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diff --git a/7815.txt b/7815.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b661917 --- /dev/null +++ b/7815.txt @@ -0,0 +1,19901 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Hereward, The Last of the English, by Charles Kingsley + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Hereward, The Last of the English + +Author: Charles Kingsley + + +Release Date: April, 2005 [EBook #7815] +This file was first posted on May 19, 2003 +Last Updated: June 4, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HEREWARD, THE LAST OF THE ENGLISH *** + + + + +Produced by Anne Soulard, Charles Aldarondo, Tiffany Vergon, +S.R.Ellison and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + +HEREWARD + +THE LAST OF THE ENGLISH + + + +CONTENTS. + + +PRELUDE + +CHAPTER + + I. HOW HEREWARD WAS OUTLAWED, AND WENT NORTH TO SEEK HIS FORTUNES + + II. HOW HEREWARD SLEW THE BEAR + + III. HOW HEREWARD SUCCORED A PRINCESS OF CORNWALL + + IV. HOW HEREWARD TOOK SERVICE WITH RANALD, KING OF WATERFORD + + V. HOW HEREWARD SUCCORED THE PRINCESS OF CORNWALL A SECOND TIME + + VI. HOW HEREWARD WAS WRECKED UPON THE FLANDERS SHORE + + VII. HOW HEREWARD WENT TO THE WAR AT GUISNES + + VIII. HOW A FAIR LADY EXERCISED THE MECHANICAL ART TO WIN HEREWARD'S + LOVE + + IX. HOW HEREWARD WENT TO THE WAR IN SCALDMARILAND + + X. HOW HEREWARD WON THE MAGIC ARMOR + + XI. HOW THE HOLLANDERS TOOK HEREWARD FOR A MAGICIAN + + XII. HOW HEREWARD TURNED BERSERK + + XIII. HOW HEREWARD WON MARE SWALLOW + + XIV. HOW HEREWARD RODE INTO BRUGES LIKE A BEGGAR-MAN + + XV. HOW EARL TOSTI GODWINSSON CAME TO ST. OMER + + XVI. HOW HEREWARD WAS ASKED TO SLAY AN OLD COMRADE + + XVII. HOW HEREWARD TOOK THE NEWS FROM STANFORD BRIGG AND HASTINGS + + XVIII. HOW EARL GODWIN'S WIDOW CAME TO ST. OMER + + XIX. HOW HEREWARD CLEARED BOURNE OF FRENCHMEN + + XX. HOW HEREWARD WAS MADE A KNIGHT AFTER THE FASHION OF THE ENGLISH + + XXI. HOW IVO TAILLEBOIS MARCHED OUT OF SPALDING TOWN + + XXII. HOW HEREWARD SAILED FOR ENGLAND ONCE AND FOR ALL + + XXIII. HOW HEREWARD GATHERED AN ARMY + + XXIV. HOW ARCHBISHOP ALDRED DIED OF SORROW + + XXV. HOW HEREWARD FOUND A WISER MAN IN ENGLAND THAN HIMSELF + + XXVI. HOW HEREWARD FULFILLED HIS WORDS TO THE PRIOR OF THE GOLDEN + BOROUGH + + XXVII. HOW THEY HELD A GREAT MEETING IN THE HALL OF ELY + + XXVIII. HOW THEY FOUGHT AT ALDRETH + + XXIX. HOW SIR DADE BROUGHT NEWS FROM ELY + + XXX. HOW HEREWARD PLAYED THE POTTER; AND HOW HE CHEATED THE KING + + XXXI. HOW THEY FOUGHT AGAIN AT ALDRETH + + XXXII. HOW KING WILLIAM TOOK COUNSEL OF A CHURCHMAN + + XXXIII. HOW THE MONKS OF ELY DID AFTER THEIR KIND + + XXXIV. HOW HEREWARD WENT TO THE GREENWOOD + + XXXV. HOW ABBOT THOROLD WAS PUT TO RANSOM + + XXXVI. HOW ALFTRUDA WROTE TO HEREWARD + + XXXVII. HOW HEREWARD LOST SWORD BRAIN-BITER + +XXXVIII. HOW HEREWARD CAME IN TO THE KING + + XXXIX. HOW TORFRIDA CONFESSED THAT SHE HAD BEEN INSPIRED BY THE DEVIL + + XL. HOW HEREWARD BEGAN TO GET HIS SOUL'S PRICE + + XLI. HOW EARL WALTHEOF WAS MADE A SAINT + + XLII. HOW HEREWARD GOT THE BEST OF HIS SOUL'S PRICE + + XLIII. HOW DEEPING FEN WAS DRAINED + + + + +HEREWARD, THE LAST OF THE ENGLISH. + + + + +PRELUDE. + + +The heroic deeds of Highlanders, both in these islands and elsewhere, +have been told in verse and prose, and not more often, nor more loudly, +than they deserve. But we must remember, now and then, that there have +been heroes likewise in the lowland and in the fen. Why, however, poets +have so seldom sung of them; why no historian, save Mr. Motley in his +"Rise of the Dutch Republic," has condescended to tell the tale of their +doughty deeds, is a question not difficult to answer. + +In the first place, they have been fewer in number. The lowlands of +the world, being the richest spots, have been generally the soonest +conquered, the soonest civilized, and therefore the soonest taken out +of the sphere of romance and wild adventure, into that of order and law, +hard work and common sense, as well as--too often--into the sphere of +slavery, cowardice, luxury, and ignoble greed. The lowland populations, +for the same reasons, have been generally the first to deteriorate, +though not on account of the vices of civilization. The vices of +incivilization are far worse, and far more destructive of human life; +and it is just because they are so, that rude tribes deteriorate +physically less than polished nations. In the savage struggle for life, +none but the strongest, healthiest, cunningest, have a chance of living, +prospering, and propagating their race. In the civilized state, on the +contrary, the weakliest and the silliest, protected by law, religion, +and humanity, have chance likewise, and transmit to their offspring +their own weakliness or silliness. In these islands, for instance, +at the time of the Norman Conquest, the average of man was doubtless +superior, both in body and mind, to the average of man now, simply +because the weaklings could not have lived at all; and the rich and +delicate beauty, in which the women of the Eastern Counties still +surpass all other races in these isles, was doubtless far more common in +proportion to the numbers of the population. + +Another reason--and one which every Scot will understand--why lowland +heroes "carent vate sacro," is that the lowlands and those who live in +them are wanting in the poetic and romantic elements. There is in the +lowland none of that background of the unknown, fantastic, magical, +terrible, perpetually feeding curiosity and wonder, which still remains +in the Scottish highlands; which, when it disappears from thence, will +remain embalmed forever in the pages of Walter Scott. Against that +half-magical background his heroes stand out in vivid relief; and justly +so. It was not put there by him for stage purposes; it was there as a +fact; and the men of whom he wrote were conscious of it, were moulded by +it, were not ashamed of its influence. Nature among the mountains is too +fierce, too strong, for man. He cannot conquer her, and she awes him. He +cannot dig down the cliffs, or chain the storm-blasts; and his fear of +them takes bodily shape: he begins to people the weird places of the +earth with weird beings, and sees nixes in the dark linns as he fishes +by night, dwarfs in the caves where he digs, half-trembling, morsels of +copper and iron for his weapons, witches and demons on the snow-blast +which overwhelms his herd and his hut, and in the dark clouds which +brood on the untrodden mountain-peak. He lives in fear: and yet, if he +be a valiant-hearted man, his fears do him little harm. They may break +out, at times, in witch-manias, with all their horrible suspicions, and +thus breed cruelty, which is the child of fear; but on the whole they +rather produce in man thoughtfulness, reverence, a sense, confused +yet precious, of the boundless importance of the unseen world. His +superstitions develop his imagination; the moving accidents of a wild +life call out in him sympathy and pathos; and the mountaineer becomes +instinctively a poet. + +The lowlander, on the other hand, has his own strength, his own +"virtues," or manfulnesses, in the good old sense of the word: but they +are not for the most part picturesque or even poetical. + +He finds out, soon enough for his weal and his bane, that he is stronger +than Nature; and right tyrannously and irreverently he lords it over +her, clearing, delving, diking, building, without fear or shame. He +knows of no natural force greater than himself, save an occasional +thunder-storm; and against that, as he grows more cunning, he insures +his crops. Why should he reverence Nature? Let him use her, and eat. One +cannot blame him. Man was sent into the world (so says the Scripture) +to fill and subdue the earth. But he was sent into the world for other +purposes, which the lowlander is but too apt to forget. With the awe of +Nature, the awe of the unseen dies out in him. Meeting with no visible +superior, he is apt to become not merely unpoetical and irreverent, but +somewhat of a sensualist and an atheist. The sense of the beautiful dies +out in him more and more. He has little or nothing around him to refine +or lift up his soul, and unless he meet with a religion and with a +civilization which can deliver him, he may sink into that dull brutality +which is too common among the lowest classes of the English lowlands, +and remain for generations gifted with the strength and industry of the +ox, and with the courage of the lion, and, alas! with the intellect of +the former, and the self-restraint of the latter. + +But there may be a period in the history of a lowland race when they, +too, become historic for a while. There was such a period for the men of +the Eastern Counties; for they proved it by their deeds. + +When the men of Wessex, the once conquering race of Britain, fell at +Hastings once and for all, and struck no second blow, then the men of +the Danelagh disdained to yield to the Norman invader. For seven long +years they held their own, not knowing, like true Englishmen, when +they were beaten; and fought on desperate, till there were none left to +fight. Their bones lay white on every island in the fens; their corpses +rotted on gallows beneath every Norman keep; their few survivors crawled +into monasteries, with eyes picked out, or hands and feet cut off, +or took to the wild wood as strong outlaws, like their successors and +representatives, Robin Hood, Scarlet, and John, Adam Bell, and Clym of +the Cleugh, and William of Cloudeslee. But they never really bent their +necks to the Norman yoke; they kept alive in their hearts that proud +spirit of personal independence, which they brought with them from the +moors of Denmark and the dales of Norway; and they kept alive, too, +though in abeyance for a while, those free institutions which were +without a doubt the germs of our British liberty. + +They were a changed folk since first they settled in that +Danelagh;--since first in the days of King Beorhtric, "in the year 787, +three ships of Northmen came from Haeretha land, and the King's reeve +rode to the place, and would have driven them up to the King's town, for +he knew not what men they were: but they slew him there and then"; and +after the Saxons and Angles began to find out to their bitter bale what +men they were, those fierce Vikings out of the dark northeast. + +But they had long ceased to burn farms, sack convents, torture monks +for gold, and slay every human being they met, in mere Berserker lust +of blood. No Barnakill could now earn his nickname by entreating his +comrades, as they tossed the children on their spear-points, to "Na kill +the barns." Gradually they had settled down on the land, intermarried +with the Angles and Saxons, and colonized all England north and east of +Watling Street (a rough line from London to Chester), and the eastern +lowlands of Scotland likewise. Gradually they had deserted Thor and Odin +for "the White Christ"; had their own priests and bishops, and built +their own minsters. The convents which the fathers had destroyed, the +sons, or at least the grandsons, rebuilt; and often, casting away sword +and axe, they entered them as monks themselves; and Peterborough, +Ely, and above all Crowland, destroyed by them in Alfred's time with a +horrible destruction, had become their holy places, where they decked +the altars with gold and jewels, with silks from the far East, and furs +from the far North; and where, as in sacred fortresses, they, and the +liberty of England with them, made their last unavailing stand. + +For a while they had been lords of all England. The Anglo-Saxon race was +wearing out. The men of Wessex, priest-ridden, and enslaved by their +own aristocracy, quailed before the free Norsemen, among whom was not a +single serf. The God-descended line of Cerdic and Alfred was worn out. +Vain, incapable, profligate kings, the tools of such prelates as Odo +and Dunstan, were no match for such wild heroes as Thorkill the tall, or +Olaf Trygvasson, or Swend Forkbeard. The Danes had gradually colonized, +not only their own Danelagh and Northumbria, but great part of Wessex. +Vast sums of Danegelt were yearly sent out of the country to buy off +the fresh invasions which were perpetually threatened. Then Ethelred the +Unready, Ethelred Evil-counsel, advised himself to fulfil his name, +and the curse which Dunstan had pronounced against him at the baptismal +font. By his counsel the men of Wessex rose against the unsuspecting +Danes, and on St. Brice's eve, A.D. 1002, murdered them all with +tortures, man, woman, and child. It may be that they only did to the +children as the fathers had done to them: but the deed was "worse than a +crime; it was a mistake." The Danes of the Danelagh and of Northumbria, +their brothers of Denmark and Norway, the Orkneys and the east coast of +Ireland, remained unharmed. A mighty host of Vikings poured from thence +into England the very next year, under Swend Forkbeard and the great +Canute; and after thirteen fearful campaigns came the great battle of +Assingdown in Essex, where "Canute had the victory; and all the English +nation fought against him, and all the nobility of the English race was +there destroyed." + +That same year saw the mysterious death of Edmund Ironside, the last +man of Cerdic's race worthy of the name. For the next twenty-five years, +Danish kings ruled from the Forth to the Land's End. + +A noble figure he was, that great and wise Canute, the friend of the +famous Godiva, and Leofric, Godiva's husband, and Siward Biorn, the +conqueror of Macbeth; trying to expiate by justice and mercy the dark +deeds of his bloodstained youth; trying (and not in vain) to blend the +two races over which he ruled; rebuilding the churches and monasteries +which his father had destroyed; bringing back in state to Canterbury the +body of Archbishop Elphege--not unjustly called by the Saxons martyr +and saint--whom Tall Thorkill's men had murdered with beef bones and +ox-skulls, because he would not give up to them the money destined +for God's poor; rebuking, as every child has heard, his housecarles' +flattery by setting his chair on the brink of the rising tide; and then +laying his golden crown, in token of humility, on the high altar of +Winchester, never to wear it more. In Winchester lie his bones unto this +day, or what of them the civil wars have left: and by him lie the bones +of his son Hardicanute, in whom, as in his half-brother Harold Harefoot +before him, the Danish power fell to swift decay, by insolence and +drink and civil war; and with the Danish power England fell to pieces +likewise. + +Canute had divided England into four great earldoms, each ruled, under +him, by a jarl, or earl--a Danish, not a Saxon title. + +At his death in 1036, the earldoms of Northumbria and East Anglia--the +more strictly Danish parts--were held by a true Danish hero, Siward +Biorn, alias _Digre_ "the Stout", conqueror of Macbeth, and son of the +Fairy Bear; proving his descent, men said, by his pointed and hairy +ears. + +Mercia, the great central plateau of England, was held by Earl Leofric, +husband of the famous Lady Godiva. + +Wessex, which Canute had at first kept in his own hands, had passed +into those of the famous Earl Godwin, the then ablest man in England. +Possessed of boundless tact and cunning, gifted with an eloquence which +seems, from the accounts remaining of it, to have been rather that of +a Greek than an Englishman; himself of high--perhaps of royal--Sussex +blood (for the story of his low birth seems a mere fable of his French +enemies), and married first to Canute's sister, and then to his niece, +he was fitted, alike by fortunes and by talents, to be the king-maker +which he became. + +Such a system may have worked well as long as the brain of a hero was +there to overlook it all. But when that brain was turned to dust, the +history of England became, till the Norman Conquest, little more than +the history of the rivalries of the two great houses of Godwin and +Leofric. + +Leofric had the first success in king-making. He, though bearing a +Saxon name, was the champion of the Danish party and of Canute's son, +or reputed son, Harold Harefoot; and he succeeded, by the help of the +"Thanes north of Thames," and the "lithsmen of London," which city +was more than half Danish in those days, in setting his puppet on the +throne. But the blood of Canute had exhausted itself. Within seven years +Harold Harefoot and Hardicanute, who succeeded him, had died as foully +as they lived; and Godwin's turn had come. + +He, though married to a Danish princess, and acknowledging his Danish +connection by the Norse names which were borne by his three most famous +sons, Harold, Sweyn, and Tostig, constituted himself the champion of +the men of Wessex and the house of Cerdic. He had murdered, or at least +caused to be murdered, horribly, Alfred the Etheling, King Ethelred's +son and heir-apparent, when it seemed his interest to support the claims +of Hardicanute against Harefoot. He now found little difficulty in +persuading his victim's younger brother to come to England, and become +at once his king, his son-in-law and his puppet. + +Edward the Confessor, if we are to believe the monks whom he pampered, +was naught but virtue and piety, meekness and magnanimity,--a model +ruler of men. Such a model ruler he was, doubtless, as monks would be +glad to see on every throne; because while he rules his subjects, +they rule him. No wonder, therefore, that (according to William of +Malmesbury) the happiness of his times (famed as he was both for +miracles and the spirit of prophecy) "was revealed in a dream to +Brithwin, Bishop of Wilton, who made it public"; who, meditating in King +Canute's time on "the near extinction of the royal race of the English," +was "rapt up on high, and saw St. Peter consecrating Edward king. His +chaste life also was pointed out, and the exact period of his reign +(twenty-four years) determined; and, when inquiring about his posterity, +it was answered, 'The kingdom of the English belongs to God. After you, +He will provide a king according to his pleasure.'" But those who will +look at the facts will see in the holy Confessor's character little but +what is pitiable, and in his reign little but what is tragical. + +Civil wars, invasions, outlawry of Godwin and his sons by the Danish +party; then of Alfgar, Leofric's son, by the Saxon party; the outlaws on +either side attacking and plundering the English shores by the help of +Norsemen, Welshmen, Irish, and Danes,--any mercenaries who could be got +together; and then,--"In the same year Bishop Aldred consecrated the +minster at Gloucester to the glory of God and of St. Peter, and then +went to Jerusalem with such splendor as no man had displayed before +him"; and so forth. The sum and substance of what was done in those +"happy times" may be well described in the words of the Anglo-Saxon +chronicler for the year 1058. "This year Alfgar the earl was banished; +but he came in again with violence, through aid of Griffin (the king +of North Wales, his brother-in-law). And this year came a fleet from +Norway. It is tedious to tell how these matters went." These were the +normal phenomena of a reign which seemed, to the eyes of monks, a +holy and a happy one; because the king refused, whether from spite or +superstition, to have an heir to the house of Cerdic, and spent his time +between prayer, hunting, the seeing of fancied visions, the uttering of +fancied prophecies, and the performance of fancied miracles. + +But there were excuses for him. An Englishman only in name,--a +Norman, not only of his mother's descent (she was aunt of William the +Conqueror), but by his early education on the Continent,--he loved the +Norman better than the Englishman; Norman knights and clerks filled his +court, and often the high dignities of his provinces, and returned as +often as expelled; the Norman-French language became fashionable; +Norman customs and manners the signs of civilization; and thus all was +preparing steadily for the great catastrophe, by which, within a year of +Edward's death, the Norman became master of the land. + +Perhaps it ought to have been so. Perhaps by no other method could +England, and, with England, Scotland, and in due time Ireland, have +become partakers of that classic civilization and learning, the fount +whereof, for good and for evil, was Rome and the Pope of Rome: but +the method was at least wicked; the actors in it tyrannous, brutal, +treacherous, hypocritical; and the conquest of England by William will +remain to the end of time a mighty crime, abetted--one may almost say +made possible, as too many such crimes have been before and since--by +the intriguing ambition of the Pope of Rome. + +Against that tyranny the free men of the Danelagh and of Northumbria +rose. If Edward, the descendant of Cerdic, had been little to them, +William, the descendant of Rollo, was still less. That French-speaking +knights should expel them from their homes, French-chanting monks from +their convents, because Edward had promised the crown of England to +William, his foreign cousin, or because Harold Godwinsson of Wessex had +sworn on the relics of all the saints to be William's man, was contrary +to their common-sense of right and reason. + +So they rose and fought: too late, it may be, and without unity or +purpose; and they were worsted by an enemy who had both unity and +purpose; whom superstition, greed, and feudal discipline kept together, +at least in England, in one compact body of unscrupulous and terrible +confederates. + +But theirs was a land worth fighting for,--a good land and large: from +Humber mouth inland to the Trent and merry Sherwood, across to Chester +and the Dee, round by Leicester and the five burghs of the Danes; +eastward again to Huntingdon and Cambridge (then a poor village on the +site of an old Roman town); and then northward again into the wide +fens, the land of the Girvii and the Eormingas, "the children of the +peat-bog," where the great central plateau of England slides into the +sea, to form, from the rain and river washings of eight shires, lowlands +of a fertility inexhaustible, because ever-growing to this day. + +They have a beauty of their own, these great fens, even now, when they +are diked and drained, tilled and fenced,--a beauty as of the sea, of +boundless expanse and freedom. Much more had they that beauty eight +hundred years ago, when they were still, for the most part, as God had +made them, or rather was making them even then. The low rolling uplands +were clothed in primeval forest: oak and ash, beech and elm, with here +and there, perhaps, a group of ancient pines, ragged and decayed, and +fast dying out in England even then; though lingering still in the +forests of the Scotch highlands. + +Between the forests were open wolds, dotted with white sheep and golden +gorse; rolling plains of rich though ragged turf, whether cleared by the +hand of man or by the wild fires which often swept over the hills. +And between the wood and the wold stood many a Danish "town," with its +clusters of low straggling buildings round the holder's house, stone or +mud below, and wood above; its high dikes round tiny fields; its flocks +of sheep ranging on the wold; its herds of swine in the forest; and +below, a more precious possession still,--its herds of mares and colts, +which fed with the cattle in the rich grass-fen. + +For always, from the foot of the wolds, the green flat stretched away, +illimitable, to an horizon where, from the roundness of the earth, the +distant trees and islands were hulled down like ships at sea. The firm +horse-fen lay, bright green, along the foot of the wold; beyond it, the +browner peat, or deep fen; and among it, dark velvet alder beds, long +lines of reed-rond, emerald in spring, and golden under the autumn sun; +shining river-reaches; broad meres dotted with a million fowl, while the +cattle waded along their edges after the rich sedge-grass, or wallowed +in the mire through the hot summer's day. Here and there, too, upon the +far horizon, rose a tall line of ashen trees, marking some island of +firm rich soil. Here and there, too, as at Ramsey and Crowland, the huge +ashes had disappeared before the axes of the monks, and a minster tower +rose over the fen, amid orchards, gardens, cornfields, pastures, with +here and there a tree left standing for shade. "Painted with flowers +in the spring," with "pleasant shores embosomed in still lakes," as the +monk-chronicler of Ramsey has it, those islands seemed to such as the +monk terrestrial paradises. + +Overhead the arch of heaven spread more ample than elsewhere, as over +the open sea; and that vastness gave, and still gives, such "effects" +of cloudland, of sunrise, and sunset, as can be seen nowhere else within +these isles. They might well have been star worshippers, those Girvii, +had their sky been as clear as that of the East: but they were like to +have worshipped the clouds rather than the stars, according to the +too universal law, that mankind worship the powers which do them harm, +rather than the powers which do them good. + +And therefore the Danelagh men, who feared not mortal sword, or axe, +feared witches, ghosts, Pucks, Will-o'-the-Wisps, werewolves, spirits of +the wells and of the trees, and all dark, capricious, and harmful beings +whom their fancy conjured up out of the wild, wet, and unwholesome +marshes, or the dark wolf-haunted woods. For that fair land, like all +things on earth, had its darker aspect. The foul exhalations of autumn +called up fever and ague, crippling and enervating, and tempting, +almost compelling, to that wild and desperate drinking which was the +Scandinavian's special sin. Dark and sad were those short autumn days, +when all the distances were shut off, and the air choked with foul +brown fog and drenching rains from off the eastern sea; and pleasant +the bursting forth of the keen north-east wind, with all its whirling +snowstorms. For though it sent men hurrying out into the storm, to drive +the cattle in from the fen, and lift the sheep out of the snow-wreaths, +and now and then never to return, lost in mist and mire, in ice and +snow;--yet all knew that after the snow would come the keen frost and +the bright sun and cloudless blue sky, and the fenman's yearly holiday, +when, work being impossible, all gave themselves up to play, and swarmed +upon the ice on skates and sledges, and ran races, township against +township, or visited old friends full forty miles away; and met +everywhere faces as bright and ruddy as their own, cheered by the keen +wine of that dry and bracing frost. + +Such was the Fenland; hard, yet cheerful; rearing a race of hard and +cheerful men; showing their power in old times in valiant fighting, and +for many a century since in that valiant industry which has drained and +embanked the land of the Girvii, till it has become a very "Garden +of the Lord." And the Scotsman who may look from the promontory of +Peterborough, the "golden borough" of old time; or from the tower of +Crowland, while Hereward and Torfrida sleep in the ruined nave beneath; +or from the heights of that Isle of Ely which was so long "the camp of +refuge" for English freedom; over the labyrinth of dikes and lodes, the +squares of rich corn and verdure,--will confess that the lowland, as +well as the highland, can at times breed gallant men. [Footnote: The +story of Hereward (often sung by minstrels and old-wives in succeeding +generations) may be found in the "Metrical Chronicle of Geoffrey +Gaimar," and in the prose "Life of Hereward" (paraphrased from that +written by Leofric, his house-priest), and in the valuable fragment +"Of the family of Hereward." These have all three been edited by Mr. +T. Wright. The account of Hereward in Ingulf seems taken, and that +carelessly, from the same source as the Latin prose, "De Gestis +Herewardi." A few curious details may be found in Peter of Blois's +continuation of Ingulf; and more, concerning the sack of Peterborough, +in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. I have followed the contemporary +authorities as closely as I could, introducing little but what was +necessary to reconcile discrepancies, or to illustrate the history, +manners, and sentiments of the time.