or some
fair castle and vawmure? In a word, do you Saxons merely overrun, and
neglect to hold what you win?"

"We fight in self-defence, not for conquest, Sir Norman. We have no
skill in building castles; and I pray you not to hint to my thegns the
conceit of dividing a land, as thieves would their plunder. King
Gryffyth is dead, and his brothers will reign in his stead. England has
guarded her realm, and chastised the aggressors. What need England do
more? We are not like our first barbarous fathers, carving out homes
with the scythe of their saexes. The wave settles after the flood, and
the races of men after lawless convulsions."

Tostig smiled, in disdain, at the knight, who mused a little over the
strange words he had heard, and then silently followed the Earl to the
fort.

But when Harold gained his chamber, he found there an express, arrived in
haste from Chester, with the news that Algar, the sole enemy and single
rival of his power, was no more. Fever, occasioned by neglected wounds,
had stretched him impotent on a bed of sickness, and his fierce passions
had aided the march of disease; the restless and profitless race was run.

The first emotion which these tidings called forth was that of pain. The
bold sympathise with the bold; and in great hearts, there is always a
certain friendship for a gallant foe. But recovering the shock of that
first impression, Harold could not but feel that England was free from
its most dangerous subject--himself from the only obstacle apparent to
the fulfilment of his luminous career.

"Now, then, to London," whispered the voice of his ambition. "Not a foe
rests to trouble the peace of that empire which thy conquests, O Harold,
have made more secure and compact than ever yet has been the realm of the
Saxon kings. Thy way through the country that thou hast henceforth
delivered from the fire and sword of the mountain ravager, will be one
march of triumph, like a Roman's of old; and the voice of the people will
echo the hearts of the army; those hearts are thine own. Verily Hilda is
a prophetess; and when Edward rests with the saints, from what English
heart will not burst the cry, 'LONG LIVE HAROLD THE KING?'"

CHAPTER II.

The Norman rode by the side of Harold, in the rear of the victorious
armament. The ships sailed to their havens, and Tostig departed to his
northern earldom.

"And now," said Harold, "I am at leisure to thank thee, brave Norman, for