When she stopped for breath, he said steadily, “I declare with truth that you cannot dislike what I have done much more than I, Lady of Northampton. I hope it will be an excuse with you, as it is a comfort to me, that instead of fetching you into trouble—”
Thorkel took the words from his lips, and no longer with sinister deliberation but with a ferocity that showed itself in the gathering swiftness of his speech. “Trouble—yes! By the Hammer of Thor, I think you deserve to have trouble! Had any of your witches’ brew done harm to the King, I can tell you that you would not have lived much longer. What! Are the plans of men to be upset by your baby face, and a king-dom lost because a little fool chooses to play with poison as a child with fire?”
“Poison?” she screamed. She had been facing him with whitening lips, and now the little breath that she had left went from her in a sharp cry. “Not poison; love-philtres! To win him back! Love-philtres,—can you not hear?”
“Love-philtres!” The old warrior’s voice made the words bite with contempt. “Did the mouthful she swallowed have that effect upon your woman? Or do you think you planted love in the breasts of the dead scullions? Had you seen their writhings I think you would have called it by another name.”
He was standing over her now, and she was cowering before him, her shaking hands rising as though to ward off his eyes. “I meant no harm,” she was wailing with stiff lips. “The scroll said not a word that it was hurtful. Do not kill me. I meant no—” The word ended in an inarticulate sound and she swayed backward.
It was Randalin who caught and eased her down upon the rustic chair, and Randalin who turned upon the Tall One. “Saw I never a meaner man!” she cried. “Certainly I think Loke was less wolf-minded than you. You know very well that if Teboen had thought it would become a cause of harm to her, she would have refused to swallow it. I will go to the King myself and tell him how despisable you are.” She stamped her foot at the united ministry of the Kingdom as she turned her back upon its representatives to speak reassuringly to her mistress.
Her lover did not blame her that her flashing eyes seemed to include him among the objects of their wrath. He said fiercely to the Jarl, “For God’s sake, tell her that no one suspects her of seeking his life, and give her his true message, or I will go and hang myself for loathing.”
“Tell her yourself!” the old Dane snapped. “It is seen that you are as rabbit-hearted as the boy who makes her such an offer. Were I in his place, I would have them all drowned for a litter of wauling kittens.” He looked very much indeed like a wolf in a sheepfold as he stamped to and fro, grinding his spurred heels into the patches of clover and growling in his beard.
The young soldier had been known to ride into battle with a happier face, but the sudden gritting of his teeth implied that he would do anything to get the matter over with; and having braved the outburst of hysterics that redoubled at his approach, he managed to slip a soothing word into the lull.
“Lady, the King sends you none but good greetings. It would make you feel better if you would listen to them.”