CHAPTER XXIII

Nor shall I leave life Ere the keen lord, The eager in sword-play, My hand shall make end of. LAY OF GUDRUN.

For a while the Magian waited as the lovers had left him, appearing more like a careless heap of yellow robes than a living man. At last, gaining a little courage from the silence, he thrust out his hooked nose and bald head, like an old vulture peering over a carcass. The glint of the forgotten dagger drew his bleared gaze, and he glared at the cold blade in a fascination of terror. Soon, however, the silver hilt caught his eye, and his fear gave way to greed. A scrawny hand followed the head from the yellow heap, reaching out to clutch the treasure. But then a soft step sounded in the doorway, and the leech drew back into his robes, livid with abject fear.

The curtains of the doorway parted, and Fastrada, radiant in the splendor of her jewels and her voluptuous beauty, advanced slowly into the room. A little way from the entrance, she paused to glance carelessly across the chamber, and then she stretched her arms above her head with the lazy gracefulness of a cat.

"_Ai_, Hertha," she purred, "you 'll lack service this night. The laggard wizard has been called to dose some filthy slave, and I 've waited till sleep weighs down my eyelids. Would that I were less drowsy! The king is pleased that I ply needle with such industry. It would give me double pleasure to sit by and watch the harlot's daughter finish the piece. But it's pleasant these chilly nights to creep beneath the silken coverlets. I 'll go now. Faul! Who's been at my tapestries? Ah, Kosru! Is that you?"

"Pity, gracious queen! have compassion on your slave!" whined the leech. "A palsy has stricken my limbs. As I entered, the stroke came upon me. The hangings tore in my grasp as I fell."

"Ah--and how came this here?" demanded the queen, pointing to the dagger on the wolfskin rug before the Magian.

"That knife? I had not seen it, gracious dame."

"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.

"All honor to my witch-stone!" she exclaimed. "We 've snared our wolf at last. Now to fetch the forester."

She turned quickly away to the door, but paused on the threshold, to step back and glance out through the window.

"The night is clear; yet a cloud may drift across. It is well to make certain," she muttered, and she drew the huddled form along the wall, until it lay across the doorway. Then, fully satisfied, she slipped out and glided swiftly down the dark passages until she gained the bower-chamber. Within, lighted by a row of waxen tapers, the bower-maidens sat about a long table, plying needle and bodkin on the garments of the king and their mistress, while an old priest droned a homily for the edification of their manners.

Fastrada beckoned the nearest girl to approach, and spoke to her in the doorway: "I go to sit with our lord and Deacon Alcuin in the East Tower. You will find Count Gerold playing at chess. Go, bid him bring my sampler from my morning-room and fetch it after me."

"I beg pardon, my dame, am I to fetch it, or Count Gerold?"

"The count, you silly trull! Could I trust such as you to wander at night when young men are about? Go, and see that you return quickly under the eye of the good deacon."

As the maiden hurried away, her cheeks aflame, and her blue eyes wet with the starting tears, her mistress paced calmly back by the way she had come. It was some little distance around to the East Tower, and she was not yet certain whether it would be best for Gerold or for herself to arrive first. There was time to decide at leisure; for the young count, presuming on the king's favor, would probably play out his match before he came to do her bidding. All the better! What greater joy than to stroll along the dark passages, where one was at liberty to give outward play to all the bitter-sweet thoughts of revenge?

But while the witch's daughter glided like a trailing weasel from wing to wing of the great Merwing palace, there was happening in the East Tower that which, had she known of it, would have lent wings to her jewelled buskins.