"You lie, Kosru," replied Fastrada, and, stooping for the dagger, she held it up before her in the moonlight. As she looked at it, her lips drew apart in a cruel smile, and her eyes sparkled.
"This is no Frank blade, nor is it of Saracen forging," she said softly. "On the hilt are Norse runes. I 've seen it before--at the belt of that false Dane! It is well for you that you should speak out, Kosru."
"Gracious dame--light of Karolah's eyes!" stammered the leech. "I have lied; but, in truth, I am stricken with a palsy. I feared your anger, and so I lied."
"Speak out! The Dane was here to keep tryst with that sly trull!"
"Ai--ai! They were here, sultana,--he and the king's daughter. I sought to creep around behind the hangings; but the dust set me to coughing. My throat--"
"And then he came upon you! I can see him leap--the bright hero! Yet you live. There's no blood on the blade. How came he to spare you?"
"I--I know not, gracious queen. The king's daughter pleaded for me--and I gave promise--"
"Ah, I had not thought him so foolish. And to leave the knife to tell the tale. Where were his keen wits? He might as well have left the knife in your heart. Hei! The Dane left his knife in the heart of the king's leech,--murder at the door of the king's chamber! Magian, that was a luckless cough for you--Magian!"
A swift movement of the supple, gem-flashing hand, and the loose end of the tapestry was wrapped close about the head of the wretched leech. All the frantic beating of his feeble arms could not stay the stroke for a moment.
When the frail body lay limp and still in her grasp, the queen rose and went across the chamber to hold up her hands where the moon poured in its brightest light. They were white and spotless. She looked them over with careful scrutiny, and, having satisfied herself that they were unsoiled, gazed down, wide-eyed, at the one on which the opal glowed mysteriously in the cold light.