denly she limped after her friend
and caught at his cloak.

"Let me go with you," she cried. "I beseech it of you! I want not their
service."

After a moment, the Etheling threw his arm protectingly around the
boyish figure.

"I do not blame you, poor youngling," he said. "I was wrong to treat you
as a child when you were bred up as a man. You shall have a bed in the
closet off my chamber, and they shall not enter except as you will it.
And you shall eat off my plate and drink from my cup. Come!"

Chapter XII. The Foreign Page

Early should rise
He who has few workers,
And go his work to see to;
Greatly is he retarded
Who sleeps the morn away;
Wealth half depends on energy.
Ha'vama'l.

It was August, when Mother Earth had nearly completed her task of
providing for her children, and the excitement of a mighty work drawing
to its close was in the air; when the sun-warmed stillness was a-quiver
with the of growing things coming to their strength, and every cloudless
day held in its golden heart a song of exultation. The grassy space
around the Tower, which was wont to be thronged with joyous idlers,
was to-day almost deserted. A single groom lounged in the shade of
the wide-spreading trees as he kept a lazy eye on the croppings of
two saddled horses, and an endless chain of fagot-laden serfs plodded
joylessly across the open. On one side of the great entrance arch a
half-dozen of the manor poor gabbled and basked in the sun while they
waited to receive their daily dole of food; on the other, a dark-locked
foreign page sat on the mossy step abiding the coming of his master.

Leaning back with one arm bent carelessly behind his head and one
hand caressing a shaggy hound that pressed against his knee, the boy's
far-away gaze was designed to intimate his haughty oblivion to the
castle-world in general and the movements of the almsfolk in particular.
Seeing which, the people on the other side of the step had laid aside
any reserve they might have felt and were indulging their curiosity with
cheerful freedom.

"Six weeks he has been here, and this is the first good look I have had
at him," the buzzing whispers ran. "It is said that they were obliged to
catch him between shields before they could take him."... "Such hair on
a Dane is more rare than a white crow."... "I believe no good of any
one with locks of that color."... "Tibby, the weaving-woman, says he is
skilful in magic.".