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Updated: June 14, 2025
With the gift of the Northumbrian earldom on Siward's death to his brother Tostig all England save a small part of the older Mercia lay in the hands of the house of Godwine, and as the waning health of the king, the death of his nephew, the son of Eadmund who had returned from Hungary as his heir, and the childhood of the Ætheling Eadgar who stood next in blood, removed obstacle after obstacle to his plans, Harold patiently but steadily moved forward to the throne.
Do you see? Don't you see that big woodcock squatted flat, bill pointed straight out and resting on the leaves?" After a long while she saw, suddenly, and an exquisite little shock tightened her fingers on Siward's extended arm. "Oh, the feathered miracle!" she whispered; "the wonder of its cleverness to hide like that!
Take it as it is meant, beau Sire; be proud to pay the money; and we will throw you Sir Ascelin into the bargain, as he seems a friend of Siward's." Thorold hoped that Hereward was drunk, and might forget, or relent; but he was so sore at heart that he slept not a wink that night. But in the morning he found, to his sorrow, that Hereward had been as sober as himself.
Siward's eyes had suddenly narrowed; then he laughed, patting Sagamore's cheeks. "I don't believe I shall shoot very steadily this afternoon," he said, turning toward the group at luncheon under the trees. "I wish Quarrier well with the cup." And she raised her glass to him, frankly, and emptied it with the precision characteristic of her: "Your cup! With all my heart!"
The King of Scotland was Macbeth, who had slain his predecessor, Duncan I, the husband of a sister or cousin of the earl, and Siward's invasion was evidently undertaken on behalf of Duncan's son Malcolm.
The report he received, however, had so much effect upon King Malcolm that he went himself to visit the strangers in their ship. He was not a mere barbaric prince, to be dazzled by the sight of these great persons, but no doubt had many a lingering recollection in his mind of Siward's great house in Northumberland, where he had taken refuge after his father's murder.
"Oh, no," cackled his lordship; "I didn't draw it, old chap!" "Nor I! I only wish I could," added Captain Voucher. "Nor I nor I who did it?" ran the chorus along the table. "I didn't do it!" said Sylvia gravely, looking across at Quarrier. And suddenly Quarrier's large, handsome eyes met Siward's for the briefest fraction of a second, then were averted.
He had to deal with Sylvia herself, and with Siward reckon with Siward's knowledge of matters which it were best that Sylvia should not know. But first of all, and most important of all, he had to deal with Beverly Plank.
They had passed the rabbit-brier country scathless, with two black mallard, a jack-snipe, and a rabbit to the credit of their score, and were now advancing through that dimly lit enchanted land of tall grey alders where, in the sudden twilight of the leaves, woodcock after woodcock fluttered upward twittering, only to stop and drop, transformed at the vicious crack of Siward's gun to fluffy balls of feather whirling earthward from mid-air.
Nobody said anything for a while. Presently Siward's restless hands, moving in search of something, encountered a pencil lying on the table beside him, and he picked it up and began drawing initials and scrolls on the margin of a newspaper; and all the scrolls framed initials, and all the initials were the same, twining and twisting into endless variations of the letters S. L.
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