“Of course. If he does not come as the old monk’s heir, how does he come at all? If he does not promise our—their, I mean, for I am no Englishman—laws and liberties, who will join him? But his riders and hirelings will not fight for nothing. They must be paid with English land, and English land they will have, for they will be his men, whoever else are not. They will be his darlings, his housecarles, his hawks to sit on his fist and fly at his game; and English bones will be picked clean to feed them. And you would have me help to do that, Torfrida? Is that the honor of which you spoke so boldly to Harold Godwinsson?”
Torfrida was silent. To have brought Hereward under the influence of William was an old dream of hers. And yet she was proud at the dream being broken thus. And so she said:
“You are right. It is better for you,—it is better than to be William’s darling, and the greatest earl in his court,—to feel that you are still an Englishman. Promise me but one thing, that you will make no fierce or desperate answer to the Duke.”
“And why not answer the tanner as he deserves?”
“Because my art, and my heart too, tells me that your fortunes and his are linked together. I have studied my tables, but they would not answer. Then I cast lots in Virgilius—”
“And what found you there?” asked he, anxiously.
“I opened at the lines,—
‘Pacem me exanimis et Martis sorte peremptis
Oratis? Equidem et vivis concedere vellem.’”
“And what means that?”
“That you may have to pray him to pity the slain; and have for answer, that their lands may be yours if you will but make peace with him. At least, do not break hopelessly with that man. Above all, never use that word concerning him which you used just now; the word which he never forgives. Remember what he did to them of Alençon, when they hung raw hides over the wall, and cried, ‘Plenty of work for the tanner!’”