--C. K.] + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +HOW HEREWARD WAS OUTLAWED, AND WENT NORTH TO SEEK HIS FORTUNES. + + +Known to all is Lady Godiva, the most beautiful as well as the most +saintly woman of her day; who, "all her life, kept at her own expense +thirteen poor folk wherever she went; who, throughout Lent, watched in +the church at triple matins, namely, one for the Trinity, one for the +Cross, and one for St. Mary; who every day read the Psalter through, and +so persevered in good and holy works to her life's end,"--the "devoted +friend of St. Mary, ever a virgin," who enriched monasteries without +number,--Leominster, Wenlock, Chester, St. Mary's Stow by Lincoln, +Worcester, Evesham; and who, above all, founded the great monastery in +that town of Coventry, which has made her name immortal for another and +a far nobler deed; and enriched it so much "that no monastery in England +possessed such abundance of gold, silver, jewels, and precious stones," +beside that most precious jewel of all, the arm of St. Augustine, which +not Lady Godiva, but her friend, Archbishop Ethelnoth, presented to +Coventry, "having bought it at Pavia for a hundred talents of silver and +a talent of gold." [Footnote: William of Malmesbury.] + +Less known, save to students, is her husband, Leofric the great Earl +of Mercia and Chester, whose bones lie by those of Godiva in that same +minster of Coventry; how "his counsel was as if one had opened the +Divine oracles"; very "wise," says the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, "for +God and for the world, which was a blessing to all this nation"; the +greatest man, save his still greater rival, Earl Godwin, in Edward the +Confessor's court. + +Less known, again, are the children of that illustrious pair: Algar, +or Alfgar, Earl of Mercia after his father, who died, after a short and +stormy life, leaving two sons, Edwin and Morcar, the fair and hapless +young earls, always spoken of together, as if they had been twins; a +daughter, Aldytha, or Elfgiva, married first (according to some) to +Griffin, King of North Wales, and certainly afterwards to Harold, King +of England; and another, Lucia (as the Normans at least called her), +whose fate was, if possible, more sad than that of her brothers. + +Their second son was Hereward, whose history this tale sets forth; their +third and youngest, a boy whose name is unknown. + +They had, probably, another daughter beside; married, it may be, to +some son of Leofric's stanch friend old Siward Biorn, the Viking Earl of +Northumberland, and conqueror of Macbeth; and the mother, may be, of the +two young Siwards, the "white" and the "red," who figure in chronicle +and legend as the nephews of Hereward. But this pedigree is little more +than a conjecture. + +Be these things as they may, Godiva was the greatest lady in England, +save two: Edith, Harold's sister, the nominal wife of Edward the +Confessor; and Githa, or Gyda, as her own Danes called her, Harold's +mother, niece of Canute the Great. Great was Godiva; and might have been +proud enough, had she been inclined to that pleasant sin. And even then +(for there is a skeleton, they say, in every house) she carried that +about her which might well keep her humble; namely, shame at the +misconduct of Hereward, her son. + +Her favorite residence, among the many manors and "villas," or farms +which Leofric possessed, was neither the stately hall at Loughton by +Bridgenorth, nor the statelier castle of Warwick, but the house of +Bourne in South Lincolnshire, between the great woods of the Bruneswald +and the great level of the fens. It may have been her own paternal +dowry, and have come down to her in right of her Danish ancestors, +and that great and "magnificent" Jarl Oslac, from whom she derived her +all-but-royal blood. This is certain, that Leofric, her husband, went +in East Anglia by the name of Leofric, Lord of Bourne; that, as Domesday +Book testifies, his son Alfgar, and his grandson Morcar, held large +lands there and thereabout. Alfgar's name, indeed, still lives in the +village of Algar-Kirk; and Lady Godiva, and Algar after her, enriched +with great gifts Crowland, the island sanctuary, and Peterborough, where +Brand, either her brother or Leofric's, was a monk, and in due time an +abbot. + +The house of Bourne, as far as it can be reconstructed by imagination, +was altogether unlike one of the tall and gloomy Norman castles which +twenty years later reared their evil donjons over England. It was much +more like a house in a Chinese painting; an irregular group of low +buildings, almost all of one story, stone below and timber above, with +high-peaked roofs,--at least in the more Danish country,--affording a +separate room, or rather house, for each different need of the family. +Such a one may be seen in the illuminations of the century. In the +centre of the building is the hall, with door or doors opening out into +the court; and sitting thereat, at the top of a flight of steps, the +lord and lady, dealing clothes to the naked and bread to the hungry. On +one side of the hall is a chapel; by it a large room or "bower" for the +ladies; behind the hall a round tower, seemingly the strong place of +the whole house; on the other side a kitchen; and stuck on to bower, +kitchen, and every other principal building, lean-to after lean-to, the +uses of which it is impossible now to discover. The house had grown with +the wants of the family,--as many good old English houses have done to +this day. Round it would be scattered barns and stables, in which grooms +and herdsmen slept side by side with their own horses and cattle; and +outside all, the "yard," "garth," or garden-fence, high earth-bank with +palisades on top, which formed a strong defence in time of war. Such was +most probably the "villa," "ton," or "town" of Earl Leofric, the Lord +of Bourne, the favorite residence of Godiva,--once most beautiful, and +still most holy, according to the holiness of those old times. + +Now on a day--about the year 1054--while Earl Siward was helping to +bring Birnam wood to Dunsinane, to avenge his murdered brother-in-law, +Lady Godiva sat, not at her hall door, dealing food and clothing to +her thirteen poor folk, but in her bower, with her youngest son, a +two-years' boy, at her knee. She was listening with a face of shame and +horror to the complaint of Herluin, Steward of Peterborough, who had +fallen in that afternoon with Hereward and his crew of "housecarles." + +To keep a following of stout housecarles, or men-at-arms, was the pride +as well as the duty of an Anglo-Danish Lord, as it was, till lately, of +a Scoto-Danish Highland Laird. And Hereward, in imitation of his father +and his elder brother, must needs have his following from the time he +was but fifteen years old. All the unruly youths of the neighborhood, +sons of free "holders," who owed some sort of military service to Earl +Leofric; Geri, his cousin; Winter, whom he called his brother-in-arms; +the Wulfrics, the Wulfards, the Azers, and many another wild blade, had +banded themselves round a young nobleman more unruly than themselves. +Their names were already a terror to all decent folk, at wakes and +fairs, alehouses and village sports. They atoned, be it remembered, for +their early sins by making those names in after years a terror to the +invaders of their native land: but as yet their prowess was limited to +drunken brawls and faction-fights; to upsetting old women at their work, +levying blackmail from quiet chapmen on the high road, or bringing back +in triumph, sword in hand and club on shoulder, their leader Hereward +from some duel which his insolence had provoked. + +But this time, if the story of the sub-prior was to be believed, +Hereward and his housecarles had taken an ugly stride forward toward the +pit. They had met him riding along, intent upon his psalter, in a lonely +path of the Bruneswald,--"Whereon your son, most gracious lady, bade me +stand, saying that his men were thirsty and he had no money to buy ale +withal, and none so likely to help him thereto as a fat priest,--for so +he scandalously termed me, who, as your ladyship knows, am leaner than +the minster bell-ropes, with fasting Wednesdays and Fridays throughout +the year, beside the vigils of the saints, and the former and latter +Lents. + +"But when he saw who I was, as if inspired by a malignant spirit, he +shouted out my name, and bade his companions throw me to the ground." + +"Throw you to the ground?" shuddered the Lady Godiva. + +"In much mire, madam. After which he took my palfrey, saying that +heaven's gate was too lowly for men on horseback to get in thereat; and +then my marten's fur gloves and cape which your gracious self bestowed +on me, alleging that the rules of my order allowed only one garment, +and no furs save catskins and such like. And lastly--I tremble while I +relate, thinking not of the loss of my poor money, but the loss of an +immortal soul--took from me a purse with sixteen silver pennies, which +I had collected from our tenants for the use of the monastery, and said, +blasphemously, that I and mine had swindled your ladyship, and therefore +him, your son, out of many a fair manor ere now; and it was but fair +that he should tithe the rents thereof, as he should never get the +lands out of our claws again; with more of the like, which I blush to +repeat,--and so left me to trudge hither in the mire." + +"Wretched boy!" said the Lady Godiva, and hid her face in her hands; +"and more wretched I, to have brought such a son into the world!" + +The monk had hardly finished his doleful story, when there was a +pattering of heavy feet, a noise of men shouting and laughing outside, +and a voice, above all, calling for the monk by name, which made that +good man crouch behind the curtain of Lady Godiva's bed. The next moment +the door of the bower was thrown violently open, and in walked, +or rather reeled, a noble lad eighteen years old. His face was of +extraordinary beauty, save that the lower jaw was too long and heavy, +and that his eyes wore a strange and almost sinister expression, from +the fact that the one of them was gray and the other blue. He was short, +but of immense breadth of chest and strength of limb; while his delicate +hands and feet and long locks of golden hair marked him of most noble, +and even, as he really was, of ancient royal race. He was dressed in a +gaudy costume, resembling on the whole that of a Highland chieftain. His +knees, wrists, and throat were tattoed in bright blue patterns; and he +carried sword and dagger, a gold ring round his neck, and gold rings on +his wrists. He was a lad to have gladdened the eyes of any mother: but +there was no gladness in the Lady Godiva's eyes as she received him; nor +had there been for many a year. She looked on him with sternness,--with +all but horror; and he, his face flushed with wine, which he had tossed +off as he passed through the hall to steady his nerves for the +coming storm, looked at her with smiling defiance, the result of long +estrangement between mother and son. + +"Well, my lady," said he, ere she could speak, "I heard that this good +fellow was here, and came home as fast as I could, to see that he told +you as few lies as possible." + +"He has told me," said she, "that you have robbed the Church of God." + +"Robbed him, it may be, an old hoody crow, against whom I have a grudge +of ten years' standing." + +"Wretched, wretched boy! What wickedness next? Know you not, that he who +robs the Church robs God himself?" + +"And he who harms God's people," put in the monk from behind the chair, +"harms his Maker." + +"His Maker?" said the lad, with concentrated bitterness. "It would be a +gay world, if the Maker thereof were in any way like unto you, who +call yourselves his people. Do you remember who told them to set the +peat-stack on fire under me ten years ago? Ah, ha, Sir Monk, you forget +that I have been behind the screen,--that I have been a monk myself, or +should have been one, if my pious lady mother here had had her will +of me, as she may if she likes of that doll there at her knee. Do you +forget why I left Peterborough Abbey, when Winter and I turned all your +priest's books upside down in the choir, and they would have flogged +us,--me, the Earl's son,--me, the Viking's son,--me, the champion, as I +will be yet, and make all lands ring with the fame of my deeds, as they +rung with the fame of my forefathers, before they became the slaves of +monks; and how when Winter and I got hold of the kitchen spits, and up +to the top of the peat-stack, and held you all at bay there, a whole +abbeyful of cowards there, against two seven years' children? It was you +bade set the peat-stack alight under us, and so bring us down; and would +have done it, too, had it not been for my Uncle Brand, the only man that +I care for in this wide world. Do you think I have not owed you a grudge +ever since that day, monk? And do you think I will not pay it? Do you +think I would not have burned Peterborough minster over your head before +now, had it not been for Uncle Brand's sake? See that I do not do it +yet. See that when there is another Prior in Borough you do not find +Hereward the Berserker smoking you out some dark night, as he would +smoke a wasps' nest. And I will, by--" + +"Hereward, Hereward!" cried his mother, "godless, god-forgotten boy, +what words are these? Silence, before you burden your soul with an oath +which the devils in hell will accept, and force you to keep!" and she +sprung up, and, seizing his arm, laid her hand upon his mouth. + +Hereward looked at her majestic face, once lovely, now careworn, and +trembled for a moment. Had there been any tenderness in it, his history +might have been a very different one; but alas! there was none. Not +that she was in herself untender; but that her great piety (call it not +superstition, for it was then the only form known or possible to pure +and devout souls) was so outraged by this, or even by the slightest +insult to that clergy whose willing slave she had become, that the only +method of reclaiming the sinner had been long forgotten, in genuine +horror at his sin. "Is it not enough," she went on, sternly, "that you +should have become the bully and the ruffian of all the fens?--that +Hereward the leaper, Hereward the wrestler, Hereward the thrower of the +hammer--sports, after all, only fit for the sons of slaves--should be +also Hereward the drunkard, Hereward the common fighter, Hereward the +breaker of houses, Hereward the leader of mobs of boon companions +which bring back to us, in shame and sorrow, the days when our heathen +forefathers ravaged this land with fire and sword? Is it not enough for +me that my son should be a common stabber--?" + +"Whoever called me stabber to you, lies. If I have killed men, or had +them killed, I have done it in fair fight." + +But she went on unheeding,--"Is it not enough, that, after having +squandered on your fellows all the money that you could wring from my +bounty, or win at your brutal sports, you should have robbed your own +father, collected his rents behind his back, taken money and goods from +his tenants by threats and blows; but that, after outraging them, you +must add to all this a worse sin likewise,--outraging God, and driving +me--me who have borne with you, me who have concealed all for your +sake--to tell your father that of which the very telling will turn my +hair to gray?" + +"So you will tell my father?" said Hereward, coolly. + +"And if I should not, this monk himself is bound to do so, or his +superior, your Uncle Brand." + +"My Uncle Brand will not, and your monk dare not." + +"Then I must. I have loved you long and well; but there is one thing +which I must love better than you: and that is, my conscience and my +Maker." + +"Those are two things, my lady mother, and not one; so you had better +not confound them. As for the latter, do you not think that He who made +the world is well able to defend his own property,--if the lands and +houses and cattle and money which these men wheedle and threaten and +forge out of you and my father are really His property, and not merely +their plunder? As for your conscience, my lady mother, really you have +done so many good deeds in your life, that it might be beneficial to you +to do a bad one once in a way, so as to keep your soul in a wholesome +state of humility." + +The monk groaned aloud. Lady Godiva groaned; but it was inwardly. +There was silence for a moment. Both were abashed by the lad's utter +shamelessness. + +"And you will tell my father?" said he again. "He is at the old +miracle-worker's court at Westminster. He will tell the miracle-worker, +and I shall be outlawed." + +"And if you be, wretched boy, whom have you to blame but yourself? Can +you expect that the king, sainted even as he is before his death, dare +pass over such an atrocity towards Holy Church?" + +"Blame? I shall blame no one. Pass over? I hope he will not +pass over it, I only want an excuse like that for turning +kempery-man--knight-errant, as those Norman puppies call it,--like +Regnar Lodbrog, or Frithiof, or Harold Hardraade; and try what man +can do for himself in the world with nothing to help him in heaven and +earth, with neither saint nor angel, friend or counsellor, to see to +him, save his wits and his good sword. So send off the messenger, good +mother mine: and I will promise you I will not have him ham-strung on +the way, as some of my housecarles would do for me if I but held up my +hand; and let the miracle-monger fill up the measure of his folly, by +making an enemy of one more bold fellow in the world." + +And he swaggered out of the room. + +And when he was gone, the Lady Godiva bowed her head into her lap and +wept long and bitterly. Neither her maidens nor the priest dare speak +to her for nigh an hour; but at the end of that time she lifted up her +head, and settled her face again, till it was like that of a marble +saint over a minster door; and called for ink and paper, and wrote her +letter; and then asked for a trusty messenger who should carry it up to +Westminster. + +"None so swift or sure," said the house steward, "as Martin Lightfoot." + +Lady Godiva shook her head. "I mistrust that man," she said. "He is too +fond of my poor--of the Lord Hereward." + +"He is a strange one, my lady, and no one knows whence he came, and, +I sometimes fancy, whither he may go either; but ever since my lord +threatened to hang him for talking with my young master, he has never +spoken to him, nor scarcely, indeed, to living soul. And one thing there +is makes him or any man sure, as long as he is well paid; and that is, +that he cares for nothing in heaven or earth save himself and what he +can get." + +So Martin Lightfoot was sent for. He came in straight into the lady's +bedchamber, after the simple fashion of those days. He was a tall, lean, +bony man, as was to be expected from his nickname, with a long hooked +nose, a scanty brown beard, and a high conical head. His only garment +was a shabby gray woollen tunic, which served him both as coat and kilt, +and laced brogues of untanned hide. He might have been any age from +twenty to forty; but his face was disfigured with deep scars and long +exposure to the weather. He dropped on one knee, holding his greasy cap +in his hand, and looked, not at his lady's face, but at her feet, with a +stupid and frightened expression. She knew very little of him, save +that her husband had picked him up upon the road as a wanderer some five +years since; and that he had been employed as a doer of odd jobs and +runner of messages, and that he was supposed, from his taciturnity and +strangeness, to have something uncanny about him. + +"Martin," said the lady, "they tell me that you are a silent and a +prudent man." + +"That am I. 'Tongue speaketh bane, + Though she herself hath nane.'" + +"I shall try you: do you know your way to London?" + +"Yes." + +"To your lord's lodgings in Westminster?" + +"Yes." + +"How long shall you be going there with this letter?" + +"A day and a half." + +"When shall you be back hither?" + +"On the fourth day." + +"And you will go to my lord and deliver this letter safely?" + +"Yes, your Majesty." + +"Why do you call me Majesty? The King is Majesty." + +"You are my Queen." + +"What do you mean, man?" + +"You can hang me." + +"I hang thee, poor soul! Who did I ever hang, or hurt for a moment, if I +could help it?" + +"But the Earl may." + +"He will neither hang nor hurt thee if thou wilt take this letter +safely, and bring me back the answer safely." + +"They will kill me." + +"Who?" + +"They," said Martin, pointing to the bower maidens,--young ladies of +good family who stood round, chosen for their good looks, after the +fashion of those times, to attend on great ladies. There was a cry of +angry and contemptuous denial, not unmixed with something like laughter, +which showed that Martin had but spoken the truth. Hereward, in spite of +all his sins, was the darling of his mother's bower; and there was not +one of the damsels but would have done anything short of murder to have +prevented Martin carrying the letter. + +"Silence, man!" said Lady Godiva, so sternly that Martin saw that he had +gone too far. "How know'st such as thou what is in this letter?" + +"Those others will know," said Martin, sullenly, without answering the +last question. + +"Who?" + +"His housecarles outside there." + +"He has promised that they shall not touch thee. But how knowest thou +what is in this letter?" + +"I will take it," said Martin: he held out his hand, took it and looked +at it, but upside down, and without any attempt to read it. + +"His own mother," said he, after a while. + +"What is that to thee?" said Lady Godiva, blushing and kindling. + +"Nothing: I had no mother. But God has one!" + +"What meanest thou, knave? Wilt thou take the letter or no?" + +"I will take it." And he again looked at it without rising off his knee. +"His own father, too." + +"What is that to thee, I say again?" + +"Nothing: I have no father. But God's Son has one!" + +"What wilt thou, thou strange man?" asked she, puzzled and +half-frightened; "and how camest thou to know what is in this letter?" + +"Who does not know? A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid. On the +fourth day from this I will be back." + +And Martin rose, and putting the letter solemnly into the purse at his +girdle, shot out of the door with clenched teeth, as a man upon a fixed +purpose which it would lighten his heart to carry out. He ran rapidly +through the large outer hall, past the long oak table, at which Hereward +and his boon companions were drinking and roistering; and as he passed +the young lord he cast on him a look so full of meaning, that though +Hereward knew not what the meaning was, it startled him, and for a +moment softened him. Did this man who had sullenly avoided him for more +than two years, whom he had looked on as a clod or a post in the field +beneath his notice, since he could be of no use to him,--did this man +still care for him? Hereward had reason to know better than most that +there was something strange and uncanny about the man. Did he mean him +well? Or had he some grudge against him, which made him undertake this +journey willingly and out of spite?--possibly with the will to make bad +worse. For an instant Hereward's heart misgave him. He would stop the +letter at all risks. "Hold him!" he cried to his comrades. + +But Martin turned to him, laid his finger on his lips, smiled kindly, +and saying "You promised!" caught up a loaf from the table, slipped +from among them like an eel, and darted out of the door, and out of +the close. They followed him to the great gate, and there stopped, some +cursing, some laughing. To give Martin Lightfoot a yard advantage was +never to come up with him again. Some called for bows to bring him +down with a parting shot. But Hereward forbade them; and stood leaning +against the gate-post, watching him trot on like a lean wolf over the +lawn, till he was lost in the great elm-woods which fringed the southern +fen. + +"Now, lads," said Hereward, "home with you all, and make your peace with +your fathers. In this house you never drink ale again." + +They looked at him, surprised. + +"You are disbanded, my gallant army. As long as I could cut long thongs +out of other men's hides, I could feed you like earl's sons: but now I +must feed myself; and a dog over his bone wants no company. Outlawed I +shall be before the week is out; and unless you wish to be outlawed too, +you will obey orders, and home." + +"We will follow you to the world's end," cried some. + +"To the rope's end, lads: that is all you will get in my company. Go +home with you, and those who feel a calling, let them turn monks; and +those who have not, let them learn + + 'For to plough and to sow, + And to reap and to mow, + And to be a farmer's boy.' + +Good night." + +And he went in, and shut the great gates after him, leaving them +astonished. + +To take his advice, and go home, was the simplest thing to be done. A +few of them on their return were soundly thrashed, and deserved it; +a few were hidden by their mothers for a week, in hay-lofts and +hen-roosts, till their father's anger had passed away. But only one +turned monk or clerk, and that was Leofric the Unlucky, godson of the +great earl, and poet-in-ordinary to the band. + +The next morning at dawn Hereward mounted his best horse, armed himself +from head to foot, and rode over to Peterborough. + +When he came to the abbey-gate, he smote thereon with his lance-but, +till the porter's teeth rattled in his head for fear. + +"Let me in!" he shouted. "I am Hereward Leofricsson. I must see my Uncle +Brand." + +"O my most gracious lord!" cried the porter, thrusting his head out of +the wicket, "what is this that you have been doing to our Steward?" + +"The tithe of what I will do, unless you open the gate!" + +"O my lord!" said the porter, as he opened it, "if our Lady and St. +Peter would but have mercy on your fair face, and convert your soul to +the fear of God and man--" + +"She would make me as good an old fool as you. Fetch my uncle, the +Prior." + +The porter obeyed. The son of Earl Leofric was as a young lion among the +sheep in those parts; and few dare say him nay, certainly not the +monks of Peterborough; moreover, the good porter could not help being +strangely fond of Hereward--as was every one whom he did not insult, +rob, or kill. + +Out came Brand, a noble elder: more fit, from his eye and gait, to be a +knight than a monk. He looked sadly at Hereward. + +"'Dear is bought the honey that is licked off the thorn,' quoth +Hending," said he. + +"Hending bought his wisdom by experience, I suppose," said Hereward, +"and so must I. So I am just starting out to see the world, uncle." + +"Naughty, naughty boy! If we had thee safe here again for a week, we +would take this hot blood out of thee, and send thee home in thy right +mind." + +"Bring a rod and whip me, then. Try, and you shall have your chance. +Every one else has had, and this is the end of their labors." + +"By the chains of St. Peter," quoth the monk, "that is just what thou +needest. Hoist thee on such another fool's back, truss thee up, and lay +it on lustily, till thou art ashamed. To treat thee as a man is only to +make thee a more heady blown-up ass than thou art already." + +"True, most wise uncle. And therefore my still wiser parents are going +to treat me like a man indeed, and send me out into the world to seek my +fortunes!" + +"Eh?" + +"They are going to prove how thoroughly they trust me to take care of +myself, by outlawing me. Eh? say I in return. Is not that an honor, +and a proof that I have not shown myself a fool, though I may have a +madman?" + +"Outlaw you? O my boy, my darling, my pride! Get off your horse, and +don't sit there, hand on hip, like a turbaned Saracen, defying God and +man; but come down and talk reason to me, for the sake of St. Peter and +all saints." + +Hereward threw himself off his horse, and threw his arms round his +uncle's neck. + +"Pish! Now, uncle, don't cry, do what you will, lest I cry too. Help me +to be a man while I live, even if I go to the black place when I die." + +"It shall not be!" .... and the monk swore by all the relics in +Peterborough minster. + +"It must be. It shall be. I like to be outlawed. I want to be outlawed. +It makes one feel like a man. There is not an earl in England, save my +father, who has not been outlawed in his time. My brother Alfgar will be +outlawed before he dies, if he has the spirit of a man in him. It is the +fashion, my uncle, and I must follow it. So hey for the merry greenwood, +and the long ships, and the swan's bath, and all the rest of it. Uncle, +you will lend me fifty silver pennies?" + +"I? I would not lend thee one, if I had it, which I have not. And yet, +old fool that I am, I believe I would." + +"I would pay thee back honestly. I shall go down to Constantinople to +the Varangers, get my Polotaswarf [Footnote: See "The Heimskringla," +Harold Hardraade's Saga, for the meaning of this word.] out of the +Kaiser's treasure, and pay thee back five to one." + +"What does this son of Belial here?" asked an austere voice. + +"Ah! Abbot Leofric, my very good lord. I have come to ask hospitality of +you for some three days. By that time I shall be a wolf's head, and out +of the law: and then, if you will give me ten minutes' start, you may +put your bloodhounds on my track, and see which runs fastest, they or +I. You are a gentleman, and a man of honor; so I trust to you to feed my +horse fairly the meanwhile, and not to let your monks poison me." + +The Abbot's face relaxed. He tried to look as solemn as he could; but he +ended in bursting into a very great laughter, and swearing likewise. + +"The insolence of this lad passes the miracles of all saints. He robs +St. Peter on the highway, breaks into his abbey, insults him to his +face, and then asks him for hospitality; and--" + +"And gets it," quoth Hereward. + +"What is to be done with him, Brand, my friend? If we turn him out--" + +"Which we cannot do," said Brand, looking at the well-mailed and armed +lad, "without calling in half a dozen of our men-at-arms." + +"In which case there would be blood shed, and scandal made in the holy +precincts." + +"And nothing gained; for yield he would not till he was killed outright, +which God forbid!" + +"Amen. And if he stay here, he may be persuaded to repentance." + +"And restitution." + +"As for that," quoth Hereward (who had remounted his horse from +prudential motives, and set him athwart the gateway, so that there was +no chance of the doors being slammed behind him), "if either of you will +lend me sixteen pence, I will pay it back to you and St. Peter before I +die, with interest enough to satisfy any Jew, on the word of a gentleman +and an earl's son." + +The Abbot burst again into a great laughter. "Come in, thou graceless +renegade, and we will see to thee and thy horse; and I will pray to St. +Peter; and I doubt not he will have patience with thee, for he is very +merciful; and after all, thy parents have been exceeding good to us, and +the righteousness of the father, like his sins, is sometimes visited on +the children." + +Now, why were the two ecclesiastics so uncanonically kind to this wicked +youth? + +Perhaps because both the old bachelors were wishing from their hearts +that they had just such a son of their own. And beside, Earl Leofric +was a very great man indeed; and the wind might change; for it is an +unstable world. + +"Only, mind, one thing," said the naughty boy, as he dismounted, and +halloed to a lay-brother to see to his horse,--"don't let me see the +face of that Herluin." + +"And why? You have wronged him, and he will forgive you, doubtless, like +a good Christian as he is." + +"That is his concern. But if I see him, I cut off his head. And, as +Uncle Brand knows, I always sleep with my sword under my pillow." + +"O that such a mother should have borne such a son." groaned the Abbot, +as they went in. + +On the fifth day came Martin Lightfoot, and found Hereward in Prior +Brand's private cell. + +"Well?" asked Hereward coolly. + +"Is he--? Is he--?" stammered Brand, and could not finish his sentence. + +Martin nodded. + +Hereward laughed,--a loud, swaggering, hysterical laugh. + +"See what it is to be born of just and pious parents. Come, Master +Trot-alone, speak out and tell us all about it. Thy lean wolf's legs +have run to some purpose. Open thy lean wolf's mouth and speak for once, +lest I ease thy legs for the rest of thy life by a cut across the hams. +Find thy lost tongue, I say!" + +"Walls have ears, as well as the wild-wood," said Martin. + +"We are safe here," said the Prior; "so speak, and tell us the whole +truth." + +"Well, when the Earl read the letter, he turned red, and pale again, +and then naught but, 'Men, follow me to the King at Westminster.' So +we went, all with our weapons, twenty or more, along the Strand, and up +into the King's new hall; and a grand hall it is, but not easy to get +into, for the crowd of monks and beggars on the stairs, hindering honest +folks' business. And there sat the King on a high settle, with his pink +face and white hair, looking as royal as a bell-wether new washed; and +on either side of him, on the same settle, sat the old fox and the young +wolf." + +"Godwin and Harold? And where was the Queen?" + +"Sitting on a stool at his feet, with her hands together as if she +were praying, and her eyes downcast, as demure as any cat. And so is +fulfilled the story, how the sheep-dog went out to get married, and left +the fox, the wolf, and the cat to guard the flock." + +"If thou hast found thy tongue," said Brand, "thou art like enough to +lose it again by slice of knife, talking such ribaldry of dignities. +Dost not know"--and he sank his voice--"that Abbot Leofric is Earl +Harold's man, and that Harold himself made him abbot?" + +"I said, walls have ears. It was you who told me that we were safe. +However, I will bridle the unruly one." And he went on. "And your father +walked up the hall, his left hand on his sword-hilt, looking an earl all +over, as he is." + +"He is that," said Hereward, in a low voice. + +"And he bowed; and the most magnificent, powerful, and virtuous Godwin +would have beckoned him up to sit on the high settle; but he looked +straight at the King, as if there were never a Godwin or a Godwinsson on +earth, and cried as he stood,-- + +"'Justice, my Lord the King!' + +"And at that the King turned pale, and said, 'Who? What? O miserable +world! O last days drawing nearer and nearer! O earth, full of violence +and blood! Who has wronged thee now, most dear and noble Earl?' + +"'Justice against my own son.' + +"At that the fox looked at the wolf, and the wolf at the fox; and if +they did not smile it was not for want of will, I warrant. But your +father went on, and told all his story; and when he came to your +robbing master monk,--'O apostate!' cries the bell-wether, 'O spawn of +Beelzebub! excommunicate him, with bell, book, and candle. May he be +thrust down with Korah, Balaam, and Iscariot, to the most Stygian pot of +the sempiternal Tartarus.' + +"And at that your father smiled. 