The Kings Sons | Page 7

be to send old Swythe away, so that there will be no more learning Latin, boys, and no crabbing fingers up to hold tens."
The three brothers said something with a shout which in those days answered to "Hooray!" and then Alfred, who had shouted the loudest, being the youngest and ready to think brother Bald's words very brave and fine, suddenly began to feel uncomfortable; for he had a certain amount of fear of the monk his master, and felt a kind of shrinking from rebelling against his authority. He glanced sidewise at Father Swythe and saw that his eyes glimmered in a peculiar way as if water was rising in them. Directly afterwards his heart felt a little sore, and a sense of shame began to trouble him, for there was no mistake: Father Swythe's eyes were wet and his voice sounded hoarse and strange as he said sadly:
"You would not send me away, Ethelbald? I have always tried to do my duty to the young sons of my lord the King and have tried to make them grow into scholarly princes fit to rule the land."
"Bah! We do not want to be scholarly!" cried Bald scornfully. "We want to learn to be brave soldiers, so that we can go forth and beat the Danes."
"Yes," said the monk sadly; "but, my boys, the warrior who's a scholar as well is more brave and noble and merciful, and his name is one that lives longer in the land. Ah, well, you have made me very sad. I had hoped that I had done something to make the sons of my dear lady the Queen love me; but if they do not it would be better perhaps that I should go back to my cell at the old abbey, where I could be happy with my parchments and my pens."
The old monk sighed and turned away; he appeared to have received a shock which had broken his heart.
The three elder boys were laughing and joking about the matter, and suddenly Ethelbald cried out:
"Come along, boys! Bows and arrows. I saw a roebuck feeding outside the oak wood. Here, we'll take spears with us too to-day. Let old Swythe teach the swineherds' boys to read Latin instead of minding the little pigs hunting for acorns."
"No spears left!" said Bert.
"The men took them all when they went away!" said Red.
"Then let's go without!" said Bald.
Alfred said nothing; he was watching the monk going slowly and sadly away, and somehow the little figure did not look comic to him then, even if it was short and plump and round.
"Where's Fred?" cried Bald the next minute, when the boys were getting their bows and quivers.
His brothers could not tell him where Alfred was; so after a few moments pause, Ethelbald said:
"Never mind: let's go without him. Hers too young and weak to do what we do. Let him stay behind and learn Latin with old Swythe."
"He did go out after him," said Bert.
"Yes, I saw him. I remember now," cried Red.
His last words were almost smothered by his eldest brother, who raised to his lips a curling cow-horn tipped with a copper mouthpiece and strengthened with a ring at the head end. He proceeded to blow into it, but failed to produce anything more huntsman-like than a kind of bray such as might be uttered by a jackass suffering from a sore-throat.
But it was good enough to send all the dogs about the place frantic, and away the three boys went, followed by a pack of hounds, some of which would have been as ready to tackle wolf or boar as to dash after the lordly stag or the big-eyed, prong-horned, graceful roes of which there were many about the forest lands which surrounded the King's home.
Alfred, from one of the upper windows, saw them go away in triumph and longed to join them; but he did not do so, for there was sorrow in his heart, and for the first time in his young life he had begun to think deeply about the words spoken by his brother and those uttered so sadly and reproachfully by the simple-hearted, gentle monk.
CHAPTER FOUR.
A BEE IN HIS CELL.
It was in the afternoon of that same day that young Alfred loitered about the place feeling very lonely and miserable and, truth to tell, repentant because he had not joined his brothers in the glorious chase they must be having. Taken altogether, he felt very miserable.
But he was not alone in that, for, going to the window, he saw Father Swythe walking slowly down the garden amongst the Queen's flower and herb beds, with his head bowed down and his hands behind him, looking unhappy in the extreme.
Alfred turned away, feeling guilty, and went into another room, when, to