Hereward, the Last of the English by Charles Kingsley (i am reading a book .TXT) 📖

could even manage Gospatrick and his intrigues Hereward expected as little as that his own nephews Edwin and Morcar could do it.

“I have to thank you, noble sir,” said Waltheof, languidly, “for sending your knights to our rescue when we were really hard bested,—I fear much by our own fault. Had they told me whose men they were, I should not have spoken to you so roughly as I fear I did.”

“There is no offence. Let Englishmen speak their minds, as long as English land is above sea. But how did you get into trouble, and with whom?”

Waltheof told him how he was going round the country, raising forces in the name of the Atheling, when, as they were straggling along the Roman road, Gilbert of Ghent had dashed out on them from a wood, cut their line in two, driven Waltheof one way, and the Atheling another, and that the Atheling had only escaped by riding, as they saw, for his life.

“Well done, old Gilbert!” laughed Hereward. “You must beware, my Lord Earl, how you venture within reach of that old bear’s paw!”

“Bear? By the by, Sir Hereward,” asked Waltheof, whose thoughts ran loosely right and left, “why is it that you carry the white bear on your banner?”

“Do you not know? Your house ought to have a blood-feud against me. I slew your great-uncle, or cousin, or some other kinsman, at Gilbert’s house in Scotland long ago; and since then I sleep on his skin every night, and carry his picture in my banner all day.”

“Blood-feuds are solemn things,” said Waltheof, frowning. “Karl killed my grandfather Aldred at the battle of Settrington, and his four sons are with the army at York now—”

“For the love of all saints and of England, do not think of avenging that! Every man must now put away old grudges, and remember that he has but one foe,—William and his Frenchmen.”

“Very nobly spoken. But those sons of Karl—and I think you said you had killed a kinsman of mine?”

“It was a bear, Lord Earl, a great white bear. Cannot you understand a jest? Or are you going to take up the quarrels of all white bears that are slain between here and Iceland? You will end by burning Crowland minster then, for there are twelve of your kinsmen’s skins there, which Canute gave forty years ago.”

“Burn Crowland minster? St. Guthlac and all saints forbid!” said Waltheof, crossing himself devoutly.

“Are you a monk-monger into the bargain, as well as a dolt? A bad prospect for us, if you are,” said Hereward to himself.

“Ah, my dear Lord King!” said Waltheof, “and you are recovering?”

“Somewhat,” said the lad, sitting up, “under the care of this kind knight.”

“He is a monk, Sir Atheling, and not a knight,” said Hereward. “Our fenmen can wear a mail-shirt as easily as a frock, and handle a twybill as neatly as a breviary.”

Waltheof shook his head. “It is contrary to the canons of Holy Church.”

“So are many things that are done in England just now. Need has no master. Now, Sir Earl and Sir Atheling, what are you going to do?”

Neither of them, it seemed, very well knew. They would go to York if they could get there, and join Gospatrick and Marlesweyn. And certainly it was the most reasonable thing to be done.

“But if you mean to get to York, you must march after another fashion than this,” said Hereward. “See, Sir Earl, why you were broken by Gilbert; and why you will be broken again, if this order holds. If you march your men along one of these old Roman streets—By St. Mary! these Romans had more wits than we; for we have spoilt the roads they left us, and never made a new one of our own—”

“They were heathens and enchanters,”—and Waltheof crossed himself.

“And conquered the world. Well,—if you march along one of these streets, you must ride as I rode, when I came up to you. You must not let your knights go first, and your men-at-arms straggle after in a tail a mile long, like a scratch pack of hounds, all sizes but except each others’. You must keep your footmen on the high street, and make your knights ride in two bodies, right and left, upon the wold, to protect their flanks and baggage.”

“But the knights won’t. As gentlemen, they have a right to the best ground.”

“Then they may go to—whither they will go, if the French come upon them. If they are on the flanks, and you are attacked then they can charge in right and left on the enemy’s flank, while the footmen make a stand to cover the wagons.”

“Yes,—that is very good; I believe that is your French fashion?”

“It is the fashion of common-sense, like all things which succeed.”

“But, you see, the knights would not submit to ride in the mire.”

“Then you must make them. What else have they horses for, while honester men than they trudge on foot?”

“Make them?” said Waltheof, with a shrug and a smile. “They are all free gentlemen, like ourselves.”

“And, like ourselves, will come to utter ruin, because every one of them must needs go his own way.”

“I am glad,” said Waltheof, as they rode along, “that you called this my earldom. I hold it to be mine of course, in right of my father; but the landsfolks, you know, gave it to your nephew Morcar.”

“I care not to whom it is given. I care for the man who is on it, to raise these landsfolk and make them fight. You are here: therefore you are earl.”

“Yes, the powers that be are ordained by God.”

“You must not strain that text too far, Lord Earl; for the only power that is, whom I see in England—worse luck for it!—is William the Mamzer.”

“So I have often thought.”

“You have? As I feared!” (To himself:) “The pike will have you next, gudgeon!”

“He has with him the Holy Father at Rome, and therefore the blessed Apostle St. Peter of course. And is a man right, in the sight of Heaven, who resists them? I only say it. But where a man looks to the salvation of his own soul, he must needs think thereof seriously, at least.”

“O, are you at that?” thought Hereward. “Tout est perdu. The question is, Earl,” said he aloud, “simply this: How many men can you raise off this shire?”

“I have raised—not so many as I could wish. Harold and Edith’s men have joined me fairly well; but your nephew, Morcar’s—”

“I can command them. I have half of them here already.”