He bowed, and I did my best to leave gracefully, all those who were present rising again as he went, and returning his bow.  The queen was laughing at him, and I dared to see if the Lady Hilda had a smile on her face.  She had, and it did not pass when she met my look; but behind the smile was something of the terror of last evening, which had been brought back to her.  It was in my mind as we passed the door again that if the sight of me and my horse so wrought on her, it were better that I kept away if I could; and I would have the beast stabled in the town.

Then said Ethelbert when we were halfway across the garden: 

“We shall have the company of that very fair lady to Offa’s court.  She is going to the queen as one of her ladies for a time, by our permission.  Her mother was of Lincoln, and gave hospitality to Quendritha when she was first found on the shore.  Then she married our thane of Mundesley here; whereby we have gained this fair subject.”

Into my mind there came the thought of what old Thrond had told me, and I would that this maiden could be warned.  And that was just a wild thought, for even Thrond could not say for certain that his guess was true, and he had bidden me hold my peace; and thereon I tried to consider that it was no concern of mine where the Lady Hilda went, though it troubled me more than enough to think that she was to go to Quendritha.  So I said naught, and the king did not expect any answer.

“I suppose you have heard why we go thither,” he went on quickly.  “If not, you will, and you may as well have it from myself.”

He glanced sidewise at me, and I bowed.  I supposed I should hear some words of policy or other.

“They—­that is, our wise folk and my good mother—­have been saying that I ought to marry.  They have dinned that into my ears for the last two months since I have been on the throne.  It is a matter which I had not thought of, and therefore I have been in no haste to answer them; and they have grown impatient, saying that it is for the good of the realm.  Have you ever been at the court of King Offa of Mercia?”

I had not, and I think I had told him so before, when he asked me if I would ride with him thither.

He took my arm and turned to pace the garden back again, thinking.  I wondered that he took the trouble to tell me all this, as I was so complete a stranger to him.

“I am sorry for that,” he said; “I would have asked you somewhat.  You would have answered it frankly, and without the thought of what might please me, as our courtiers would of course stay to consider.  But tell me, what have you heard of Offa and his family?”

Now I could say nothing of what I had heard from Thrond; that was impossible.  Nor did it seem to me to matter that of it I spoke not.  The life of Quendritha the queen had lain open to all England, as one may say, for the last twenty years, and that was of more account than the half-told tale of a wandering Dane.  So I said simply the truth.