Havelok the Dane: A Legend of Old Grimsby and Lincoln

by Charles W. Whistler

I shook my head, and longed for Withelm. Surely I would send for him, or for Arngeir, if this went on. Arngeir for choice, for I could tell him what I thought; and that would only puzzle Withelm, who knew less than I.

“We will ask Arngeir some day,” I said; “he can remember.”

“I suppose he did take me,” mused Havelok; “and I suppose that I want more sleep or more food or somewhat. Now we will go and tell the old dame of my luck, for she has lost her lodger.”

Then he told me of his fortune with the steward.

“Half afraid of me he seems, for he will have me do just what I will. That will be no hard place therefore.”

But I thought that if I knew anything of Havelok my brother, he would be likely to make it hard by doing every one’s work for him, and that Berthun saw this; or else that, as I had thought last night, the shrewd courtier saw the prince behind the fisher’s garb.

So we parted presently at the gate of the palace wall, and I went back to the widow to wait for my arms, while he went to his master. And I may as well tell the end of Havelok’s lawmaking.

Berthun went down to the market next day, and came back with a wonder to be told. And it was to Havelok that he went first to tell it, as he was drawing bucket after bucket of water from the deep old Roman well in the courtyard to fill the great tub which he considered a fair load to carry at once.

“There is something strange happening in the market,” he said, “and I think that you have a hand in it. The decency of the place is wonderful, and you said that you thought I might have less trouble with the men than I was wont if you went down with the loaves. What did you? For I went to the baker’s stalls and bought, and looked round for the tail that is after me always; and I was alone, and all the market folk were agape to see what was to be done. I thought that I had offended the market by yesterday’s business, as they had called out on me, and I thought that I should have to come and fetch your—that is, if it pleased you. But first I called, as is my wont, for porters. Now all that rabble sat in a row along a wall, and, by Baldur, when I looked, they had cleaned themselves! Whereupon an old gaffer, who has carried things once or twice for me when there has been no crowd and he has been able to come forward, lifted up his voice and asked how many men I wanted, so please me.

“‘Two,’I said, wondering, and at that two got up and came to me, and I sent them off. It was the same at the next booth, and the next, for he told off men as I wanted them; and here am I back a full half-hour earlier than ever before, and no mud splashes from the crowd either. It is said that they have made a porters’ guild; and who has put that sense into their heads unless your—that is, unless you have done so, I cannot say.”