Morcar knew naught of it. On the faith and honor
of a knight, he knew naught. Only his brother had said to him a day or two
before, that he must see his betrothed before he died.
"He is gone to William, then? Does he think to win her now,--an outcast
and a beggar,--when he was refused her with broad lands and a thousand men
at his back? Fool! See that thou play not the fool likewise, nephew, or--"
"Or what?" said Morcar, defiantly.
"Or thou wilt go, whither Edwin is gone,--to betrayal and ruin."
"Why so? He has been kind enough to Waltheof and Gospatrick, why not to
Edwin?"
"Because," laughed Hereward, "he wanted Waltheof, and he does not want you
and Edwin. He can keep Mercia quiet without your help. Northumbria and the
Fens he cannot without Waltheof's. They are a rougher set as you go east
and north, as you should know already, and must have one of themselves
over them to keep them in good humor for a while. When he has used
Waltheof as his stalking-horse long enough to build a castle every ten
miles, he will throw him away like a worn bowstring, Earl Morcar, nephew
mine."
Morcar shook his head.
In a week more he was gone likewise. He came to William at Brandon.
"You are come in at last, young earl?" said William, sternly. "You are
come too late."
"I throw myself on your knightly faith," said Morcar.
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