Now that he had a chance to scrutinize Yolanda while they stood on the same level, Eudoric realized that she overtopped him by a good span. With her shift still clinging damply to her, she reminded him of one of those pagan goddesses worshiped in the old Napolitanian Empire before the triumph of more sophisticated theologies. To marry a six-foot beauty, of high rank and magical powers, were almost as formidable an enterprise as wedding a female deity. The soldiers escorted the couple back to shore, where the King, the jester, the apprentice Forthred, and a gaggle of other persons waited. Two among these stood out. One wore the purple robe and mitre of a priest of the Triunitarian religion, which prevailed in Franconia. The other had thrown a cloak of wolf skin over his white linen robe, and from his head arose a furry headdress bearing the antlers of a hart. King Gwennon seized Eudoric and kissed him on both cheeks. Eudoric found the King's breath so alcoholic that anyone near him would in time get tipsy on it.
