e drew his blade half out,--and this time he
did not shove it back. His huge body seemed to draw itself together,
crouching, as he leaned forward. "Why do you stand there looking as
though you thought you were Odin? Do you think to blunt my weapon with
your eyes? Why do you tempt me?"

The King had not moved away from the chair against which he had
staggered, and the prints of his nails were on its arm. He was as though
he had hardened to stone. "To show you that I am stronger than you,
though I face you with bare hands," he said. "To show you that you dare
not kill me."

"Dare not!" Rothgar's laughter was a hideous thing as he cleared at a
bound the space between them. His sword was full-drawn now. "Shout for
your guards! It may be that they will get here in time."

But the King neither gave back nor raised his voice. "I will not," he
said, "nor will I lift hand against you. Never shall you have it to say
that I forgot you had endangered your life for mine. On your head it
shall be to break the blood-oath."

Now they were breast to breast. In her mind, the girl in the shadow
flung open the doors and shrieked to the sentinels and roused the
Palace; in her body, she stood spellbound, voiceless, breathless.

Still Rothgar did not strike. It was the King who spoke this time also.
"Among the sayings of men in Norway," he said coldly, "there is one they
tell of a traitor who carried a sword of death against his King, but
lacked the boldness to use it before the King's face. So he begged his
lord to wrap a cloak around his head that he might get the courage to
ask a boon. When that had been done, he stabbed. Do you want me to cover
my eyes?"

With a hoarse cry, Rothgar flung his sword back to his sheath,
recoiling,--there was even a kind of fear in his manner: "A fool would I
be, to set your ghost free to follow me with that look on its face! Keep
your life--and instead I will torture every Angle I can get under my
grip, for it is they who have turned a great hero into a nithing--may
they despise you as you have despised your people for their sakes!"
Invoking the curse with a sweep of his handless arm, he strode from the
room.

Randalin did not see when he passed her, for her eyes were on the King
as he stood looking after his foster-brother.

"Ah, God, what a terrible world hast Thou made!" she murmured, as she
put up her hands to ease the swelling agony in her throat. "No longer
will I try to live in it. I will go