“So he could,” answered Havelok. “But yet—I tell you that there was naught but evil in his face. Why did he try to force me?”
Then he went back to the thing that weighed mostly on his noble heart—the thought that he was unworthy altogether.
“I fear that the princess does but think of me because she must. It is in my mind that Alsi may have threatened her also until she has consented. How shall I know this?”
“Most easily, as she speaks with you,” answered Withelm. “Tomorrow will tell you that. And then, if you find things thus, what shall prevent your flying?”
“Brother Radbard and the other housecarls,” said Havelok grimly.
“Not if you ask the princess to help you out of her own way by pretending to be most willing. If Alsi thinks you a gladsome couple, there is no difficulty. You walk out of the palace as a master there. Then you fly to Ragnar. That is all.”
Now that was such an easy way out of the whole coil that we planned it out. And yet it seemed to me that it was a pity that Havelok knew not more of what seemed to us so sure now. So, seeing that things were fairly straightened by this last thought, I got up and said that I must be going, making a sign to Withelm to come also; and, with a few more words, we went out. I saw Havelok set himself to a mighty task of water drawing as I looked back.
“Now,” said I, “here is a strange affair with a vengeance. Neither head nor tail can I make of it. But if all we think is right, this is the marriage for the son of Gunnar.”
“Son of Gunnar, or son of Grim,” said Withelm, “princess or not, happy is the maiden who gains Havelok for a husband. Maybe her woman’s wit has told her so. She will have many suitors whom she knows to be seeking her throne only, and to him she gives it as a gift unsought.”
“That is all beyond me,” I said; “but he would fill a throne well. But his own modesty in the matter of his worthiness is likely to stand in the way. Why should we not tell him all that we know? Then he will feel that he is doing no wrong.”