Two of the three warriors made no other answer than to gurgle their drink noisily in their throats; but the one whom he had called Morcard answered dryly, “It is not against testing the new king that we would advise you, Lord Sebert; it is against trusting him. But we will not be troublesome.” He lifted his hand suddenly to his ear. “Horses’ feet! And stopping by the King’s fire—”
What else he said, Randalin did not hear. Her wits had crawled heavily after the sound of the hoofs. Now the beat changed to a champing and stamping among dry leaves not many rods to her right. She wondered indifferently if there was any likelihood of their running over her; then forgot the query before she had answered it.
The Etheling was speaking again, with all the earnestness of hero-worship. “—the battles he has fought, the abundance of warriors he has gathered together, the land he has won back since his father’s death! Only take to-day—”
“Ay, take to-day!” the old man snapped him up with unexpected vehemence. “And the Devil take me if I ever heard of such witless folly! What! To go plunging off into the thick of the enemy, endangering in his person the hope of the whole English nation—”
The young noble relaxed from his earnestness to laugh. “Now has habit outrid your manners, Morcard. So long have you been wont to use your tongue on my heedlessness, that it begins mechanically to perform the same office for Edmund. In a king, such courage inspires—”
“Courage!” Morcard’s fingers snapped loudly. “Did not the henchman who followed you have courage? Yet do we think of crowning him? I tell you that a king needs to have something besides courage. He needs to have judgment. Then will he know better than to leave his men like sheep without a leader. The old proverb has it right, ‘When the chief fails, the host quails.’ It was when they had become frightened about him that they began to give way, and after that it was easy for any oaf to jump out of the bushes and put them to flight.”
This time the Etheling’s smile was rather unwilling. “Oh! If you think fit to set at naught a brave deed because nothing arose from it! After his father’s cowardice, such energy and dauntlessness alone—”
“Dauntlessness!” the old cniht snorted again. “It is the dauntlessness of the man in Father Ingulph’s story, who was so much wiser than his advisers that he must try to drive the sun a new way, till it came so nigh as it nighest may to setting the world afire.” So hot was his scorn that he was obliged to cool it in his ale, coming to the surface slightly mollified. “However, Lord Sebert, you have cast your colt’s-teeth, and I have no desire to tread upon the toes of your dignity. If I have been over-free, excuse it in your father’s old servant and comrade who has guarded and guided you since—since you have had teeth to cast.”
The young man laughed good-humoredly as he straightened himself for action. “Too often has my dignity bent under your rod, Morcard, to hold itself very stiff against you now. Never fear; I will be an owl of discretion. Give you favorable dreams over your horns!” He picked up his cloak and was turning to depart, when one of the warriors flung up a hand.
“Soft, my lord. Yonder comes Wikel making strange signs to you.” All heads but Randalin’s turned in the direction he was looking. She was still too lethargic for curiosity; and she found a kind of dreamy content in lying with her eyes upon the Etheling’s handsome face. Though its prevailing characteristic was the easy amiability of one who has known little of opposition or dislike, there was no lack of steel in the blue eyes or of iron in the square chin; now and then a spark betrayed them, thrilling pleasantly through her drowsiness.