Guthbinn’s hand faltered on the harpstrings, and the singer stopped swiftly: but King Cathal stayed the tears in her heart with an angry word. “Have I had not always had my will? And it is not my will now for you to weep.” So Astrild sat still, and she looked at her sons: but Toran was busy boasting of the white neck and blue eyes of the new slave-girl he had won, and Coloman was dreaming, as he sat with his eyes on the stars that showed through the open door: and only Guthbinn met her eyes and answered them, though he seemed to be busy with his harp. And presently Cathal rose up, bidding all keep their seats and finish out the feast, but Astrild and Aonan he bade follow him. And so they went into the farthest chamber of the House of Shields, which looked upon a deep ditch. Now the end of the chamber was a wall of wattles, and here there was cut a door that led out on a high bank which overlooked the ditch. And the King went out upon the bank, where there was a chair placed ready for him, and Astrild sat at his knee, and Aonan-na-Righ stood a little way off. And Cathal sat still for a time, holding Astrild’s hand in his, and presently he said: “Who put the death in the cup to-night, Astrild, thou or Guthbinn?” And Astrild tried to draw her hand away and to rise, but he held her in her place, and asked again, “Guthbinn, or thou?” until she answered him sullenly as she knelt, “King, it was I.” “Belike, Guthbinn’s hand did thy bidding,” he said, in laughing fashion. “Was the death for me or for Aonan yonder, thou Red-Hair?” And Astrild laughed as she answered, “For Aonan-na-Righ, my lord.” And then she shrieked and sought to rise, for she saw death in the king’s face as it bent over her. “If thou hadst sought to slay thy master, Red-Hair, I might have forgiven thee,” Cathal said; “but what had my son to do with thee, my light-o’-love?” “Give me a day,” Astrild said desperately, “and I will kill father and son, and set the light-o’-love’s children on your throne, Cathal.” “I doubt it not, my wild-cat, but I will not give ye the day:” Cathal laughed. “Good courage, girl--and call thy Danish gods to aid, for there is none other to help thee, now.” “What will my lord do?” Aonan said quickly, as the Dane turned a white face and flaming eyes to him. “Wouldst kill her?” “Ay,” said Cathal the King. “But first she shall leave her beauty behind her, lest she meet thy mother in the Land of Youth, and Acaill be jealous.” “Leave her beauty and breath, lord,” Aonan said, drawing nearer. “If my mother Acaill lived she would not have her slain. My king, she pleased thee once; put her from thee if she vexes thee now; but leave her life, since something thou owest her.” “She would have slain thee to-day, Aonan, and if I have dealt ill by thee, I let no other deal thus. Yet if thou prayest me for thy life, girl, for love of Acaill I will give it thee.”