“Yes, why shouldn’t we?” cried Ethelred.
“Don’t ask him,” said Alfred, frowning.
“Why?”
“Look at his eyes and the corners of his mouth. He’s laughing at us.”
The big jarl’s shoulders began to shake, and his lids half-closed in his mirth, while the eyes of all four boys flashed in their anger.
“Why, of course I’m laughing, my boys,” he said; “but it’s not out of a desire to mock at you. I know you, my brave little fellows, and I hope to come back safe, and to see you all grow up to stark men who will deal well with the Norsemen. But you must wait a bit.”
“No, no,” cried Alfred. “We can stand back and shoot.”
“So can the Danes, my boy; and their arrows are sharp.”
“But we can shoot sharper and quicker than they,” said Ethelred. “Oh, do take us, Jarl Cerda.”
“No, my boy,” said the stout Saxon noble firmly; “I cannot take you. The King stood by and picked out my men, and he said I was to take these and no more. Would you have me give pain to our good Queen Osburga by breaking the King’s commands?”