“Come, Gregor,” he said, laying his brown hand on the youth’s shoulder, “come, wear the forester’s boots with me. This is the life to which we are called. Be strong in the Lord, a hunter of the demons, a subduer of the wilderness, a woodsman of the faith. Come.”
The boy’s eyes sparkled. He turned to his grandmother. She shook her head vigorously.
“Nay, father,” she said, “draw not the lad away from my side with these wild words. I need him to help me with my labours, to cheer my old age.”
“Do you need him more than the Master does?” asked Winfried; “and will you take the wood that is fit for a bow to make a distaff?”
“But I fear for the child. Thy life is too hard for him. He will perish with hunger in the woods.”
“Once,” said Winfried, smiling, “we were camped on the bank of the river Ohru. The table was set for the morning meal, but my comrades cried that it was empty; the provisions were exhausted; we must go without breakfast, and perhaps starve before we could escape from the wilderness. While they complained, a fish-hawk flew up from the river with flapping wings, and let fall a great pike in the midst of the camp. There was food enough and to spare! Never have I seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread.”
“But the fierce pagans of the forest,” cried the abbess,—“they may pierce the boy with their arrows, or dash out his brains with their axes. He is but a child, too young for the danger and the strife.”
“A child in years,” replied Winfried, “but a man in spirit. And if the hero fall early in the battle, he wears the brighter crown, not a leaf withered, not a flower fallen.”
The aged princess trembled a little. She drew Gregor close to her side,
and laid her hand gently on his brown hair. “I am not sure that he wa
there is no horse in the stable to give him, now, and he cannot go as
befits the grandson of a king.”
Gregor looked straight into her eyes.