With these strange glittering eyes the Celtic woman was dangerously akin to sprite and elf. The fear came upon him that she might beguile him. Such haunting fears were Ethelbert’s throughout his life--in his meeting with Saint Augustine he bargained that it should take place in the open air, for he believed the danger from incantation was greater within four walls. He recalled the scene in which he had seen her on the battle-field; in the din and heat of the fight with men falling like leaves around her, her charioteer had rushed upon the dying Cutha whilst she stood upright, uttering incantations in a piercing, unknown tongue. Again Ethelbert muttered a charm; and this time, as a further precaution he made the sign of the cross, as he had seen his Christian Bertha do. “I must remind you, noble Ethelbert,” said Ethne, with forced calmness, “of the terms of our agreement. To begin--it is not necessary to tell you of the value you set upon the services of Ceawlin’s former thane, Redwald; nor of Redwald’s great desire to obtain possession of my companion, the Saxon maid, Elgiva! And can you deny that the compact between you and me was that you should cede my former possessions in Damnonia to me for our services against Ceawlin, and the restoration of Elgiva to her Saxon kinsmen?” Ethelbert turned with some dignity to his companion. “You forget one thing, lady,” he said, “of great importance--and that is that your negotiations were not with me at all, but with Redwald. He is my best soldier, but I cannot recognise any wild promises he may have made to you even should Damnonia fall into my hands. I am willing enough that he should obtain the maid and thank you, queen, for your kindly gift to him.” Ethne here bit her lip until the blood appeared. “But it seemed to me you were over-anxious to part with the fair Saxon. So anxious that you could not wait for the reply of my emissaries. Ha, ha! Wit you have, in plenty, and fine speech--but you are hot and hasty like all Welsh--and heat and haste err oft!” Ethne continued to control her wrath. She tried to smile. “I cannot tell you all the difficulties that beset me,” she said, “but I ask you to think of me as less witless than I seem. My plans concerning the maid demanded the greatest secrecy even from my own councillors!” “Tut, tut,” said the blunt Saxon. “What care I for your plans and your councillors--and I come not here to bandy words over maids and their quarrels with their kinsfolk! I come here to direct you, and yonder stripling-chieftain about our plans for our next week’s campaign!” Ethne became as pale as death in her effort to control herself. “You are over-sure of your claims upon us,” she said, in a slow, trembling voice. “What of Ceawlin? He may, perhaps, offer fairer conditions for our aid against you.” Ethelbert laughed shortly, and swore scornfully.