“Norse Dame be my aid,—his fame hath oft filled my ears, and I should have lost the most welcome sight in merrie England had I not now beheld him.”
Therewith, the Duke approached courteously, and, doffing the cap he had hitherto retained, he greeted the old hero with those compliments which the Norman had already learned in the courts of the Frank.
The stout Earl received them coldly, and replying in Danish to William’s Romance-tongue, he said:
“Pardon, Count of the Normans, if these old lips cling to their old words. Both of us, methinks, date our lineage from the lands of the Norse. Suffer Siward to speak the language the sea-kings spoke. The old oak is not to be transplanted, and the old man keeps the ground where his youth took root.”
The Duke, who with some difficulty comprehended the general meaning of Siward’s speech, bit his lip, but replied courteously:
“The youths of all nations may learn from renowned age. Much doth it shame me that I cannot commune with thee in the ancestral tongue; but the angels at least know the language of the Norman Christian, and I pray them and the saints for a calm end to thy brave career.”
“Pray not to angel or saint for Siward son of Beorn,” said the old man hastily; “let me not have a cow’s death, but a warrior’s; die in my mail of proof, axe in hand, and helm on head. And such may be my death, if Edward the King reads my rede and grants my prayer.”
“I have influence with the King,” said William; “name thy wish, that I may back it.”
“The fiend forfend,” said the grim Earl, “that a foreign prince should sway England’s King, or that thegn and earl should ask other backing than leal service and just cause. If Edward be the saint men call him, he will loose me on the hell-wolf, without other cry than his own conscience.”
The Duke turned inquiringly to Rolf; who, thus appealed to, said: