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Updated: June 9, 2025
Answering a question from the King, Rothgar began to speak, his heavy voice seeming to fill all the space from floor to ceiling: "By all the laws of war, King Canute, the Odal of Ivarsdale should come to me. The first son of Lodbrok took the land before ever this Angle's kin had seen it. He built the tower that stands on it, and the name it bears to this day is the name of his giving.
She realized that only a manner of perfect unconcern could carry her through, yet she felt herself shaking with excitement. Rothgar sat up on the great skin with a gesture of some cordiality. "Hail to you, Fridtjof Frodesson!" he said. "Your escape is a thing that gladdens me. I did not like the thought of starving you, and I hope your father will overlook the unfriendliness of it."
At last he said unexpectedly, "If you would not obey my summons until my men had dealt with you by force, it cannot be said that you have much respect for my authority. Do you not then acknowledge me as King of the English?" Rothgar betrayed impatience at this branching aside. Sebert himself showed surprise. He said hesitatingly, "I I cannot deny that.
The swaggering assurance of the man's laugh was more offensive than rudeness would have been. "If I say that we will shortly set him free, I shall not be going very wide from my message. My errand hither is that I bring word from Rothgar Lodbroksson to surrender the Tower."
"Where are your manners, partner, that you do not praise my foresight? Here am I eager to go to her to celebrate my victory; and yet because I think it unadvisable for me to leave the camp, I remain like a rock at my post. Where is your praise?" "King," Rothgar said gravely, "is the truce going to last long enough to make it worth while to fetch those trinkets here?"
Rothgar took no part in the stream of questions and comments that again drowned the voice of the messenger, until suddenly he launched an oath that out-thundered them all: "May Thor feel otherwise than I do, for I vow that were I in his place, I would raise Danish warriors in wool-chests!
When that had been done, he stabbed. Do you want me to cover my eyes?" With a hoarse cry, Rothgar flung his sword back to his sheath, recoiling, there was even a kind of fear in his manner: "A fool would I be, to set your ghost free to follow me with that look on its face!
Rothgar gave a short laugh. "I do not know if I have got it into my head or not," he said; "but I am certain that my body is aware of your kingship." He did not even move his eyes toward the stump of his wrist, but Canute turned from him suddenly, his lip caught in his teeth, and once more strode up and down the narrow space.
It is Elfgiva's, that Canute gave her after he had won it from Rothgar in some wager. It is her wish that you bring it to the King again by slipping it into his broth or his wine where he will come upon it after he has finished feeding and is therefore amiable " She stopped to laugh merrily in his face. "See how the very naming of the King turns you grave again!
He raised from his hands now a face of boyish sullenness, and sat glaring over his clenched fists at his counsellors. "Certainly it would become a great misfortune to me if I should act against the advice of Rothgar Lodbroksson," he made stinging answer. "He is as wise and long-sighted as though he had eaten a dragon's heart.
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