Briton and Saxon, Norman and Englishman, and maybe Norseman and Dane,
have loved the old story, and with its tale of right and love triumphant
it still has its own power.
Stockland, 1899
Chas. W. Whistler
CHAPTER I. GRIM THE FISHER AND HIS SONS.
This story is not about myself, though, because I tell of things that I
have seen, my name must needs come into it now and then. The man whose
deeds I would not have forgotten is my foster-brother, Havelok, of whom
I suppose every one in England has heard. Havelok the Dane men call him
here, and that is how he will always be known, as I think.
He being so well known, it is likely that some will write down his
doings, and, not knowing them save by hearsay, will write them wrongly
and in different ways, whereof will come confusion, and at last none
will be believed. Wherefore, as he will not set them down himself, it is
best that I do so. Not that I would have anyone think that the
penmanship is mine. Well may I handle oar, and fairly well axe and
sword, as is fitting for a seaman, but the pen made of goose feather is
beyond my rough grip in its littleness, though I may make shift to use a
sail-needle, for it is stiff and straightforward in its ways, and no
scrawling goeth therewith.
Therefore my friend Wislac, the English priest, will be the penman,
having skill thereto.
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