'That is bishops' work,' says he; 'and +I want king's work from you, Lord King. Outlaw me this young rebel's +sinful body, as by law you can; and leave his sinful soul to the +priests,--or to God's mercy, which is like to be more than theirs.' + +"Then the Queen looked up. 'Your own son, noble Earl? Think of what you +are doing, and one whom all say is so gallant and so fair. O persuade +him, father,--persuade him, Harold my brother,--or, if you cannot +persuade him, persuade the King at least, and save this poor youth from +exile.'" + +"Puss Velvet-paw knew well enough," said Hereward, in a low voice, "that +the way to harden my father's heart was to set Godwin and Harold on +softening it. They ask my pardon from the King? I would not take it at +their asking, even if my father would." + +"There spoke a true Leofricsson," said Brand, in spite of himself. + +"'By the--'" (and Martin repeated a certain very solemn oath), "said +your father, 'justice I will have, my Lord King. Who talks to me of my +own son? You put me into my earldom to see justice done and law obeyed; +and how shall I make others keep within bound if I am not to keep in my +own flesh and blood? Here is this land running headlong to ruin, because +every nobleman--ay, every churl who owns a manor, if he dares--must +needs arm and saddle, and levy war on his own behalf, and harry and slay +the king's lieges, if he have not garlic to his roast goose every time +he chooses,'--and there your father did look at Godwin, once and for +all;--'and shall I let my son follow the fashion, and do his best to +leave the land open and weak for Norseman, or Dane, or Frenchman, or +whoever else hopes next to mount the throne of a king who is too holy to +leave an heir behind him?'" + +"Ahoi! Martin the silent! Where learnt you so suddenly the trade of +preaching? I thought you kept your wind for your running this two years +past. You would make as good a talker among the Witan as Godwin himself. +You give it us all, word for word, and voice and gesture withal, as if +you were King Edward's French Chancellor." + +Martin smiled. "I am like Falada the horse, my lords, who could only +speak to his own true princess. Why I held my tongue of late was +only lest they should cut my head off for talking, as they did poor +Falada's." + +"Thou art a very crafty knave," said Brand, "and hast had clerk-learning +in thy time, I can see, and made bad use of it. I misdoubt very much +that thou art some runaway monk." + +"That am I not, by St. Peter's chains!" said Martin, in an eager, +terrified voice. "Lord Hereward, I came hither as your father's +messenger and servant. You will see me safe out of this abbey, like an +honorable gentleman!" + +"I will. All I know of him, uncle, is that he used to tell me stories, +when I was a boy, of enchanters, and knights, and dragons, and such +like, and got into trouble for filling my head with such fancies. Now +let him tell his story in peace." + +"He shall; but I misdoubt the fellow very much. He talks as if he knew +Latin; and what business has a foot-running slave to do that?" + +So Martin went on, somewhat abashed. "'And,' said your father, 'justice +I will have, and leave injustice, and the overlooking of it, to those +who wish to profit thereby.' + +"And at that Godwin smiled, and said to the King, 'The Earl is wise, as +usual, and speaks like a very Solomon. Your Majesty must, in spite of +your own tenderness of heart, have these letters of outlawry made out.' + +"Then all our men murmured,--and I as loud as any. But old Surturbrand +the housecarle did more; for out he stepped to your father's side, and +spoke right up before the King. + +"'Bonny times,' he said, 'I have lived to see, when a lad of Earl +Oslac's blood is sent out of the land, a beggar and a wolf's head, +for playing a boy's trick or two, and upsetting a shaveling priest! +We managed such wild young colts better, we Vikings who conquered the +Danelagh. If Canute had had a son like Hereward--as would to God he had +had!--he would have dealt with him as old Swend Forkbeard (God grant I +meet him in Valhalla, in spite of all priests!) did by Canute himself +when he was young, and kicked and plunged awhile at being first bitted +and saddled.' + +"'What does the man say?' asked the King, for old Surturbrand was +talking broad Danish. + +"'He is a housecarle of mine, Lord King, a good man and true; but old +age and rough Danish blood has made him forget that he stands before +kings and earls.' + +"'By ----, Earl!' says Surturbrand, 'I have fought knee to knee beside a +braver king than that there, and nobler earls than ever a one here; and +was never afraid, like a free Dane, to speak my mind to them, by sea or +land. And if the King, with his French ways, does not understand a plain +man's talk, the two earls yonder do right well, and I say,--Deal by this +lad in the good old fashion. Give him half a dozen long ships, and what +crews he can get together, and send him out, as Canute would have done, +to seek his fortune like a Viking; and if he comes home with plenty of +wounds, and plenty of plunder, give him an earldom as he deserves. Do +you ask your Countess, Earl Godwin:--she is of the right Danish blood, +God bless her! though she is your wife,--and see if she does not know +how to bring a naughty lad to his senses.' + +"Then Harold the Earl said: 'The old man is right. King, listen to what +he says.' And he told him all, quite eagerly." + +"How did you know that? Can you understand French?" + +"I am a poor idiot, give me a halfpenny," said Martin, in a doleful +voice, as he threw into his face and whole figure a look of helpless +stupidity and awkwardness, which set them both laughing. + +But Hereward checked himself. "And you think he was in earnest?" + +"As sure as there are holy crows in Crowland. But it was of no use. Your +father got a parchment, with an outlandish Norman seal hanging to it, +and sent me off with it that same night to give to the lawman. So wolf's +head you are, my lord, and there is no use crying over spilt milk." + +"And Harold spoke for me? It will be as well to tell Abbot Leofric that, +in case he be inclined to turn traitor, and refuse to open the gates. +Once outside them, I care not for mortal man." + +"My poor boy, there will be many a one whom thou hast wronged only too +ready to lie in wait for thee, now thy life is in every man's hand. If +the outlawry is published, thou hadst best start to-night, and get past +Lincoln before morning." + +"I shall stay quietly here, and get a good night's rest; and then ride +out to-morrow morning in the face of the whole shire. No, not a word! +You would not have me sneak away like a coward?" + +Brand smiled and shrugged his shoulders: being very much of the same +mind. + +"At least, go north." + +"And why north?" + +"You have no quarrel in Northumberland, and the King's writ runs very +slowly there, if at all. Old Siward Digre may stand your friend." + +"He? He is a fast friend of my father's." + +"What of that? the old Viking will like you none the less for having +shown a touch of his own temper. Go to him, I say, and tell him that I +sent you." + +"But he is fighting the Scots beyond the Forth." + +"So much the better. There will be good work for you to do. And +Gislebert of Ghent is up there too, I hear, trying to settle himself +among the Scots. He is your mother's kinsman; and as for your being +an outlaw, he wants hard hitters and hard riders, and all is fish that +comes to his net. Find him out, too, and tell him I sent you." + +"You are a good old uncle," said Hereward. "Why were you not a soldier?" + +Brand laughed somewhat sadly. + +"If I had been a soldier, lad, where would you have looked for a friend +this day? No. God has done what was merciful with me and my sins. May he +do the same by thee and thine." + +Hereward made an impatient movement. He disliked any word which seemed +likely to soften his own hardness of heart. But he kissed his uncle +lovingly on both cheeks. + +"By the by, Martin,--any message from my lady mother?" + +"None!" + +"Quite right and pious. I am an enemy to Holy Church and therefore to +her. Good night, uncle." + +"Hey?" asked Brand; "where is that footman,--Martin you call him? I must +have another word with him." + +But Martin was gone. + +"No matter. I shall question him sharply enough to-morrow, I warrant." + +And Hereward went out to his lodging; while the good Prior went to his +prayers. + +When Hereward entered his room, Martin started out of the darkness, and +followed him in. Then he shut to the door carefully, and pulled out a +bag. + +"There was no message from my lady: but there was this." + +The bag was full of money. + +"Why did you not tell me of this before?" + +"Never show money before a monk." + +"Villain! would you mistrust my uncle?" + +"Any man with a shaven crown. St. Peter is his God and Lord and +conscience; and if he saw but the shine of a penny, for St. Peter he +would want it." + +"And he shall have it," quoth Hereward; and flung out of the room, and +into his uncle's. + +"Uncle, I have money. I am come to pay back what I took from +the Steward, and as much more into the bargain." And he told out +eight-and-thirty pieces. + +"Thank God and all his saints!" cried Brand, weeping abundantly for joy; +for he had acquired, by long devotion, the _donum lachrymarum_,--that +lachrymose and somewhat hysterical temperament common among pious monks, +and held to be a mark of grace. + +"Blessed St. Peter, thou art repaid; and thou wilt be merciful!" + +Brand believed, in common with all monks then, that Hereward had robbed, +not merely the Abbey of Peterborough, but, what was more, St. Peter +himself; thereby converting into an implacable and internecine foe the +chief of the Apostles, the rock on which was founded the whole Church. + +"Now, uncle," said Hereward, "do me one good deed in return. Promise me +that, if you can help it, none of my poor housecarles shall suffer +for my sins. I led them into trouble. I am punished. I have made +restitution,--at least to St. Peter. See that my father and mother, +if they be the Christians they call themselves, forgive and forget all +offences except mine." + +"I will; so help me all saints and our Lord. O my boy, my boy, thou +shouldst have been a king's thane, and not an outlaw!" + +And he hurried off with the news to the Abbot. + +When Hereward returned to his room, Martin was gone. + +"Farewell, good men of Peterborough," said Hereward, as he leapt into +the saddle next morning. "I had made a vow against you, and came to try +you; to see whether you would force me to fulfil it or not. But you have +been so kind that I have half repented of it; and the evil shall not +come in the days of Abbot Leofric, nor of Brand the Prior, though it may +come in the days of Herluin the Steward, if he live long enough." + +"What do you mean, you incarnate fiend, only fit to worship Thor and +Odin?" asked Brand. + +"That I would burn Goldenborough, and Herluin the Steward within it, +ere I die. I fear I shall do it; I fear I must do it. Ten years ago come +Lammas, Herluin bade light the peat-stack under me. Do you recollect?" + +"And so he did, the hound!" quoth Brand. "I had forgotten that." + +"Little Hereward never forgets foe or friend. Ever since, on Lammas +night,--hold still, horse!--I dream of fire and flame, and of +Goldenborough in the glare of it. If it is written in the big book, +happen it must; if not, so much the better for Goldenborough, for it is +a pretty place, and honest Englishmen in it. Only see that there be not +too many Frenchmen crept in when I come back, beside our French friend +Herluin; and see, too, that there be not a peat-stack handy: a word is +enough to wise men like you. Good by!" + +"God help thee, thou sinful boy!" said the Abbot. + +"Hereward, Hereward! Come back!" cried Brand. + +But the boy had spurred his horse through the gateway, and was far down +the road. + +"Leofric, my friend," said Brand, sadly, "this is my sin, and no man's +else. And heavy penance will I do for it, till that lad returns in +peace." + +"Your sin?" + +"Mine, Abbot. I persuaded his mother to send him hither to be a monk. +Alas! alas! How long will men try to be wiser than Him who maketh men?" + +"I do not understand thee," quoth the Abbot. And no more he did. + +It was four o'clock on a May morning, when Hereward set out to see the +world, with good armor on his back, good weapon by his side, good horse +between his knees, and good money in his purse. What could a lad of +eighteen want more, who under the harsh family rule of those times had +known nothing of a father's, and but too little of a mother's, love? +He rode away northward through the Bruneswald, over the higher land of +Lincolnshire, through primeval glades of mighty oak and ash, holly and +thorn, swarming with game, which was as highly preserved then as now, +under Canute's severe forest laws. The yellow roes stood and stared at +him knee-deep in the young fern; the pheasant called his hens out to +feed in the dewy grass; the blackbird and thrush sang out from every +bough; the wood-lark trilled above the high oak-tops, and sank down on +them as his song sank down. And Hereward rode on, rejoicing in it all. +It was a fine world in the Bruneswald. What was it then outside? Not to +him, as to us, a world circular, sailed round, circumscribed, mapped, +botanized, zoologized; a tiny planet about which everybody knows, +or thinks they know everything: but a world infinite, magical, +supernatural,--because unknown; a vast flat plain reaching no one knew +whence or where, save that the mountains stood on the four corners +thereof to keep it steady, and the four winds of heaven blew out of +them; and in the centre, which was to him the Bruneswald, such things +as he saw; but beyond, things unspeakable,--dragons, giants, rocs, orcs, +witch-whales, griffins, chimeras, satyrs, enchanters, Paynims, Saracen +Emirs and Sultans, Kaisers of Constantinople, Kaisers of Ind and of +Cathay, and beyond them again of lands as yet unknown. At the very least +he could go to Brittany, to the forest of Brocheliaunde, where (so all +men said) fairies might be seen bathing in the fountains, and possibly +be won and wedded by a bold and dexterous knight after the fashion of +Sir Gruelan. [Footnote: Wace, author of the "Roman de Rou," went to +Brittany a generation later, to see those same fairies: but had no +sport; and sang,-- + + "Fol i alai, fol m'en revins; + Folie quis, por fol me tins"] + +What was there not to be seen and conquered? Where would he go? Where +would he not go? For the spirit of Odin the Goer, the spirit which has +sent his children round the world, was strong within him. He would go +to Ireland, to the Ostmen, or Irish Danes men at Dublin, Waterford, or +Cork, and marry some beautiful Irish Princess with gray eyes, and raven +locks, and saffron smock, and great gold bracelets from her native +hills. No; he would go off to the Orkneys, and join Bruce and Ranald, +and the Vikings of the northern seas, and all the hot blood which had +found even Norway too hot to hold it; and sail through witch-whales and +icebergs to Iceland and Greenland, and the sunny lands which they said +lay even beyond, across the all but unknown ocean. He would go up the +Baltic to the Jomsburg Vikings, and fight against Lett and Esthonian +heathen, and pierce inland, perhaps, through Puleyn and the bison +forests, to the land from whence came the magic swords and the +old Persian coins which he had seen so often in the halls of his +forefathers. No; he would go South, to the land of sun and wine; and +see the magicians of Cordova and Seville; and beard Mussulman hounds +worshipping their Mahomets; and perhaps bring home an Emir's daughter,-- + + "With more gay gold about her middle, + Than would buy half Northumberlee." + +Or he would go up the Straits, and on to Constantinople and the great +Kaiser of the Greeks, and join the Varanger Guard, and perhaps, like +Harold Hardraade in his own days, after being cast to the lion for +carrying off a fair Greek lady, tear out the monster's tongue with his +own hands, and show the Easterns what a Viking's son could do. And as he +dreamed of the infinite world and its infinite wonders, the enchanters +he might meet, the jewels he might find, the adventures he might essay, +he held that he must succeed in all, with hope and wit and a strong arm; +and forgot altogether that, mixed up with the cosmogony of an infinite +flat plain called the Earth, there was joined also the belief in a flat +roof above called Heaven, on which (seen at times in visions through +clouds and stars) sat saints, angels, and archangels, forevermore +harping on their golden harps, and knowing neither vanity nor vexation +of spirit, lust nor pride, murder nor war;--and underneath a floor, the +name whereof was Hell; the mouths whereof (as all men knew) might be +seen on Hecla and Aetna and Stromboli; and the fiends heard within, +tormenting, amid fire, and smoke, and clanking chains, the souls of the +eternally lost. + +As he rode on slowly though cheerfully, as a man who will not tire his +horse at the beginning of a long day's journey, and knows not where he +shall pass the night, he was aware of a man on foot coming up behind +him at a slow, steady, loping, wolf-like trot, which in spite of its +slowness gained ground on him so fast, that he saw at once that the man +could be no common runner. + +The man came up; and behold, he was none other than Martin Lightfoot. + +"What! art thou here?" asked Hereward, suspiciously, and half cross at +seeing any visitor from the old world which he had just cast off. "How +gottest thou out of St. Peter's last night?" + +Martin's tongue was hanging out of his mouth like a running hound's, but +he seemed, like a hound, to perspire through his mouth, for he answered +without the least sign of distress, without even pulling in his +tongue,-- + +"Over the wall, the moment the Prior's back was turned. I was not going +to wait till I was chained up in some rat's-hole with a half-hundred +of iron on my leg, and flogged till I confessed that I was what I am +not,--a runaway monk." + +"And why art here?" + +"Because I am going with you." + +"Going with me?" said Hereward; "what can I do for thee?" + +"I can do for you," said Martin. + +"What?" + +"Groom your horse, wash your shirt, clean your weapons, find your inn, +fight your enemies, cheat your friends,--anything and everything. You +are going to see the world. I am going with you." + +"Thou canst be my servant? A right slippery one, I expect," said +Hereward, looking down on him with some suspicion. + +"Some are not the rogues they seem. I can keep my secrets and yours +too." + +"Before I can trust thee with my secrets, I shall expect to know some of +thine," said Hereward. + +Martin Lightfoot looked up with a cunning smile. "A servant can always +know his master's secrets if he likes. But that is no reason a master +should know his servant's." + +"Thou shalt tell me thine, man, or I shall ride off and leave thee." + +"Not so easy, my lord. Where that heavy horse can go, Martin Lightfoot +can follow. But I will tell you one secret, which I never told to living +man. I can read and write like any clerk." + +"Thou read and write?" + +"Ay, good Latin enough, and Irish too, what is more. And now, because I +love you, and because you I will serve, willy nilly, I will tell you all +the secrets I have, as long as my breath lasts, for my tongue is +rather stiff after that long story about the bell-wether. I was born in +Ireland, in Waterford town. My mother was an English slave, one of those +that Earl Godwin's wife--not this one that is now, Gyda, but the old +one, King Canute's sister--used to sell out of England by the score, +tied together with ropes, boys and girls from Bristol town. Her master, +my father that was (I shall know him again), got tired of her, and +wanted to give her away to one of his kernes. She would not have that; +so he hung her up hand and foot, and beat her that she died. There was +an abbey hard by, and the Church laid on him a penance,--all that they +dared get out of him,--that he should give me to the monks, being then a +seven-years' boy. Well, I grew up in that abbey; they taught me my fa +fa mi fa: but I liked better conning of ballads and hearing stories of +ghosts and enchanters, such as I used to tell you. I'll tell you plenty +more whenever you're tired. Then they made me work; and that I never +could abide at all. Then they beat me every day; and that I could abide +still less; but always I stuck to my book, for one thing I saw,--that +learning is power, my lord; and that the reason why the monks are +masters of the land is, they are scholars, and you fighting men are +none. Then I fell in love (as young blood will) with an Irish lass, when +I was full seventeen years old; and when they found out that, they held +me down on the floor and beat me till I was wellnigh dead. They put me +in prison for a month; and between bread-and-water and darkness I went +nigh foolish. They let me out, thinking I could do no more harm to +man or lass; and when I found out how profitable folly was, foolish I +remained, at least as foolish as seemed good to me. But one night I got +into the abbey church, stole therefrom that which I have with me now, +and which shall serve you and me in good stead yet,--out and away aboard +a ship among the buscarles, and off into the Norway sea. But after a +voyage or two, so it befell, I was wrecked in the Wash by Botulfston +Deeps, and, begging my way inland, met with your father, and took +service with him, as I have taken service now with you." + +"Now, what has made thee take service with me?" + +"Because you are you." + +"Give me none of your parables and dark sayings, but speak out like a +man. What canst see in me that thou shouldest share an outlaw's fortune +with me?" + +"I had run away from a monastery, so had you; I hated the monks, so did +you; I liked to tell stories,--since I found good to shut my mouth I +tell them to myself all day long, sometimes all night too. When I found +out you liked to hear them, I loved you all the more. Then they told me +not to speak to you; I held my tongue. I bided my time. I knew you would +be outlawed some day. I knew you would turn Viking and kempery-man, and +kill giants and enchanters, and win yourself honor and glory; and I knew +I should have my share in it. I knew you would need me some day; and +you need me now, and here I am; and if you try to cut me down with your +sword, I will dodge you, and follow you, and dodge you again, till I +force you to let me be your man, for with you I will live and die. And +now I can talk no more." + +"And with me thou shalt live and die," said Hereward, pulling up his +horse, and frankly holding out his hand to his new friend. + +Martin Lightfoot took his hand, kissed it, licked it almost as a dog +would have done. "I am your man," he said, "amen; and true man I will +prove to you, if you will prove true to me." And he dropped quietly back +behind Hereward's horse, as if the business of his life was settled, and +his mind utterly at rest. + +"There is one more likeness between us," said Hereward, after a few +minutes' thought. "If I have robbed a church, thou hast robbed one too. +What is this precious spoil which is to serve me and thee in such mighty +stead?" + +Martin drew from inside his shirt and under his waistband a small +battle-axe, and handed it up to Hereward. It was a tool the like of +which in shape Hereward had seldom seen, and never its equal in beauty. +The handle was some fifteen inches long, made of thick strips of black +whalebone, curiously bound with silver, and butted with narwhal ivory. +This handle was evidently the work of some cunning Norseman of old. But +who was the maker of the blade? It was some eight inches long, with a +sharp edge on one side, a sharp crooked pick on the other; of the finest +steel, inlaid with strange characters in gold, the work probably of some +Circassian, Tartar, or Persian; such a battle-axe as Rustum or Zohrab +may have wielded in fight upon the banks of Oxus; one of those magic +weapons, brought, men knew not how, out of the magic East, which were +hereditary in many a Norse family and sung of in many a Norse saga. + +"Look at it," said Martin Lightfoot. "There is magic on it. It must +bring us luck. Whoever holds that must kill his man. It will pick a lock +of steel. It will crack a mail corslet as a nut-hatch cracks a nut. +It will hew a lance in two at a single blow. Devils and spirits forged +it,--I know that; Virgilius the Enchanter, perhaps, or Solomon the +Great, or whosoever's name is on it, graven there in letters of gold. +Handle it, feel its balance; but no,--do not handle it too much. There +is a devil in it, who would make you kill me. Whenever I play with it I +long to kill a man. It would be so easy,--so easy. Give it me back, my +lord, give it me back, lest the devil come through the handle into your +palm, and possess you." + +Hereward laughed, and gave him back his battle-axe. But he had hardly +less doubt of the magic virtues of such a blade than had Martin himself. + +"Magical or not, thou wilt not have to hit a man twice with that, +Martin, my lad. So we two outlaws are both well armed; and having +neither wife nor child, land nor beeves to lose, ought to be a match for +any six honest men who may have a grudge against us, and sound reasons +at home for running away." + +And so those two went northward through the green Bruneswald, and +northward again through merry Sherwood, and were not seen in that land +again for many a year. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +HOW HEREWARD SLEW THE BEAR. + + +Of Hereward's doings for the next few months naught is known. He may +very likely have joined Siward in the Scotch war. He may have looked, +wondering, for the first time in his life, upon the bones of the old +world, where they rise at Dunkeld out of the lowlands of the Tay; and +have trembled lest the black crags of Birnam should topple on his head +with all their pines. He may have marched down from that famous leaguer +with the Gospatricks and Dolfins, and the rest of the kindred of Crinan +(abthane or abbot,--let antiquaries decide),--of Dunkeld, and of Duncan, +and of Siward, and of the outraged Sibilla. He may have helped himself +to bring Birnam Wood to Dunsinane, "on the day of the Seven Sleepers," +and heard Siward, when his son Asbiorn's corpse was carried into camp, +[Footnote: Shakespeare makes young Siward his son. He, too, was slain +in the battle: but he was Siward's nephew.] ask only, "Has he all his +wounds in front?" He may have seen old Siward, after Macbeth's defeat +(not death, as Shakespeare relates the story), go back to Northumbria +"with such booty as no man had obtained before,"--a proof, if the fact +be fact, that the Scotch lowlands were not, in the eleventh century, the +poor and barbarous country which some have reported them to have been. + +All this is not only possible, but probable enough, the dates +considered: the chroniclers, however, are silent. They only say that +Hereward was in those days beyond Northumberland with Gisebert of Ghent. + +Gisebert, Gislebert, Gilbert, Guibert, Goisbricht, of Ghent, who +afterwards owned, by chance of war, many a fair manor about Lincoln +city, was one of those valiant Flemings who settled along the east and +northeast coast of Scotland in the eleventh century. They fought with +the Celtic princes, and then married with their daughters; got to +themselves lands "by the title-deed of the sword"; and so became--the +famous "Freskin the Fleming" especially--the ancestors of the finest +aristocracy, both physically and intellectually, in the world. They had +their connections, moreover, with the Norman court of Rouen, through +the Duchess Matilda, daughter of their old Seigneur, Baldwin, Marquis +of Flanders; their connections, too, with the English Court, through +Countess Judith, wife of Earl Tosti Godwinsson, another daughter of +Baldwin's. Their friendship was sought, their enmity feared, far +and wide throughout the north. They seem to have been civilizers and +cultivators and traders,--with the instinct of true Flemings,--as +well as conquerors; they were in those very days bringing to order and +tillage the rich lands of the north-east, from the Frith of Moray to +that of Forth; and forming a rampart for Scotland against the invasions +of Sweyn, Hardraade, and all the wild Vikings of the northern seas. + +Amongst them, in those days, Gilbert of Ghent seems to have been a +notable personage, to judge from the great house which he kept, and the +_milites tyrones,_ or squires in training for the honor of knighthood, +who fed at his table. Where he lived, the chroniclers report not. To +them the country "ultra Northumbriam," beyond the Forth, was as Russia +or Cathay, where + + "Geographers on pathless downs + Put elephants for want of towns." + +As indeed it was to that French map-maker who, as late as the middle of +the eighteenth century (not having been to Aberdeen or Elgin), leaves +all the country north of the Tay a blank, with the inscription: "_Terre +inculte et sauvage, habitee par les Higlanders._" + +Wherever Gilbert lived, however, he heard that Hereward was outlawed, +and sent for him, says the story. And there he lived, doubtless happily +enough, fighting Highlanders and hunting deer, so that as yet the pains +and penalties of exile did not press very hardly upon him. The handsome, +petulant, good-humored lad had become in a few weeks the darling +of Gilbert's ladies, and the envy of all his knights and gentlemen. +Hereward the singer, harp-player, dancer, Hereward the rider and hunter, +was in all mouths; but he himself was discontented at having as yet +fallen in with no adventure worthy of a man, and looked curiously and +longingly at the menagerie of wild beasts enclosed in strong wooden +cages, which Gilbert kept in one corner of the great court-yard, not for +any scientific purposes, but to try with them, at Christmas, Easter, and +Whitsuntide, the mettle of the young gentlemen who were candidates for +the honor of knighthood. But after looking over the bulls and stags, +wolves and bears, Hereward settled it in his mind that there was none +worthy of his steel, save one huge white bear, whom no man had yet dared +to face, and whom Hereward, indeed, had never seen, hidden as he was +all day within the old oven-shaped Pict's house of stone, which had been +turned into his den. There was a mystery about the uncanny brute which +charmed Hereward. He was said to be half-human, perhaps wholly human; to +be the son of the Fairy Bear, near kinsman, if not uncle or cousin, of +Siward Digre. He had, like his fairy father, iron claws; he had human +intellect, and understood human speech, and the arts of war,--at least +so all in the place believed, and not as absurdly