"God alone knows, my lord, but all things are in His hand; and I trust that through this fiery ordeal, and through the long struggle, He will bring profit to the nation. Already signs are manifest that the hatred of William is abating, and Saxons here and there are being received into favour."
"Ah! Saxons being received into favour by the tyrant usurper! Then, I wot the renegade Oswald, and sycophants and timeservers generally, will thrive. My curses on the cowardly brood!"
"Call them not renegade, my lord, neither curse them. Oswald will best serve his countrymen by frankly accepting what was inevitable in any case."
"Nothing was inevitable, if he had but had the mind to stand by his country. We would have followed him anywhere, for there was none of us with a head to command like he had; and he wielded a powerful sword. No other man ever got the better of me in single combat, and I could have worshipped him had he stood by us. 'Twas the Norman woman bewitched him, and I hate him for saving his coward's skin and betraying his country, because a dark-eyed siren and temptress beckoned him."
"My lord, no more of this! He was the wisest amongst us, and saw farthest; and if you and others had been guided by him, there would have been less of Saxon blood shed. I think I see clearly in this revolution the hand of a wiser and a mightier than he—One who has seen fit to cast your Viking hardihood and valour, and stern, severe virtues, and the Saxons' milder traits, along with Norman chivalry and refinement, into the eternal crucible. You and I and ours, it is true, may lose our identity; but all that is best will reappear in the ages to come."
"Ye speak in riddles, Ethel. Do ye think the Viking race will lose its identity? Never!" said he, with fierce emphasis. "Vikings, who have sailed every sea and conquered everywhere, to be swallowed up by this womanish people—never! This will not do! Get me my sword, Ethel; if I but feel it I shall be strong again."
"The sword is resting in its scabbard, my lord. It has long since drunk in its fill of blood—let it rest for ever."
"Why have ye taken my sword from me, Ethel? I can wield it yet. I tell thee, Ethel"—making a vain effort to raise himself—"there's marrow in the Viking race yet, and we shall sweep the seas again as of old! I will not lie here. Let me to the Bruneswald; I have men left yet, and we'll make a fight for it to the end!"
"My lord, you will never handle sword again. The Viking's cause—the reign of force—has received its mortal wound. 'Twill linger probably through centuries of darkness, and amid the twilight of the days still later; for men, benighted men, here and there, will give it a spasmodic and fitful revival; but never more in the ages of the world will the gaunt and hateful reign of force be paramount."
"Ethel! Ethel! Ye embitter my death. What will ye have, girl? Are our gods dead, think ye? Where are our Sagas? Bethink ye, there is the Viking race beyond the North Sea, and they'll come again; and do ye think these sleek and well-fed Normans will drive them out? The hardy warriors from the mountains and fiords over the fierce sea are coming. Hist!" he shouted, half delirious, "do ye hear their shouts? Will ye reach me my sword, Ethel? I must be up and meet them!" Then he sank back exhausted once more. "Tut, tut, we deserve this for our folly. What am I doing; going to die in a bed? The sea is the Viking's home. Why did we ever take to land, except for plunder? Accursed ease and effeminacy have undone us. But we'll to the sea again. Wait awhile, Ethel; ye shall see who will be masters."