A committee of the First Citizens led Harold to the city gate. He wished
to say good-bye to his mother, and to Richard and Robert; but there was
no time. Presently a watchman raised a white flag above the wall.
Thereafter the noise of the besiegers ceased.
"A truce, ho!"
"What message from the besieged?"
"One comes to parley with your King."
"Let him come forth, under the flag of truce. He will be safe."
Bearing the white flag in one hand and the gorgeous book in the other,
Harold stepped outside the gate. The foreign soldiers stared to see so
young a messenger, and some of them would have laughed. But Harold held
up his head proudly and showed them that he was not afraid, nor was he
to be laughed at.
"I am the messenger. Pray bring me to the King," he said with dignity.
A guard of fierce-looking soldiers took him in charge and marched him
across the trampled sward, between the ranks of the army, until they
came to a little hillock. And there Harold found himself standing in
front of a huge man with bristling red hair and beard, having a mighty
arm bound with iron. His eyes were wild and bloodshot. He sat upon the
hillock as if it were a throne, and held a wicked-looking sword across
his great knees, frowning terribly.
"Well, who are you, and what do you want with me?" growled the Red King.
"A queer envoy this! A mere boy!"
"The City Fathers have sent me to read you something, please Your
Majesty," said Harold, trying to look brave, though his knees were
quaking at the awful appearance of the War-Lord.
"Is it a war message?" asked Red Rex, eyeing the red-and-gold book
suspiciously.
"You must hear and judge," answered Harold.
"Very well," grumbled the Red King. "But waste no time. Begin and have
done as quickly as may be."
Harold began to read from the red-and-gold book; but he had not gone far
when Red Rex interrupted him.
"Why, it is a tale!" he roared. "Thunder and lightning! Do they think
this is a child's party? Go home with your story-book to your nursery
and leave me to deal with your city in warrior fashion."
"I come from no nursery!" protested Harold, squaring his shoulders. "I
am no molly-coddle. No boy can beat me at any game. I am instructed to
read you this, and I must do so, unless you break the truce and do me
harm."
"Who ever heard the like of this!" thundered Red Rex. "Here am I making
real war, and this boy interrupts me to read a tale! What a waste of
time! I read nothing, boy. War dispatches are all I have taste for. Does
this concern war?"
"It has everything to do with this war," said Harold truthfully. "It is
very important, and they say I read rather well."
"When did you learn to read rather well?" questioned the Red King
sulkily. "I never learned to read well, myself, and I am thrice your
age. I never have had time. At your years I was already a soldier.
Fighting was the only sport I cared for. Reading is girls' business."
"A lot of good things are girls' business, and boys' business, too,"
said Harold loyally. "But please hear me read about the fight, Your
Majesty."
"About a fight;--it is a long time since I heard a story about a fight,
written in ink," said the Red King musingly. "But I have myself seen
many fights, written in red blood."
"This is a story different from any you ever read," said Harold. "It is
a story no one ever heard read before, outside Kisington. Will Your
Majesty permit that I begin?"
Red Rex hummed and hawed, hesitated and frowned. But he was a curious
King, as well as a savage one, and his curiosity triumphed. "What ho!"
he shouted to his guard at last. "Let there be a truce until I give word
to resume the fighting. I have that which claims my attention. Boy, I
will hear the story. Plant the flag of truce upon this hillock and sit
down here at my feet. Now!" He unfastened his belt and sword, took off
his heavy helmet and made himself comfortable, while his men lolled
about in the grass near by. Harold seated himself at the feet of the Red
King, as he was bidden; and opening the red-and-gold book began to read
in his best manner the story of _The Dragon of Hushby_.