“So that the only foul play I can see is, that my master shoved the fellow over after he had stabbed him, instead of leaving him to stand upright there, like one of your Cornish Dolmens, till his flesh should fall off his bones.” Hereward saw the effect of Martin’s words, and burst out in Danish likewise. “Look at me!” he said; “I am Hereward the outlaw, I am the champion, I am the Berserker, I am the Viking, I am the land thief, the sea thief, the ravager of the world, the bear-slayer, the ogre-killer, the raven-fattener, the darling of the wolf, the curse of the widow. Touch me, and I will give you to the raven and to the wolf, as I have this ogre. Be my men, and follow me over the swan’s road, over the whale’s bath, over the long-snake’s leap, to the land where the sea meets the sun, and golden apples hang on every tree; and we will freight our ships with Moorish maidens, and the gold of Cadiz and Algiers.” “Hark to the Viking! Hark to the right earl’s son!” shouted some of the Danes, whose blood had been stirred many a time before by such wild words, and on whom Hereward’s youth and beauty had their due effect. And now the counsels of the ruffians being divided, the old priest gained courage to step in. Let them deliver Hereward and his serving man into his custody. He would bring them forth on the morrow, and there should be full investigation and fair trial. And so Hereward and Martin, who both refused stoutly to give up their arms, were marched back into the town, locked in the little church, and left to their meditations. Hereward sat down on the pavement and cursed the Princess. Martin Lightfoot took off his master’s corslet, and, as well as the darkness would allow, bound up his wounds, which happily were not severe. “Were I you,” said he at last, “I should keep my curses till I saw the end of this adventure.” “Has not the girl betrayed me shamefully?” “Not she. I saw her warn you, as far as looks could do, not to quarrel with the man.” “That was because she did not know me. Little she thought that I could--” “Don’t hollo till you are out of the wood. This is a night for praying rather than boasting.” “She cannot really love that wretch,” said Hereward, after a pause. “You saw how she mocked him.” “Women are strange things, and often tease most where they love most.” “But such a misbegotten savage.” “Women are strange things, say I, and with some a big fellow is a pretty fellow, be he uglier than seven Ironhooks. Still, just because women are strange things, have patience, say I.” The lock creaked, and the old priest came in. Martin leapt to the open door; but it was slammed in his face by men outside with scornful laughter. The priest took Hereward’s head in his hands, wept over him, blessed him for having slain Goliath like young David, and then set food and drink before the two; but he answered Martin’s questions only with sighs and shakings of the head.