as at first sight +seems. + +For the brown bear, and much more the white, was, among the Northern +nations, in himself a creature magical and superhuman. "He is God's +dog," whispered the Lapp, and called him "the old man in the fur cloak," +afraid to use his right name, even inside the tent, for fear of his +overhearing and avenging the insult. "He has twelve men's strength, and +eleven men's wit," sang the Norseman, and prided himself accordingly, +like a true Norseman, on outwitting and slaying the enchanted monster. + +Terrible was the brown bear: but more terrible "the white sea-deer," as +the Saxons called him; the hound of Hrymir, the whale's bane, the seal's +dread, the rider of the iceberg, the sailor of the floe, who ranged for +his prey under the six months' night, lighted by Surtur's fires, even +to the gates of Muspelheim. To slay him was a feat worthy of Beowulf's +self; and the greatest wonder, perhaps, among all the wealth of +Crowland, was the twelve white bear-skins which lay before the altars, +the gift of the great Canute. How Gilbert had obtained his white bear, +and why he kept him there in durance vile, was a mystery over which men +shook their heads. Again and again Hereward asked his host to let him +try his strength against the monster of the North. Again and again the +shrieks of the ladies, and Gilbert's own pity for the stripling youth, +brought a refusal. But Hereward settled it in his heart, nevertheless, +that somehow or other, when Christmas time came round, he would extract +from Gilbert, drunk or sober, leave to fight that bear; and then either +make himself a name, or die like a man. + +Meanwhile Hereward made a friend. Among all the ladies of Gilbert's +household, however kind they were inclined to be to him, he took a fancy +but to one,--and that was to a little girl of eight years old. Alftruda +was her name. He liked to amuse himself with this child, without, as he +fancied, any danger of falling in love; for already his dreams of love +were of the highest and most fantastic; and an Emir's daughter, or a +Princess of Constantinople, were the very lowest game at which he meant +to fly. Alftruda was beautiful, too, exceedingly, and precocious, and, +it may be, vain enough to repay his attentions in good earnest. Moreover +she was English as he was, and royal likewise; a relation of Elfgiva, +daughter of Ethelred, once King of England, who, as all know, married +Uchtred, prince of Northumberland and grandfather of Gospatrick, Earl of +Northumberland, and ancestor of all the Dunbars. Between the English +lad then and the English maiden grew up in a few weeks an innocent +friendship, which had almost become more than friendship, through the +intervention of the Fairy Bear. + +For as Hereward was coming in one afternoon from hunting, hawk on fist, +with Martin Lightfoot trotting behind, crane and heron, duck and hare, +slung over his shoulder, on reaching the court-yard gates he was aware +of screams and shouts within, tumult and terror among man and beast. +Hereward tried to force his horse in at the gate. The beast stopped +and turned, snorting with fear; and no wonder; for in the midst of the +court-yard stood the Fairy Bear; his white mane bristled up till he +seemed twice as big as any of the sober brown bears which Hereward yet +had seen: his long snake neck and cruel visage wreathed about in search +of prey. A dead horse, its back broken by a single blow of the paw, and +two or three writhing dogs, showed that the beast had turned (like +too many of his human kindred) "Berserker." The court-yard was utterly +empty: but from the ladies' bower came shrieks and shouts, not only of +women, but of men; and knocking at the bower door, adding her screams +to those inside, was a little white figure, which Hereward recognized +as Alftruda's. They had barricaded themselves inside, leaving the child +out; and now dared not open the door, as the bear swung and rolled +towards it, looking savagely right and left for a fresh victim. + +Hereward leaped from his horse, and, drawing his sword, rushed forward +with a shout which made the bear turn round. + +He looked once back at the child; then round again at Hereward: and, +making up his mind to take the largest morsel first, made straight at +him with a growl which there was no mistaking. + +He was within two paces; then he rose on his hind legs, a head and +shoulders taller than Hereward, and lifted the iron talons high in air. +Hereward knew that there was but one spot at which to strike; and he +struck true and strong, before the iron paw could fall, right on the +muzzle of the monster. + +He heard the dull crash of the steel; he felt the sword jammed tight. He +shut his eyes for an instant, fearing lest, as in dreams, his blow had +come to naught; lest his sword had turned aside, or melted like water in +his hand, and the next moment would find him crushed to earth, blinded +and stunned. Something tugged at his sword. He opened his eyes, and saw +the huge carcass bend, reel, roll slowly over to one side dead, tearing +out of his hand the sword, which was firmly fixed into the skull. + +Hereward stood awhile staring at the beast like a man astonished at +what he himself had done. He had had his first adventure, and he had +conquered. He was now a champion in his own right,--a hero of the +heroes,--one who might take rank, if he went on, beside Beowulf, Frotho, +Ragnar Lodbrog, or Harald Hardraade. He had done this deed. What was +there after this which he might not do? And he stood there in the +fulness of his pride, defiant of earth and heaven, while in his heart +arose the thought of that old Viking who cried, in the pride of his +godlessness: "I never on earth met him whom I feared, and why should I +fear Him in heaven? If I met Odin, I would fight with Odin. If Odin were +the stronger, he would slay me; if I were the stronger, I would slay +him." And there he stood, staring, and dreaming over renown to come,--a +true pattern of the half-savage hero of those rough times, capable +of all vices except cowardice, and capable, too, of all virtues save +humility. + +"Do you not see," said Martin Lightfoot's voice, close by, "that there +is a fair lady trying to thank you, while you are so rude or so proud +that you will not vouchsafe her one look?" + +It was true. Little Alftruda had been clinging to him for five minutes +past. He took the child up in his arms and kissed her with pure kisses, +which for a moment softened his hard heart; then, setting her down, he +turned to Martin. + +"I have done it, Martin." + +"Yes, you have done it; I spied you. What will the old folks at home say +to this?" + +"What care I?" + +Martin Lightfoot shook his head, and drew out his knife. + +"What is that for?" said Hereward. + +"When the master kills the game, the knave can but skin it. We may sleep +warm under this fur in many a cold night by sea and moor." + +"Nay," said Hereward, laughing; "when the master kills the game he must +first carry it home. Let us take him and set him up against the bower +door there, to astonish the brave knights inside." And stooping down, he +attempted to lift the huge carcass; but in vain. At last, with Martin's +help, he got it fairly on his shoulders, and the two dragged their +burden to the bower and dashed it against the door, shouting with all +their might to those within to open it. + +Windows, it must be remembered, were in those days so few and far +between that the folks inside had remained quite unaware of what was +going on without. + +The door was opened cautiously enough; and out looked, to the shame of +knighthood, be it said, two or three knights who had taken shelter in +the bower with the ladies. Whatever they were going to say the +ladies forestalled, for, rushing out across the prostrate bear, +they overwhelmed Hereward with praises, thanks, and, after the +straightforward custom of those days, with substantial kisses. + +"You must be knighted at once," cried they. "You have knighted yourself +by that single blow." + +"A pity, then," said one of the knights to the others, "that he had not +given that accolade to himself, instead of to the bear." + +"Unless some means are found," said another, "of taking down this boy's +conceit, life will soon be not worth having here." + +"Either he must take ship," said a third, "and look for adventures +elsewhere, or I must." + +Martin Lightfoot heard those words; and knowing that envy and hatred, +like all other vices in those rough-hewn times, were apt to take very +startling and unmistakeable shapes, kept his eye accordingly on those +three knights. + +"He must be knighted,--he shall be knighted, as soon as Sir Gilbert +comes home," said all the ladies in chorus. + +"I should be sorry to think," said Hereward, with the blundering mock +humility of a self-conceited boy, "that I had done anything worthy of +such an honor. I hope to win my spurs by greater feats than these." + +A burst of laughter from the knights and gentlemen followed. + +"How loud the young bantam crows after his first little scuffle!" + +"Hark to him! What will he do next? Eat a dragon? Fly to the moon? Marry +the Sophy of Egypt's daughter?" + +This last touched Hereward to the quick, for it was just what he thought +of doing; and his blood, heated enough already, beat quicker, as some +one cried, with the evident intent of picking a quarrel: + +"That was meant for us. If the man who killed the bear has not earned +knighthood, what must we be, who have not killed him? You understand his +meaning, gentlemen,--don't forget it!" + +Hereward looked down, and setting his foot on the bear's head, wrenched +out of it the sword which he had left till now, with pardonable pride, +fast set in the skull. + +Martin Lightfoot, for his part, drew stealthily from his bosom the +little magic axe, keeping his eye on the brain-pan of the last speaker. + +The lady of the house cried "Shame!" and ordered the knights away with +haughty words and gestures, which, because they were so well deserved, +only made the quarrel more deadly. + +Then she commanded Hereward to sheathe his sword. + +He did so; and turning to the knights, said with all courtesy: "You +mistake me, sirs. You were where brave knights should be, within the +beleaguered fortress, defending the ladies. Had you remained outside, +and been eaten by the bear, what must have befallen them, had he burst +open the door? As for this little lass, whom you left outside, she is +too young to requite knight's prowess by lady's love; and therefore +beneath your attention, and only fit for the care of a boy like me." And +taking up Alftruda in his arms, he carried her in and disappeared. + +Who now but Hereward was in all men's mouths? The minstrels made ballads +on him; the lasses sang his praises (says the chronicler) as they danced +upon the green. Gilbert's lady would need give him the seat, and all +the honors, of a belted knight, though knight he was none. And daily +and weekly the valiant lad grew and hardened into a valiant man, and a +courteous one withal, giving no offence himself, and not over-ready to +take offence at other men. + +The knights were civil enough to him, the ladies more than civil; he +hunted, he wrestled, he tilted; he was promised a chance of fighting for +glory, as soon as a Highland chief should declare war against Gilbert, +or drive off his cattle,--an event which (and small blame to the +Highland chiefs) happened every six months. + +No one was so well content with himself as Hereward; and therefore he +fancied that the world must be equally content with him, and he was much +disconcerted when Martin drew him aside one day, and whispered: "If I +were my lord, I should wear a mail shirt under my coat to-morrow out +hunting." + +"What?" + +"The arrow that can go through a deer's bladebone can go through a +man's." + +"Who should harm me?" + +"Any man of the dozen who eat at the same table." + +"What have I done to them? If I had my laugh at them, they had their +laugh at me; and we are quits." + +"There is another score, my lord, which you have forgotten, and that is +all on your side." + +"Eh?" + +"You killed the bear. Do you expect them to forgive you that, till they +have repaid you with interest?" + +"Pish!" + +"You do not want for wit, my lord. Use it, and think. What right has a +little boy like you to come here, killing bears which grown men cannot +kill? What can you expect but just punishment for your insolence,--say, +a lance between your shoulders while you stoop to drink, as Sigfried had +for daring to tame Brunhild? And more, what right have you to come here, +and so win the hearts of the ladies, that the lady of all the ladies +should say, 'If aught happen to my poor boy,--and he cannot live +long,--I would adopt Hereward for my own son, and show his mother what +a fool some folks think her?' So, my lord, put on your mail shirt +to-morrow, and take care of narrow ways, and sharp corners. For +to-morrow it will be tried, that I know, before my Lord Gilbert comes +back from the Highlands; but by whom I know not, and care little, seeing +that there are half a dozen in the house who would be glad enough of the +chance." + +Hereward took his advice, and rode out with three or four knights the +next morning into the fir-forest; not afraid, but angry and sad. He +was not yet old enough to estimate the virulence of envy, to take +ingratitude and treachery for granted. He was to learn the lesson then, +as a wholesome chastener to the pride of success. He was to learn it +again in later years, as an additional bitterness in the humiliation of +defeat; and find out, as does many a man, that if he once fall, or seem +to fall, a hundred curs spring up to bark at him, who dared not open +their mouths while he was on his legs. + +So they rode into the forest, and parted, each with his footman and his +dogs, in search of boar and deer; and each had his sport without meeting +again for some two hours or more. + +Hereward and Martin came at last to a narrow gully, a murderous place +enough. Huge fir-trees roofed it in, and made a night of noon. High +banks of earth and great boulders walled it in right and left for twenty +feet above. The track, what with pack-horses' feet, and what with the +wear and tear of five hundred years' rain-fall, was a rut three feet +deep and two feet broad, in which no horse could turn. Any other day +Hereward would have cantered down it with merely a tightened rein. Today +he turned to Martin and said,-- + +"A very fit and proper place for this same treason, unless you have been +drinking beer and thinking beer." + +But Martin was nowhere to be seen. + +A pebble thrown from the right bank struck him, and he looked up. +Martin's face was peering through the heather overhead, his finger on +his lips. Then he pointed cautiously, first up the pass, then down. + +Hereward felt that his sword was loose in the sheath, and then gripped +his lance, with a heart beating, but not with fear. + +The next moment he heard the rattle of a horse's hoofs behind him; +looked back; and saw a knight charging desperately down the gully, his +bow in hand, and arrow drawn to the head. + +To turn was impossible. To stop, even to walk on, was to be ridden over +and hurled to the ground helplessly. To gain the mouth of the gully, and +then turn on his pursuer, was his only chance. For the first and almost +the last time in his life, he struck spurs into his horse, and ran +away. As he went, an arrow struck him sharply in the back, piercing +the corslet, but hardly entering the flesh. As he neared the mouth, two +other knights crashed their horses through the brushwood from right +and left, and stood awaiting him, their spears ready to strike. He was +caught in a trap. A shield might have saved him; but he had none. + +He did not flinch. Dropping his reins, and driving in the spurs once +more, he met them in full shock. With his left hand he hurled aside the +left-hand lance, with his right he hurled his own with all his force +at the right-hand foe, and saw it pass clean through the felon's chest, +while his lance-point dropped, and passed harmlessly behind his knee. + +So much for lances in front. But the knight behind? Would not his sword +the next moment be through his brain? + +There was a clatter, a crash, and looking back Hereward saw horse and +man rolling in the rut, and rolling with them Martin Lightfoot. He had +already pinned the felon knight's head against the steep bank, and, with +uplifted axe, was meditating a pick at his face which would have stopped +alike his love-making and his fighting. + +"Hold thy hand," shouted Hereward. "Let us see who he is; and remember +that he is at least a knight." + +"But one that will ride no more to-day. I finished his horse's going as +I rolled down the bank." + +It was true. He had broken the poor beast's leg with a blow of the axe, +and they had to kill the horse out of pity ere they left. + +Martin dragged his prisoner forward. + +"You?" cried Hereward. "And I saved your life three days ago!" + +The knight answered nothing. + +"You will have to walk home. Let that be punishment enough for you," and +he turned. + +"He will have to ride in a woodman's cart, if he have the luck to find +one." + +The third knight had fled, and after him the dead man's horse. Hereward +and his man rode home in peace, and the third knight, after trying +vainly to walk a mile or two, fell and lay, and was fain to fulfil +Martin's prophecy, and be brought home in a cart, to carry for years +after, like Sir Lancelot, the nickname of the Chevalier de la Charette. + +And so was Hereward avenged of his enemies. Judicial, even private, +inquiry into the matter there was none. That gentlemen should meet in +the forest and commit, or try to commit, murder on each other's bodies, +was far too common a mishap in the ages of faith to stir up more than an +extra gossiping and cackling among the women, and an extra cursing and +threatening among the men; and as the former were all but unanimously on +Hereward's side, his plain and honest story was taken as it stood. + +"And now, fair lady," said Hereward to his hostess, "I must thank you +for all your hospitality, and bid you farewell forever and a day." + +She wept, and entreated him only to stay till her lord came back; but +Hereward was firm. + +"You, lady, and your good lord will I ever love; and at your service +my sword shall ever be: but not here. Ill blood I will not make. Among +traitors I will not dwell. I have killed two of them, and shall have +to kill two of their kinsmen next, and then two more, till you have no +knights left; and pity that would be. No; the world is wide, and there +are plenty of good fellows in it who will welcome me without forcing me +to wear mail under my coat out hunting." + +And he armed himself _cap-a-pie_, and rode away. Great was the weeping +in the bower, and great the chuckling in the hall: but never saw they +Hereward again upon the Scottish shore. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +HOW HEREWARD SUCCORED A PRINCESS OF CORNWALL. + + +The next place in which Hereward appeared was far away on the southwest, +upon the Cornish shore. How he came there, or after how long, the +chronicles do not say. All that shall be told is, that he went into port +on board a merchant ship carrying wine, and intending to bring back tin. +The merchants had told him of one Alef, a valiant _regulus_ or kinglet +of those parts, who was indeed a distant connection of Hereward himself, +having married, as did so many of the Celtic princes, the daughter of a +Danish sea-rover, of Siward's blood. They told him also that the kinglet +increased his wealth, not only by the sale of tin and of red cattle, +but by a certain amount of autumnal piracy in company with his Danish +brothers-in-law from Dublin and Waterford; and Hereward, who believed, +with most Englishmen of the East Country, that Cornwall still produced +a fair crop of giants, some of them with two and even three heads, had +hopes that Alef might show him some adventure worthy of his sword. He +sailed in, therefore, over a rolling bar, between jagged points of black +rock, and up a tide river which wandered away inland, like a land-locked +lake, between high green walls of oak and ash, till they saw at the head +of the tide Alef's town, nestling in a glen which sloped towards the +southern sun. They discovered, besides, two ships drawn up upon the +beach, whose long lines and snake-heads, beside the stoat carved on the +beak-head of one and the adder on that of the other, bore witness to +the piratical habits of their owner. The merchants, it seemed, were +well known to the Cornishmen on shore, and Hereward went up with them +unopposed; past the ugly dikes and muddy leats, where Alef's slaves were +streaming the gravel for tin ore; through rich alluvial pastures +spotted with red cattle, and up to Alef's town. Earthworks and stockades +surrounded a little church of ancient stone, and a cluster of granite +cabins thatched with turf, in which the slaves abode, and in the centre +of all a vast stone barn, with low walls and high sloping roof, which +contained Alef's family, treasures, fighting tail, horses, cattle, and +pigs. They entered at one end between the pigsties, passed on through +the cow-stalls, then through the stables, and saw before them, dim +through the reek of thick peat-smoke, a long oaken table, at which sat +huge dark-haired Cornishmen, with here and there among them the yellow +head of a Norseman, who were Alef's following or fighting men. Boiled +meat was there in plenty, barley cakes, and ale. At the head of the +table, on a high-backed settle, was Alef himself, a jolly giant, who +was just setting to work to drink himself stupid with mead made from +narcotic heather honey. By his side sat a lovely dark-haired girl, with +great gold torcs upon her throat and wrists, and a great gold brooch +fastening a shawl which had plainly come from the looms of Spain or of +the East, and next to her again, feeding her with titbits cut off with +his own dagger, and laid on barley cake instead of a plate, sat a more +gigantic personage even than Alef, the biggest man that Hereward had +ever seen, with high cheek bones, and small ferret eyes, looking out +from a greasy mass of bright red hair and beard. + +No questions were asked of the new-comers. They set themselves down +in silence in empty places, and, according to the laws of the good old +Cornish hospitality, were allowed to eat and drink their fill before +they spoke a word. + +"Welcome here again, friend," said Alef at last, in good enough Danish, +calling the eldest merchant by name. "Do you bring wine?" + +The merchant nodded. + +"And you want tin?" + +The merchant nodded again, and lifting his cup drank Alef's health, +following it up by a coarse joke in Cornish, which raised a laugh all +round. + +The Norse trader of those days, it must be remembered, was none of the +cringing and effeminate chapmen who figure in the stories of the Middle +Ages. A free Norse or Dane, himself often of noble blood, he fought as +willingly as he bought; and held his own as an equal, whether at the +court of a Cornish kinglet or at that of the Great Kaiser of the Greeks. + +"And you, fair sir," said Alef, looking keenly at Hereward, "by what +name shall I call you, and what service can I do for you? You look more +like an earl's son than a merchant, and are come here surely for other +things besides tin." + +"Health to King Alef," said Hereward, raising the cup. "Who I am I will +tell to none but Alef's self; but an earl's son I am, though an outlaw +and a rover. My lands are the breadth of my boot-sole. My plough is my +sword. My treasure is my good right hand. Nothing I have, and nothing I +need, save to serve noble kings and earls, and win me a champion's fame. +If you have battles to fight, tell me, that I may fight them for you. If +you have none, thank God for his peace; and let me eat and drink, and go +in peace." + +"King Alef needs neither man nor boy to fight his battle as long as +Ironhook sits in his hall." + +It was the red-bearded giant who spoke in a broken tongue, part Scotch, +part Cornish, part Danish, which Hereward could hardly understand; but +that the ogre intended to insult him he understood well enough. + +Hereward had hoped to find giants in Cornwall: and behold he had found +one at once; though rather, to judge from his looks, a Pictish than a +Cornish giant; and, true to his reckless determination to defy and fight +every man and beast who was willing to defy and fight him, he turned on +his elbow and stared at Ironhook in scorn, meditating some speech which +might provoke the hoped-for quarrel. + +As he did so his eye happily caught that of the fair Princess. She was +watching him with a strange look, admiring, warning, imploring; and when +she saw that he noticed her, she laid her finger on her lip in token of +silence, crossed herself devoutly, and then laid her finger on her lips +again, as if beseeching him to be patient and silent in the name of Him +who answered not again. + +Hereward, as is well seen, wanted not for quick wit, or for chivalrous +feeling. He had observed the rough devotion of the giant to the Lady. +He had observed, too, that she shrank from it; that she turned away with +loathing when he offered her his own cup, while he answered by a dark +and deadly scowl. + +Was there an adventure here? Was she in duress either from this Ironhook +or from her father, or from both? Did she need Hereward's help? If so, +she was so lovely that he could not refuse it. And on the chance, he +swallowed down his high stomach, and answered blandly enough,-- + +"One could see without eyes, noble sir, that you were worth any ten +common men; but as every one has not like you the luck of so lovely a +lady by your side, I thought that perchance you might hand over some of +your lesser quarrels to one like me, who has not yet seen so much good +fighting as yourself, and enjoy yourself in pleasant company at home, as +I should surely do in your place." + +The Princess shuddered and turned pale; then looked at Hereward and +smiled her thanks. Ironhook laughed a savage laugh. + +Hereward's jest being translated into Cornish for the benefit of the +company, was highly approved by all; and good humor being restored, +every man got drunk save Hereward, who found the mead too sweet and +sickening. + +After which those who could go to bed went to bed, not as in England, +[Footnote: Cornwall was not then considered part of England.] among the +rushes on the floor, but in the bunks or berths of wattle which stood +two or three tiers high along the wall. + +The next morning as Hereward went out to wash his face and hands in +the brook below (he being the only man in the house who did so), Martin +Lightfoot followed him. + +"What is it, Martin? Hast thou had too much of that sweet mead last +night that thou must come out to cool thy head too?" + +"I came out for two reasons,--first, to see fair play, in case that +Ironhook should come to wash his ugly visage, and find you on all fours +over the brook--you understand? And next, to tell you what I heard last +night among the maids." + +"And what did you hear?" + +"Fine adventures, if we can but compass them. You saw that lady with the +carrot-headed fellow?