picked up little Master Ninth
Duke between finger and thumb, and laughed, holding him in the air.
"With you alive," said he, "we shall not have to wake Duke Jarl after
all!" The little Duke asked when he would let him have a sword; and the
Constable clapped his cheeks and ran back cheerfully at a call from the
palisades.

But others carried heavy looks, thinking, "Long before his fair promise
can come to anything our larders will be empty and our walls gone!"

It was no great time after this that the Duke's Constable was the only
man who saw reason in holding out. That became known all through the
castle, and the cook, honest fellow, brought up little Jarl's dinner one
day with tears in his eyes. He set down his load of dainties. "It is no
use!" said he, "you may as well eat to-day, since to-morrow we give up
the castle."

"Who dares to say 'we'?" cried little Duke Jarl, springing to his feet.

"All but the Constable," said the cook; "even now they are in the
council-hall, trying to make him see reason. Whether or no, they will
not let him hold on."

Little Jarl found the doors of the great hall barred to the thunderings
of his small fist: for, in truth, these men could not bear to look upon
one who had in his veins the blood of old Duke Jarl, when they were
about to give up his stronghold to the enemy.

So little Jarl made his way up to the bowery, where was a minstrel's
window looking down into the hall. Sticking out his head so that he
might see down to where the council was sitting, "If you give up the
castle, I will tell Duke Jarl!" he cried. Hearing his young master's
voice, the Constable raised his eyes; but not able to see him for tears
in them, called out: "Tell him quick, for here it is all against one!
Only for one day more have they promised to follow my bidding, and keep
the carrion crows from coming to Jarl's nest."

And even as he spoke came the renewed cry of attack, and the answering
shout of "Jarl, Jarl!" from the defenders upon the walls. Then all leapt
up, over-turning the council-board, and ran out to the battlements to
carry on with what courage was left to them a hopeless contest for one
more day.

Little Duke Jarl remained like a beating heart in the great empty keep.
He ran wildly from room to room, calling in rage and desperation on Old
Jarl to return and fight. From roof to basement he ran, commanding the
spirit of his ancestor to appear, till at last he found himself in the
deepest