A long shadow fell upon her where she lay in the grass, and she looked up to see the great form of Harding passing at a little distance. "Who is that?" said she. "It must be he they call the Red Smith," said Damarel idly. "He looks a rough, silent creature," remarked Amelys. And Clarimond added in loud and insolent tones, "He knows little enough of kissings, I would wager this clasp." "It's one I've a fancy for," said young Queen Maudlin. "Red Smith!" called she. Harding turned at the sweet sound of her voice, and came and stood beside her among the group of girls and knights. "Have you come from my castle?" said she, smiling up at him with her dawn-blue eyes. "Ay," he answered. "What drew you there, big man? My serving-wench?" The Red Smith stared down at her light alluring loveliness. "Serving-wenches do not draw me." "What metal then? Gold?" Maudlin tossed him a yellow disc from her purse. He let it fall and lie. "No, nor gold." His eyes traveled over her gleaming locks. "The things you name are too cheap," said he. Maudlin smiled a little and raised herself, till she stood, fair and slender, as high as his shoulder. "What thing draws you, Red Smith?" "Steel." And he showed her a fine sword-blade, lacking its hilt. "I was sent for to mend this against the morrow." "I know that blade," said Maudlin, "it was snapped in my cause. Have you the hilt too?" "In my pouch," said Harding, his hand upon it. Hers touched his fingers delicately. "I will see it." He brushed her hand aside and unbuttoned his pouch; but as he drew out the hilt of the broken sword, she caught a glimpse of that within which held her startled gaze. "What jewels are those?" she asked quickly. "Old relics," Harding said with sudden gruffness. "Show them to me!" Reluctantly he obeyed, and brought forth a ring, a circlet, and a girdle of surpassing workmanship, wrought in gold thick-crusted with emeralds. A cry of wonder went up from all the maidens. "There's something else," said Maudlin; and without waiting thrust her hand into the bottom of the pouch and drew out a mesh of silver. It was so fine that it could be held and hidden in her two hands; yet when it fell apart it was a garment, as supple as rich silk. The four maids touched it softly and looked their longings. "Are these your handicraft?" said Maudlin. "Mine?" Harding uttered a short laugh. "Not I or any man can make such things." "You are right," said Maudlin. "Wayland's self might acknowledge them. Smith, I will buy them of you." "You cannot give me my price." "Gold I know does not tempt you." She smiled and came close beside him. "Then do not offer it." "Shall it be steel?" Harding's eyes swept her flower-like beauty. "Not from Queen Maudlin." "True. My bid is costlier." "Name it." "A kiss from my mouth." At the sound of his laughter the rose flowed into her cheek.