"You have no quarrel in Northumberland, and the King's writ runs very
slowly there, if at all. Old Siward Digre may stand your friend."

"He? He is a fast friend of my father's."

"What of that? the old Viking will like you none the less for having shown
a touch of his own temper. Go to him, I say, and tell him that I sent
you."

"But he is fighting the Scots beyond the Forth."

"So much the better. There will be good work for you to do. And Gislebert
of Ghent is up there too, I hear, trying to settle himself among the
Scots. He is your mother's kinsman; and as for your being an outlaw, he
wants hard hitters and hard riders, and all is fish that comes to his net.
Find him out, too, and tell him I sent you."

"You are a good old uncle," said Hereward. "Why were you not a soldier?"

Brand laughed somewhat sadly.

"If I had been a soldier, lad, where would you have looked for a friend
this day? No. God has done what was merciful with me and my sins. May he
do the same by thee and thine."

Hereward made an impatient movement. He disliked any word which seemed
likely to soften his own hardness of heart. But he kissed his uncle
lovingly on both cheeks.

"By the by, Martin,--any message from my lady mother?"