"Beau frere and bien aime, in what trifles must a king pass his life!
And, all this while, matters grave and urgent demand me. Know that
Eadmer, the cheapman, waits without, and hath brought me, dear and
good man, the thumb of St. Jude! What thought of delight! And this
unmannerly son of strife, with his jay's voice and wolf's eyes,
screaming at me for earldoms!--oh the folly of man! Naught, naught,
very naught!"

"Sir and King," said Harold; "it ill becomes me to arraign your pious
desires, but these relics are of vast cost; our coasts are ill
defended, and the Dane yet lays claim to your kingdom. Three thousand
pounds of silver and more does it need to repair even the old wall of
London and Southweorc."

"Three thousand pounds!" cried the King; "thou art mad, Harold! I
have scarce twice that sum in the treasury; and besides the thumb of
St. Jude, I daily expect the tooth of St. Remigius--the tooth of St.
Remigius!"

Harold sighed. "Vex not yourself, my lord, I will see to the defences
of London. For, thanks to your grace, my revenues are large, while my
wants are simple. I seek you now to pray your leave to visit my
earldom. My lithsmen murmur at my absence, and grievances, many and
sore, have arisen in my exile."

The King stared in terror; and his look was that of a child when about
to be left in the dark.

"Nay, nay; I cannot spare thee, beau frere. Thou curbest all these
stiff thegns--thou leavest me time for the devout; moreover, thy