egan to tap the earth impatiently. What did
it matter what they said?

"Hail to Canute of Denmark!" "Hail to the King of the Danes and--" Again
cheers drowned the rest.

The pages, who had sped at the first alarm like a covey of gay birds,
came panting back, tumbling over one another in their efforts to impart
the news.

"A messenger!" "A messenger from Oxford--" "From Edric--" "Edmund
is--" "--Edmund--" "A messenger!" one cancelled another in the wild
excitement.

Elfgiva caught the nearest and shook him until his teeth chattered;
and in the lull, the swelling shout reached them for the first time
unbroken: "Honor to the King! Hail to the King of the Danes and the
Angles!"

From the Lord of Ivarsdale came a cry, sharp as though a heart-string
had snapped in its utterance, the tie that for generations had bound
those of his blood to the house of Cerdic.

"Edmund?"

The mob of soldiers and servants that burst through the doorway answered
his question with exultant shouts: "Edmund is dead! Edmund is dead! Long
live Canute the King! King of the Danes and the Angles!"

Unbidden, memory raised before Randalin a picture of the English
camp-fire in the glade, with the English King standing in its light and
the hooded figure bending from the shadow behind him, its white taloned
hand resting on his sleeve. An instant she shivered at it; then again
her foot stirred with unendurable restlessness. If he was dead, he was
dead, and there was no more to be said. Was the Etheling always going to
stand as though he were turned to stone? Would he never----

Ah, at last he was moving! As if the news had only just reached home
to him, she saw him draw himself together sharply and stride toward the
door; and she watched feverishly to see if anyone would think to stop
him. One group he passed--and another--and another--now he was on the
threshold. Her pulses leaped as she recognized Rothgar, in the throng
pouring into the garden with the messenger, but quieted again when she
saw that the two passed shoulder to shoulder without a look, without a
thought, for each other. Now he was out of sight.

She let her suspended breath go from her in a long sigh. "It is good
that everyone is too excited to notice what I do," she said to herself.
And even as she said it she realized that her limbs were shaking under
her, that she was sick unto faintness. "I am going to finish dying now,
and I welcome it," she murmured. Staggering to a little