"He! He will not bring back peace."
"No, but keen scrutiny, and--" he whispered to the youth--"perhaps Bissula."
"Thanks! Thanks!"
"I," cried Ebarbold wrathfully, "would surely bring home to our people--"
"Subjection!" said the Duke. "That is just what you must not do. If the Italians reject fair proposals, then I will ask the Council of the people, the whole army, for its decision--"
"I know in advance," Ebarbold angrily interrupted, "what they will determine, guided by you, you disciple of Odin, you giver of victims to Zio! But your decision is one thing; it is another--"
He checked the word on his tongue and hesitated.
"That you will do, you wish to say. King of the Ebergau! I warn you, Ebarbold. Your father was a gallant hero; he fell by my side twenty winters ago in the murderous battle against Julian. Remembering him, I once more warn you: beware!"
"Look to yourself," cried Ebarbold angrily. "You are not my guardian!"
Springing up, he rushed out of the tent.