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"Stories of the Border Marches"

With tears and with
laughter, and with gladsome shoutings the folk of Bamborough came in
haste to greet their Prince and Princess, and to speed them up to the
castle, where the King, their father, welcomed them full joyously. But
there were angry murmurs from the men of Northumbria, who called for
vengeance on her who had so nearly ruined their dear land, and who had
striven to slay both Prince and Princess. Childe Wynd held up his hand:
"To me belongs the payment," he said, and the men laughed loud when they
saw his stern face, for those were days when grim and bloody deeds were
gaily done, and blithe they were to think of torture for the Witch
Queen. Cowering in a corner of her bower in the turret, white-faced and
haggard, they found her, and dragged her out to Childe Wynd. But no
speedy end by a clean sword blade was to be hers, nor any slower death
by lingering torture.
"Woe be to thee, thou wicked witch!" said the Prince; and she shivered
and whimpered piteously, for well she knew that in far-off lands across
the sea Childe Wynd had studied magic, and that for her were designed
eternal terrors.
"Woe be to thee, thou wicked witch,
An ill death mayst thou dee;
As thou my sister hast lik'ned,
So lik'ned shalt thou be.


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