--I saw that you saw. Well, if you will believe me, +that man has no more gentle blood than I have,--has no more right to sit +on the settle than I. He is a No-man's son, a Pict from Galloway, who +came down with a pirate crew and has made himself the master of this +drunken old Prince, and the darling of all his housecarles, and now will +needs be his son-in-law whether he will or not." + +"I thought as much," said Hereward; "but how didst thou find out this?" + +"I went out and sat with the knaves and the maids, and listened to their +harp-playing, and harp they can, these Cornish, like very elves; and +then I, too, sang songs and told them stories, for I can talk their +tongue somewhat, till they all blest me for a right good fellow. And +then I fell to praising up old Ironhook to the women." + +"Praising him up, man?" + +"Ay, just because I suspected him; for the women are so contrary, that +if you speak evil of a man they will surely speak good of him; but if +you will only speak good of him, then you will hear all the evil of him +he ever has done, and more beside. And this I heard; that the King's +daughter cannot abide him, and would as lief marry a seal." + +"One did not need to be told that," said Hereward, "as long as one +has eyes in one's head. I will kill the fellow, and carry her off, ere +four-and-twenty hours be past." + +"Softly, softly, my young master. You need to be told something that +your eyes would not tell you, and that is, that the poor lass is +betrothed already to a son of old King Ranald the Ostman, of Waterford, +son of old King Sigtryg, who ruled there when I was a boy." + +"He is a kinsman of mine, then," said Hereward. "All the more reason +that I should kill this ruffian." + +"If you can," said Martin Lightfoot. + +"If I can?" retorted Hereward, fiercely. + +"Well, well, wilful heart must have its way; only take my counsel: speak +to the poor young lady first, and see what she will tell you, lest you +only make bad worse, and bring down her father and his men on her as +well as you." + +Hereward agreed, and resolved to watch his opportunity of speaking to +the princess. + +As they went in to the morning meal they met Alef. He was in high good +humor with Hereward; and all the more so when Hereward told him his +name, and how he was the son of Leofric. + +"I will warrant you are," he said, "by the gray head you carry on green +shoulders. No discreeter man, they say, in these isles than the old +earl." + +"You speak truth, sir," said Hereward, "though he be no father of mine +now; for of Leofric it is said in King Edward's court, that if a man ask +counsel of him, it is as though he had asked it of the oracles of God." + +"Then you are his true son, young man. I saw how you kept the peace with +Ironhook, and I owe you thanks for it; for though he is my good friend, +and will be my son-in-law erelong, yet a quarrel with him is more than +I can abide just now, and I should not like to have seen my guest and my +kinsman slain in my house." + +Hereward would have said that he thought there was no fear of that; +but he prudently held his tongue, and having an end to gain, listened +instead of talking. + +"Twenty years ago, of course, I could have thrashed him as easily as--; +but now I am getting old and shaky, and the man has been a great help +in need. Six kings of these parts has he killed for me, who drove off +my cattle, and stopped my tin works, and plundered my monks' cells too, +which is worse, while I was away sailing the seas; and he is a right +good fellow at heart, though he be a little rough. So be friends with +him as long as you stay here, and if I can do you a service I will." + +They went in to their morning meal, at which Hereward resolved to +keep the peace which he longed to break, and therefore, as was to be +expected, broke. + +For during the meal the fair lady, with no worse intention, perhaps, +than that of teasing her tyrant, fell to open praises of Hereward's +fair face and golden hair; and being insulted therefore by the Ironhook, +retaliated by observations about his personal appearance, which were +more common in the eleventh century than they happily are now. He, +to comfort himself, drank deep of the French wine which had just been +brought and broached, and then went out into the court-yard, where, +in the midst of his admiring fellow-ruffians, he enacted a scene as +ludicrous as it was pitiable. All the childish vanity of the savage +boiled over. He strutted, he shouted, he tossed about his huge limbs, +he called for a harper, and challenged all around to dance, sing, +leap, fight, do anything against him: meeting with nothing but admiring +silence, he danced himself out of breath, and then began boasting +once more of his fights, his cruelties, his butcheries, his impossible +escapes and victories; till at last, as luck would have it, he espied +Hereward, and poured out a stream of abuse against Englishmen and +English courage. + +"Englishmen," he said, "were naught. Had he not slain three of them +himself with one blow?" + +"Of your mouth, I suppose," quoth Hereward, who saw that the quarrel +must come, and was glad to have it done and over. + +"Of my mouth?" roared Ironhook; "of my sword, man!" + +"Of your mouth," said Hereward. "Of your brain were they begotten, of +the breath of your mouth they were born, and by the breath of your mouth +you can slay them again as often as you choose." + +The joke, as it has been handed down to us by the old chroniclers, +seems clumsy enough; but it sent the princess, say they, into shrieks of +laughter. + +"Were it not that my Lord Alef was here," shouted Ironhook, "I would +kill you out of hand." + +"Promise to fight fair, and do your worst. The more fairly you fight, +the more honor you will win," said Hereward. + +Whereupon the two were parted for the while. + +Two hours afterwards, Hereward, completely armed with helmet and mail +shirt, sword and javelin, hurried across the great court-yard, with +Martin Lightfoot at his heels, towards the little church upon the knoll +above. The two wild men entered into the cool darkness, and saw before +them, by the light of a tiny lamp, the crucifix over the altar, and +beneath it that which was then believed to be the body of Him who +made heaven and earth. They stopped, trembling, for a moment, bowed +themselves before that, to them, perpetual miracle, and then hurried on +to a low doorway to the right, inside which dwelt Alef's chaplain, +one of those good Celtic priests who were supposed to represent a +Christianity more ancient than, and all but independent of, the then +all-absorbing Church of Rome. + +The cell was such a one as a convict would now disdain to inhabit. A low +lean-to roof; the slates and rafters unceiled; the stone walls and floor +unplastered; ill-lighted by a hand-broad window, unglazed, and closed +with a shutter at night. A truss of straw and a rug, the priest's +bed, lay in a corner. The only other furniture was a large oak chest, +containing the holy vessels and vestments and a few old books. It stood +directly under the window for the sake of light, for it served the good +priest for both table and chair; and on it he was sitting reading in his +book at that minute, the sunshine and the wind streaming in behind his +head, doing no good to his rheumatism of thirty years' standing. + +"Is there a priest here?" asked Hereward, hurriedly. + +The old man looked up, shook his head, and answered in Cornish. + +"Speak to him in Latin, Martin! Maybe he will understand that." + +Martin spoke. "My lord, here, wants a priest to shrive him, and that +quickly. He is going to fight the great tyrant Ironhook, as you call +him." + +"Ironhook?" answered the priest in good Latin enough. "And he so young! +God help him, he is a dead man! What is this,--a fresh soul sent to its +account by the hands of that man of Belial? Cannot he entreat him,--can +he not make peace, and save his young life? He is but a stripling, and +that man, like Goliath of old, a man of war from his youth up." + +"And my master," said Martin Lightfoot, proudly, "is like young +David,--one that can face a giant and kill him; for he has slain, like +David, his lion and his bear ere now. At least, he is one that will +neither make peace, nor entreat the face of living man. So shrive him +quickly, Master Priest, and let him be gone to his work." + +Poor Martin Lightfoot spoke thus bravely only to keep up his spirits and +his young lord's; for, in spite of his confidence in Hereward's prowess, +he had given him up for a lost man: and the tears ran down his rugged +cheeks, as the old priest, rising up and seizing Hereward's two hands +in his, besought him, with the passionate and graceful eloquence of his +race, to have mercy upon his own youth. + +Hereward understood his meaning, though not his words. + +"Tell him," he said to Martin, "that fight I must, and tell him that +shrive me he must, and that quickly. Tell him how the fellow met me in +the wood below just now, and would have slain me there, unarmed as I +was; and how, when I told him it was a shame to strike a naked man, he +told me he would give me but one hour's grace to go back, on the faith +of a gentleman, for my armor and weapons, and meet him there again, to +die by his hand. So shrive me quick, Sir Priest." + +Hereward knelt down. Martin Lightfoot knelt down by him, and with a +trembling voice began to interpret for him. + +"What does he say?" asked Hereward, as the priest murmured something to +himself. + +"He said," quoth Martin, now fairly blubbering, "that, fair and young as +you are, your shrift should be as short and as clean as David's." + +Hereward was touched. "Anything but that," said he, smiting on his +breast, "Mea culpa,--mea culpa,--mea maxima culpa." + +"Tell him how I robbed my father." + +The priest groaned as Martin did so. + +"And how I mocked at my mother, and left her in a rage, without ever a +kind word between us. And how I have slain I know not how many men in +battle, though that, I trust, need not lay heavily on my soul, seeing +that I killed them all in fair fight." + +Again the priest groaned. + +"And how I robbed a certain priest of his money and gave it away to my +housecarles." + +Here the priest groaned more bitterly still. + +"O my son! my son! where hast thou found time to lay all these burdens +on thy young soul?" + +"It will take less time," said Martin, bluntly, "for you to take the +burdens off again." + +"But I dare not absolve him for robbing a priest. Heaven Help him! He +must go to the bishop for that. He is more fit to go on pilgrimage to +Jerusalem than to battle." + +"He has no time," quoth Martin, "for bishops or Jerusalem." + +"Tell him," says Hereward, "that in this purse is all I have, that in it +he will find sixty silver pennies, beside two strange coins of gold." + +"Sir Priest," said Martin Lightfoot, taking the purse from Hereward, and +keeping it in his own hand, "there are in this bag moneys." + +Martin had no mind to let the priest into the secret of the state of +their finances. + +"And tell him," continued Hereward, "that if I fall in this battle I +give him all that money, that he may part it among the poor for the good +of my soul." + +"Pish!" said Martin to his lord; "that is paying him for having you +killed. You should pay him for keeping you alive." And without waiting +for the answer, he spoke in Latin,-- + +"And if he comes back safe from this battle, he will give you ten +pennies for yourself and your church, Priest, and therefore expects you +to pray your very loudest while he is gone." + +"I will pray, I will pray," said the holy man; "I will wrestle in +prayer. Ah that he could slay the wicked, and reward the proud according +to his deservings! Ah that he could rid me and my master, and my young +lady, of this son of Belial,--this devourer of widows and orphans,--this +slayer of the poor and needy, who fills this place with innocent +blood,--him of whom it is written, 'They stretch forth their mouth unto +the heaven, and their tongue goeth through the world. Therefore fall +the people unto them, and thereout suck they no small advantage.' I will +shrive him, shrive him of all save robbing the priest, and for that he +must go to the bishop, if he live; and if not, the Lord have mercy on +his soul." + +And so, weeping and trembling, the good old man pronounced the words of +absolution. + +Hereward rose, thanked him, and then hurried out in silence. + +"You will pray your very loudest, Priest," said Martin, as he followed +his young lord. + +"I will, I will," quoth he, and kneeling down began to chant that noble +seventy-third Psalm, "Quam bonus Israel," which he had just so fitly +quoted. + +"Thou gavest him the bag, Martin?" said Hereward, as they hurried on. + +"You are not dead yet. 'No pay, no play,' is as good a rule for priest +as for layman." + +"Now then, Martin Lightfoot, good-bye. Come not with me. It must never +be said, even slanderously, that I brought two into the field against +one; and if I die, Martin--" + +"You won't die!" said Lightfoot, shutting his teeth. + +"If I die, go back to my people somehow, and tell them that I died like +a true earl's son." + +Hereward held out his hand; Martin fell on his knees and kissed it; +watched him with set teeth till he disappeared in the wood; and then +started forward and entered the bushes at a different spot. + +"I must be nigh at hand to see fair play," he muttered to himself, "in +case any of his ruffians be hanging about. Fair play I'll see, and +fair play I'll give, too, for the sake of my lord's honor, though I be +bitterly loath to do it. So many times as I have been a villain when it +was of no use, why mayn't I be one now, when it would serve the purpose +indeed? Why did we ever come into this accursed place? But one thing I +will do," said he, as he ensconced himself under a thick holly, whence +he could see the meeting of the combatants upon an open lawn some twenty +yards away; "if that big bull-calf kills my master, and I do not jump on +his back and pick his brains out with this trusty steel of mine, may my +right arm--" + +And Martin Lightfoot swore a fearful oath, which need not here be +written. + +The priest had just finished his chant of the seventy-third Psalm, and +had betaken himself in his spiritual warfare, as it was then called, to +the equally apposite fifty-second, "Quid gloriaris?" + +"Why boastest thou thyself, thou tyrant, that thou canst do mischief, +whereas the goodness of God endureth yet daily?" + +"Father! father!" cried a soft voice in the doorway, "where are you?" + +And in hurried the Princess. + +"Hide this," she said, breathless, drawing from beneath her mantle a +huge sword; "hide it, where no one dare touch it, under the altar behind +the holy rood: no place too secret." + +"What is it?" asked the priest, springing up from his knees. + +"His sword,--the Ogre's,--his magic sword, which kills whomsoever it +strikes. I coaxed the wretch to let me have it last night when he was +tipsy, for fear he should quarrel with the young stranger; and I have +kept it from him ever since by one excuse or another; and now he has +sent one of his ruffians in for it, saying, that if I do not give it up +at once he will come back and kill me." + +"He dare not do that," said the priest. + +"What is there that he dare not?" said she. "Hide it at once; I know +that he wants it to fight with this Hereward." + +"If he wants it for that," said the priest, "it is too late; for half an +hour is past since Hereward went to meet him." + +"And you let him go? You did not persuade him, stop him? You let him go +hence to his death?" + +In vain the good man expostulated and explained that it was no fault of +his. + +"You must come with me this instant to my father,--to them; they must +be parted. They shall be parted. If you dare not, I dare. I will throw +myself between them, and he that strikes the other shall strike me." + +And she hurried the priest out of the house, down the knoll, and across +the yard. There they found others on the same errand. The news that a +battle was toward had soon spread, and the men-at-arms were hurrying +down to the fight; kept back, however, by Alef, who strode along at +their head. + +Alef was sorely perplexed in mind. He had taken, as all honest men did, +a great liking to Hereward. Moreover, he was his kinsman and his guest. +Save him he would if he could but how to save him without mortally +offending his tyrant Ironhook he could not see. At least he would exert +what little power he had, and prevent, if possible, his men-at-arms from +helping their darling leader against the hapless lad. + +Alef's perplexity was much increased when his daughter bounded towards +him, seizing him by the arm, and hurried him on, showing by look and +word which of the combatants she favored, so plainly that the ruffians +behind broke into scornful murmurs. They burst through the bushes. +Martin Lightfoot, happily, heard them coming, and had just time to slip +away noiselessly, like a rabbit, to the other part of the cover. + +The combat seemed at the first glance to be one between a grown man and +a child, so unequal was the size of the combatants. But the second look +showed that the advantage was by no means with Ironhook. Stumbling to +and fro with the broken shaft of a javelin sticking in his thigh, he +vainly tried to seize and crush Hereward in his enormous arms. Hereward, +bleeding, but still active and upright, broke away, and sprang +round him, watching for an opportunity to strike a deadly blow. The +housecarles rushed forward with yells. Alef shouted to the combatants to +desist; but ere the party could reach them, Hereward's opportunity had +come. Ironhook, after a fruitless lunge, stumbled forward. Hereward +leapt aside, and spying an unguarded spot below the corslet, drove his +sword deep into the giant's body, and rolled him over upon the sward. +Then arose shouts of fury. + +"Foul play!" cried one. + +And others taking up the cry, called out, "Sorcery!" and "Treason!" + +Hereward stood over Ironhook as he lay writhing and foaming on the +ground. + +"Killed by a boy at last!" groaned he. "If I had but had my own +sword,--my Brain-biter which that witch stole from me but last +night!"--and amid foul curses and bitter tears of shame his mortal +spirit fled to its doom. + +The housecarles rushed in on Hereward, who had enough to do to keep them +at arm's length by long sweeps of his sword. + +Alef entreated, threatened, promised a fair trial if the men would give +fair play; when, to complete the confusion, the Princess threw herself +upon the corpse, shrieking and tearing her hair; and to Hereward's +surprise and disgust, bewailed the prowess and the virtues of the dead, +calling upon all present to avenge his murder. + +Hereward vowed inwardly that he would never again trust woman's fancy +or fight in woman's quarrel. He was now nigh at his wits' end; the +housecarles had closed round him in a ring with the intention of seizing +him; and however well he might defend his front, he might be crippled +at any moment from behind: but in the very nick of time Martin Lightfoot +burst through the crowd, set himself heel to heel with his master, and +broke out, not with threats, but with a good-humored laugh. + +"Here is a pretty coil about a red-headed brute of a Pict! Danes, +Ostmen," he cried, "are you not ashamed to call such a fellow your lord, +when you have such a true earl's son as this to lead you if you will?" + +The Ostmen in the company looked at each other. Martin Lightfoot saw +that his appeal to the antipathies of race had told, and followed it up +by a string of witticisms upon the Pictish nation in general, of +which the only two fit for modern ears to be set down were the two old +stories, that the Picts had feet so large that they used to lie upon +their backs and hold up their legs to shelter them from the sun; and +that when killed, they could not fall down, but died as they were, all +standing. + +"So that the only foul play I can see is, that my master shoved the +fellow over after he had stabbed him, instead of leaving him to stand +upright there, like one of your Cornish Dolmens, till his flesh should +fall off his bones." + +Hereward saw the effect of Martin's words, and burst out in Danish +likewise. + +"Look at me!" he said; "I am Hereward the outlaw, I am the champion, I +am the Berserker, I am the Viking, I am the land thief, the sea +thief, the ravager of the world, the bear-slayer, the ogre-killer, the +raven-fattener, the darling of the wolf, the curse of the widow. Touch +me, and I will give you to the raven and to the wolf, as I have this +ogre. Be my men, and follow me over the swan's road, over the whale's +bath, over the long-snake's leap, to the land where the sea meets the +sun, and golden apples hang on every tree; and we will freight our ships +with Moorish maidens, and the gold of Cadiz and Algiers." + +"Hark to the Viking! Hark to the right earl's son!" shouted some of +the Danes, whose blood had been stirred many a time before by such wild +words, and on whom Hereward's youth and beauty had their due effect. And +now the counsels of the ruffians being divided, the old priest gained +courage to step in. Let them deliver Hereward and his serving man into +his custody. He would bring them forth on the morrow, and there should +be full investigation and fair trial. And so Hereward and Martin, who +both refused stoutly to give up their arms, were marched back into the +town, locked in the little church, and left to their meditations. + +Hereward sat down on the pavement and cursed the Princess. Martin +Lightfoot took off his master's corslet, and, as well as the darkness +would allow, bound up his wounds, which happily were not severe. + +"Were I you," said he at last, "I should keep my curses till I saw the +end of this adventure." + +"Has not the girl betrayed me shamefully?" + +"Not she. I saw her warn you, as far as looks could do, not to quarrel +with the man." + +"That was because she did not know me. Little she thought that I +could--" + +"Don't hollo till you are out of the wood. This is a night for praying +rather than boasting." + +"She cannot really love that wretch," said Hereward, after a pause. "You +saw how she mocked him." + +"Women are strange things, and often tease most where they love most." + +"But such a misbegotten savage." + +"Women are strange things, say I, and with some a big fellow is a pretty +fellow, be he uglier than seven Ironhooks. Still, just because women are +strange things, have patience, say I." + +The lock creaked, and the old priest came in. Martin leapt to the +open door; but it was slammed in his face by men outside with scornful +laughter. + +The priest took Hereward's head in his hands, wept over him, blessed him +for having slain Goliath like young David, and then set food and drink +before the two; but he answered Martin's questions only with sighs and +shakings of the head. + +"Let us eat and drink, then," said Martin, "and after that you, my lord, +sleep off your wounds while I watch the door. I have no fancy for these +fellows taking us unawares at night." + +Martin lay quietly across the door till the small hours, listening to +every sound, till the key creaked once more in the lock. He started at +the sound, and seizing the person who entered round the neck, whispered, +"One word, and you are dead." + +"Do not hurt me," half shrieked a stifled voice; and Martin Lightfoot, +to his surprise, found that he had grasped no armed man, but the slight +frame of a young girl. + +"I am the Princess," she whispered; "let me in." + +"A very pretty hostage for us," thought Martin, and letting her go +seized the key, locking the door in the inside. + +"Take me to your master," she cried, and Martin led her up the church +wondering, but half suspecting some further trap. + +"You have a dagger in your hand," said he, holding her wrist. + +"I have. If I had meant to use it, it would have been used first on you. +Take it, if you like." + +She hurried up to Hereward, who lay sleeping quietly on the altar-steps; +knelt by him, wrung his hands, called him her champion, her deliverer. + +"I am not well awake yet," said he, coldly, "and don't know whether this +may not be a dream, as more that I have seen and heard seems to be." + +"It is no dream. I am true. I was always true to you. Have I not put +myself in your power? Am I not come here to deliver you, my deliverer?" + +"The tears which you shed over your ogre's corpse seem to have dried +quickly enough." + +"Cruel! What else could I do? You heard him accuse me to those ruffians +of having stolen his sword. My life, my father's life, were not safe +a moment, had I not dissembled, and done the thing I loathed. Ah!" she +went on, bitterly, "you men, who rule the world and us by cruel steel, +you forget that we poor women have but one weapon left wherewith to hold +our own, and that is cunning; and are driven by you day after day to +tell the lie which we detest." + +"Then you really stole his sword?" + +"And hid it here, for your sake!" and she drew the weapon from behind +the altar. + +"Take it. It is yours now. It is magical. Whoever smites with it, need +never smite again. Now, quick, you must be gone. But promise one thing +before you go." + +"If I leave this land safe, I will do it, be it what it may. Why not +come with me, lady, and see it done?" + +She laughed. "Vain boy, do you think that I love you well enough for +that?" + +"I have won you, and why should I not keep you?" said Hereward, +sullenly. + +"Do you not know that I am betrothed to your kinsman? And--though that +you cannot know--that I love your kinsman?" + +"So I have all the blows, and none of the spoil." + +"Tush! you have the glory,-and the sword,--and the chance, if you will +do my bidding, of being called by all ladies a true and gentle knight, +who cared not for his own pleasure, but for deeds of chivalry. Go to my +betrothed,--to Waterford over the sea. Take him this ring, and tell +him by that token to come and claim me soon, lest he run the danger of +losing me a second time, and lose me then forever; for I am in hard +case here, and were it not for my father's sake, perhaps I might be weak +enough, in spite of what men might say, to flee with you to your kinsman +across the sea." + +"Trust me and come," said Hereward, whose young blood kindled with a +sudden nobleness,--"trust me, and I will treat you like my sister, like +my queen. By the holy rood above I will swear to be true to you." + +"I do trust you, but it cannot be. Here is money for you in plenty to +hire a passage if you need: it is no shame to take it from me. And now +one thing more. Here is a cord,--you must bind the hands and feet of the +old priest inside, and then you must bind mine likewise." + +"Never," quoth Hereward. + +"It must be. How else can I explain your having got the key? I made them +give me the key on the pretence that with one who had most cause to hate +you, it would be safe; and when they come and find us in the morning I +shall tell them how I came here to stab you with my own hands,--you must +lay the dagger by me,--and how you and your man fell upon us and bound +us, and you escaped. Ah! Mary Mother," continued the maiden with a sigh, +"when shall we poor weak women have no more need of lying?" + +She lay down, and Hereward, in spite of himself, gently bound her hands +and feet, kissing them as he bound them. + +"I shall do well here upon the altar steps," said she. "How can I spend +my time better till the morning light than to lie here and pray?" + +The old priest, who was plainly in the plot, submitted meekly to the +same fate; and Hereward and Martin Lightfoot stole out, locking the +door, but leaving the key in it outside. To scramble over the old +earthwork was an easy matter; and in a few minutes they were hurrying +down the valley to the sea, with a fresh breeze blowing behind them from +the north. + +"Did I not tell you, my lord," said Martin Lightfoot, "to keep your +curses till you had seen the end of this adventure?" + +Hereward was silent. His brain was still whirling from the adventures +of the day, and his heart was very deeply touched. His shrift of the +morning, hurried and formal as it had been, had softened him. His +danger--for he felt how he had been face to face with death--had +softened him likewise; and he repented somewhat of his vainglorious and +bloodthirsty boasting over a fallen foe, as he began to see that there +was a purpose more noble in life than ranging land and sea, a ruffian +among ruffians, seeking for glory amid blood and flame. The idea of +chivalry, of succoring the weak and the opprest, of keeping faith and +honor not merely towards men who could avenge themselves, but towards +women who could not; the dim dawn of purity, gentleness, and the +conquest of his own fierce passions,--all these had taken root in his +heart during his adventure with the fair Cornish girl. The seed was +sown. Would it he cut down again by the bitter blasts of the rough +fighting world, or would it grow and bear the noble fruit of "gentle +very perfect knighthood"? + +They reached the ship, clambered on hoard without ceremony, at the risk +of being taken and killed as robbers, and told their case. The merchants +had not completed their cargo of tin. Hereward offered to make up their +loss to them if they would set sail at once; and they, feeling that the +place would be for some time to come too hot to hold them, and being +also in high delight, like honest Ostmen, with Hereward's prowess, +agreed to sail straight for Waterford, and complete their cargo there. +But the tide was out. It was three full hours before the ship could +float; and for three full hours they waited in fear and trembling, +expecting the Cornishmen to be down upon them in a body every moment, +under which wholesome fear some on board prayed fervently who had never +been known to pray before. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +HOW HEREWARD TOOK SERVICE WITH RANALD, KING OF WATERFORD. + + +The coasts of Ireland were in a state of comparative peace in the middle +of the eleventh century. The ships of Loghlin, seen far out at sea, no +longer drove the population shrieking inland. Heathen Danes, whether +fair-haired Fiongall from Norway, or brown-haired Dubgall from Denmark +proper, no longer burned convents, tortured monks for their gold, or (as +at Clonmacnoise) set a heathen princess, Oda, wife of Thorgill, son of +Harold Harfager, aloft on the high altar to receive the homage of the +conquered. The Scandinavian invaders had become Christianized, and +civilized also,--owing to their continual intercourse with foreign +nations,--more highly than the Irish whom they had overcome. That was +easy; for early Irish civilization seems to have existed only in +the convents and for the religious; and when they were crushed, mere +barbarism was left behind. And now the same process went on in the +east of Ireland, which went on a generation or two later in the east +of Scotland. The Danes began to settle down into peaceful colonists and +traders. Ireland was poor; and the convents plundered once could not be +plundered again. The Irish were desperately brave. Ill-armed and almost +naked, they were as perfect in the arts of forest warfare as those +modern Maories whom they so much resembled; and though their black +skenes and light darts were no match for the Danish swords and +battle-axes which they adopted during the middle age, or their plaid +trousers and felt capes for the Danish helmet and chain corslet, still +an Irishman was so ugly a foe, that it was not worth while to fight with +him unless he could be robbed afterwards. The Danes, who, like their +descendants of Northumbria, the Lowlands, and Ulster, were canny +common-sense folk, with a shrewd eye to interest, found, somewhat to +their regret, that there were trades even more profitable than robbery +and murder. They therefore concentrated themselves round harbors and +river mouths, and sent forth their ships to all the western seas, from +Dublin, Waterford, Wexford, Cork, or Limerick. Every important seaport +in Ireland owes its existence to those sturdy Vikings' sons. In each of +these towns they had founded a petty kingdom, which endured until, +and even in some cases after, the conquest of Ireland by Henry II. and +Strongbow. They intermarried in the mean while with the native Irish. +Brian Boru, for instance, was so connected with Danish royalty, that +it is still a question whether he himself had not Danish blood in his +veins. King Sigtryg Silkbeard, who fought against him at Clontarf, +was actually his step-son,--and so too, according to another Irish +chronicler, was King Olaff Kvaran, who even at the time of the battle of +Clontarf was married to Brian Boru's daughter,--a marriage which (if a +fact) was startlingly within the prohibited degrees of consanguinity. +But the ancient Irish were sadly careless on such points; and as +Giraldus Cambrensis says, "followed the example of men of old in their +vices more willingly than in their virtues." + +More than forty years had elapsed since that famous battle of Clontarf, +and since Ragnvald, Reginald, or Ranald, son of Sigtryg the Norseman, +had been slain therein by Brian Boru. On that one day, so the Irish +sang, the Northern invaders were exterminated, once and for all, by the +Milesian hero, who had craftily used the strangers to fight his battles, +and then, the moment they became formidable to himself, crushed them, +till "from Howth to Brandon in Kerry there was not a threshing-floor +without a Danish slave threshing thereon, or a quern without a Danish +woman grinding thereat." + +Nevertheless, in spite of the total annihilation of the Danish power in +the Emerald isle, Ranald seemed to the eyes of men to be still a hale +old warrior, ruling constitutionally--that is, with a wholesome fear +of being outlawed or murdered if he misbehaved--over the Danes in +Waterford; with five hundred fair-haired warriors at his back, two-edged +axe on shoulder and two-edged sword on thigh. His ships drove a thriving +trade with France and Spain in Irish fish, butter, honey, and furs. His +workmen coined money in the old round tower of Dundory, built by his +predecessor and namesake about the year 1003, which stands as Reginald's +tower to this day. He had fought many a bloody battle since his death at +Clontarf, by the side of his old leader Sigtryg Silkbeard. He had been +many a time to Dublin to visit his even more prosperous and formidable +friend; and was so delighted with the new church of the Holy Trinity, +which Sigtryg and his bishop Donatus had just built, not in the Danish +or Ostman town, but in the heart of ancient Celtic Dublin, (plain proof +of the utter overthrow of the Danish power,) that he had determined to +build a like church in honor of the Holy Trinity, in Waterford itself. +A thriving, valiant old king he seemed, as he sat in his great house +of pine logs under Reginald's Tower upon the quay, drinking French and +Spanish wines out of horns of ivory and cups of gold; and over his head +hanging, upon the wall, the huge doubled-edged axe with which, so his +flatterers had whispered, Brian Boru had not slain him, but he Brian +Boru. + +Nevertheless, then as since, alas! the pleasant theory was preferred by +the Milesian historians to the plain truth. And far away inland, monks +wrote and harpers sung of the death of Ranald, the fair-haired Fiongall, +and all his "mailed swarms." + +One Teague MacMurrough, indeed, a famous bard of those parts, composed +unto his harp a song of Clontarf, the fame whereof reached Ranald's +ears, and so amused him that he rested not day or night till he had +caught the hapless