Deleroy stamped his foot, but the end of it was that I was summoned to the high table where the lady Blanche made place for me beside her, while Deleroy sat himself down between two splendid dames at the other end of the board.

Here, then, I stayed by Blanche who, I noted, wore the ruby heart encircled by serpents.  Indeed, this was the first thing of which she spoke to me, saying,

“It looks well upon my robe, does it not, and I thank you for it, Master Hubert, who know surely that it is not my cousin Deleroy’s gift, but yours, since for it you will never see your money.”

By way of answer I looked at the sumptuous plate and furnishings, the profusion of the viands, and the number of the serving-men.  Reading my thought, she replied,

“Aye, but pledged, all of it.  I tell you, Master Hubert, that we are starved hounds, though we live in a kennel with golden bars.  And now they would pawn you that kennel also.”

Then, while I wondered what to say, she began to talk of our great adventure in bygone years, recalling every tiny thing that had happened and every word that had been spoken between us, some of which I had forgotten.  Of one thing only she said nothing—­the kisses with which we parted.  Amongst much else, she spoke of how the ancient sword had shorn through the armour of the French knight, and I told her that the sword was named Wave-Flame and that it had come down to me from my ancestor, Thorgrimmer the Viking, and of what was written on its blade, to all of which she listened greedily.

“And they thought you not fit to sit at meat with them, you whose race is so old and who are so great a warrior, as you showed that day.  And it is to you that I owe my life and more than life, to you and not to them.”

So saying she shot a glance at me that pierced me through and through, as my arrows had pierced the Frenchmen, and what is more beneath the cover of the board for a moment let her slim hand rest upon my own.

After this for a while we were silent, for indeed I could not speak.  Then we talked on as we could do well enough, since there was no one on my left where the board ended, and on Blanche’s right was a fat old lord who seemed to be deaf and occupied himself in drinking more than he should have done.  I told her much about myself, also what my mother had said to me on the day of the Burning, and of how she had prophesied that I should be a wanderer, words at which Blanche sighed and answered: 

“Yet you seem to be well planted in London and in rich soil, Master Hubert.”

“Aye, Lady, but it is not my native soil and for the rest we go where Fate leads us.”

“Fate!  What does that word bring to my mind?  I have it; yonder Moor of yours who makes those jewels.  He has the very eyes of Fate and I fear him.”

“That is strange, Lady, and yet not so strange, for about this man there is something fateful.  Ever he swears to me that I shall accompany him to some dim land where he was born, of which land he is a prince.”