The boy answered very low, "Yes, Lord King, I am listening."
Canute went on again: "I say that if you were a maiden,--if you were your
sister, to tell it shortly,--I could easily dispose of you in marriage. Thus
would you get protection, and your father's castle would gain a strong arm to
fight for it. I would wed you to my foster-brother, Rothgar Lodbroksson, and
thus bring good to both of-- Are you finding fault with that also?"
But the lad stood before him like a stone. If a faint cry had come from him,
it was not repeated; and there was nothing offensive about a hidden face and
shaking limbs.
The King continued more gently: "But since you were so simple as to be born a
boy, such good luck is not to be expected. It is the best that I can do to
offer you to become my ward and follow me as my page, until the sword's game
has decided between me and Edmund of England. But I do not know where your
ambition is if that does not content you. There are lads in Denmark who would
give their tongues for the chance. What say you, Fridtjof the Bold?"
For a time it looked as if "Fridtjof the Bold" did not know what to say. He
stood without raising his hanging head or moving a muscle. Silence filled the
tent, while from outside leaked in the noise of the revel. Then, through that
noise or above it, there became audible the notes of far-away horns.
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