In hospitable Cornwall, especially on such a day, every guest was welcome; and the strangers sat peaceably, but ate nothing, though there was both hake and pilchard within reach.
Next to them, by chance, sat a great lourdan of a Dane, as honest, brave, and stupid a fellow as ever tugged at oar; and after a while they fell talking, till the strangers had heard the reason of this great feast, and all the news of the country side.
“But whence did they come, not to know it already; for all Cornwall was talking thereof?”
“O, they came out of Devonshire, seeking service down west, with some merchant or rover, being seafaring men.”
The stranger with the black hair had been, meanwhile, earnestly watching the Princess, who sat at the board’s head. He saw her watching him in return, and with a face sad enough.
At last she burst into tears.
“What should the bride weep for, at such a merry wedding?” asked he of his companion.
“O, cause enough;” and he told bluntly enough the Princess’s story. “And what is more,” said he, “the King of Waterford sent a ship over last week, with forty proper lads on board, and two gallant Holders with them, to demand her; but for all answer, they were put into the strong house, and there they lie, chained to a log, at this minute. Pity it is and shame, I hold, for I am a Dane myself; and pity, too, that such a bonny lass should go to an unkempt Welshman like this, instead of a tight smart Viking’s son, like the Waterford lad.”
The stranger answered nothing, but kept his eyes upon the Princess, till she looked at him steadfastly in return.
She turned pale and red again; but after a while she spoke:—