And
beside, that Dolfin is a big man. If you cross Scot and Saxon, you breed a
very big man. If you cross again with a Dane or a Norseman, you breed a
giant. His grandfather was a Scots prince, his grandmother an English
Etheliza, his mother a Norse princess, as you know,--and how big he is,
you should remember. He weighs half as much again as I, and twice as much
as you."
"Butchers count by weight, and knights by courage," quoth Hereward.
"Very well for you, who are young and active; but I take him to be a
better man than that ogre of Cornwall, whom they say you killed."
"What care I? Let him be twice as good, I'd try him."
"Ah! I knew you were the old Hereward still. Now hearken to me. Be my
champion. You owe me a service, lad. Fight that man, challenge him in open
field. Kill him, as you are sure to do. Claim the lass, and win her,--and
then we will part her dower. And (though it is little that I care for
young lasses' fancies), to tell you truth, she never favored any man but
you."
Hereward started at the snare which had been laid for him; and then fell
into a very great laughter.
"My most dear and generous host: you are the wiser, the older you grow. A
plan worthy of Solomon! You are rid of Sieur Dolfin without any blame to
yourself."
"Just so."
"While I win the lass, and, living here in Flanders, am tolerably safe
from any blood-feud of the Gospatricks.
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