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Whistler, Charles W. (Charles Watts), 1856-1913

"A Prince of Cornwall A Story of Glastonbury and the West in the Days of Ina of Wessex"

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.


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