Mark my words, Sir Hereward, that cunning
Frenchman will treat with them one by one, and betray them one by one,
till there is none left."
How far Gyda was right will be seen hereafter. But a less practised
diplomat than the great Countess might have speculated reasonably on such
an event.
At least, let this be said, that when historians have complained of the
treachery of King Swend Ulfsson and his Danes, they have forgotten certain
broad and simple facts.
Swend sailed for England to take a kingdom which he believed to be his by
right; which he had formerly demanded of William. When he arrived there,
he found himself a mere cat's-paw for recovering that kingdom for an
incapable boy, whom he believed to have no right to the throne at all.
Then came darker news. As Ivo had foreseen, and as Ivo had done his best
to bring about, William dashed on York, and drove out the Confederates
with terrible slaughter; profaned the churches, plundered the town.
Gospatrick and the earls retreated to Durham; the Atheling, more cautious,
to Scotland.
Then came a strange story, worthy of the grown children who, in those old
times, bore the hearts of boys with the ferocity and intellect of men.
A great fog fell on the Frenchmen as they struggled over the Durham moors.
The doomed city was close beneath them; they heard Wear roaring in his
wooded gorge.
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