“Then Harold the Earl said: ‘The old man is right. King, listen to what he says.’ And he told him all, quite eagerly.”
“How did you know that? Can you understand French?”
“I am a poor idiot, give me a halfpenny,” said Martin, in a doleful voice, as he threw into his face and whole figure a look of helpless stupidity and awkwardness, which set them both laughing.
But Hereward checked himself. “And you think he was in earnest?”
“As sure as there are holy crows in Crowland. But it was of no use. Your father got a parchment, with an outlandish Norman seal hanging to it, and sent me off with it that same night to give to the lawman. So wolf’s head you are, my lord, and there is no use crying over spilt milk.”
“And Harold spoke for me? It will be as well to tell Abbot Leofric that, in case he be inclined to turn traitor, and refuse to open the gates. Once outside them, I care not for mortal man.”
“My poor boy, there will be many a one whom thou hast wronged only too ready to lie in wait for thee, now thy life is in every man’s hand. If the outlawry is published, thou hadst best start to-night, and get past Lincoln before morning.”
“I shall stay quietly here, and get a good night’s rest; and then ride out to-morrow morning in the face of the whole shire. No, not a word! You would not have me sneak away like a coward?”
Brand smiled and shrugged his shoulders: being very much of the same mind.
“At least, go north.”