The shaft fell pointless as she turned her sparkling face toward her women. “You hear that, my lambs? This afternoon,—not one more night in this prison! You cannot apply yourselves too soon to the packing, Candida, Leonorine. And I must see if Teboen’s wits have come back to her. If she should not be restored to them, that would be one bee in the honey. Randalin, learn what disposal is to be made of you, and that, quickly. Nobles, if I am not yet enough queen to dismiss you, still am I queen enough to depart without your leave. I desire you will thank your King as is becoming; and tell him that I am right glad he was not poisoned,—and I trust he will not wish he had been, after he has seen his ancient bride.” Chiming the sweet bells of her laughter, she glided away among her excited attendants, the silver mockery reaching them after she had vanished into the house. Randalin awoke to a sense of bewilderment. “It is true that I do not know where to go, now that this place is upset.” The question was repeated in her lover’s attitude; but Thorkel Jarl answered it, coming between them and drawing her aside. “I will remedy that,” he said. “My men are to fetch you to the Palace so soon as ever your lady has left. The King has a use for you.” The rest he spoke into her ear, but its effect was to blanch her cheeks and cause her hands to clasp each other in terror as she started back. “I cannot!” she cried. “I cannot.” “You must,” he said harshly. “Or you will do little credit to the blood that is in you. Do you no longer think your father and brother of any importance?” “They are pitiless to demand it of me,” she murmured, and buried her face in her hands. Anger leaped from the young noble’s eyes as, in his turn, he came between her and the Jarl. He said forcefully, “No one shall ask anything of you that you do not want, nor shall any king compel you. Yet I think I have a right to know what his will is with you.” “You have not,” the Dane contradicted. “Do you think the King’s purposes are to be opened to the sight of every Angle who becomes his man? Nor have you ally right soever over her who is the King’s ward. End this talk, maiden, and give me your promise to be obedient.” She gave it in a cry of despair, “I must—I know I must!” then sought to make peace with her lover by laying caressing hands on his breast. “And he is right, love, that I ought not to tell any one. It is another one of those things that you must trust.”