“Would you have believed that I was bribed, my prince, had it not chanced that you had heard of the sword from me beforetime?” I asked, being bitterly hurt that the earl should have put this into Eadmund’s mind.

Did he want to make him doubt all his former friends?

“Not I, Redwald,” the Atheling said.  “Streone is over careful for our safety, I think, and lets his love for us make him suspect all men.  I told him as much, and he said that perhaps it was so.  Then I said that Olaf had doubtless given you the weapon, and he would have me ask you.  He thought that you should not have lightly set aside my gift.”

Now I was sure that the earl strove to break Eadmund’s friendship with Olaf, for to anger me would help to do so.  The next thing would be to have me made away with, for that would turn Olaf into a foe, and he would leave England maybe.  I thought that the earl would stand alone in Eadmund’s counsels, and did not dream yet that he was indeed working for Cnut in order to take the first place in England as Thorkel did in Denmark.  But that was plain enough ere long, and all men know it now.  At this time, however, these matters puzzled me, and had it not been for the slaying of Sigeferth and Morcar and one or two others, maybe I should have thought little of danger to myself.  It was only as Olaf’s kinsman that I was worth a thought of the man whose deep statecraft I could not pretend to understand.

So I said: 

“The earl’s life must be uneasy with all these doubts.  But so long as you yourself have none of King Olaf and myself, it is little matter what he thinks.  His doubts will be proved false in time, and he will have fretted for nought.”

“That is true,” Eadmund answered.  “I would that he troubled me not with his suspicions.”

So the matter passed, and we spoke for a little while of the fleet and of Olaf’s plans, and then I left him, saying that I would ride back to London with the first light of morning.

“We shall have one good fight, and then peace,” said Eadmund.  “Farewell, and trouble nought about my foster father and his ways of doubting.  He will doubt me next, maybe.”

He laughed lightly, and I went away down the street with a troubled mind, and was willing to get back to my lodgings through the dusk as quickly as I might.

And when I came there I put on my mail, as the lady had bidden me—­rather blaming myself for doing so for all that, for it seemed to show fear of somewhat that I could not name.

Then I thought of the goldsmith again, and sent a man for him, thinking that he could do the work here in hall, so that I could be sure of having the scabbard, which was very valuable, when I rode away.

When he came I showed him what I would have done, and he said that it was no long business, and took his tools into a corner and lighted a wax taper and began to work by its light.  The sword stood by my chair as I ate my supper at the head of the long tables where my men sat.