bard and brought him in triumph into Waterford. There +he compelled him, at sword's point, to sing, to him and his housecarles +the Milesian version of the great historical event: and when the harper, +in fear and trembling, came to the story of Ranald's own death at Brian +Boru's hands, then the jolly old Viking laughed till the tears ran down +his face; and instead of cutting off Teague's head, gave him a cup of +goodly wine, made him his own harper thenceforth, and bade him send for +his wife and children, and sing to him every day, especially the song of +Clontarf and his own death; treating him very much, in fact, as English +royalty, during the last generation, treated another Irish bard whose +song was even more sweet, and his notions of Irish history even more +grotesque, than those of Teague MacMurrough. + +It was to this old king, or rather to his son Sigtryg, godson of Sigtryg +Silkbeard, and distant cousin of his own, that Hereward now took his +way, and told his story, as the king sat in his hall, drinking "across +the fire," after the old Norse fashion. The fire of pine logs was in the +midst of the hall, and the smoke went out through a louver in the roof. +On one side was a long bench, and in the middle of it the king's high +arm-chair; right and left of him sat his kinsmen and the ladies, and his +sea-captains and men of wealth. Opposite, on the other side of the fire, +was another bench. In the middle of that sat his marshal, and right and +left all his housecarles. There were other benches behind, on which sat +more freemen, but of lesser rank. + +And they were all drinking ale, which a servant poured out of a bucket +into a great bull's horn, and the men handed round to each other. + +Then Hereward came in, and sat down on the end of the hindermost bench, +and Martin stood behind him, till one of the ladies said,-- + +"Who is that young stranger, who sits behind there so humbly, though, +he looks like an earl's son, more fit to sit here with us on the high +bench?" + +"So he does," quoth King Ranald. "Come forward hither, young sir, and +drink." + +And when Hereward came forward, all the ladies agreed that he must be an +earl's son; for he had a great gold torc round his neck, and gold +rings on his wrists; and a new scarlet coat, bound with gold braid; and +scarlet stockings, cross-laced with gold braid up to the knee; and shoes +trimmed with martin's fur; and a short blue silk cloak over all, trimmed +with martin's fur likewise; and by his side, in a broad belt with gold +studs, was the Ogre's sword Brain-biter, with its ivory hilt and velvet +sheath; and all agreed that if he had but been a head taller, they had +never seen a properer man. + +"Aha! such a gay young sea-cock does not come hither for naught. Drink +first, man, and tell us thy business after," and he reached the horn to +Hereward. + +Hereward took it, and sang,-- + + "In this Braga-beaker, + Brave Ranald I pledge; + In good liquor, which lightens + Long labor on oar-bench; + Good liquor, which sweetens + The song of the scald." + +"Thy voice is as fine as thy feathers, man. Nay, drink it all. We +ourselves drink here by the peg at midday; but a stranger is welcome to +fill his inside all hours of the day." + +Whereon Hereward finished the horn duly; and at Ranald's bidding, sat +him down on the high settle. He did not remark, that as he sat down two +handsome youths rose and stood behind him. + +"Now then, Sir Priest," quoth the king, "go on with your story." + +A priest, Irish by his face and dress, who sat on the high bench, rose, +and renewed an oration which Hereward's entrance had interrupted. + +"So, O great King, as says Homerus, this wise king called his earls, +knights, sea-captains, and housecarles, and said unto them, 'Which of +these two kings is in the right, who can tell? But mind you, that this +king of the Enchanters lives far away in India, and we never heard of +him more than his name; but this king Ulixes and his Greeks live hard +by; and which of the two is it wiser to quarrel with, him that lives +hard by or him that lives far off? Therefore, King Ranald, says, by the +mouth of my humility, the great O'Brodar, Lord of Ivark, 'Take example +by Alcinous, the wise king of Fairy, and listen not to the ambassadors +of those lying villains, O'Dea Lord of Slievardagh, Maccarthy King of +Cashel, and O'Sullivan Lord of Knockraffin, who all three between them +could not raise kernes enough to drive off one old widow's cow. Make +friends with me, who live upon your borders; and you shall go peaceably +through my lands, to conquer and destroy them, who live afar off; as +they deserve, the sons of Belial and Judas.'" + +And the priest crost himself, and sat down. At which speech Hereward was +seen to laugh. + +"Why do you laugh, young sir? The priest seems to talk like a wise man, +and is my guest and an ambassador." + +Then rose up Hereward, and bowed to the king. "King Ranald Sigtrygsson, +it was not for rudeness that I laughed, for I learnt good manners long +ere I came here, but because I find clerks alike all over the world." + +"How?" + +"Quick at hiding false counsel under learned speech. I know nothing of +Ulixes, king, nor of this O'Brodar either; and I am but a lad, as you +see: but I heard a bird once in my own country who gave a very different +counsel from the priest's." + +"Speak on, then. This lad is no fool, my merry men all." + +"There were three copses, King, in our country, and each copse stood on +a hill. In the first there built an eagle, in the second there built a +sparhawk, in the third there built a crow. + +"Now the sparhawk came to the eagle, and said, 'Go shares with me, and +we will kill the crow, and have her wood to ourselves.' + +"'Humph!' says the eagle, 'I could kill the crow without your help; +however, I will think of it.' + +"When the crow heard that, she came to the eagle herself. 'King Eagle,' +says she, 'why do you want to kill me, who live ten miles from you, and +never flew across your path in my life? Better kill that little rogue +of a sparhawk who lives between us, and is always ready to poach on your +marches whenever your back is turned. So you will have her wood as well +as your own.' + +"'You are a wise crow,' said the eagle; and he went out and killed the +sparhawk, and took his wood." + +Loud laughed King Ranald and his Vikings all. "Well spoken, young man! +We will take the sparhawk, and let the crow bide." + +"Nay, but," quoth Hereward, "hear the end of the story. After a while +the eagle finds the crow beating about the edge of the sparhawk's wood. + +"'Oho!' says he, 'so you can poach as well as that little hooknosed +rogue?' and he killed her too. + +"'Ah!' says the crow, when she lay a-dying, 'my blood is on my own head. +If I had but left the sparhawk between me and this great tyrant!' + +"And so the eagle got all three woods to himself." + +At which the Vikings laughed more loudly than ever; and King Ranald, +chuckling at the notion of eating up the hapless Irish princes one by +one, sent back the priest (not without a present for his church, for +Ranald was a pious man) to tell the great O'Brodar, that unless he sent +into Waterford by that day week two hundred head of cattle, a hundred +pigs, a hundredweight of clear honey, and as much of wax, Ranald would +not leave so much as a sucking-pig alive in Ivark. + +The cause of quarrel, of course, was too unimportant to be mentioned. +Each had robbed and cheated the other half a dozen times in the last +twenty years. As for the morality of the transaction, Ranald had this +salve for his conscience,--that as he intended to do to O'Brodar, so +would O'Brodar have gladly done to him, had he been living peaceably in +Norway, and O'Brodar been strong enough to invade and rob him. Indeed, +so had O'Brodar done already, ever since he wore beard, to every +chieftain of his own race whom he was strong enough to ill-treat. Many +a fair herd had he driven off, many a fair farm burnt, many a fair woman +carried off a slave, after that inveterate fashion of lawless feuds +which makes the history of Celtic Ireland from the earliest times one +dull and aimless catalogue of murder and devastation, followed by famine +and disease; and now, as he had done to others, so it was to be done to +him. + +"And now, young sir, who seem as witty as you are good looking, you +may, if you will, tell us your name and your business. As for the name, +however, if you wish to keep it to yourself, Ranald Sigtrygsson is not +the man to demand it of an honest guest." + +Hereward looked round and saw Teague MacMurrough standing close to him, +harp in hand. He took it from him courteously enough, put a silver penny +into the minstrel's hand, and running his fingers over the strings, rose +and began,-- + + "Outlaw and free thief, + Landless and lawless + Through the world fare I, + Thoughtless of life. + Soft is my beard, but + Hard my Brain-biter. + Wake, men me call, whom + Warrior or watchman + Never caught sleeping, + Far in Northumberland + Slew I the witch-bear, + Cleaving his brain-pan, + At one stroke I felled him." + +And so forth, chanting all his doughty deeds, with such a voice and +spirit joined to that musical talent for which he was afterwards so +famous, till the hearts of the wild Norsemen rejoiced, and "Skall to the +stranger! Skall to the young Viking!" rang through the hall. + +Then showing proudly the fresh wounds on his bare arms, he sang of his +fight with the Cornish ogre, and his adventure with the Princess. But +always, though he went into the most minute details, he concealed the +name both of her and of her father, while he kept his eyes steadily +fixed on Ranald's eldest son, Sigtryg, who sat at his father's right +hand. + +The young man grew uneasy, red, almost angry; till at last Hereward +sang,-- + + "A gold ring she gave me + Right royally dwarf-worked, + To none will I pass it + For prayer or for sword-stroke, + Save to him who can claim it + By love and by troth plight, + Let that hero speak + If that hero be here." + +Young Sigtryg half started from his feet: but when Hereward smiled at +him, and laid his finger on his lips, he sat down again. Hereward felt +his shoulder touched from behind. One of the youths who had risen when +he sat down bent over him, and whispered in his ear,-- + +"Ah, Hereward, we know you. Do you not know us? We are the twins, the +sons of your sister, Siward the White and Siward the Red, the orphans of +Asbiorn Siwardsson, who fell at Dunsinane." + +Hereward sprang up, struck the harp again, and sang,-- + + "Outlaw and free thief, + My kinsfolk have left me, + And no kinsfolk need I + Till kinsfolk shall need me. + My sword is my father, + My shield is my mother, + My ship is my sister, + My horse is my brother." + +"Uncle, uncle," whispered one of them, sadly, "listen now or never, for +we have bad news for you and us. Your father is dead, and Earl Algar, +your brother, here in Ireland, outlawed a second time." + +A flood of sorrow passed through Hereward's heart. He kept it down, and +rising once more, harp in hand,-- + + "Hereward, king, hight I, + Holy Leofric my father, + In Westminster wiser + None walked with King Edward. + High minsters he builded, + Pale monks he maintained. + Dead is he, a bed-death, + A leech-death, a priest-death, + A straw-death, a cow's death. + Such doom I desire not. + To high heaven, all so softly, + The angels uphand him, + In meads of May flowers + Mild Mary will meet him. + Me, happier, the Valkyrs + Shall waft from the war-deck, + Shall hail from the holmgang + Or helmet-strewn moorland. + And sword-strokes my shrift be, + Sharp spears be my leeches, + With heroes' hot corpses + High heaped for my pillow." + +"Skall to the Viking!" shouted the Danes once more, at this outburst of +heathendom, common enough among their half-converted race, in times when +monasticism made so utter a divorce between the life of the devotee and +that of the worldling, that it seemed reasonable enough for either party +to have their own heaven and their own hell. After all, Hereward was +not original in his wish. He had but copied the death-song which his +father's friend and compeer, Siward Digre, the victor of Dunsinane, had +sung for himself some three years before. + +All praised his poetry, and especially the quickness of his +alliterations (then a note of the highest art); and the old king filling +not this time the horn, but a golden goblet, bid him drain it and keep +the goblet for his song. + +Young Sigtryg leapt up, and took the cup to Hereward. "Such a scald," he +said, "ought to have no meaner cup-bearer than a king's son." + +Hereward drank it dry; and then fixing his eyes meaningly on the +Prince, dropt the Princess's ring into the cup, and putting it back into +Sigtryg's hand, sang,-- + + "The beaker I reach back + More rich than I took it. + No gold will I grasp + Of the king's, the ring-giver, + Till, by wit or by weapon, + I worthily win it. + When brained by my biter + O'Brodar lies gory, + While over the wolf's meal + Fair widows are wailing." + +"Does he refuse my gift?" grumbled Ranald. + +"He has given a fair reason," said the Prince, as he hid the ring in his +bosom; "leave him to me; for my brother in arms he is henceforth." + +After which, as was the custom of those parts, most of them drank too +much liquor. But neither Sigtryg nor Hereward drank; and the two Siwards +stood behind their young uncle's seat, watching him with that intense +admiration which lads can feel for a young man. + +That night, when the warriors were asleep, Sigtryg and Hereward talked +out their plans. They would equip two ships; they would fight all the +kinglets of Cornwall at once, if need was; they would carry off the +Princess, and burn Alef's town over his head, if he said nay. Nothing +could be more simple than the tactics required in an age when might was +right. + +Then Hereward turned to his two nephews who lingered near him, plainly +big with news. + +"And what brings you here, lads?" He had hardened his heart, and made +up his mind to show no kindness to his own kin. The day might come when +they might need him; then it would be his turn. + +"Your father, as we told you, is dead." + +"So much the better for him, and the worse for England. And Harold and +the Godwinssons, of course, are lords and masters far and wide?" + +"Tosti has our grandfather Siward's earldom." + +"I know that. I know, too, that he will not keep it long, unless he +learns that Northumbrians are free men, and not Wessex slaves." + +"And Algar our uncle is outlawed again, after King Edward had given him +peaceably your father's earldom." + +"And why?" + +"Why was he outlawed two years ago?" + +"Because the Godwinssons hate him, I suppose." + +"And Algar is gone to Griffin, the Welshman, and from him on to Dublin +to get ships, just as he did two years ago; and has sent us here to get +ships likewise." + +"And what will he do with them when he has got them? He burnt Hereford +last time he was outlawed, by way of a wise deed, minster and all, with +St. Ethelbert's relics on board; and slew seven clergymen: but they were +only honest canons with wives at home, and not shaveling monks, so I +suppose that sin was easily shrived. Well, I robbed a priest of a few +pence, and was outlawed; he plunders and burns a whole minster, and is +made a great earl for it. One law for the weak and one for the strong, +young lads, as you will know when you are as old as I. And now I suppose +he will plunder and burn more minsters, and then patch up a peace with +Harold again; which I advise him strongly to do; for I warn you, young +lads, and you may carry that message from me to Dublin to my good +brother your uncle, that Harold's little finger is thicker than his +whole body; and that, false Godwinsson as he is, he is the only man with +a head upon his shoulders left in England, now that his father, and my +father, and dear old Siward, whom I loved better than my father, are +dead and gone." + +The lads stood silent, not a little awed, and indeed imposed on, by the +cynical and worldly-wise tone which their renowned uncle had assumed. + +At last one of them asked, falteringly, "Then you will do nothing for +us?" + +"For you, nothing. Against you, nothing. Why should I mix myself up +in my brother's quarrels? Will he make that white-headed driveller +at Westminster reverse my outlawry? And if he does, what shall I +get thereby? A younger brother's portion; a dirty ox-gang of land in +Kesteven. Let him leave me alone as I leave him, and see if I do not +come back to him some day, for or against him as he chooses, with such a +host of Vikings' sons as Harold Hardraade himself would be proud of. +By Thor's hammer, boys, I have been an outlaw but five years now, and I +find it so cheery a life, that I do not care if I am an outlaw for +fifty more. The world is a fine place and a wide place; and it is a very +little corner of it that I have seen yet; and if you were of my mettle, +you would come along with me and see it throughout to the four corners +of heaven, instead of mixing yourselves up in these paltry little +quarrels with which our two families are tearing England in pieces, +and being murdered perchance like dogs at last by treachery, as Sweyn +Godwinsson murdered Biorn." + +The boys listened, wide-eyed and wide-eared. Hereward knew to whom he +was speaking; and he had not spoken in vain. + +"What do you hope to get here?" he went on. "Ranald will give you +no ships: he will have enough to do to fight O'Brodar; and he is too +cunning to thrust his head into Algar's quarrels." + +"We hoped to find Vikings here, who would go to any war on the hope of +plunder." + +"If there be any, I want them more than you; and, what is more, I will +have them. They know that they will do finer deeds with me for their +captain than burning a few English homesteads. And so may you. Come with +me, lads. Once and for all, come. Help me to fight O'Brodar. Then help +me to another little adventure which I have on hand,--as pretty a one as +ever you heard a minstrel sing,--and then we will fit out a longship or +two, and go where fate leads,--to Constantinople, if you like. What can +you do better? You never will get that earldom from Tosti. Lucky for +young Waltheof, your uncle, if he gets it,--if he, and you too, are +not murdered within seven years; for I know Tosti's humor, when he has +rivals in his way----" + +"Algar will protect us," said one. + +"I tell you, Algar is no match for the Godwinssons. If the monk-king +died to-morrow, neither his earldom nor his life would be safe. When I +saw your father Asbiorn lie dead at Dunsinane, I said, 'There ends the +glory of the house of the bear;' and if you wish to make my words come +false, then leave England to founder and rot and fall to pieces,--as all +men say she is doing,--without your helping to hasten her ruin; and seek +glory and wealth too with me around the world! The white bear's blood is +in your veins, lads. Take to the sea like your ancestor, and come over +the swan's bath with me!" + +"That we will!" said the two lads. And well they kept their word. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +HOW HEREWARD SUCCORED THE PRINCESS OF CORNWALL A SECOND TIME. + + +Fat was the feasting and loud was the harping in the halls of Alef the +Cornishman, King of Gweek. Savory was the smell of fried pilchard and +hake; more savory still that of roast porpoise; most savory of all that +of fifty huge squab pies, built up of layers of apples, bacon, onions, +and mutton, and at the bottom of each a squab, or young cormorant, which +diffused both through the pie and through the ambient air a delicate +odor of mingled guano and polecat. And the occasion was worthy alike of +the smell and of the noise; for King Alef, finding that after the Ogre's +death the neighboring kings were but too ready to make reprisals on him +for his champion's murders and robberies, had made a treaty of alliance, +offensive and defensive, with Hannibal the son of Gryll, King of +Marazion, and had confirmed the same by bestowing on him the hand of +his fair daughter. Whether she approved of the match or not, was asked +neither by King Alef nor by King Hannibal. + +To-night was the bridal-feast. To-morrow morning the church was to +hallow the union, and after that Hannibal Grylls was to lead home his +bride, among a gallant company. + +And as they ate and drank, and harped and piped, there came into that +hall four shabbily drest men,--one of them a short, broad fellow, with +black elf-locks and a red beard,--and sat them down sneakingly at the +very lowest end of all the benches. + +In hospitable Cornwall, especially on such a day, every guest was +welcome; and the strangers sat peaceably, but ate nothing, though there +was both hake and pilchard within reach. + +Next to them, by chance, sat a great lourdan of a Dane, as honest, +brave, and stupid a fellow as ever tugged at oar; and after a while +they fell talking, till the strangers had heard the reason of this great +feast, and all the news of the country side. + +"But whence did they come, not to know it already; for all Cornwall was +talking thereof?" + +"O, they came out of Devonshire, seeking service down west, with some +merchant or rover, being seafaring men." + +The stranger with the black hair had been, meanwhile, earnestly watching +the Princess, who sat at the board's head. He saw her watching him in +return, and with a face sad enough. + +At last she burst into tears. + +"What should the bride weep for, at such a merry wedding?" asked he of +his companion. + +"O, cause enough;" and he told bluntly enough the Princess's story. "And +what is more," said he, "the King of Waterford sent a ship over last +week, with forty proper lads on board, and two gallant Holders with +them, to demand her; but for all answer, they were put into the strong +house, and there they lie, chained to a log, at this minute. Pity it is +and shame, I hold, for I am a Dane myself; and pity, too, that such +a bonny lass should go to an unkempt Welshman like this, instead of a +tight smart Viking's son, like the Waterford lad." + +The stranger answered nothing, but kept his eyes upon the Princess, till +she looked at him steadfastly in return. + +She turned pale and red again; but after a while she spoke:-- + +"There is a stranger there; and what his rank may be I know not; but he +has been thrust down to the lowest seat, in a house that used to honor +strangers, instead of treating them like slaves. Let him take this dish +from my hand, and eat joyfully, lest when he goes home he may speak +scorn of bridegroom and bride, and our Cornish weddings." + +The servant brought the dish down: he gave a look at the stranger's +shabby dress, turned up his nose, and pretending to mistake, put the +dish into the hand of the Dane. + +"Hold, lads," quoth the stranger. "If I have ears, that was meant for +me." + +He seized the platter with both hands; and therewith the hands both of +the Cornishman and of the Dane. There was a struggle; but so bitter was +the stranger's grip, that (says the chronicler) the blood burst from +the nails of both his opponents. + +He was called a "savage," a "devil in man's shape," and other dainty +names; but he was left to eat his squab pie in peace. + +"Patience, lads," quoth he, as he filled his mouth. "Before I take my +pleasure at this wedding, I will hand my own dish round as well as any +of you." + +Whereat men wondered, but held their tongues. + +And when the eating was over and the drinking began, the Princess rose, +and came round to drink the farewell health. + +With her maids behind her, and her harper before her (so was the Cornish +custom), she pledged one by one each of the guests, slave as well as +free, while the harper played a tune. + +She came down at last to the strangers. Her face was pale, and her eyes +red with weeping. + +She filled a cup of wine, and one of her maids offered it to the +stranger. + +He put it back, courteously, but firmly. "Not from your hand," said he. + +A growl against his bad manners rose straightway; and the minstrel, who +(as often happened in those days) was jester likewise, made merry at his +expense, and advised the company to turn the wild beast out of the hall. + +"Silence, fool!" said the Princess. "Why should he know our west-country +ways? He may take it from my hand, if not from hers." + +And she held out to him the cup herself. + +He took it, looking her steadily in the face; and it seemed to the +minstrel as if their hands lingered together round the cup-handle, and +that he saw the glitter of a ring. + +Like many another of his craft before and since, he was a vain, +meddlesome vagabond, and must needs pry into a secret which certainly +did not concern him. + +So he could not leave the stranger in peace: and knowing that his +privileged calling protected him from that formidable fist, he never +passed him by without a sneer or a jest, as he wandered round the table, +offering his harp, in the Cornish fashion, to any one who wished to play +and sing. + +"But not to you, Sir Elf-locks: he that is rude to a pretty girl when +she offers him wine, is too great a boor to understand my trade." + +"It is a fool's trick," answered the stranger at last, "to put off what +you must do at last. If I had but the time, I would pay you for your +tune with a better one than you ever heard." + +"Take the harp, then, boor!" said the minstrel, with a laugh and a jest. + +The stranger took it, and drew from it such music as made all heads turn +toward him at once. Then he began to sing, sometimes by himself, and +sometimes his comrades, "_more Girviorum tripliciter canentes_" joined +their voices in a three-man-glee. + +In vain the minstrel, jealous for his own credit, tried to snatch the +harp away. The stranger sang on, till all hearts were softened; and the +Princess, taking the rich shawl from her shoulders, threw it over those +of the stranger, saying that it was a gift too poor for such a scald. + +"Scald!" roared the bridegroom (now well in his cups) from the head of +the table; "ask what thou wilt, short of my bride and my kingdom, and it +is thine." + +"Give me, then, Hannibal Grylls, King of Marazion, the Danes who came +from Ranald, of Waterford." + +"You shall have them! Pity that you have asked for nothing better than +such tarry ruffians!" + +A few minutes after, the minstrel, bursting with jealousy and rage, was +whispering in Hannibal's ear. + +The hot old Punic [Footnote: Hannibal, still a common name in Cornwall, +is held--and not unlikely--to have been introduced there by the ancient +Phoenician colonists.] blood flushed up in his cheeks, and his thin +Punic lips curved into a snaky smile. Perhaps the old Punic treachery in +his heart; for all that he was heard to reply was, "We must not disturb +the good-fellowship of a Cornish wedding." + +The stranger, nevertheless, and the Princess likewise, had seen that +bitter smile. + +Men drank hard and long that night; and when daylight came, the +strangers were gone. + +In the morning the marriage ceremony was performed; and then began the +pageant of leading home the bride. The minstrels went first, harping and +piping; then King Hannibal, carrying his bride behind him on a pillion; +and after them a string of servants and men-at-arms, leading country +ponies laden with the bride's dower. Along with them, unarmed, sulky, +and suspicious, walked the forty Danes, who were informed that they +should go to Marazion, and there be shipped off for Ireland. + +Now, as all men know, those parts of Cornwall, flat and open furze-downs +aloft, are cut, for many miles inland, by long branches of tide river, +walled in by woods and rocks, which rivers join at last in the great +basin of Falmouth harbor; and by crossing one or more of these, the +bridal party would save many a mile on their road towards the west. + +So they had timed their journey by the tides: lest, finding low water +in the rivers, they should have to wade to the ferry-boats waist deep +in mud; and going down the steep hillside, through oak and ash and hazel +copse, they entered, as many as could, a great flat-bottomed barge, and +were rowed across some quarter of a mile, to land under a jutting crag, +and go up again by a similar path into the woods. + +So the first boat-load went up, the minstrels in front, harping and +piping till the greenwood rang, King Hannibal next, with his bride, and +behind him spear-men and axe-men, with a Dane between every two. + +When they had risen some two hundred feet, and were in the heart of the +forest, Hannibal turned, and made a sign to the men behind him. + +Then each pair of them seized the Dane between them, and began to bind +his hands behind his back. "What will you do with us?" + +"Send you back to Ireland,--a king never breaks his word,--but pick +out your right eyes first, to show your master how much I care for him. +Lucky for you that I leave you an eye apiece, to find your friend the +harper, whom if I catch, I flay alive." + +"You promised!" cried the Princess. + +"And so did you, traitress!" and he gripped her arm, which was round his +waist, till she screamed. "So did you promise: but not to me. And you +shall pass your bridal night in my dog-kennel, after my dog-whip has +taught you not to give rings again to wandering harpers." + +The wretched Princess shuddered; for she knew too well that such an +atrocity was easy and common enough. She knew it well. Why should she +not? The story of the Cid's Daughters and the Knights of Carrion; the +far more authentic one of Robert of Belesme; and many another ugly tale +of the early middle age, will prove but too certainly that, before the +days of chivalry began, neither youth, beauty, nor the sacred ties of +matrimony, could protect women from the most horrible outrages, at the +hands of those who should have been their protectors. It was reserved +for monks and inquisitors, in the name of religion and the Gospel, to +continue, through after centuries, those brutalities toward women of +which gentlemen and knights had grown ashamed, save when (as in the case +of the Albigense crusaders) monks and inquisitors bade them torture, +mutilate, and burn, in the name of Him who died on the cross. + +But the words had hardly passed the lips of Hannibal, ere he reeled in +the saddle, and fell to the ground, a javelin through his heart. + +A strong arm caught the Princess. A voice which she knew bade her have +no fear. + +"Bind your horse to a tree, for we shall want him; and wait!" + +Three well-armed men rushed on the nearest Cornishmen, and hewed them +down. A fourth unbound the Dane, and bade him catch up a weapon, and +fight for his life. + +A second pair were dispatched, a second Dane freed, ere a minute was +over; the Cornishmen, struggling up the narrow path toward the shouts +above, were overpowered in detail by continually increasing numbers; and +ere half an hour was over, the whole party were freed, mounted on the +ponies, and making their way over the downs toward the west. + +"Noble, noble Hereward!" said the Princess, as she sat behind him on +Hannibal's horse. "I knew you from the first moment; and my nurse knew +you too. Is she here? Is she safe?" + +"I have taken care of that. She has done us too good service to be left +here, and be hanged." + +"I knew you, in spite of your hair, by your eyes." + +"Yes," said Hereward. "It is not every man who carries one gray eye and +one blue. The more difficult for me to go mumming when I need." + +"But how came you hither, of all places in the world?" + +"When you sent your nurse to me last night, to warn me that treason was +abroad, it was easy for me to ask your road to Marazion; and easier too, +when I found that you would go home the very way we came, to know that I +must make my stand here or nowhere." + +"The way you came? Then where are we going now?" + +"Beyond Marazion, to a little cove,--I cannot tell its name. There lies +Sigtryg, your betrothed, and three good ships of war." + +"There? Why did he not come for me himself?" + +"Why? Because we knew nothing of what was toward. We meant to have +sailed straight up your river to your father's town, and taken you +out with a high hand. We had sworn an oath,--which, as you saw, I +kept,--neither to eat nor drink in your house, save out of your own +hands. But the easterly wind would not let us round the Lizard; so we +put into that cove, and there I and these two lads, my nephews, offered +to go forward as spies, while Sigtryg threw up an earthwork, and made a +stand against the Cornish. We meant merely to go back to him, and give +him news. But when I found you as good as wedded, I had to do what I +could while I could; and I have done it." + +"You have, my noble and true champion," said she, kissing him. + +"Humph!" quoth Hereward, laughing. "Do not tempt me by being too +grateful. It is hard enough to gather honey, like the bees, for other +folks to eat. What if I kept you myself, now I have got you?" + +"Hereward!" + +"O, there is no fear, pretty lady. I have other things to think of than +making love to you,--and one is, how we are to get to our ships, and +moreover, past Marazion town." + +And hard work they had to get thither. The country was soon roused and +up in arms; and it was only by wandering a three days' circuit through +bogs and moors, till the ponies were utterly tired out, and left behind +(the bulkier part of the dowry being left behind with them), that they +made their appearance on the shore of Mount's Bay, Hereward leading the +Princess in triumph upon Hannibal's horse. + +After which they all sailed away for Ireland, and there, like young +Beichan,-- + + "Prepared another wedding, + With all their hearts so full of glee." + +And this is the episode of the Cornish Princess, as told by Leofric of +Bourne, the cunning minstrel and warlike priest. