Eogan met the glance and a hope so intoxicating possessed him he could scarcely breathe.
King Kavaran had ceased speaking, and Gyda took a step forward. Her gaze still rested upon the same spot. Her smile was deeper. Instinctively the myriad eyes followed her glance, and finding Eogan, the common thought was that the young chief of the Clan O’Niall was about to be chosen. It seemed too daring for Eogan to admit to himself, but her glance and his own strong hope, brought a thousand palpitating fancies.
A rich voice was floating over the hundreds of heads.
“Out of mine own heart, and for the lord of my life, I will choose yon stranger, with the hood of fur, if so there be no maiden nor wife in the Northland who may claim him before me.”
A tumult of voices followed. “Yon stranger with the hood of fur!”
The Norseman had heard, and to hear and to answer were one. It was but a step for the tall form to reach the platform, and to stand beside the princess. The greatness of his joy banished even the confusion of the strange event.
“Who is he? Who is he?” demanded a thousand tones. The blond head was bent, and the golden-brown beard touched Gyda’s hand.
“My sister, what hast thou done? I thought when I gave thee so large a liberty, thou wouldst
