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"'Tis no news to me," said Terence, stamping his feet on the flinty ground; "wasn't it Davy that pointed him out to us and the hair liftin' from his head six months since?" "Und you like schwimmin', yes?" said Swein Poulsson, his face like the rising sun with the cold. "Swimmin', is it?" said Terence, "sure, the divil made worse things than wather. And Hamilton's beyant."
God knows they must be hungry, and you." Suddenly I remembered that he himself had had nothing. Running around the commandant's house to the kitchen door, I came unexpectedly upon Swein Poulsson, who was face to face with the linsey-woolsey-clad figure of Monsieur Rocheblave's negro cook. The early sun cast long shadows of them on the ground. "By tam," my friend was saying, "so I vill eat.
For nothing checked Swein Forkbeard until step by step the Danish hosts closed on London, and at last even the brave citizens were forced to yield to him. Then Ethelred our king must needs fly from his throne, and leave the land to its Danish master. Yet it was true, as Eadmund the Atheling said, that the Dane was but master of the land, and not of the English people.
In an instant we were down on our knees on the hard dirt floor, and there was a man's foot in a moccasin! We both grabbed it and pulled, bringing to life a person with little blue eyes and stiff blond hair. "Swein Poulsson!" exclaimed Polly Ann, giving him an involuntary kick, "may the devil give ye shame!" Swein Poulsson rose to a sitting position and clasped his knees in his hands.
Cowan and Mrs. Harrod were standing alone. For there was little of fear in those three. "Shucks!" said Mrs. Cowan, "I reckon it's that Jim Ray shooting at a mark," and she began to pick nettles again. "Vimmen is a shy critter," remarked Swein Poulsson, coming up. I had a shrewd notion that he had run with the others. "Wimmen!" Mrs. Cowan fairly roared. "Wimmen!
But I listened not to their talk, my mind being over full of this good fortune of my own. I had none left of my own kin, and till today I had been as it were alone. Presently, however, I heard an East Anglian name that was dear to me. Eadmund asked how it was that Swein Forkbeard had died, for none thought that his end was yet to be thought of as near. Now it would seem that he had gone suddenly.
Cowan and Mrs. Harrod were standing alone. For there was little of fear in those three. "Shucks!" said Mrs. Cowan, "I reckon it's that Jim Ray shooting at a mark," and she began to pick nettles again. "Vimmen is a shy critter," remarked Swein Poulsson, coming up. I had a shrewd notion that he had run with the others. "Wimmen!" Mrs. Cowan fairly roared. "Wimmen!
But at Sandwich we found the thanes whom Swein had held as hostages left, cruelly maimed in hand and face, with the message from Cnut that he would return. "He may return," said Olaf, "but if all goes well he will find England ready for him. There is some trouble in Denmark or he would not leave us thus."
Even London was forced at last to give way, and Æthelred fled over-sea to a refuge in Normandy. He was soon called back again. In the opening of 1014 Swein died suddenly at Gainsborough; and the spell of terror was broken. The Witan recalled "their own born lord," and Æthelred returned to see the Danish fleet under Swein's son, Cnut, sail away to the North.
But his aim found a sudden check through the lawlessness of his son Swein. Swein seduced the abbess of Leominster, sent her home again with a yet more outrageous demand of her hand in marriage, and on the king's refusal to grant it fled from the realm.
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