“Not I, faith,” she answered.  “I mind the first day your father came here, and never a penny had he, and since then there has been no want in this house.  Luck comes with Grim and his folk, as I think.  But this is a son whom I have not seen before, if he is indeed your brother.”

“I am Grim’s son Curan,” said Havelok, “and I have not been to Lincoln ere this.  But I have heard of you many times.”

That pleased our old hostess, and then she asked after Grim.  Hard it was to have to tell her that he was gone, and hard it was for her to hear, for the little house had been open to us for ten years.

“What will you do now, masters?” she asked, when she had told us of many a kindness done to her and her husband, who was long dead now, by my father.

I told her that we were too many at home since the fishing had failed, and had therefore come to find some work here, at the court if possible.

“Doubtless two strong men will not have to go far to find somewhat,” she said; “but the court is full of idle folk, and maybe no place is empty.  Now I will have you bide with me while you are at a loose end, for there are yet a few silver pennies in store, and I ween that they came out of Grim’s pouch to me.  Lonely am I, and it is no good hoarding them when his sons are hungry.”

We thanked her for that kind saying, but she made light of it, saying that almost did she hope that we should find no work, that we might bide and lighten her loneliness for a time.

“But if an old woman’s advice is good for aught, you shall not go to the court first of all.  Sour is King Alsi, and he is likely to turn you away offhand rather than grant the smallest boon.  But there is Berthun the cook, as we call him—­steward is his court name though—­and he orders the household, and is good-natured, so that all like him.  Every morning he comes into the market, and there you can ask him if there is a place for you, and he loves to look on a man such as Curan.  But if it is weapons you want—­and I suppose that is in the minds of tall men always, though it brings sorrow in the end—­there is the captain of the guard who lives over the gate, and he might be glad to see you enough.”

We said that we would see the steward, for we wanted no long employment.  We would go back to Grimsby when the famine ended, if it were only by the coming of the fish again.

Then she gave us of the best she had—­black bread and milk to wit; and after that we slept soundly before the fire, as I had done many times before in that humble house.  Black bread and milk it was again in the morning; but there was plenty, and goodwill to season it.  Then the old dame sent us forth cheerfully and early, that we might not miss Berthun the steward, from whom she hoped great things for us.

So we sat in the marketplace for an hour or more watching the gates of the wall for his coming; and men stared at Havelok, so that we went to the bridge and waited there.  One could see all the market from thence.  There were a good many of the market folk coming in presently, and most of them knew me, and more than one stopped and spoke.