“Avalcomb? Near St. Alban’s? The swine!” The monarch was a soldier now, shooting his questions like arrows. “After I bade them at Gillingham come straight to me! How many were they? Where is the Jarl?” “He was not with them. It was Norman of Baddeby who led, and he had no more than five-and-fifty men. It was spoken among them that they would join you at sunset to-day—” Canute’s hand shot out and gripped her arm and shook it. “You know this for certain? I will have your tongue if you lie to me! You are sure that they intend coming,—that it is not their intention to play me false and return to Edmund?” His voice was stern, his gaze mercilessly direct. An hour before, the girl would have shrunk from them both. One can learn life-lessons in an hour. She faced the roughness now as one faces a rush of bracing north wind. “I know what I heard them say, Lord King. They said that Edric Jarl had marched on to St. Alban’s to lie there over-night. Leofwinesson stopped at Avalcomb because he wished to vent his spite upon my father. It was their intention to meet at the city gate at noon and come on to join you. They will be here before the sun is set.” Canute released her arm to reach for his goblet. “I wish I could know it for certain,” he muttered. “But it is as the saying has it, ‘Though they fight and quarrel among themselves, the eagles will mate again.’” He looked at her with a half-smile as he refilled his cup, motioning toward the other flagon. “Fill up, and we will drink a toast to their loyalty and to your beard; they appear to be equally in need of encouragement.” Draining it off, he sat staring down into the dregs, twirling the stem thoughtfully between his fingers. By the time she had shifted her weight twice for each foot, the petitioner ventured to recall him. “It gives me some hope, to hear what you say about suspecting Edric Jarl,” she said timidly; “for that makes it appear more likely that you will be willing to give me justice on his man.” “Justice?” The King’s mind came back to her slowly, as from an immense distance. “By Thor, I had forgotten! There have not been so many to me on that errand... Though I take it well that you should trust me... Yes, certainly; I will be king-like once. Stand here before me, while I question you.” She caught her breath rather sharply as she stepped forward. Would she be able to tell a straight story? She stood with fingers interlacing nervously. “Tell me first how you are called?” “I am called Fridtjof Frodesson.” “Frode of Avalcomb! Now I know where I have heard that name; my father spoke it often, and always with great respect. It will go hard with me if I must return an unfavorable answer to his son. Tell me how his death was brought about.”