“Yes, bring him.  Tell him that I would speak with him, but say nought of any other.”

The man bowed and went his way, and the princess turned to me with a new look of amusement on her face.

“Pull that cloak round you, Thane, and pay no heed to him when he comes; we may have sport.”

They had given me a long Welsh cloak of crimson, fur bordered, and a cap to wear with it instead of my helm.  And of course I had not on my mail, though Ina’s sword was at my side, and Gerent’s bracelet on my arm, setting off a strange medley of black-and-blue bruises and red chafed places from the cords, moreover.  So I laughed, and did as she bade me, even as I saw Thorgils brought round the palace toward us from the courtyard where they had taken charge of his horse.  There were two other men with him, tall, wiry looking warriors, and all three were well armed, but in a fashion which was neither Welsh nor Saxon, but more like the latter than the former.

“Danes from Tenby,” said Nona; “I know them both, and like them.  See what wondrous mail they have, and look at the sword hilt of the elder man.  That is Eric, the chief, and I think he comes to speak with my father.”

The two Danes hung back as they saw that Howel was not present, but Thorgils unhelmed and came forward quickly, with the courtly bow he knew how to make when he chose, as he saluted the princess.  Then he turned slightly to me with his stiff salute, and as I nodded to him I saw him start and look keenly at me.  Then he looked away again, and tried to seem unheeding, but it was of no use; his eyes came back to me.

“You seem to have met our friend before, Shipmaster,” said Nona, whose eyes were dancing.

“I cannot have done so, Princess,” he answered.  “But on my word, I never saw so strange a likeness to one I do know.”

“I trust that is a compliment to my friend,” she said.

“Saving the presence of the one who is like the man I know, I may say for certain that it is nought else to him.”

I turned away somewhat smartly, for I wanted to laugh, and this was getting personal.  The princess was not unwilling, I think, that it should be more so.

“Now you have offended the present, and I shall have to say that the absent need not be so.”

“Nor the present either, Princess.  See here, Lord, the man you are so wondrous like in face did the bravest deed I have seen for many a day.  Moreover, he saved the life of a king thereby.  Shall I tell thereof?”

Now this was a new tale to Nona, for, as may be supposed, I had not said that it was myself who handled Morgan so roughly, as I told the tale of his end.  It would have seemed like boasting myself somewhat, as I thought, so I did but say that he was dragged away from the king in time.  Nor had I spoken of Elfrida.  The tale was told hurriedly, and when it was done there had been no thought but of Owen.  It was greater news here that he lived than that Ina had narrowly escaped.