“I shall be by the King’s side,” he answered, “if by chance I can give him good counsel.”
“And he will reward you with high honour?”
“All honour is at once mine if I read the riddle,” he replied.
“You have not read it?”
“I seek to read it in your eyes,” he answered boldly, and Runa turned her glance away from him, lest he should read the riddle there.
On the seventh day, in the evening, she sent for him again in secret, unknown to any of her knights or ladies. The great hall in which she sat alone was dimly lighted; only her face, her fair hair, and her rich robe of white gleamed from the gloom. He came and stood before her.
“To-morrow at sunrise,” she said, “I must deliver you to the King your master according to our agreement. What gift do you carry in your hand to turn his wrath into favour?”
“If I do not bear in my hand the keys of the citadel, I bear nothing,” he answered.
There fell a long silence between them, and the great hall was marvellously still. The stranger drew very near to Countess Runa and stood by the arm of her high chair.
“Madam, farewell,” he said.