“He is either fool or liar who says so.”
“But see. I find it hard work to hold my own in Scotland now. Folks don’t like me, or trust me; I can’t say why.”
“How unreasonable!” quoth Hereward.
“And if I kill this youth, and so have a blood-feud with Gospatrick, I have a hornet’s nest about my ears. Not only he and his sons,—who are masters of Scotch Northumberland, [Footnote: Between Tweed and Forth.]—but all his cousins; King Malcolm, and Donaldbain, and, for aught I know, Harold and the Godwinssons, if he bid them take up the quarrel. And beside, that Dolfin is a big man. If you cross Scot and Saxon, you breed a very big man. If you cross again with a Dane or a Norseman, you breed a giant. His grandfather was a Scots prince, his grandmother an English Etheliza, his mother a Norse princess, as you know,—and how big he is, you should remember. He weighs half as much again as I, and twice as much as you.”
“Butchers count by weight, and knights by courage,” quoth Hereward.
“Very well for you, who are young and active; but I take him to be a better man than that ogre of Cornwall, whom they say you killed.”
“What care I? Let him be twice as good, I’d try him.”
“Ah! I knew you were the old Hereward still. Now hearken to me. Be my champion. You owe me a service, lad. Fight that man, challenge him in open field. Kill him, as you are sure to do. Claim the lass, and win her,—and then we will part her dower. And (though it is little that I care for young lasses’ fancies), to tell you truth, she never favored any man but you.”
Hereward started at the snare which had been laid for him; and then fell into a very great laughter.
“My most dear and generous host: you are the wiser, the older you grow. A plan worthy of Solomon! You are rid of Sieur Dolfin without any blame to yourself.”