een sent
him as a gift from his sister the Queen, and wrought with her own fair
hands; for a notable needle-woman, despite her sage lere, was the wife of
the Saint King, as sorrowful women mostly are,--"Tut! the bird must leave
the nest when the wings are fledged. Harold the eagle, Tostig the kite,
Gurth the ring-dove, and Leofwine the stare. See, my wings are the
richest of all, mother, and bright is the sun in which thy peacock shall
spread his pranked plumes."

Then, observing that his liveliness provoked no smile from his mother, he
approached and said more seriously:

"Bethink thee, mother mine. No other choice was left to king or to
father. Harold, and Tostig, and Leofwine, have their lordships and
offices. Their posts are fixed, and they stand as the columns of our
house. And Gurth is so young, and so Saxish and so the shadow of Harold,
that his hate to the Norman is a by-word already among our youths; for
hate is the more marked in a temper of love, as the blue of this border
seems black against the white of the woof. But I;--the good King knows
that I shall be welcome, for the Norman knights love Wolnoth, and I have
spent hours by the knees of Montgommeri and Grantmesnil, listening to the
feats of Rolf-ganger, and playing with their gold chains of knighthood.
And the stout Count himself shall knight me, and I shall come back with
the spurs of gold which thy ancestors, the brave Kings of Norway and
Daneland, wore ere knighthood was known. Come, kiss me, my mother, and
come see the brave falcons Harold has sent me:--true Welch!"

Githa rested her face on her son's shoulder, and her tears blinded her.
The door opened gently, and Harold entered; and with the Earl, a pale
dark-haired boy, Haco; the son of Sweyn.

But Githa, absorbed in her darling Wolnoth, scarce saw the grandchild
reared afar from her knees, and hurried at once to Harold. In his
presence she felt comfort and safety; for Wolnoth leant on her heart, and
her heart leant on Harold.

"O son, son!" she cried, "firmest of hand, surest of faith, and wisest of
brain, in the house of Godwin, tell me that he yonder, he thy young
brother, risks no danger in the halls of the Normans!"

"Not more than in these, mother," answered Harold, soothing her, with
caressing lip and gentle tone. "Fierce and ruthless, men say, is William
the Duke against foes with their swords in their hands, but debonnair and
mild to the gentle [105], frank host and kind l