“Tell me who you are.”
Hereward looked out of the corner of his eyes, smiling and perplexed.
“Tell me and Robert who you are, man; and be done with it. I believe I know already. I have asked far and wide of chapmen, and merchants, and wandering knights, and pirate rascals,—like yourself.”
“And you found that I was a pirate rascal?”
“I found a pirate rascal who met you in Ireland, three years since, and will swear that if you have one gray eye and one blue—”
“As he has,” quoth Robert.
“That I am a wolf’s head, and a robber of priests, and an Esau on the face of the earth; every man’s hand against me, and mine—for I never take but what I give—against every man.”
“That you are the son of my old friend Leofric of Chester: and the hottest-hearted, shrewdest-headed, hardest-handed Berserker in the North Seas. You killed Gilbert of Ghent’s bear, Siward Digre’s cousin. Don’t deny it.”
“Don’t hang me, or send me to the Westminster miracle-worker to be hanged, and I will confess.”
“I? Every man is welcome who comes hither with a bold hand and a strong heart. ‘The Refuge for the Destitute,’ they call Flanders; I suppose because I am too good-natured to turn rogues out. So do no harm to mine, and mine shall do no harm to you.”