So I spoke for myself.
"Make me a warrior, lord king.

I would fain fight the Danes, and already I can use sword and spear, and can ride." Then my mother spoke hastily and almost weeping, being broken down with all her trouble and the long journey.
"I would have him serve Holy Church rather, in some monastery.
Already he can read and write, my king, for I have had him taught in hopes that this might be." Thereat the king shook his head, and walked away to the window for a minute.

Then he came back quickly and said, not looking at my mother: "Holy Church will be best served by warriors who will use carnal arms against Swein's heathen just now.

The boy is right--I would that there were more who had his spirit.

We need and shall need those who love fighting." Then he said to me: "Siric your father had a wondrous sword that I used to envy him; you shall learn to use it." "Lord king," I answered, "I must learn to win it back from the Danes, who have it now." I thought the king changed countenance a little at that, and he bit his lip.
"We have been well beaten in East Anglia," he said as if to himself.