No need was there for her to hide either tear or smile, for no one of the women about her was so much as conscious of her existence. The murmur below was growing, despite the King’s restraining hand; and now, crashing through it in hideous discord, came a burst of jeering laughter from the Jotun. What words he also spoke they could not catch, but they heard the Danish cries sink and die, aghast, and they saw a score of English thanes spring upon him and drag him backwards. Above the noise of their scuffling, the King’s voice sounded stern and cold. “While I act as law-man in my judgment hall, I will hear no disputing of my judgments. Whoso comes to me in my private chamber, as friend to friend, may tell his mind; but now I speak as King, and what I have spoken shall stand.” Struggling with those who would have forced him from the room, Rothgar had no breath to retort with, but the words did not go unsaid because of that. Wherever scarlet cloaks made a bright patch, the human arras swayed and shook violently, and then fell apart into groups of angry men whose voices rose in resentful chorus: “Such judgment by a Danish King is unexampled!” “King, are we all to expect this treatment?... This is the third time you have ruled against your own men—” “Sven you punished for the murder of an Englishman—” “Because you forced Gorm to pay his debt to an Englishman, he has lost all the property he owns.” “Now, as before, we want to know what this means.” “You are our chief, whose kingship we have held up with our lives—” “What are these English to you?”... “They are the thralls your sword has laid-under, while we are of your own blood—” “It is the strong will of us warriors to know what you mean—” “Yes, tell it plainly!”... “We speak as we have a right.” Snarling more and more openly, they surged forward, closing around the dais in a fiery mass. In the cushions of the balcony, Leonorine hid her face with a cry; “They will murder him!” And Elfgiva rose slowly from her chair, her eyes dark with horror yet unable to tear themselves from the scene below. The mail-clad King no longer looked to her like a man of flesh and blood but like a figure of iron and steel, that the firelight was wrapping in unendurable brightness. His sword was no more brilliantly hard than his face, and his eyes were glittering points. The ring of steel was in his voice as he answered: