"Bale her out quietly; and let us show these fellows that we are not
afraid of them. That is the best chance of peace."
At this moment a mounted party came down between the sandhills; it might
be, some twenty strong. Before them rode a boy on a jennet, and by him a
clerk, as he seemed, upon a mule. They stopped to talk with the peasants,
and then to consult among themselves. Suddenly the boy turned from his
party; and galloping down the shore, while the clerk called after him in
vain, reined up his horse, fetlock deep in water, within ten yards of the
ship's bows.
"Yield yourselves!" he shouted, in French, as he brandished a hunting
spear. "Yield yourselves, or die!"
Hereward looked at him smiling, as he sat there, keeping the head of his
frightened horse toward the ship with hand and heel, his long locks
streaming in the wind, his face full of courage and command, and of
honesty and sweetness withal; and thought that he had never seen so fair a
lad.
"And who art thou, thou pretty, bold boy?" asked Hereward, in French.
"I," said he, haughtily enough, as resenting Hereward's familiar "thou,"
"am Arnulf, grandson and heir of Baldwin, Marquis of Flanders, and lord of
this land. And to his grace I call on you to surrender yourselves."
Hereward looked, not only with interest, but respect, upon the grandson of
one of the most famous and prosperous of northern potentates, the
descendant of the mighty Charlemagne himself.
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