Is it likely that they will oppose the hand that can strip off
their gilding?"
It appeared that the young man could find no answer to that, for he made none.
"At least once, my lord, Ethelred's wilfulness has shown in his son, when he
set aside the King's command to take possession of Sigeferth's widow and her
estates. And I think it was Ethelred's temper that moved him to spend an
energy, much better directed against the Pagans, in laying waste two of his
own shires. Remember what happened when your father raised himself against
Ethelred."
Restive under the restraining hand, the young noble faced him desperately.
"Morcard, in God's name, what would you have me do? I will not bend to it, nor
would you wish me to. Or sooner or later --"
"Let it be later, lord. After you have had time to marshal your wits, and when
it is daylight, and you have your men at your back."
After a while, the Etheling yielded and turned aside. "Let it be as you have
said--though I cannot believe yet that it will happen." Coming back where a
fallen tree made a mossy seat, he dropped down upon it and sat staring at the
ground in frowning abstraction.
The motion dropped him out of the range of Randalin's vision, and her eyes
wandered away discontentedly. If there was nothing more to look at, she might
as well go to sleep. The fire was dying down so that the overhanging shadow
was drooping lower, like a canopy that would fall and smother them when the
spears of light that upheld it should sink at last in the ashes.
Pages:
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103