“Profit? All the world seems determined to make profit out of me. I presume you would, if I had come with you to Bourne.” “I do not doubt it. This is a very wild sea to swim in; and a man must be forgiven, if he catches at every bit of drift-timber.” “Selfishness, selfishness everywhere;--and I suppose you expect to gain by sending me to Gilbert of Ghent?” “I shall gain nothing, Alftruda, save the thought that you are not so far from me--from us--but that we can hear of you,--send succor to you if you need.” Alftruda was silent. At last-- “And you think that Gilbert would not be afraid of angering the king?” “He would not anger the king. Gilbert’s friendship is more important to William, at this moment, than that of a dozen Gospatricks. He holds Lincoln town, and with it the key of Waltheof’s earldom: and things may happen, Alftruda--I tell you; but if you tell Gilbert, may Hereward’s curse be on you!” “Not that! Any man’s curse save yours!” said she in so passionate a voice that a thrill of fire ran through Hereward. And he recollected her scoff at Bruges,--“So he could not wait for me?” And a storm of evil thoughts swept through him. “Would to heaven!” said he to himself, crushing them gallantly down, “I had never thought of Lincoln. But there is no other plan.” But he did not tell Alftruda, as he meant to do, that she might see him soon in Lincoln Castle as its conqueror and lord. He half hoped that when that day came, Alftruda might be somewhere else. “Gilbert can say,” he went on, steadying himself again, “that you feared to go north on account of the disturbed state of the country; and that, as you had given yourself up to him of your own accord, he thought it wisest to detain you, as a hostage for Dolfin’s allegiance.” “He shall say so. I will make him say so.” “So be it, Now, here we are at Stamford town; and I must to my trade. Do you like to see fighting, Alftruda,--the man’s game, the royal game, the only game worth a thought on earth? For you are like to see a little in the next ten minutes.” “I should like to see you fight. They tell me none is so swift and terrible in the battle as Hereward. How can you be otherwise, who slew the bear,--when we were two happy children together? But shall I be safe?” “Safe? of course,” said Hereward, who longed, peacock-like, to show off his prowess before a lady who was--there was no denying it--far more beautiful than even Torfrida. But he had no opportunity to show off his prowess. For as he galloped in over Stamford Bridge, Abbot Thorold galloped out at the opposite end of the town through Casterton, and up the Roman road to Grantham.