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Kingsley, Charles, 1819-1875

"Hereward, the Last of the English"


And I heard a voice crying, 'There is no help in man, go thou to God.' And
I answered, That were a beggar's trick, to go to God in need, when I went
not to him in plenty. No. Without God I planned, and without Him I must
fail. Without Him I went into the battle, and without Him I must bide the
brunt. And at best, Can He give me back my sons? And I hardened my heart
again like a stone, and shed no tear till I saw your fair face this day."
"And now!" she said, turning sharply on Hereward, "what do you do here? Do
you not know that your nephews' lands are parted between grooms from
Angers and scullions from Normandy?"
"So much the worse for both them and the grooms."
"Sir?"
"You forget, lady, that I am an outlaw."
"But do you not know that your mother's lands are seized likewise?"
"She will take refuge with her grandsons, who are, as I hear, again on
good terms with their new master, showing thereby a most laudable and
Christian spirit of forgiveness."
"On good terms? Do you not know, then, that they are fighting again,
outlaws, and desperate at the Frenchman's treachery? Do you not know that
they have been driven out of York, after defending the city street by
street, house by house? Do you not know that there is not an old man or a
child in arms left in York; and that your nephews, and the few fighting
men who were left, went down the Humber in boats, and north to Scotland,
to Gospatrick and Waltheof? Do you not know that your mother is left
alone--at Bourne, or God knows where--to endure at the hands of Norman
ruffians what thousands more endure?"
Hereward made no answer, but played with his dagger.


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