“The runes were wrong,” she gasped. “O my lord, take not from me the jewel. Again will I read the rede. Let the skald go, for I have wronged him.”
“And thou hast the jewel even as he hath said?” queried Guthrum, looking from one to the other in perplexity.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Then,” said the Dane, turning to the minstrel who stood so calmly waiting his pleasure, “thou art a galdra smith (a wizard) as well as harper?”
“Nay,” returned Alfred. “No charm do I work save that of a good conscience. Some little lore of leech craft have I, but that be all.”
“And thou art truly a harper?” Guthrum knew not what to do, yet was loth to let him go.
“Hast thou not heard for thyself? Be thou my judge.”
“True,” said Guthrum. “What sayest thou, Gyda?”
“My lord, let the incantation be prepared for the seid woman; for this night hath her art misled her,” returned Gyda, who sought to divert all minds from the jewel.
“Let the incantation be prepared,” commanded the king.