“They were heathens and enchanters,”--and Waltheof crossed himself. “And conquered the world. Well,--if you march along one of these streets, you must ride as I rode, when I came up to you. You must not let your knights go first, and your men-at-arms straggle after in a tail a mile long, like a scratch pack of hounds, all sizes but except each others’. You must keep your footmen on the high street, and make your knights ride in two bodies, right and left, upon the wold, to protect their flanks and baggage.” “But the knights won’t. As gentlemen, they have a right to the best ground.” “Then they may go to--whither they will go, if the French come upon them. If they are on the flanks, and you are attacked then they can charge in right and left on the enemy’s flank, while the footmen make a stand to cover the wagons.” “Yes,--that is very good; I believe that is your French fashion?” “It is the fashion of common-sense, like all things which succeed.” “But, you see, the knights would not submit to ride in the mire.” “Then you must make them. What else have they horses for, while honester men than they trudge on foot?” “Make them?” said Waltheof, with a shrug and a smile. “They are all free gentlemen, like ourselves.” “And, like ourselves, will come to utter ruin, because every one of them must needs go his own way.” “I am glad,” said Waltheof, as they rode along, “that you called this my earldom. I hold it to be mine of course, in right of my father; but the landsfolks, you know, gave it to your nephew Morcar.” “I care not to whom it is given. I care for the man who is on it, to raise these landsfolk and make them fight. You are here: therefore you are earl.” “Yes, the powers that be are ordained by God.” “You must not strain that text too far, Lord Earl; for the only power that is, whom I see in England--worse luck for it!--is William the Mamzer.” “So I have often thought.” “You have? As I feared!” (To himself:) “The pike will have you next, gudgeon!” “He has with him the Holy Father at Rome, and therefore the blessed Apostle St. Peter of course. And is a man right, in the sight of Heaven, who resists them? I only say it. But where a man looks to the salvation of his own soul, he must needs think thereof seriously, at least.” “O, are you at that?” thought Hereward. “_Tout est perdu_. The question is, Earl,” said he aloud, “simply this: How many men can you raise off this shire?” “I have raised--not so many as I could wish. Harold and Edith’s men have joined me fairly well; but your nephew, Morcar’s--” “I can command them. I have half of them here already.” “Then,--then we may raise the rest?” “That depends, my Lord Earl, for whom we fight!” “For whom?--I do not understand.” “Whether we fight for that lad, Child Edgar, or for Sweyn of Denmark, the rightful king of England.” “Sweyn of Denmark! Who should be the rightful king but the heir of the blessed St. Edward?”