“What of the Anglian thanes?  What will they say when this is known by them?”

His brow knitted, for he thought of the likelihood of wild turmoil in the palace, and what would come of the cry of treason.

“They know, and have gone,” I said simply.  “It seemed best to them and to your thanes that, seeing that this deed was done and none could amend it, they should fly hence by this passage.  It could not be foreseen how matters would go with them.”

“On my word, some of you have your senses still about you,” said Offa, in that cold voice of his.

And then all of a sudden his command of himself gave way, and he sat down on the bed and hid his face in his hands.  With the passing of the Anglians the strain had gone from him as from us, and he was left with the bare terror of the deed he had half approved.

Presently he looked up, and the weakness had passed.  Then he rose and signed to me to follow him, and we went out into the council chamber.  And even as we closed the ill-fated rooms behind us, from his own door came forth Quendritha and moved swiftly toward him.

“My king,” she said, “they told me that somewhat was amiss.”

“Ay,” he said, and his words were like ice, “there is, and more than amiss.  Get you to your bower, and we will speak thereof in private.”

He did not look at her, and went to pass her, almost thrusting her aside.  And at that she gave a little plaintive cry, and would have taken his arm, saying for us to hear that he was surely distraught.

“Thanes, tell me what is wrong!” she said.

“We have no need to tell you,” said Sighard savagely, and unheeding the warning grasp of the priest on his arm.  “What has been done is your doing.”

“What mean you?” she flashed on him with a terrible look.

Erling answered from where he stood with his back to the great door, “So you spoke in our old land on the day when our Jarl Hauk bade you confess the wrong you had done, before you were set adrift on the sea.  It had been better had he slain you, as some would have had him slay, if it were but for the saving of this.”

Now Offa had turned angrily as he heard Sighard speak to the queen in no courteous wise, but Erling had not heeded his look or what wrath might light on him.  Before he could say aught, and it was plain that he was going to speak angrily enough, Offa heard the first words of the Dane, and checked himself.

And when he had heard, he said in a cold voice, slowly, “So that tale is true after all.  I can believe it now, though once I slew a man who told it me.”

With that he turned on his heel and passed through the door and was gone, paying no more heed to the queen than to us.  For a long moment she stood and glared at Erling, and I think that she remembered his face in some dim way, so that the old days came back to her, and with that remembrance the terror that had been in them.  And as she stood there in the torchlight she seemed to have grown old of a sudden, and her face was gray and lined, while her long white hands worked as they fell at her side.