the
wreath. Now her attention was attracted to the farthest group of guards
and huntsmen, whose motions and shouting seemed to indicate some unusual
commotion. Bending, she peered curiously under the branches. "I wonder
if it has happened that the King has sent someone to meet us?" she
exclaimed. "I see a gleam of scarlet, lady," the maiden of the riverbank
came to tell her eagerly.

But even as Elfgiva was turning to despatch a page for news, the throng
of moving figures parted, and from it two horsemen emerged and rode
toward them. One was the mighty son of Lodbrok, clad in the scarlet
mantle and gilded mail of the King's guard. The other, who wore no