“Nay, lord,” she said; “that is not fitting for you.”

“Less fitting is it that a strong man should see you thus burdened and not help.  No lord am I, but only the cook’s man.  So I am going to the palace.”

But this she would not believe at first, and still refused.  However, Lincoln Hill is very steep, and she was not sorry when Havelok laughed and took the things from her so soon as she had to halt for breath.

“Curan will carry you up also, if you will, mother,” said Withelm.

The nurse tossed her head at him and made no answer, being on her dignity at once.  Moreover, she had heard of Curan by this time, though she had not seen him before.  So she said no more, and went on proudly enough, with her mighty attendant after her; but all the while it was in her mind that there was some jest, or maybe wager, between the two.

Now Withelm stopped at the gate; but I was not there, for I had been sent to the palace, where guards were to be at each door.  The word was that some plot had been found out against the princess, and that therefore we had to be careful.  One easily believed that with all the talk about the attack made on her party that was flying about.  So he came on to the palace kitchens, for Berthun knew him well, having so often bought fish from him in the market; and there he sat down to talk with the steward, for there was nothing much going on at the time, and I was on guard.

Now, the old nurse went to her mistress; and Goldberga sat in the shadow, and was weeping no longer, seeing that it would not help at all.

“There is a wonder down yonder,” said the old lady, not seeing that there had been any trouble yet—­“such a man as I never saw in all my days; and he even carried my goods up all the hill for me, old and ugly as I am.  That is not what every young man would do nowadays.  Maybe it was different when I was young, or else my being young made the difference.  The youth with him called him Curan, which is the name of the strong porter they prate of, but doubtless that was a jest.  This is the most kingly man that could be; and I ween that those two made a wager that he dared not carry a bundle up to the palace, whereby I was the gainer, for breath grows short up that pitch.  And when I thanked him he bowed in that wise that can only come of being rightly taught when one is young.  Now, I am going to ask Berthun who he is, for he spoke to him when he saw him, and that humbly, as it seemed.”

So talked the nurse, and to all Goldberga answered never a word, for all the trouble came back again, and with it the thought that she hated, that if only—­

Then, as the nurse was leaving her, she called her back.

“Nurse,” she said, “I am in sore trouble about the dream.  It bides with me, and will not cease to puzzle me until I weary for some one to read it plainly.  I would that Queen Bertha’s good chaplain were here, for I might have been helped by him.”