I did not quite know how he would take this, for he was proud of my father as I. But that very pride made it easy.
“Maybe not,” he said thoughtfully, “for it seems unworthy of his sons that we have to ask for service from any man. But I do not think that he could blame us, as things are. Nevertheless, folk shall not talk.”
“Men know me,” said I, “but that cannot be helped.”
He laughed gaily at that.
“Why, here we speak as if one man in a hundred knew you. And after all it may be that we shall get a place that none need be ashamed of. Look, here comes a mighty fine lord from the gateway.”
It was Berthun the steward, for whom we were waiting, and I knew him well by sight. Often had he bought our fish, but I did not think that he would remember me by name, if he had ever heard it. He was a portly and well-favoured man, not old, and as he came down the street to the marketplace at the hill foot he laughed and talked with one and another of the townsfolk, whether high or low, in very pleasant wise.
Presently he stopped at a stall, and priced some meat; and when he had bought it he looked round and called for some men to carry it for him; and at that the idlers made a rush for him, tripping over one another in haste to be first, while he laughed at them.
He chose two or three, and sent them up the hill to the palace with their burdens, and then went to another booth and bought.
“This is work at which I should make a good hand,” said Havelok, laughing at the scrambling men who ran forward when the steward again called for porters. “Well paid also the job must be, to judge of their eagerness.”
The three men who had been chosen took their burden and went away, and the steward came near us, to a bakery that was close to the bridge end.