"
"Very nobly spoken. But those sons of Karl--and I think you said you had
killed a kinsman of mine?"
"It was a bear, Lord Earl, a great white bear. Cannot you understand a
jest? Or are you going to take up the quarrels of all white bears that are
slain between here and Iceland? You will end by burning Crowland minster
then, for there are twelve of your kinsmen's skins there, which Canute
gave forty years ago."
"Burn Crowland minster? St. Guthlac and all saints forbid!" said Waltheof,
crossing himself devoutly.
"Are you a monk-monger into the bargain, as well as a dolt? A bad prospect
for us, if you are," said Hereward to himself.
"Ah, my dear Lord King!" said Waltheof, "and you are recovering?"
"Somewhat," said the lad, sitting up, "under the care of this kind
knight."
"He is a monk, Sir Atheling, and not a knight," said Hereward. "Our fenmen
can wear a mail-shirt as easily as a frock, and handle a twybill as neatly
as a breviary."
Waltheof shook his head. "It is contrary to the canons of Holy Church."
"So are many things that are done in England just now. Need has no master.
Now, Sir Earl and Sir Atheling, what are you going to do?"
Neither of them, it seemed, very well knew. They would go to York if they
could get there, and join Gospatrick and Marlesweyn.
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