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Updated: June 14, 2025
For Plank had formed opinions upon a great many subjects; and whatever culture he possessed was from sheer desire for self-cultivation. "You know, Siward," he was accustomed to say with a smile, "you inherit what I am qualifying myself to transmit." "It will be all one in a thousand years," was Siward's usual rejoinder.
And now he was on his way to get his answer, the best whip, the most eagerly discussed, and one of the wealthiest unmarried men in America. Lingering irresolutely, considering with idle eyes the shadows lengthening across the sun-shot moorland, the sound of Siward's even voice aroused her from a meditation bordering on lassitude. She answered vaguely.
No, nobody but his peers could advise him; and he had thought that his enemy was his peer, until that enemy surrendered. The narrative exchanged by Plank in return for Siward's intensely interested questions was a simple, limpid review of a short but terrific campaign that only yesterday had threatened to rage through court after court, year after year.
In Saxo's version of the story about Hroar and Helgi, he is called Siward, but there his proper relationship to the other characters is obscured. Siward was related to Duncan by marriage, some versions, Holinshed's for instance, having it that Duncan was married to Siward's daughter; similarly, Sævil was married to Halfdan's daughter.
Leofric, of Mercia, and his son Algar, died within a few years of each other; and Algar's sons, Edwin and Morkar, were as yet young and timid. Old Earl Siward Biorn fought his last battle when he assisted Malcolm Canmore in overthrowing the murderous usurper, Macbeth, in Scotland. In the battle, Siward's eldest-son, of the same name as himself, was killed.
Siward's financial affairs were anything but satisfactory?" the sweet, trailing, upward inflection making it a question. "When did I say that?" demanded Plank. "Once a month ago." "I didn't," said Plank bluntly. "Oh, I had inferred it, then, from something you said, or something you were silent about. Is that it?" "I don't know." "Am I quite wrong, then?" she asked, looking him in the eyes.
For she, too, had observed Sylvia's distant entrance, had been perfectly aware of Siward's cognizance of Sylvia's retreat; and when Siward went on sketching she had been content. Now she could not tell whether he had deliberately and skillfully taken his congé to follow Sylvia, or whether, in his quest for his cigarettes, chance might meddle, as usual.
"Another quarrel," she commented, turning on the current of the drop-light above the desk from which Siward had risen at her entrance. "You quarrel enough to marry. Why don't you?" "I wish we could," said Sylvia simply. Grace laughed. "What a little fool you are!" she said tenderly, seating herself in Siward's chair and dropping one hand over his where it rested on the arm.
A feature of the Hrólfssaga that is much more noteworthy in this connection and that has certainly been acquired from the Siward saga is that concerning the kind of monster slain by Bjarki at the court of Hrolf Kraki. When Siward's bear-ancestry had been transferred to Bothvar Bjarki, it followed as a matter of course that Bjarki must no longer be represented as killing a bear.
It was late when Quarrier "sat in," with an expressionless acknowledgment of Siward's presence, and an emotionless raid upon his neighbour's resources with the first hand dealt, in which he participated without drawing a card.
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