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

"Havelok the Dane A Legend of Old Grimsby and Lincoln"


"Our king does not seem to keep much state," Ragnar said, looking round
as I was looking, and we both laughed.
Then the door on the high place opened, and the king came in, soberly
dressed, and with a smile on his face which seemed to me to have been
made on purpose for this greeting, for he mostly looked sour enough. Nor
did it seem that his eyes had any pleasure in them.
"Welcome, kinsman," he said, seeming hearty enough, however; "I had
looked for you before this. What news from our good town of Norwich?"
He held out his hand to Ragnar, who took it frankly, and his strong grip
twisted the king's set smile into a grin of pain for a moment.
"All was well there three weeks ago when I left there to go to London.
Now, I have ridden on to say that the Lady Goldberga is not far hence,
so that her coming may be prepared for."
Now, as the earl said this, the king's smile went from his face, and
black enough he looked for a moment. The look passed quickly, and the
smile came back, but it seemed hard to keep it up.
"Why, that is well," he said; "so you fell in with her on the way."
"I have attended her from London," answered the earl, looking
steadfastly at Alsi, "and it was as well that I did so, as it happened."
"What has been amiss?" asked the king sharply, and trying to look
troubled. He let the smile go now altogether.


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