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Kingsley, Charles, 1819-1875

"Hereward, the Last of the English"

There are not ten men-at-arms in Bourne this
night; and, what is worse, sir, as you know, who seem to have known war as
well as me, there is no man to lead them."
Here Hereward was on the point of saying, "And what if I led you?"--On the
point too of discovering himself: but he stopped short.
Was it fair to involve this little knot of gallant fellows in what might
be a hopeless struggle, and have all Bourne burned over their heads ere
morning by the ruffian Frenchmen? No; his mother's quarrel was his own
private quarrel. He would go alone and see the strength of the enemy; and
after that, may be, he would raise the country on them: or--and half a
dozen plans suggested themselves to his crafty brain as he sat brooding
and scheming: then, as always, utterly self-confident.
He was startled by a burst of noise outside,--music, laughter, and shouts.
"There," said Perry, bitterly, "are those Frenchmen, dancing and singing
in the hall with my Lord Godwin's head above them!" And curses bitter and
deep went round the room. They sat sullen and silent it may be for an hour
or more; only moving when, at some fresh outbreak of revelry, the old man
started from his doze and asked if that was Hereward coming.
"And who is this Hereward of whom you speak?" said Hereward at last.


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