The Thuringian turned, snarling; but Fastrada was already calm again.
"Why wrangle, count?" she said. "What is done is done. Lupus is lost."
"And we with him! He will tell all to save his own skin. Who trusts a Merwing?"
"No, no," insisted Fastrada. "His is too crafty a nature. He could not speak straightforward if he wished. There may be danger if his trial is kept waiting; but if that happens my knowledge of the king is at fault."
"You are right, maiden," muttered Hardrat, and he drew a deep breath.
Fastrada laughed low and softly,--a laugh at sound of which her fellow-plotter drew away from her, shuddering.
"What do we care for Lupus?" she said. "We shall yet win success; and--and him whom I hated I have slain!"
Hardrat crossed himself hastily.
"Saints shield us from werwolves!" he mumbled.
But Fastrada flung herself face down upon the earth.