She herself had seen this thing done
to a concubine who had a little offended. She was thrust living
in a sack and this hung between two earthen jars pierced with
small holes, and thus she was set afloat on the terrible river.
And not till the slow filling and sinking of the jars was the
agony over and the cries for mercy stilled. No, the Queen's
speech was safe with her, but was it safe with the Queen? For her
silence, Dwaymenau must take measures.
Then she put it all aside and laughed and jested with the King
and did indeed for a time forget, for she loved him for his
black-browed beauty and his courage and royalty and the
childlike trust and the man's passion that mingled in him for
her. Daily and nightly such prayers as she made to strange gods
were that she might bear a son, true son of his.
Next day, in the noonday stillness when all slept, she led her
young son by the hand to her secret chamber, and, holding him
upon her knees in that rich and golden place, she lifted his face
to hers and stared into his eyes. And so unwavering was her gaze,
so mighty the hard, unblinking stare that his own was held
against it, and he stared back as the earth stares breathless at
the moon.
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