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Updated: July 21, 2025
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.
What else he said, Randalin did not hear. Her wits had crawled heavily after the sound of the hoofs. Now the beat changed to a champing and stamping among dry leaves not many rods to her right. She wondered indifferently if there was any likelihood of their running over her; then forgot the query before she had answered it.
He put out his other hand with a gleam of pleasure in his changeful eyes. "Welcome to you, Fridtjof the Bold! I should like to believe that you are as glad to return to me as I am glad to receive you." As she stood there watching him, Randalin had been undergoing a strange transformation.
Had you let me alone " His voice broke, so bitter was his disappointment. His foster-father regarded him from under lowered lids. "Would you have won without them to-day?" he inquired. "Yes!" Canute cried savagely, "had you given me time. Yes!" But what else he answered, Randalin never knew. Some unseen obstacle turned in their direction the stream of rushing horsemen.
And did not your own mouth tell me that Randalin, Frode's daughter, should wed the son of Lodbrok if she were alive?" He struck his knee a ringing slap. "I confess that it is not easy to be a match for you! But I can tell you one thing which you will not be able to explain, as heretofore, and it is a thing which has made me get bitterest against you.
The mind only knows What lies near the heart; That alone is conscious of our affections. No disease is worse To a sensible man Than not to be content with himself. Ha'vama'l. Three richly dressed warriors, clinking golden goblets across a table, so much Randalin caught in her first glance.
As cries of savage rejoicing mingled with the uproar, Randalin found herself dragged up, whether she would or no, until she stood beside her companion, gazing over the heads of the shouting throng. Yes, it was Edmund's crown. Again, a picture of the English camp-fire rose before her, and she shivered as she recognized the graceful pearled points she had last seen upon the Ironside's stately head.
Slowly the man's wandering gaze focussed itself; a silly laugh welled up in his throat. "It would be no strange wonder if I did not," he chuckled. "Odin has changed you greatly; your face was never so beautiful. But this once you cannot trick me, Fridtjof Frodesson." There came a time when this mistake was a source of some comfort to Randalin, Frode's daughter; but now she stirred impatiently.
While the young man warned in his heavy voice, "You will have your will in this as in everything, King Canute; but I tell you that if you keep the bargain, you will act against my advice." Randalin had been mistaken in her deductions. It was not the brawny body that was King of the Danes; the leader's spirit lodged in the slender frame of the youth with the cloak of yellow hair.
Certainly I came here with no thought of evil toward you, but neither had I any thought soever of the Lady Randalin, of whose existence I was ignorant. I answered the call of Fridtjof Frodesson, to whom I owe and I pay all the service which lies in my power, as it is likely you know." Did his voice soften as he recalled his debt?
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