Canute’s eyes appeared to rest upon the pair without seeing them. “Accept the challenge,” he answered absently. Then the utter horror in both faces brought him momentarily back. “You need not look like that. I would not do it if I did not see a good chance to win. There are other weapons than those which dwell in sheaths.” “But if you lose?” Rothgar’s harsh voice was discordant with emotion. “If you lose?” The King silenced him impatiently. “I do not think I shall lose; but if it be otherwise, then Fate will rule it. I prefer to risk everything rather than to experience more delay.” Catching the bewildered page by the collar, he pushed him toward the door. “Run, boy, with all the speed of your legs, and find Ingimund the Swimmer and fetch him here. And you, foster-brother, if my fame is important to you, do you betake yourself to those dumpish oafs around the fires and try, by any means whatever, to remedy their faint-heartedness. Ask them if they want the host across the river to think them turned into a herd of weeping bondwomen. Ask them if they think thus to show honor to their King. Tell them that I take it as no proof of their love; that I will have none of that halting faith which limps up with a great cry after the show is over. Tell them—Oh, tell them anything you think worth while—only that you get some noise out of them! Evil will come of it if the Englishman is allowed to believe that he has beaten us before ever he has struck a blow.” Rothgar sighed as he moved forward. “I am very unfit to speak words of cheerfulness to anybody; but this shall, like other things, be as you wish.” CHAPTER XVII. The Judgment of The Iron Voice His power should Every sagacious man Use with discretion, For he will find, When among the bold he comes, That no one alone is doughtiest. Hávamál. Fold by fold, the sun’s golden fingers drew apart the mists that hid the valley. One by one, the red Severn cliffs were uncovered, and the wooded steeps on which the rival hosts were encamped. Brighter and brighter the river’s silver gleamed through its veilings. Finally the moment came when the last mist-wreath floated up like a curtain, and there lay open the shining water, and the rocky islet it seethed about, and the vision of two boats setting forth from the two shores amid the noise of shouting thousands. It was the hour of the royal duel, when the fate-thread of a nation, beaded with human destinies, lay between the fingers of two men. What a scattering of the beads if the cord should be cut!