"
A pause met his warmth somewhat coldly; and the warrior who broke the silence
lowered his voice to do it.
"Keep in mind, lord, that it is no more than a week that you have been at his
heels," he said.
"Likewise bear in mind whose son he is," the man with the drinking-horn added
grimly. He was a stout white-bearded old cniht with an obstinate old face that
looked something like a ruddy apple in a snow-bank. Flushing, the young noble
ceased examining his sword-edge to meet the eyes bent upon him.
"I hope you do not think I stand in need of a rebuke for lukewarmness,
Morcard," he said gravely. "I have no more forgot that King Edmund's father
gave the order for my father's murder than I have forgot that Edric was the
tool who did the deed. May Saint Peter exterminate him with his sword! Did I
not live even as a lordless man the while that Ethelred remained upon the
throne? But what sense to continue at that after Ethelred was dead, and the
valor of his son was to that degree exalted as if he had sprung from Alfred?
Yourself counselled me to join him at Gillingham, and take the post under his
banner that my fathers have always held beside his fathers."
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.
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