“And this it said, with such praises and courtesies concerning you, as made thy wife’s heart beat high with pride: ‘If Hereward Leofricsson will come home to England, he shall have his rights in law again, and his manors in Lincolnshire, and a thanes-ship in East Anglia, and manors for his men-at-arms; and if that be not enough, he shall have an earldom, as soon as there is one to give.’”
“And what says to that, Torfrida, Hereward’s queen?”
“You will not be angry if I answered the letter for you?”
“If you answered it one way,—no. If another,—yes.”
Torfrida trembled. Then she looked Hereward full in the face with her keen clear eyes.
“Now shall I see whether I have given myself to Hereward in vain, body and soul, or whether I have trained him to be my true and perfect knight.”
“You answered, then,” said Hereward, “thus—”
“Say on,” said she, turning her face away again.
“Hereward Leofricsson tells Harold Godwinsson that he is his equal, and not his man; and that he will never put his hands between the hands of a son of Godwin. An Etheling born, a king of the house of Cerdic, outlawed him from his right, and none but an Etheling born shall give him his right again.”
“I said it, I said it. Those were my very words!” and Torfrida burst into tears, while Hereward kissed her, almost fawned upon her, calling her his queen, his saga-wife, his guardian angel.