"To be sure I shall," answered Richard. "I will be called Richard of
the Sharp Axe, or the Bold Spirit, I promise you, Fru Astrida. We
are as brave in these days as the Sigurds and Ragnars you sing of! I
only wish there were serpents and dragons to slay here in Normandy."

"Never fear but you will find even too many of them," said Dame
Astrida; "there be dragons of wrong here and everywhere, quite as
venomous as any in my Sagas."

"I fear them not," said Richard, but half understanding her, "if you
would only let me have the dagger! But, hark! hark!" he darted to
the window. "They come, they come! There is the banner of
Normandy."

Away ran the happy child, and never rested till he stood at the
bottom of the long, steep, stone stair, leading to the embattled
porch. Thither came the Baron de Centeville, and his son, to receive
their Prince. Richard looked up at Osmond, saying, "Let me hold his
stirrup," and then sprang up and shouted for joy, as under the arched
gateway there came a tall black horse, bearing the stately form of
the Duke of Normandy. His purple robe was fastened round him by a
rich belt, sustaining the mighty weapon, from which he was called
"William of the long Sword," his legs and feet were cased in linked
steel chain-work, his gilded spurs were on his heels, and his short
brown hair was covered by his ducal cap of purple, turned up with
fur, and a feather fastened in by a jewelled clasp. His brow was
grave and thoughtful, and there was something both of dignity and
sorrow in his face, at the first moment of looking at it, recalling
the recollection that he had early lost his young wife, the Duchess