“Nay, Gyda,” said the maiden gently. “’Tis only that I mourn the loss of my friend. Otherwise I would not have it to be, for Ethelfleda is happy. She believes that naught can change us; but thou wottest, Gyda, that now new duties will claim her attention, and it cannot be with us as it hath been. Unworthy is it in me to grieve, but yet, methinks I shall be the better for it.” “Egwina,” said Gyda abruptly, “art thou happy here? Dost thou not often grieve for the old life and the free? Think of thy father, and of thy grandfather. Ay! and I have heard his father, and his father’s father were gleemen; yet thou stayest here, and there is peace in the land. Much gold and many gifts couldst thou bring to thyself by thy harp and song. Art content to be at the call of one lord even though that lord is the king?” “I do not grieve for the old life, Gyda,” said the maiden, simply. “Pleasant was it with granther. Yet methinks I am happier here than I should be wandering from lord to lord; from mead hall to mead hall. And the king and his family love me.” “And thou wouldst not leave them?” queried the wicca. “Nay; why should I? Useful am I to Elswitha, and now that she no longer will have Ethelfleda, I shall be more so. No, Gyda; I would not leave them. ’Twould grieve me much.” “Sorry am I to hear it,” and Gyda’s tone was low. “Child, little didst thou reck that thou didst make me long to have thee with me when last I saw thee. The runes speak not well for Gyda. They grow dim when she would read what Skulda hath in store for her. Calamity overshadows me, and a curious longing hath fallen upon my heart to have thee, who art pure and innocent, with me. Methinks I should be the better for it. Canst thou not, child, give me thyself for a time only? Alfred hath much. Why should he begrudge me thee who have none sibbe to me? Wilt thou come to dwell with me? Much of gold have I, maiden, and many gems of rare value which have been showered upon me. These, all these shall be thine.” “Gyda, I know not,” answered Egwina much distressed and full of pity for the woman’s loneliness. “I will talk with the king and the lady Elswitha, and let thee know anon. But if I go with thee, Gyda, ’tis not for gifts or gold, but for thy loneliness. I will see thee again.” “Thinkest thou that Alfred will let thee go from him?” cried Gyda. “I trow not! I trow not! Thou art born for greatness, and it is much to ask of thee.” She drew her mantle over her head, and turned to go. “Natheless, Gyda, wait for a little and I will speak with him,” urged Egwina, laying her hand upon the woman’s shoulder. “Wait I will, maiden. Till the dawn I will wait. Again will I read the runes, and see if thou wilt come. Dark and clouded have they been of late, and seid and galdra have availed me naught; but once more will I try. Fount, and tree and scin-laeca, shall all be consulted.” She glided away, and was lost in the darkness.