The Kings Sons | Page 3

was a mounted man, and what followed the heads of spears borne by a party of quite a hundred men, whose leader had been seen first owing to his being mounted upon an active little horse.
"Where's Cerda going?" shouted one of the boys.
"There's a fight somewhere," said another.
And the other two joined in, crying together:
"Let's go and see."
So, in a state of wild excitement and wonder that they had not heard the news of danger before, the boys raced to head off the body of armed men, the first up being greeted by the big bluff leader with a cheery shout.
"What now? What now?" he cried. "Have you boys come to tell us that we are too late, and that the enemy are all slain? Who was it found the Norsemen's ship?"
"Then the Danes have landed?" cried the eldest boy excitedly.
"Yes," cried his brother. "I knew that was it."
"Yes, that's it, boy," said the leader, dragging at his horse's head, for the animal was impatient to go on.
"Where are they?" cried the youngest boy, with his cheeks flushing and eyes sparkling.
"A day's journey away, my boy. The people over Farringdon way have asked for help, and the King sends me."
"That's right," cried the boy who had last spoken. "We'll go with you."
The leader smiled and shook his head, and the band of fine-looking, picked men indulged in a hearty laugh.
"What are you mocking and gibing at?" cried the youngest boy fiercely. "Do you think that because I and my brothers are young we cannot fight?"
"Yes," cried the eldest brother; "we can shoot an arrow with any of you. Pick out your four best men, Jarl Cerda, and we'll shoot against them."
"Yes," said another. "You know we can shoot well."
"Do I not?" said the jarl; "for I taught you."
"Yes, yes; they can all shoot well," came in concert.
"Oh, yes, they can shoot," said the leader; "but I have no time to prove it."
"Of course not," cried Alfred. "Never mind that. Lead on."
"I'm afraid we should never catch the Danes if you boys came," said the jarl solemnly.
"Why?" cried Bald, the eldest.
"Yes, why shouldn't we?" cried Ethelred.
"Don't ask him," said Alfred, frowning.
"Why?"
"Look at his eyes and the corners of his mouth. He's laughing at us."
The big jarl's shoulders began to shake, and his lids half-closed in his mirth, while the eyes of all four boys flashed in their anger.
"Why, of course I'm laughing, my boys," he said; "but it's not out of a desire to mock at you. I know you, my brave little fellows, and I hope to come back safe, and to see you all grow up to stark men who will deal well with the Norsemen. But you must wait a bit."
"No, no," cried Alfred. "We can stand back and shoot."
"So can the Danes, my boy; and their arrows are sharp."
"But we can shoot sharper and quicker than they," said Ethelred. "Oh, do take us, Jarl Cerda."
"No, my boy," said the stout Saxon noble firmly; "I cannot take you. The King stood by and picked out my men, and he said I was to take these and no more. Would you have me give pain to our good Queen Osburga by breaking the King's commands?"
"No," said Alfred, with a quick, old-fashioned look. "We cannot do that, boys."
"Come, that's bravely spoken, Alfred, boy; I like that," said the jarl, leaning down from his horse to pat the youngest boy on the shoulder. "Look here, if I come back safely after beating the Danes I'll bring you one of their winged helmets for a prize."
"You will?" cried Alfred.
"I promise you I will, my boy," cried the big Saxon noble, "and trophies for your brothers too.--There, we must go on. Good-bye, my brave boys. Give them a shout, my lads."
The men waved sword and spear in the air as they marched off and Alfred and his brothers stood watching them till the last twinkling spear had disappeared in the distance, and then the boys turned away with a sigh.
"Oh, I wish I was a man!" said Alfred sadly.
"No use to wish," said the next brother. "Here, let's go on down the stream to get some fish."
The disappointment was soon forgotten, and the boys dashed off downhill as hard as they could go, neither of them hearing a shout, nor seeing the little monk come panting up, to stand gazing ruefully after them and wiping the great drops of perspiration off his face and head.
"Oh, dear!" he said; "it's a fine thing to be young and strong, and--"
He paused for a few moments to look down at his plump proportions.
"--And light," he added sadly. "I can't run as they do."
He stood perfectly still as he spoke, watching the deep crease in the valley, whose bottom was hidden by clumps of willow and beds