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Kingsley, Charles, 1819-1875

"Hereward, the Last of the English"

And now I suppose
he will plunder and burn more minsters, and then patch up a peace with
Harold again; which I advise him strongly to do; for I warn you, young
lads, and you may carry that message from me to Dublin to my good brother
your uncle, that Harold's little finger is thicker than his whole body;
and that, false Godwinsson as he is, he is the only man with a head upon
his shoulders left in England, now that his father, and my father, and
dear old Siward, whom I loved better than my father, are dead and gone."
The lads stood silent, not a little awed, and indeed imposed on, by the
cynical and worldly-wise tone which their renowned uncle had assumed.
At last one of them asked, falteringly, "Then you will do nothing for us?"
"For you, nothing. Against you, nothing. Why should I mix myself up in my
brother's quarrels? Will he make that white-headed driveller at
Westminster reverse my outlawry? And if he does, what shall I get thereby?
A younger brother's portion; a dirty ox-gang of land in Kesteven. Let him
leave me alone as I leave him, and see if I do not come back to him some
day, for or against him as he chooses, with such a host of Vikings' sons
as Harold Hardraade himself would be proud of. By Thor's hammer, boys, I
have been an outlaw but five years now, and I find it so cheery a life,
that I do not care if I am an outlaw for fifty more.


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