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

“Hending bought his wisdom by experience, I suppose,” said Hereward, “and so must I. So I am just starting out to see the world, uncle.”

“Naughty, naughty boy! If we had thee safe here again for a week, we would take this hot blood out of thee, and send thee home in thy right mind.”

“Bring a rod and whip me, then. Try, and you shall have your chance. Every one else has had, and this is the end of their labors.”

“By the chains of St. Peter,” quoth the monk, “that is just what thou needest. Hoist thee on such another fool’s back, truss thee up, and lay it on lustily, till thou art ashamed. To treat thee as a man is only to make thee a more heady blown-up ass than thou art already.”

“True, most wise uncle. And therefore my still wiser parents are going to treat me like a man indeed, and send me out into the world to seek my fortunes!”

“Eh?”

“They are going to prove how thoroughly they trust me to take care of myself, by outlawing me. Eh? say I in return. Is not that an honor, and a proof that I have not shown myself a fool, though I may have a madman?”

“Outlaw you? O my boy, my darling, my pride! Get off your horse, and don’t sit there, hand on hip, like a turbaned Saracen, defying God and man; but come down and talk reason to me, for the sake of St. Peter and all saints.”

Hereward threw himself off his horse, and threw his arms round his uncle’s neck.

“Pish! Now, uncle, don’t cry, do what you will, lest I cry too. Help me to be a man while I live, even if I go to the black place when I die.”

“It shall not be!” .... and the monk swore by all the relics in Peterborough minster.

“It must be. It shall be. I like to be outlawed. I want to be outlawed. It makes one feel like a man. There is not an earl in England, save my father, who has not been outlawed in his time. My brother Alfgar will be outlawed before he dies, if he has the spirit of a man in him. It is the fashion, my uncle, and I must follow it. So hey for the merry greenwood, and the long ships, and the swan’s bath, and all the rest of it. Uncle, you will lend me fifty silver pennies?”

“I? I would not lend thee one, if I had it, which I have not. And yet, old fool that I am, I believe I would.”

“I would pay thee back honestly. I shall go down to Constantinople to the Varangers, get my Polotaswarf [Footnote: See “The Heimskringla,” Harold Hardraade’s Saga, for the meaning of this word.] out of the Kaiser’s treasure, and pay thee back five to one.”

“What does this son of Belial here?” asked an austere voice.

“Ah! Abbot Leofric, my very good lord. I have come to ask hospitality of you for some three days. By that time I shall be a wolf’s head, and out of the law: and then, if you will give me ten minutes’ start, you may put your bloodhounds on my track, and see which runs fastest, they or I. You are a gentleman, and a man of honor; so I trust to you to feed my horse fairly the meanwhile, and not to let your monks poison me.”

The Abbot’s face relaxed. He tried to look as solemn as he could; but he ended in bursting into a very great laughter, and swearing likewise.

“The insolence of this lad passes the miracles of all saints. He robs St. Peter on the highway, breaks into his abbey, insults him to his face, and then asks him for hospitality; and—”

“And gets it,” quoth Hereward.

“What is to be done with him, Brand, my friend? If we turn him out—”

“Which we cannot do,” said Brand, looking at the well-mailed and armed lad, “without calling in half a dozen of our men-at-arms.”

“In which case there would be blood shed, and scandal made in the holy precincts.”

“And nothing gained; for yield he would not till he was killed outright, which God forbid!”

“Amen. And if he stay here, he may be persuaded to repentance.”

“And restitution.”

“As for that,” quoth Hereward (who had remounted his horse from prudential motives, and set him athwart the gateway, so that there was no chance of the doors being slammed behind him), “if either of you will lend me sixteen pence, I will pay it back to you and St. Peter before I die, with interest enough to satisfy any Jew, on the word of a gentleman and an earl’s son.”

The Abbot burst again into a great laughter. “Come in, thou graceless renegade, and we will see to thee and thy horse; and I will pray to St. Peter; and I doubt not he will have patience with thee, for he is very merciful; and after all, thy parents have been exceeding good to us, and the righteousness of the father, like his sins, is sometimes visited on the children.”

Now, why were the two ecclesiastics so uncanonically kind to this wicked youth?

Perhaps because both the old bachelors were wishing from their hearts that they had just such a son of their own. And beside, Earl Leofric was a very great man indeed; and the wind might change; for it is an unstable world.

“Only, mind, one thing,” said the naughty boy, as he dismounted, and halloed to a lay-brother to see to his horse,—“don’t let me see the face of that Herluin.”

“And why? You have wronged him, and he will forgive you, doubtless, like a good Christian as he is.”

“That is his concern. But if I see him, I cut off his head. And, as Uncle Brand knows, I always sleep with my sword under my pillow.”

“O that such a mother should have borne such a son.” groaned the Abbot, as they went in.

On the fifth day came Martin Lightfoot, and found Hereward in Prior Brand’s private cell.

“Well?” asked Hereward coolly.

“Is he—? Is he—?” stammered Brand, and could not finish his sentence.

Martin nodded.

Hereward laughed,—a loud, swaggering, hysterical laugh.

“See what it is to be born of just and pious parents. Come, Master Trot-alone, speak out and tell us all about it. Thy lean wolf’s legs have run to some purpose. Open thy lean wolf’s mouth and speak for once, lest I ease thy legs for the rest of thy life by a cut across the hams. Find thy lost tongue, I say!”

“Walls have ears, as well as the wild-wood,” said Martin.