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +HOW HEREWARD WAS WRECKED UPON THE FLANDERS SHORE. + + +Hereward had drunk his share at Sigtryg's wedding. He had helped to +harry the lands of O'Brodar till (as King Ranald had threatened) there +was not a sucking-pig left in Ivark, and the poor folk died of famine, +as they did about every seven years; he had burst (says the chronicler) +through the Irish camp with a chosen band of Berserkers, slain O'Brodar +in his tent, brought off his war-horn as a trophy, and cut his way back +to the Danish army,--a feat in which the two Siwards were grievously +wounded; and had in all things shown himself a daring and crafty +captain, as careless of his own life as of other folks'. + +Then a great home-sickness had seized him. He would go back and see +the old house, and the cattle-pastures, and the meres and fens of his +boyhood. He would see his widowed mother. Perhaps her heart was softened +to him by now, as his was toward her; and if not, he could show her that +he could do without her; that others thought him a fine fellow if she +did not. Hereward knew that he had won honor and glory for himself; +that his name was in the mouths of all warriors and sea-rovers round the +coasts as the most likely young champion of the time, able to rival, if +he had the opportunity, the prowess of Harold Hardraade himself. Yes, +he would go and see his mother: he would be kind if she was kind; if she +were not, he would boast and swagger, as he was but too apt to do. That +he should go back at the risk of his life; that any one who found him on +English ground might kill him; and that many would certainly try to +kill him, he knew very well. But that only gave special zest to the +adventure. + +Martin Lightfoot heard this news with joy. + +"I have no more to do here," said he. "I have searched and asked far and +wide for the man I want, and he is not on the Irish shores. Some say he +is gone to the Orkneys, some to Denmark. Never mind; I shall find him +before I die." + +"And for whom art looking?" + +"For one Thord Gunlaugsson, my father." + +"And what wantest with him?" + +"To put this through his brain." And he showed his axe. + +"Thy father's brain?" + +"Look you, lord. A man owes his father naught, and his mother all. At +least so hold I. 'Man that is of woman born,' say all the world; and +they say right. Now, if any man hang up that mother by hands and feet, +and flog her to death, is not he that is of that mother born bound to +revenge her upon any man, and all the more if that man had first his +wicked will of that poor mother? Considering that last, lord, I do not +know but what I am bound to avenge my mother's shame upon the man, even +if he had never killed her. No, lord, you need not try to talk this out +of my head. It has been there nigh twenty years; and I say it over to +myself every night before I sleep, lest I should forget the one thing +which I must do before I die. Find him I will, and find him I shall, if +there be justice in heaven above." + +So Hereward asked Ranald for ships, and got at once two good vessels as +payment for his doughty deeds. + +One he christened the _Garpike_, from her narrow build and long beak, +and the other the _Otter_, because, he said, whatever she grappled she +would never let go till she heard the bones crack. They were excellent, +new "snekrs," nearly eighty feet long each; with double banks for twelve +oars a side in the waist, which was open, save a fighting gangway along +the sides; with high poop and forecastle decks; and with one large sail +apiece, embroidered by Sigtryg's Princess and the other ladies with a +huge white bear, which Hereward had chosen as his ensign. + +As for men, there were fifty fellows as desperate as Hereward himself, +to take service with him for that or any other quest. So they ballasted +their ships with great pebbles, stowed under the thwarts, to be used +as ammunition in case of boarding; and over them the barrels of ale and +pork and meal, well covered with tarpaulins. They stowed in the cabins, +fore and aft, their weapons,--swords, spears, axes, bows, chests of +arrow-heads, leather bags of bowstrings, mail-shirts, and helmets, and +fine clothes for holidays and fighting days. They hung their shields, +after the old fashion, out-board along the gunwale, and a right gay show +they made; and so rowed out of Waterford harbor amid the tears of the +ladies and the cheers of the men. + +But, as it befell, the voyage did not prosper. Hereward found his +vessels under-manned, and had to sail northward for fresh hands. He got +none in Dublin, for they were all gone to the Welsh marches to help Earl +Alfgar and King Griffin. So he went on through the Hebrides, intending, +of course, to plunder as he went: but there he got but little booty, and +lost several men. So he went on again to the Orkneys, to try for fresh +hands from the Norse Earl Hereof; but there befell a fresh mishap. They +were followed by a whale, which they made sure was a witch-whale, and +boded more ill luck; and accordingly they were struck by a storm in the +Pentland Frith, and the poor _Garpike_ went on shore on Hoy, and was +left there forever and a day, her crew being hardly saved, and very +little of her cargo. + +However, the _Otter_ was now not only manned, but over manned; and +Hereward had to leave a dozen stout fellows in Kirkwall, and sail +southward again, singing cheerily to his men,-- + + "Lightly the long-snake + Leaps after tempests, + Gayly the sun-gleam + Glows after rain + In labor and daring + Lies luck for all mortals, + Foul winds and foul witch-wives + Fray women alone." + +But their mishaps were not over yet. They were hardly out of Stronsay +Frith when they saw the witch-whale again, following them up, rolling +and spouting and breaching in most uncanny wise. Some said that they saw +a gray woman on his back; and they knew--possibly from the look of the +sky, but certainly from the whale's behavior--that there was more heavy +weather yet coming from the northward. + +From that day forward the whale never left them, nor the wild weather +neither. They were beaten out of all reckoning. Once they thought they +saw low land to the eastward, but what or where who could tell? and as +for making it, the wind, which had blown hard from northeast, backed +against the sun and blew from west; from which, as well as from +the witch-whale, they expected another gale from north and round to +northeast. + +The men grew sulky and fearful. Some were for trying to run the witch +down and break her back, as did Frithiof in like case, when hunted by a +whale with two hags upon his back,--an excellent recipe in such cases, +but somewhat difficult in a heavy sea. Others said that there was a +doomed man on board, and proposed to cast lots till they found him out, +and cast him into the sea, as a sacrifice to Aegir the wave-god. But +Hereward scouted that as unmanly and cowardly, and sang,-- + + "With blood of my bold ones, + With bale of my comrades, + Thinks Aegir, brine-thirsty, + His throat he can slake? + Though salt spray, shrill-sounding, + Sweep in swan's-flights above us, + True heroes, troth-plighted, + Together we'll die." + +At last, after many days, their strength was all but worn out. They +had long since given over rowing, and contented themselves with running +under a close-reefed canvas whithersoever the storm should choose. At +night a sea broke over them, and would have swamped the _Otter_, had she +not been the best of sea-boats. But she only rolled the lee shields into +the water and out again, shook herself, and went on. Nevertheless, there +were three men on the poop when the sea came in, who were not there when +it went out. + +Wet and wild dawned that morning, showing naught but gray sea and gray +air. Then sang Hereward,-- + + "Cheerly, my sea-cocks + Crow for the day-dawn. + Weary and wet are we, + Water beladen. + Wetter our comrades, + Whelmed by the witch-whale. + Us Aegir granted + Grudging, to Gondul, + Doomed to die dry-shod, + Daring the foe." + +Whereat the hearts of the men were much cheered. + +All of a sudden, as is the wont of gales at dawn, the clouds rose, tore +up into ribbons, and with a fierce black shower or two, blew clean away; +disclosing a bright blue sky, a green rolling sea, and, a few miles off +to leeward, a pale yellow line, seen only as they topped a wave, but +seen only too well. To keep the ship off shore was impossible; and as +they drifted nearer and nearer, the line of sand-hills rose, uglier and +more formidable, through the gray spray of the surf. + +"We shall die on shore, but not dry-shod," said Martin. "Do any of you +knights of the tar-brush know whether we are going to be drowned in +Christian waters? I should like a mass or two for my soul, and shall die +the happier within sight of a church-tower." + +"One Dune is as like another as one pea; we may be anywhere between the +Texel and Cap Gris Nez, but I think nearer the latter than the former." + +"So much the worse for us," said another. "If we had gone ashore +among those Frieslanders, we should have been only knocked on the head +outright; but if we fall among the Frenchmen, we shall be clapt in +prison strong, and tortured till we find ransom." + +"I don't see that," said Martin. "We can all be drowned if we like, I +suppose?" + +"Drowned we need not be, if we be men," said the old sailing-master to +Hereward. "The tide is full high, and that gives us one chance for our +lives. Keep her head straight, and row like fiends when we are once +in the surf, and then beach her up high and dry, and take what befalls +after." + +And what was likely to befall was ugly enough. Then, as centuries after, +all wrecks and wrecked men were public prey; shipwrecked mariners were +liable to be sold as slaves; and the petty counts of the French and +Flemish shores were but too likely to extract ransom by prison and +torture, as Guy Earl of Penthieu would have done (so at least William +Duke of Normandy hinted) by Harold Godwinsson, had not William, for his +own politic ends, begged the release of the shipwrecked earl. + +Already they had been seen from the beach. The country folk, who were +prowling about the shore after the waifs of the storm, deserted "jetsom +and lagend," and crowded to meet the richer prize which was coming in +"flotsom," to become "jetsom" in its turn. + +"Axe-men and bow-men, put on your harness, and be ready; but neither +strike nor shoot till I give the word. We must land peaceably if we can; +if not, we will die fighting." + +So said Hereward, and took the rudder into his own hand. "Now then," +as she rushed into the breakers, "pull together, rowers all, and with a +will." + +The men yelled, and sprang from the thwarts as they tugged at the oars. +The sea boiled past them, surged into the waist, blinded them with +spray. She grazed the sand once, twice, thrice, leaping forward +gallantly each time; and then, pressed by a huge wave, drove high +and dry upon the beach, as the oars snapt right and left, and the men +tumbled over each other in heaps. + +The peasants swarmed down like flies to a carcass; but they recoiled as +there rose over the forecastle bulwarks, not the broad hats of peaceful +buscarles, but peaked helmets, round red shields, and glittering axes. +They drew back, and one or two arrows flew from the crowd into the ship. +But at Hereward's command no arrows were shot in answer. + +"Bale her out quietly; and let us show these fellows that we are not +afraid of them. That is the best chance of peace." + +At this moment a mounted party came down between the sandhills; it might +be, some twenty strong. Before them rode a boy on a jennet, and by him +a clerk, as he seemed, upon a mule. They stopped to talk with the +peasants, and then to consult among themselves. Suddenly the boy turned +from his party; and galloping down the shore, while the clerk called +after him in vain, reined up his horse, fetlock deep in water, within +ten yards of the ship's bows. + +"Yield yourselves!" he shouted, in French, as he brandished a hunting +spear. "Yield yourselves, or die!" + +Hereward looked at him smiling, as he sat there, keeping the head of +his frightened horse toward the ship with hand and heel, his long locks +streaming in the wind, his face full of courage and command, and of +honesty and sweetness withal; and thought that he had never seen so fair +a lad. + +"And who art thou, thou pretty, bold boy?" asked Hereward, in French. + +"I," said he, haughtily enough, as resenting Hereward's familiar "thou," +"am Arnulf, grandson and heir of Baldwin, Marquis of Flanders, and lord +of this land. And to his grace I call on you to surrender yourselves." + +Hereward looked, not only with interest, but respect, upon the grandson +of one of the most famous and prosperous of northern potentates, the +descendant of the mighty Charlemagne himself. He turned and told the men +who the boy was. + +"It would be a good trick," quoth one, "to catch that young whelp, and +keep him as a hostage." + +"Here is what will have him on board before he can turn," said another, +as he made a running noose in a rope. + +"Quiet, men! Am I master in this ship or you?" + +Hereward saluted the lad courteously. "Verily the blood of Baldwin of +the Iron Arm has not degenerated. I am happy to behold so noble a son of +so noble a race." + +"And who are you, who speak French so well, and yet by your dress are +neither French nor Fleming?" + +"I am Harold Naemansson, the Viking; and these my men. I am here, +sailing peaceably for England; as for yielding,--mine yield to no +living man, but die as we are, weapon in hand. I have heard of your +grandfather, that he is a just man and a bountiful; therefore take this +message to him, young sir. If he have wars toward, I and my men will +fight for him with all our might, and earn hospitality and ransom with +our only treasure, which is our swords. But if he be at peace, then let +him bid us go in peace, for we are Vikings, and must fight, or rot and +die." + +"You are Vikings?" cried the boy, pressing his horse into the foam so +eagerly, that the men, mistaking his intent, had to be represt again by +Hereward. "You are Vikings! Then come on shore, and welcome. You +shall be my friends. You shall be my brothers. I will answer to my +grandfather. I have longed to see Vikings. I long to be a Viking +myself." + +"By the hammer of Thor," cried the old master, "and thou wouldst make a +bonny one, my lad." + +Hereward hesitated, delighted with the boy, but by no means sure of his +power to protect them. + +But the boy rode back to his companions, who had by this time ridden +cautiously down to the sea, and talked and gesticulated eagerly. + +Then the clerk rode down and talked with Hereward. + +"Are you Christians?" shouted he, before he would adventure himself near +the ship. + +"Christians we are, Sir Clerk, and dare do no harm to a man of God." + +The Clerk rode nearer; his handsome palfrey, furred cloak, rich gloves +and boots, moreover his air of command, showed that he was no common +man. + +"I," said he, "am the Abbot of St. Bertin of Sithiu, and tutor of yonder +prince. I can bring down, at a word, against you, the Chatelain of St. +Omer, with all his knights, besides knights and men-at-arms of my own. +But I am a man of peace, and not of war, and would have no blood shed if +I can help it." + +"Then make peace," said Hereward. "Your lord may kill us if he will, or +have us for his guests if he will. If he does the first, we shall kill, +each of us, a few of his men before we die; if the latter, we shall +kill a few of his foes. If you be a man of God, you will counsel him +accordingly." + +"Alas! alas!" said the Abbot, with a shudder, "that, ever since Adam's +fall, sinful man should talk of nothing but slaying and being slain; not +knowing that his soul is slain already by sin, and that a worse death +awaits him hereafter than that death of the body of which he makes so +light!" + +"A very good sermon, my Lord Abbot, to listen to next Sunday morning: +but we are hungry and wet and desperate just now; and if you do not +settle this matter for us, our blood will be on your head,--and maybe +your own likewise." + +The Abbot rode out of the water faster than he had ridden in, and a +fresh consultation ensued, after which the boy, with a warning gesture +to his companions, turned and galloped away through the sand-hills. + +"He is gone to his grandfather himself, I verily believe," quoth +Hereward. + +They waited for some two hours, unmolested; and, true to their policy +of seeming recklessness, shifted and dried themselves as well as +they could, ate what provisions were unspoilt by the salt water, and, +broaching the last barrel of ale, drank healths to each other and to the +Flemings on shore. + +At last down rode, with the boy, a noble-looking man, and behind +him more knights and men-at-arms. He announced himself as Manasses, +Chatelain of St. Omer, and repeated the demand to surrender. + +"There is no need for it," said Hereward. "We are already that young +prince's guests. He has said that we shall be his friends and brothers. +He has said that he will answer to his grandfather, the great Marquis, +whom I and mine shall be proud to serve. I claim the word of a +descendant of Charlemagne." + +"And you shall have it!" cried the boy. "Chatelain! Abbot! these men are +mine. They shall come with me, and lodge in St. Bertin." + +"Heaven forefend!" murmured the Abbot. + +"They will be safe, at least, within your ramparts," whispered the +Chatelain. + +"And they shall tell me about the sea. Have I not told you how I long +for Vikings; how I will have Vikings of my own, and sail the seas with +them, like my Uncle Robert, and go to Spain and fight the Moors, and +to Constantinople and marry the Kaiser's daughter? Come," he cried to +Hereward, "come on shore, and he that touches you or your ship, touches +me!" + +"Sir Chatelain and my Lord Abbot," said Hereward, "you see that, Viking +though I be, I am no barbarous heathen, but a French-speaking gentleman, +like yourselves. It had been easy for me, had I not been a man of honor, +to have cast a rope, as my sailors would have had me do, over that young +boy's fair head, and haled him on board, to answer for my life with +his own. But I loved him, and trusted him, as I would an angel out +of heaven; and I trust him still. To him, and him only, will I yield +myself, on condition that I and my men shall keep all our arms +and treasure, and enter his service, to fight his foes, and his +grandfather's, wheresoever they will, by land or sea." + +"Fair sir," said the Abbot, "pirate though you call yourself, you speak +so courtly and clerkly, that I, too, am inclined to trust you; and if my +young lord will have it so, into St. Bertin I will receive you, till our +lord, the Marquis, shall give orders about you and yours." + +So promises were given all round; and Hereward explained the matter to +the men, without whose advice (for they were all as free as himself) he +could not act. + +"Needs must," grunted they, as they packed up each his little valuables. + +Then Hereward sheathed his sword, and leaping from the bow, came up to +the boy. + +"Put your hands between his, fair sir," said the Chatelain. + +"That is not the manner of Vikings." + +And he took the boy's right hand, and grasped it in the plain English +fashion. + +"There is the hand of an honest man. Come down, men, and take this young +lord's hand, and serve him in the wars as I will do." + +One, by one the men came down; and each took Arnulf's hand, and shook it +till the lad's face grew red. But none of them bowed, or made obeisance. +They looked the boy full in the face, and as they stepped back, stared +round upon the ring of armed men with a smile and something of a +swagger. + +"These are they who bow to no man, and call no man master," whispered +the Abbot. + +And so they were: and so are their descendants of Scotland and +Northumbria, unto this very day. + +The boy sprang from his horse, and walked among them and round them in +delight. He admired and handled their long-handled double axes; their +short sea-bows of horn and deer-sinew; their red Danish jerkins; their +blue sea-cloaks, fastened on the shoulder with rich brooches; and the +gold and silver bracelets on their wrists. He wondered at their long +shaggy beards, and still more at the blue patterns with which the +English among them, Hereward especially, were tattooed on throat and arm +and knee. + +"Yes, you are Vikings,--just such as my Uncle Robert tells me of." + +Hereward knew well the exploits of Robert le Frison in Spain and Greece. +"I trust that your noble uncle," he asked, "is well? He was one of us +poor sea-cocks, and sailed the swan's path gallantly, till he became +a mighty prince. Here is a man here who was with your noble uncle in +Byzant." + +And he thrust forward the old master. + +The boy's delight knew no bounds. He should tell him all about that in +St. Bertin. + +Then he rode back to the ship, and round and round her (for the tide +by that time had left her high and dry), and wondered at her long +snake-like lines, and carven stem and stern. + +"Tell me about this ship. Let me go on board of her. I have never seen +a ship inland at Mons there; and even here there are only heavy ugly +busses, and little fishing-boats. No. You must be all hungry and tired. +We will go to St. Bertin at once, and you shall be feasted royally. +Hearken, villains!" shouted he to the peasants. "This ship belongs to +the fair sir here,--my guest and friend; and if any man dares to steal +from her a stave or a nail, I will have his thief's hand cut off." + +"The ship, fair lord," said Hereward, "is yours, not mine. You should +build twenty more after her pattern, and man them with such lads as +these, and then go down to + + 'Miklagard and Spanialand, + That lie so far on the lee, O!' + +as did your noble uncle before you." + +And so they marched inland, after the boy had dismounted one of his men, +and put Hereward on the horse. + +"You gentlemen of the sea can ride as well as sail," said the chatelain, +as he remarked with some surprise Hereward's perfect seat and hand. + +"We should soon learn to fly likewise," laughed Hereward, "if there were +any booty to be picked up in the clouds there overhead"; and he rode on +by Arnulf's side, as the lad questioned him about the sea, and nothing +else. + +"Ah, my boy," said Hereward at last, "look there, and let those be +Vikings who must." + +And he pointed to the rich pastures, broken by strips of corn-land and +snug farms, which stretched between the sea and the great forest of +Flanders. + +"What do you mean?" + +But Hereward was silent. It was so like his own native fens. For a +moment there came over him the longing for a home. To settle down in +such a fair fat land, and call good acres his own; and marry and beget +stalwart sons, to till the old estate when he could till no more. +Might not that be a better life--at least a happier one--than restless, +homeless, aimless adventure? And now, just as he had had a hope of +peace,--a hope of seeing his own land, his own folk, perhaps of making +peace with his mother and his king,--the very waves would not let him +rest, but sped him forth, a storm-tossed waif, to begin life anew, +fighting he cared not whom or why, in a strange land. + +So he was silent and sad withal. + +"What does he mean?" asked the boy of the Abbot. + +"He seems a wise man: let him answer for himself." + +The boy asked once more. + +"Lad! lad!" said Hereward, waking as from a dream. "If you be heir to +such a fair land as that, thank God for it, and pray to Him that you may +rule it justly, and keep it in peace, as they say your grandfather and +your father do; and leave glory and fame and the Vikings' bloody trade +to those who have neither father nor mother, wife nor land, but live +like the wolf of the wood, from one meal to the next." + +"I thank you for those words, Sir Harold," said the good Abbot, while +the boy went on abashed, and Hereward himself was startled at his own +saying, and rode silent till they crossed the drawbridge of St. +Bertin, and entered that ancient fortress, so strong that it was the +hiding-place in war time for all the treasures of the country, and so +sacred withal that no woman, dead or alive, was allowed to defile it by +her presence; so that the wife of Baldwin the Bold, ancestor of Arnulf, +wishing to lie by her husband, had to remove his corpse from St. Bertin +to the Abbey of Blandigni, where the Counts of Flanders lay in glory for +many a generation. + +The pirates entered, not without gloomy distrust, the gates of that +consecrated fortress; while the monks in their turn were (and with some +reason) considerably frightened when they were asked to entertain as +guests forty Norse rovers. Loudly did the elder among them bewail +(in Latin, lest their guests should understand too much) the present +weakness of their monastery, where St. Bertin was left to defend himself +and his monks all alone against the wicked world outside. Far different +had been their case some hundred and seventy years before. Then St. +Valeri and St. Riquier of Ponthieu, transported thither from their own +resting-places in France for fear of the invading Northmen, had joined +their suffrages and merits to those of St. Bertin, with such success +that the abbey had never been defiled by the foot of the heathen. But, +alas! the saints, that is their bodies, after a while became homesick; +and St. Valeri appearing in a dream to Hugh Capet, bade him bring them +back to France in spite of Arnulf, Count of those parts, who wished much +to retain so valuable an addition to his household gods. + +But in vain. Hugh Capet was a man who took few denials. With knights and +men-at-arms he came, and Count Arnulf had to send home the holy corpses +with all humility, and leave St. Bertin all alone. + +Whereon St. Valeri appeared in a dream to Hugh Capet, and said unto +him, "Because thou hast zealously done what I commanded, thou and +thy successors shall reign in the kingdom of France to everlasting +generations." [Footnote: "Histoire des Comtes de Flandre," par E. le +Glay. E. gestis SS. Richarii et Walerici.] + +However, there was no refusing the grandson and heir of Count Baldwin; +and the hearts of the monks were comforted by hearing that Hereward was +a good Christian, and that most of his crew had been at least baptized. +The Abbot therefore took courage, and admitted them into the hospice, +with solemn warnings as to the doom which they might expect if they took +the value of a horse-nail from the patrimony of the blessed saint. Was +he less powerful or less careful of his own honor than St. Lieven of +Holthem, who, not more than fifty years before, had struck stone-blind +four soldiers of the Emperor Henry's, who had dared, after warning, to +plunder the altar? [Footnote: Ibid.] Let them remember, too, the fate of +their own forefathers, the heathens of the North, and the check which, +one hundred and seventy years before, they had received under those very +walls. They had exterminated the people of Walcheren; they had taken +prisoner Count Regnier; they had burnt Ghent, Bruges, and St. Omer +itself, close by; they had left naught between the Scheldt and the +Somme, save stark corpses and blackened ruins. What could withstand them +till they dared to lift audacious hands against the heavenly lord +who sleeps there in Sithiu? Then they poured down in vain over the +Heilig-Veld, innumerable as the locusts. Poor monks, strong in the +protection of the holy Bertin, sallied out and smote them hip and thigh, +singing their psalms the while. The ditches of the fortress were filled +with unbaptized corpses; the piles of vine-twigs which they lighted to +burn down the gates turned their flames into the Norsemen's faces at the +bidding of St. Bertin; and they fled from that temporal fire to descend +into that which is eternal, while the gates of the pit were too narrow +for the multitude of their miscreant souls. [Footnote: This gallant feat +was performed in the A.D. 891.] + +So the Norsemen heard, and feared; and only cast longing eyes at the +gold and tapestries of the altars, when they went in to mass. + +For the good Abbot, gaining courage still further, had pointed out to +Hereward and his men that it had been surely by the merits and suffrages +of the blessed St. Bertin that they had escaped a watery grave. + +Hereward and his men, for their part, were not inclined to deny the +theory. That they had miraculously escaped, from the accident of the +tide being high, they knew full well; and that St. Bertin should have +done them the service was probable enough. He, of course, was lord and +master in his own country, and very probably a few miles out to sea +likewise. + +So Hereward assured the Abbot that he had no mind to eat St. Bertin's +bread, or accept his favors, without paying honestly for them; and after +mass he took from his shoulders a handsome silk cloak (the only one he +had), with a great Scotch Cairngorm brooch, and bade them buckle it on +the shoulders of the great image of St. Bertin. + +At which St. Bertin was so pleased (being, like many saints, male +and female, somewhat proud after their death of the finery which they +despised during life), that he appeared that night to a certain monk, +and told him that if Hereward would continue duly to honor him, the +blessed St. Bertin, and his monks at that place, he would, in his turn, +insure him victory in all his battles by land and sea. + +After which Hereward stayed quietly in the abbey certain days; and young +Arnulf, in spite of all remonstrances from the Abbot, would never leave +his side till he had heard from him and from his men as much of their +adventures as they thought it prudent to relate. