"Must you come with your folly to an honest woman's house, shouting for your king? Guthred! I have no Guthred here, and that you wot right well; but if ye want a king, go round to the sty and get one there, or to the field wherein my ass feeds, and he will make ye a good ruler. Away with ye, rascals and worthless that ye are, or I will beat you with my besom stick."
Then did the vikings laugh again, and still they cried for Guthred to come forth; and at that did Guthred come, and Wulnoth cried so that all might hear—
"The man is here, holdas and thanes. This is my friend and my brother—this is Guthred, who is son of him who was King of Lethra."
"Skoal! Skoal to thee, Guthred son of Hardacnute!" they cried; and they seized him and lifted him onto their shoulders.
But then, with a yell and a cry of anger, the old woman threw herself amongst them, and she scratched and kicked, and grabbed hold of Guthred's leg, seeking to pull him away.
"Hola! help, there—help there, neighbors!" she cried. "Here be nameless and masterless men, and they be carrying off my thrall! Help, there."
"Silence, woman!" sternly said the Bishop. "Darest thou call these nobles by such shameful names as nameless and masterless? Silence, or thou shalt be ducked in the pond. As for this man, know that he is thy king; and ask his pardon if thou hast cause to fear his anger, for thy life is in his hand, from now, henceforth."
"What!" shrieked the old woman. "What is that? Gurth is not Gurth, but Guthred; and he is not my thrall, but the King! Oh, and I have had him whipped! Oh, and I have had him shut up! And now he will have me killed. Oh! mercy, good Gurth—I mean, good Guthred—no, I mean good King! Oh, mercy!"
But Guthred laughed, and it was the good laugh of the long ago; and he held out his hand, and lifted the woman up, saying to her—
"Have no fear, mistress. If I was whipped, doubtless I deserved it."