“Madam,” answered Quirina, “your son is dead. I have his head in my lap and my apron, covering it, is stained red with his blood;” and she rushed past her.
The mother, in grief and rage, called after Quirina, angrily:
“Oh, if you had told me that first, you could never have ridden past me.”
“Ha! you ugly woman, you are lucky that I let you off with your life, and did not lay you out stiff like your son.”
Then she rode away furiously. Reaching her father’s castle, she blew a blast on the horn, which no man could exceed. Her father, brother, mother, sister, and all the men of the garrison rushed together and warm was their greeting.
Not one of them knew, or suspected, what had happened; for everything else was forgotten in the joy of seeing and welcoming her back alive. In fact, she kept the surprise, which she had in store for them, to the hour of the banquet.
Then at night, when all were arrayed in their finest clothes, and each one stood in his proper place, at the long table, and the gleemen had sung a ballad or two, and it was time to sit down to partake of the viands:
Quirina walked into the hall, carrying a huge [[91]]dish, on top of which, was a big napkin. All the company wondered what was under the cover. She set it down on the table, and lifted the napkin.
And lo! It was the head of the magician Halwyn.
Then the blasts of the hornmen, and the deafening shouts from the warriors, told only too well how they enjoyed the gruesome sight of the wicked magician’s head. [[92]]