But now over all this noble brotherhood, with its various gifts hung one cloud of sorrow; their mother, the Peace-Queen Cissela was dead, she who had taught them truth and nobleness so well; she was never to see the beginning of the end that they would work; truly it seemed sad.
There sat the seven brothers in the council chamber, waiting for the king, speaking no word, only thinking drearily; and under the pavement of the great church Cissela lay, and by the side of her tomb stood two men, old men both, Valdemar the king, and Siur.
So the king, after that he had gazed awhile on the carven face of her he had loved well, said at last:
‘And now, Sir Carver, must you carve me also to lie there.’ And he pointed to the vacant space by the side of the fair alabaster figure.
‘O king,’ said Si
