I suppose I
showed pretty plainly that I thought myself aggrieved in the
matter, for the princess smiled at me.
"Wait till you see how she meets you when you return, Thane. No
need to despair till then."
It came into my mind to say that I did not much care how I was met,
but I forbore. Maybe it was not true. And then the princess and the
three or four other ladies who were present rose and left the
table, and thereafter we spoke of nought but sport and war, and I
need not tell of all that. But when I went to my chamber presently,
and the two pages were about to leave me to myself some three hours
or so after the princess left the board, one of them lingered for a
moment behind the other, and so handed me a folded and sealed
paper.
"I pray you read this, Thane," he said, and was gone.
It was written in a fair hand, that did not seem as that of any
inky-fingered lay brother, but as I read the few words that were
written I knew whose it was, for none but Nona would have written
it.
"Have a care, Thane. I have spoken with Mara, and I fear trouble.
Dunwal her father is, with Tregoz his brother, at the right hand of
the men who follow Morgan. Morfed the priest is a hater of all that
may make for peace with the Saxon. He is well-nigh distraught with
hatred of your kin."
Then there were a few words crossed out, and that was all.
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