"
"O, are you at that?" thought Hereward. "_Tout est perdu_. The
question is, Earl," said he aloud, "simply this: How many men can you
raise off this shire?"
"I have raised--not so many as I could wish. Harold and Edith's men have
joined me fairly well; but your nephew, Morcar's--"
"I can command them. I have half of them here already."
"Then,--then we may raise the rest?"
"That depends, my Lord Earl, for whom we fight!"
"For whom?--I do not understand."
"Whether we fight for that lad, Child Edgar, or for Sweyn of Denmark, the
rightful king of England."
"Sweyn of Denmark! Who should be the rightful king but the heir of the
blessed St. Edward?"
"Blessed old fool! He has done harm to us enough on earth, without leaving
his second-cousins' aunts' malkins to harm us after he is in Heaven."
"Sir Hereward, Sir Hereward, I fear thou art not as good a Christian as so
good a knight should be."
"Christian or not, I am as good a one as my neighbors. I am Leofric's son.
Leofric put Harthacanute on the throne, and your father, who was a man,
helped him. You know what has befallen England since we Danes left the
Danish stock at Godwin's bidding, and put our necks under the yoke of
Wessex monks and monk-mongers. You may follow your father's track or not,
as you like.
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