He turned and told the men
who the boy was.
"It would be a good trick," quoth one, "to catch that young whelp, and
keep him as a hostage."
"Here is what will have him on board before he can turn," said another, as
he made a running noose in a rope.
"Quiet, men! Am I master in this ship or you?"
Hereward saluted the lad courteously. "Verily the blood of Baldwin of the
Iron Arm has not degenerated. I am happy to behold so noble a son of so
noble a race."
"And who are you, who speak French so well, and yet by your dress are
neither French nor Fleming?"
"I am Harold Naemansson, the Viking; and these my men. I am here, sailing
peaceably for England; as for yielding,--mine yield to no living man, but
die as we are, weapon in hand. I have heard of your grandfather, that he
is a just man and a bountiful; therefore take this message to him, young
sir. If he have wars toward, I and my men will fight for him with all our
might, and earn hospitality and ransom with our only treasure, which is
our swords. But if he be at peace, then let him bid us go in peace, for we
are Vikings, and must fight, or rot and die."
"You are Vikings?" cried the boy, pressing his horse into the foam so
eagerly, that the men, mistaking his intent, had to be represt again by
Hereward. "You are Vikings! Then come on shore, and welcome.
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