So walked those back and forth as caged lions before the Witches’ booths, until Corund halted and leaning on his spear said to one of his sons, “Go in and seek out Gro that I may speak with him.” And the son of Corund went, and returned anon with Lord Gro, that came with furtive step, yet goodly and fair to behold. The nose of him was hooked like a sickle and his eyes great and fair like the eyes of an ox, inscrutable as they. Lean and spare was his frame. Pale was his face and pale his delicate hands, and his long black beard was tightly curled and bright as the coat of a black retriever. Corund said, “How is it with the King?” Gro answered him, “He chafeth to be at it; and to pass away the time he playeth at dice with Corinius, and the luck goeth against the King.” “What makest thou of that?” asked Corund. And Gro said, “The fortune of the dice jumpeth not commonly with the fortune of war.” Corund grunted in his beard, and laying his large hand on Lord Gro’s shoulder, “Speak to me a little apart,” he said; and when they were private, “Darken not counsel,” said Corund, “to me and my sons. Have I not these four years past been as a brother unto thee, and wilt thou still be secret toward us?” But Gro smiled a sad smile and said, “Why should we by words of ill omen strike yet another blow where the tree tottereth?” Corund groaned. “Omens,” said he, “increase upon us from that time forth when the King accepted the challenge, evilly, and flatly against thy counsel and mine and the counsel of all the great ones in the land. Surely the Gods have made him fey, having ordained his destruction and our humbling before these Demons.” And he said, “Omens thicken upon us, O Gro. First, the night raven that went widdershins round about the palace of Carcë, that night when the King accepted this challenge, and we were all drunken with wine after our great feasting and surfeiting in his halls. Next, the stumbling of the King whenas he went upon the poop of the long ship which bare us on this voyage to these islands. Next, the squint-eyed cup-bearer that poured out unto us yesternight. And throughout, the devilish pride and bragging humour of the King. No more: he is fey. And the dice fall against him.”