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Kingsley, Charles, 1819-1875

"Hereward, the Last of the English"

Had they told me whose men they were, I should not have
spoken to you so roughly as I fear I did."
"There is no offence. Let Englishmen speak their minds, as long as English
land is above sea. But how did you get into trouble, and with whom?"
Waltheof told him how he was going round the country, raising forces in
the name of the Atheling, when, as they were straggling along the Roman
road, Gilbert of Ghent had dashed out on them from a wood, cut their line
in two, driven Waltheof one way, and the Atheling another, and that the
Atheling had only escaped by riding, as they saw, for his life.
"Well done, old Gilbert!" laughed Hereward. "You must beware, my Lord
Earl, how you venture within reach of that old bear's paw!"
"Bear? By the by, Sir Hereward," asked Waltheof, whose thoughts ran
loosely right and left, "why is it that you carry the white bear on your
banner?"
"Do you not know? Your house ought to have a blood-feud against me. I slew
your great-uncle, or cousin, or some other kinsman, at Gilbert's house in
Scotland long ago; and since then I sleep on his skin every night, and
carry his picture in my banner all day."
"Blood-feuds are solemn things," said Waltheof, frowning. "Karl killed my
grandfather Aldred at the battle of Settrington, and his four sons are
with the army at York now--"
"For the love of all saints and of England, do not think of avenging that!
Every man must now put away old grudges, and remember that he has but one
foe,--William and his Frenchmen.


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