"Lady," I said, "I can remember none who need forgiveness from me now. Those who wrought ill against Owen have it already, or are gone. I have no foes, so far as I know, myself, and truly no wrongs unforgiven."
"Nay, but there is this one."
"Why then, my Queen, that one must needs be forgiven, seeing that I know not of wrong to me."
I laughed a little, thinking of some fault of a servant, or of a man of the guard, of which she had heard. But she went to a settle hard by and swept aside a kerchief which lay on it as if by chance, and under it were two war arrows. And I knew them at once for those which had been shot into our window at Norton and had vanished.
Now I will say that the sight of these brought back at once some of the old feeling against those who, like Tregoz, had sought Owen's life and mine, and my face must needs show it.
"Ay," the queen said, seeing that, "these are indeed a token that forgiveness is needed."
Then I remembered that there was but one who could come here with these arrows, though how she had them I could not do more than guess. It could be none other than Mara, the daughter of Dunwal.
Then suddenly, from among the ladies at the end of the room, one who was dressed in black rose up and came toward me, and she was none other than Mara herself, thin and pale indeed, and with the pride gone from her dark face. Her voice was very low as she spoke to me, and her bright black eyes were dim with tears.
"I do not ask you to forgive my uncle, or indeed my father--for what they planned and well-nigh wrought is past forgiveness," she said, "Forget those things if it be possible, but forgive my part in them."
"I have done that long ago, lady," I said in all truth.