Edric
Jarl was fulfilling his pledge. Cheers answered the blast. An exclamation
broke from the King's lips, and he leaped up. At that moment, "Fridtjof the
Bold" fell at his feet with clasped hands and supplicating eyes.
"Let me go, Lord King," he besought passionately. "Let me go, and I will ask
nothing further of you. I will never trouble you again. Let me go!--only let
me go!"
Canute of Denmark is not to be blamed that he stamped with exhausted patience.
"Go into the hands of the Trolls!" he swore. And again, "In the Fiend's name!"
And at last, "By the head of Odin, it would serve you well did I take you at
your word! It would serve you right did I turn you out to starve. Were it not
for your father's sake, and for the sake of my own honor, I vow I would! Now
hearken to this." Bending, he picked the boy up by his collar and shook him.
"Listen now to this, and understand that you cannot move me by the breadth of
a hair. I shall not let you go, and you shall be my ward, whether you will or
no. And if you run away, soldiers shall go after you and bring you back, as
often as you run. And if you answer me now or anger me further--but I will not
say that, for it is your misfortune that makes you unruly, and you are
weak-spirited from hunger. Take this bread now for your meal, and that bench
yonder for your bed, and trouble me no more to-night.
Pages:
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70