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +HOW HEREWARD WENT TO THE WAR AT GUISNES. + + +The dominion of Baldwin of Lille,--Baldwin the Debonair,--Marquis of +Flanders, and just then the greatest potentate in Europe after the +Kaiser of Germany and the Kaiser of Constantinople, extended from the +Somme to the Scheldt, including thus much territory which now belongs +to France. His forefathers had ruled there ever since the days of +the "Foresters" of Charlemagne, who held the vast forests against the +heathens of the fens; and of that famous Baldwin Bras-de-fer,--who, +when the foul fiend rose out of the Scheldt, and tried to drag him down, +tried cold steel upon him (being a practical man), and made his ghostly +adversary feel so sorely the weight of the "iron arm," that he retired +into his native mud,--or even lower still. + +He, like a daring knight as he was, ran off with his (so some say) early +love, Judith, daughter of Charles the Bald of France, a descendant +of Charlemagne himself. Married up to Ethelwulf of England, and thus +stepmother of Alfred the Great,--after his death behaving, alas for her! +not over wisely or well, she had verified the saying: + + "Nous revenons toujours + A nos premiers amours," + +and ran away with Baldwin. + +Charles, furious that one of his earls, a mere lieutenant and creature, +should dare to marry a daughter of Charlemagne's house, would have +attacked him with horse and foot, fire and sword, had not Baldwin been +the only man who could defend his northern frontier against the heathen +Norsemen. + +The Pope, as Charles was his good friend, fulminated against Baldwin the +excommunication destined for him who stole a widow for his wife, and all +his accomplices. + +Baldwin and Judith went straight to Rome, and told their story to the +Pope. + +He, honest man, wrote to Charles the Bald a letter which still +remains,--alike merciful, sentimental, and politic, with its usual +ingrained element of what we now call (from the old monkish word +"cantare") cant. Of Baldwin's horrible wickedness there is no doubt. Of +his repentance (in all matters short of amendment of life, by giving up +the fair Judith), still less. But the Pope has "another motive for so +acting. He fears lest Baldwin, under the weight of Charles's wrath and +indignation, should make alliance with the Normans, enemies of God and +the holy Church; and thus an occasion arise of peril and scandal for +the people of God, whom Charles ought to rule," &c., &c., which if it +happened, it would be worse for them and for Charles's own soul. + +To which very sensible and humane missive (times and creeds being +considered), Charles answered, after pouting and sulking, by making +Baldwin _bona fide_ king of all between Somme and Scheldt, and leaving +him to raise a royal race from Judith, the wicked and the fair. + +This all happened about A.D. 863. Two hundred years after, there ruled +over that same land Baldwin the Debonair, as "Marquis of the Flamands." + +Baldwin had had his troubles. He had fought the Count of Holland. He +had fought the Emperor of Germany; during which war he had burnt the +cathedral of Nimeguen, and did other unrighteous and unwise things; and +had been beaten after all. + +Baldwin had had his troubles, and had deserved them. But he had had his +glories, and had deserved them likewise. He had cut the Fosse Neuf, or +new dike, which parted Artois from Flanders. He had so beautified the +cathedral of Lille, that he was called Baldwin of Lille to his dying +day. He had married Adela, the queen countess, daughter of the King of +France. He had become tutor of Philip, the young King, and more or less +thereby regent of the north of France, and had fulfilled his office +wisely and well. He had married his eldest son, Baldwin the Good, to +the terrible sorceress Richilda, heiress of Hainault, wherefore +the bridegroom was named Baldwin of Mons. He had married one of his +daughters, Matilda, to William of Normandy, afterwards the Conqueror; +and another, Judith, to Tosti Godwinsson, the son of the great Earl +Godwin of England. She afterwards married Welf, Duke of Bavaria; +whereby, it may be, the blood of Baldwin of Flanders runs in the veins +of Queen Victoria. + +And thus there were few potentates of the North more feared and +respected than Baldwin, the good-natured Earl of Flanders. + +But one sore thorn in the side he had, which other despots after him +shared with him, and with even worse success in extracting it,--namely, +the valiant men of Scaldmariland, which we now call Holland. Of them +hereafter. At the moment of Hereward's arrival, he was troubled with +a lesser thorn, the Count of Guisnes, who would not pay him up certain +dues, and otherwise acknowledge his sovereignty. + +Therefore when the chatelain of St. Omer sent him word to Bruges that +a strange Viking had landed with his crew, calling himself Harold +Naemansson, and offering to take service with him, he returned for +answer that the said Harold might make proof of his faith and prowess +upon the said Count, in which, if he acquitted himself like a good +knight, Baldwin would have further dealings with him. + +So the chatelain of St. Omer, with all his knights and men-at-arms, +and Hereward with his sea-cocks, marched northwest up to Guisnes, with +little Arnulf cantering alongside in high glee; for it was the first war +that he had ever seen. + +And they came to the Castle of Guisnes, and summoned the Count, by +trumpet and herald, to pay or fight. + +Whereon, the Count preferring the latter, certain knights of his came +forth and challenged the knights of St. Omer to fight them man to man. +Whereon there was the usual splintering of lances and slipping up of +horses, and hewing at heads and shoulders so well defended in mail that +no one was much hurt. The archers and arbalisters, meanwhile, amused +themselves with shooting at the castle walls, out of which they chipped +several small pieces of stone. And when they were all tired, they drew +off on both sides, and went in to dinner. + +At which Hereward's men, who were accustomed to a more serious fashion +of fighting, stood by, mightily amused, and vowing it was as pretty a +play as ever they saw in their lives. + +The next day the same comedy was repeated. + +"Let me go in against those knights, Sir chatelain," asked Hereward, who +felt the lust of battle tingling in him from head to heel; "and try if I +cannot do somewhat towards deciding all this. If we fight no faster than +we did yesterday, our beards will be grown down to our knees before we +take Guisnes." + +"Let my Viking go!" cried Arnulf. "Let me see him fight!" as if he had +been a pet gamecock or bulldog. + +"You can break a lance, fine sir, if it please you," said the chatelain. + +"I break more than lances," quoth Hereward as he cantered off. + +"You," said he to his men, "draw round hither to the left; and when I +drive the Frenchmen to the right, make a run for it, and get between +them and the castle gate; and we will try the Danish axe against their +horses' legs." + +Then Hereward spurred his horse, shouting, "A bear! a bear!" and dashed +into the press; and therein did mightily, like any Turpin or Roland, +till he saw lie on the ground, close to the castle gate, one of the +chatelain's knights with four Guisnes knights around him. Then at those +knights he rode, and slew them every one; and mounted that wounded +knight on his own horse and led him across the field, though the archers +shot sore at him from the wall. And when the press of knights rode at +him, his Danish men got between them and the castle, and made a stand to +cover him. Then the Guisnes knights rode at them scornfully, crying,-- + +"What footpad churls have we here, who fancy they can face horsed +knights?" + +But they did not know the stuff of the Danish men; who all shouted, "A +bear! A bear!" and turned the lances' points with their targets, and +hewed off the horses' heads, and would have hewed off the riders' +likewise, crying that the bear must be fed, had not Hereward bidden them +give quarter according to the civilized fashion of France and Flanders. +Whereon all the knights who were not taken rode right and left, and +let them pass through in peace, with several prisoners, and him whom +Hereward had rescued. + +At which little Arnulf was as proud as if he had done it himself; and +the chatelain sent word to Baldwin that the new-comer was a prudhomme +of no common merit; while the heart of the Count of Guisnes became as +water; and his knights, both those who were captives and those who were +not, complained indignantly of the unchivalrous trick of the Danes,--how +villanous for men on foot, not only to face knights, but to bring them +down to their own standing ground by basely cutting off their horses' +heads! + +To which Hereward answered, that he knew the rules of chivalry as well +as any of them; but he was hired, not to joust at a tournament, but +to make the Count of Guisnes pay his lord Baldwin, and make him pay he +would. + +The next day he bade his men sit still and look on, and leave him +to himself. And when the usual "monomachy" began, he singled out the +burliest and boldest knight whom he saw, rode up to him, lance point in +air, and courteously asked him to come and be killed in fair fight. The +knight being, says the chronicler, "magnificent in valor of soul and +counsel of war, and held to be as a lion in fortitude throughout the +army," and seeing that Hereward was by no means a large or heavy man, +replied as courteously, that he should have great pleasure in trying to +kill Hereward. On which they rode some hundred yards out of the press, +calling out that they were to be left alone by both sides, for it was an +honorable duel, and, turning their horses, charged. + +After which act they found themselves and their horses all four in a +row, sitting on their hind-quarters on the ground, amid the fragments of +their lances. + +"Well ridden!" shouted they both at once, as they leaped up laughing and +drew their swords. + +After which they hammered away at each other merrily in "the devil's +smithy"; the sparks flew, and the iron rang, and all men stood still to +see that gallant fight. + +So they watched and cheered, till Hereward struck his man such a blow +under the ear, that he dropped, and lay like a log. + +"I think I can carry you," quoth Hereward, and picking him up, he threw +him over his shoulder, and walked toward his men. + +"A bear! a bear!" shouted they in delight, laughing at the likeness +between Hereward's attitude, and that of a bear waddling off on his hind +legs with his prey in his arms. + +"He should have killed his bullock outright before he went to carry him. +Look there!" + +And the knight, awaking from his swoon, struggled violently (says +Leofric) to escape. + +But Hereward, though the smaller, was the stronger man; and crushing him +in his arms, walked on steadily. + +"Knights, to the rescue! Hoibricht is taken!" shouted they of Guisnes, +galloping towards him. + +"A bear! a bear! To me, Biornssons! To me, Vikings all!" shouted +Hereward. And the Danes leapt up, and ran toward him, axe in hand. + +The chatelain's knights rode up likewise; and so it befell, that +Hereward carried his prisoner safe into camp. + +"And who are you, gallant knight?" asked he of his prisoner. + +"Hoibricht, nephew of Eustace, Count of Guisnes." + +"So I suppose you will be ransomed. Till then--Armorer!" + +And the hapless Hoibricht found himself chained and fettered, and sent +off to Hereward's tent, under the custody of Martin Lightfoot. + +"The next day," says the chronicler, "the Count of Guisnes, stupefied +with grief at the loss of his nephew, sent the due honor and service to +his prince, besides gifts and hostages." + +And so ended the troubles of Baldwin, and Eustace of Guisnes. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +HOW A FAIR LADY EXERCISED THE MECHANICAL ART TO WIN HEREWARD'S LOVE. + + +The fair Torfrida sat in an upper room of her mother's house in St. +Omer, alternately looking out of the window and at a book of mechanics. +In the garden outside, the wryneck (as is his fashion in May) was +calling Pi-pi-pi among the gooseberry bushes, till the cobwalls rang +again. In the book was a Latin recipe for drying the poor wryneck, +and using him as a philtre which should compel the love of any person +desired. Mechanics, it must be understood, in those days were considered +as identical with mathematics, and those again with astrology and magic; +so that the old chronicler, who says that Torfrida was skilled in "the +mechanic art," uses the word in the same sense as does the author of +the "History of Ramsey," who tells us how a certain holy bishop of St. +Dunstan's party, riding down to Corfe through the forest, saw the wicked +queen-mother Elfrida (her who had St. Edward stabbed at Corfe Gate) +exercising her "mechanic art," under a great tree; in plain English, +performing heathen incantations; and how, when she saw that she was +discovered, she tempted him to deadly sin: but when she found him +proof against allurement, she had him into her bower; and there the +enchantress and her ladies slew him by thrusting red-hot bodkins under +his arms, so that the blessed man was martyred without any sign of +wound. Of all which let every man believe as much as he list. + +Torfrida had had peculiar opportunities of learning mechanics. The +fairest and richest damsel in St. Omer, she had been left early by her +father an orphan, to the care of a superstitious mother and of a learned +uncle, the Abbot of St. Bertin. Her mother was a Provencale, one of +those Arlesiennes whose dark Greek beauty still shines, like diamonds +set in jet, in the doorways of the quaint old city. Gay enough in her +youth, she had, like a true Southern woman, taken to superstition in her +old age; and spent her days in the churches, leaving Torfrida to do and +learn what she would. Her nurse, moreover, was a Lapp woman, carried off +in some pirating foray, and skilled in all the sorceries for which +the Lapps were famed throughout the North. Her uncle, partly from +good-nature, partly from a pious hope that she might "enter religion," +and leave her wealth to the Church, had made her his pupil, and taught +her the mysteries of books; and she had proved to be a strangely apt +scholar. Grammar, rhetoric, Latin prose and poetry, such as were taught +in those days, she mastered ere she was grown up. Then she fell upon +romance, and Charlemagne and his Paladins, the heroes of Troy, Alexander +and his generals, peopled her imagination. She had heard, too, of the +great necromancer Virgilius (for into such the middle age transformed +the poet), and, her fancy already excited by her Lapp nurse's occult +science, she began eagerly to court forbidden lore. + +Forbidden, indeed, magic was by the Church in public; but as a reality, +not as an imposture. Those whose consciences were tough and their faith +weak, had little scruple in applying to a witch, and asking help +from the powers below, when the saints above were slack to hear them. +Churchmen, even, were bold enough to learn the mysteries of nature, +Algebra, Judicial Astrology, and the occult powers of herbs, stones, and +animals, from the Mussulman doctors of Cordova and Seville; and, like +Pope Gerbert, mingle science and magic, in a fashion excusable enough in +days when true inductive science did not exist. + +Nature had her miraculous powers,--how far good, how far evil, who could +tell? The belief that God was the sole maker and ruler of the universe +was confused and darkened by the cross-belief, that the material world +had fallen under the dominion of Satan and his demons; that millions +of spirits, good and evil in every degree, exercised continually powers +over crops and cattle, mines and wells, storms and lightning, health and +disease. Riches, honors, and royalties, too, were under the command of +the powers of darkness. For that generation, which was but too apt to +take its Bible in hand upside down, had somehow a firm faith in the word +of the Devil, and believed devoutly his somewhat startling assertion, +that the kingdoms of the world were his, and the glory of them; for to +him they were delivered, and to whomsoever he would he gave them: while +it had a proportionally weak faith in our Lord's answer, that they were +to worship and serve the Lord God alone. How far these powers extended, +how far they might be counteracted, how far lawfully employed, were +questions which exercised the minds of men and produced a voluminous +literature for several centuries, till the search died out, for very +weariness of failure, at the end of the seventeenth century. + +The Abbot of St. Bertin, therefore, did not hesitate to keep in his +private library more than one volume which he would not have willingly +lent to the simple monks under his charge; nor to Torfrida either, had +she not acquired so complete a command over the good old man, that he +could deny her nothing. + +So she read of Gerbert, Pope Silvester II., who had died only a +generation back: how (to quote William of Malmesbury) "he learned at +Seville till he surpassed Ptolemy with the astrolabe, Alcandrus in +astronomy, and Julius Firmicus in judicial astrology; how he learned +what the singing and flight of birds portended, and acquired the art +of calling up spirits from hell; and, in short, whatever--hurtful or +healthful--human curiosity had discovered, besides the lawful sciences +of arithmetic and astronomy, music and geometry"; how he acquired from +the Saracens the abacus (a counting table); how he escaped from the +Moslem magician, his tutor, by making a compact with the foul fiend, and +putting himself beyond the power of magic, by hanging himself under +a wooden bridge so as to touch neither earth nor water; how he taught +Robert, King of France, and Otto the Kaiser; how he made an hydraulic +organ which played tunes by steam, which stood even then in the +Cathedral of Rheims; how he discovered in the Campus Martius at Rome +wondrous treasures, and a golden king and queen, golden courtiers and +guards, all lighted by a single carbuncle, and guarded by a boy with +a bent bow; who, when Gerbert's servant stole a golden knife, shot an +arrow at that carbuncle, and all was darkness, and yells of demons. + +All this Torfrida had read; and read, too, how Gerbert's brazen head had +told him that he should be Pope, and not die till he had sung mass at +Jerusalem; and how both had come true,--the latter in mockery; for he +was stricken with deadly sickness in Rome, as he sang mass at the church +called Jerusalem, and died horribly, tearing himself in pieces. + +Which terrible warning had as little effect on Torfrida as other +terrible warnings have on young folk, who are minded to eat of the fruit +of the tree of knowledge of good and evil. + +So Torfrida beguiled her lonely life in that dull town, looking out +over dreary flats and muddy dikes, by a whole dream-world of fantastic +imaginations, and was ripe and ready for any wild deed which her wild +brain might suggest. + +Pure she was all the while, generous and noble-hearted, and with a deep +and sincere longing--as one soul in ten thousand has--after knowledge +for its own sake; but ambitious exceedingly, and that not of monastic +sanctity. She laughed to scorn the notion of a nunnery; and laughed +to scorn equally the notion of marrying any knight, however much of a +prudhomme, whom she had yet seen. Her uncle and Marquis Baldwin could +have between them compelled her, as an orphan heiress, to marry whom +they liked. But Torfrida had as yet bullied the Abbot and coaxed the +Count successfully. Lances had been splintered, helmets split, and more +than one life lost in her honor; but she had only, as the best safeguard +she could devise, given some hint of encouragement to one Ascelin, a +tall knight of St. Valeri, the most renowned bully of those parts, by +bestowing on him a scrap of ribbon, and bidding him keep it against all +comers. By this means she insured the personal chastisement of all other +youths who dared to lift their eyes to her, while she by no means bound +herself to her spadassin of St. Valeri. It was all very brutal, but so +was the time; and what better could a poor lady do in days when no +man's life or woman's honor was safe, unless--as too many were forced +to do--she retired into a cloister, and got from the Church that peace +which this world certainly could not give, and, happily, dared not take +away? + +The arrival of Hereward and his men had of course stirred the great +current of her life, and indeed that of St. Omer, usually as stagnant as +that of the dikes round its wall. Who the unknown champion was,--for +his name of "Naemansson" showed that he was concealing something at +least,--whence he had come, and what had been his previous exploits, +busied all the gossips of the town. Would he and his men rise and +plunder the abbey? Was not the chatelain mad in leaving young Arnulf +with him all day? Madder still, in taking him out to battle against the +Count of Guisnes? He might be a spy,--the _avant-courrier_ of some great +invading force. He was come to spy out the nakedness of the land, and +would shortly vanish, to return with Harold Hardraade of Norway, or +Sweyn of Denmark, and all their hosts. Nay, was he not Harold Hardraade +himself in disguise? And so forth. All which Torfrida heard, and thought +within herself that, be he who he might, she should like to look on him +again. + +Then came the news how the very first day that he had gone out against +the Count of Guisnes he had gallantly rescued a wounded man. A day or +two after came fresh news of some doughty deed; and then another, and +another. And when Hereward returned, after a week's victorious fighting, +all St. Omer was in the street to stare at him. + +Then Torfrida heard enough, and, had it been possible, more than enough, +of Hereward and his prowess. + +And when they came riding in, the great Marquis at the head of them all, +with Robert le Frison on one side of him, and on the other Hereward, +looking "as fresh as flowers in May," she looked down on him out of her +little lattice in the gable, and loved him, once and for all, with all +her heart and soul. + +And Hereward looked up at her and her dark blue eyes and dark raven +locks, and thought her the fairest thing that he had ever seen, and +asked who she might be, and heard; and as he heard he forgot all about +the Sultan's daughter, and the Princess of Constantinople, and the Fairy +of Brocheliaunde, and all the other pretty birds which were still in the +bush about the wide world; and thought for many a day of naught but +the pretty bird which he held--so conceited was he of his own powers of +winning her--there safe in hand in St. Omer. + +So he cast about to see her, and to win her love. And she cast about to +see him, and win his love. But neither saw the other for a while; and +it might have been better for one of them had they never seen the other +again. + +If Torfrida could have foreseen, and foreseen, and foreseen----why, if +she were true woman, she would have done exactly what she did, and taken +the bitter with the sweet, the unknown with the known, as we all must do +in life, unless we wish to live and die alone. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +HOW HEREWARD WENT TO THE WAR IN SCALDMARILAND. + + +It has been shown how the Count of Guisnes had been a thorn in the side +of Baldwin of Lille, and how that thorn was drawn out by Hereward. But +a far sharper thorn in his side, and one which had troubled many a Count +before, and was destined to trouble others afterward, was those unruly +Hollanders, or Frisians, who dwelt in Scaldmariland, "the land of the +meres of the Scheldt." Beyond the vast forests of Flanders, in morasses +and alluvial islands whose names it is impossible now to verify, so much +has the land changed, both by inundations and by embankments, by the +brute forces of nature and the noble triumphs of art, dwelt a folk, +poor, savage, living mostly, as in Caesar's time, in huts raised above +the sea on piles or mounds of earth; often without cattle or seedfield, +half savage, half heathen, but free. Free, with the divine instinct of +freedom, and all the self-help and energy which spring thereout. + +They were a mongrel race; and, as most mongrel races are (when sprung +from parents not too far apart in blood), a strong race; the remnant +of those old Frisians and Batavians, who had defied, and all but +successfully resisted, the power of Rome; mingled with fresh crosses of +Teutonic blood from Frank, Sueve, Saxon, and the other German tribes, +who, after the fall of the Roman Empire, had swept across the land. + +Their able modern historian has well likened the struggle between +Civilis and the Romans to that between William the Silent and the +Spaniard. It was, without doubt, the foreshadow of their whole +history. They were distinguished, above most European races, for sturdy +independence, and, what generally accompanies it, sturdy common sense. +They could not understand why they should obey foreign Frank rulers, +whether set over them by Dagobert or by Charlemagne. They could not +understand why they were to pay tithes to foreign Frank priests, who had +forced on them, at the sword's point, a religion which they only half +believed, and only half understood. Many a truly holy man preached to +them to the best of his powers: but the cross of St. Boniface had too +often to follow the sword of Charles Martel; and for every Frisian who +was converted another was killed. + +"Free Frisians," nevertheless, they remained, at least in name and in +their statute-book, "as long as the wind blows out of the clouds, and +the world stands." The feudal system never took root in their soil. +[Footnote: Motley. "Rise of the Dutch Republic."] If a Frank Count was +to govern them, he must govern according to their own laws. Again and +again they rebelled, even against that seemingly light rule. Again +and again they brought down on themselves the wrath of their nominal +sovereigns the Counts of Flanders; then of the Kaisers of Germany; and, +in the thirteenth century, of the Inquisition itself. Then a crusade +was preached against them as "Stadings," heretics who paid no tithes, +ill-used monks and nuns, and worshipped (or were said to worship) +a black cat and the foul fiend among the meres and fens. Conrad of +Marpurg, the brutal Director of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, burnt them at +his wicked will, extirpating, it may be, heresy, but not the spirit of +the race. That, crushed down and seemingly enslaved, during the middle +age, under Count Dirk and his descendants, still lived; destined at last +to conquer. They were a people who had determined to see for themselves +and act for themselves in the universe in which they found themselves; +and, moreover (a necessary corollary of such a resolution), to fight to +the death against any one who interfered with them in so doing. + +Again and again, therefore, the indomitable spirit rose, founding free +towns with charters and guilds; embanking the streams, draining the +meres, fighting each other and the neighboring princes; till, in their +last great struggle against the Pope and Spain, they rose once and for +all, + + "Heated hot with burning fears, + And bathed in baths of hissing tears, + And battered with the strokes of doom + To shape and use," + +as the great Protestant Dutch Republic. + +A noble errand it had been for such a man as Hereward to help those men +toward freedom, instead of helping Frank Counts to enslave them;--men of +his own blood, with laws and customs like those of his own Anglo-Danes, +living in a land so exactly like his own that every mere and fen and +wood reminded him of the scenes of his boyhood. The very names of the +two lands were alike,--"Holland," the hollow land,--the one of England, +the other of Flanders. + +But all this was hidden from Hereward. To do as he would be done by was +a lesson which he had never been taught. If men had invaded his land, he +would have cried, like the Frisians whom he was going to enslave, "I +am free as long as the wind blows out of the clouds!" and died where he +stood. But that was not the least reason why he should not invade any +other man's land, and try whether or not he, too, would die where he +stood. To him these Frieslanders were simply savages, probably heathens, +who would not obey their lawful lord, who was a gentleman and a +Christian; besides, renown, and possibly a little plunder, might be got +by beating them into obedience. He knew not what he did; and knew not, +likewise, that as he had done to others, so would it be done to him. + +Baldwin had at that time made over his troublesome Hollanders to his +younger son Robert, the Viking whom little Arnulf longed to imitate. + +Florent, Count of Holland, and vassal of the great Marquis, had just +died, leaving a pretty young widow, to whom the Hollanders had no mind +to pay one stiver more than they were forced. All the isles of Zeeland, +and the counties of Eonham and Alost, were doing that which was right +in the sight of their own eyes, and finding themselves none the worse +therefor,--though the Countess Gertrude doubtless could buy fewer silks +of Greece or gems of Italy. But to such a distressed lady a champion +could not long be wanting; and Robert, after having been driven out of +Spain by the Moors with fearful loss, and in a second attempt wrecked +with all his fleet as soon as he got out of port, resolved to tempt the +main no more, and leave the swan's path for that of the fat oxen and +black dray-horses of Holland. + +So he rushed to avenge the wrongs of the Countess Gertrude; and his +father, whose good-natured good sense foresaw that the fiery Robert +would raise storms upon his path,--happily for his old age he did not +foresee the worst,--let him go, with his blessing. + +So Robert gathered to him valiant ruffians, as many as he could find; +and when he heard of the Viking who had brought Eustace of Guisnes to +reason, it seemed to him that he was a man who would do his work. So +when the great Marquis came down to St. Omer to receive the homage of +Count Eustace of Guisnes, Robert came thither too, and saw Hereward. + +"You have done us good service, Harold Naemansson, as it pleases you to +be called," said Baldwin, smiling. "But some man's son you are, if ever +I saw a gallant knight earl-born by his looks as well as his deeds." + +Hereward bowed. + +"And for me," said Robert, "Naemansson or earl's son, here is my +Viking's welcome to all Vikings like myself." And he held out his hand. + +Hereward took it. + +"You failed in Galicia, beausire, only because your foes were a hundred +to one. You will not fail where you are going, if (as I hear) they are +but ten to one." + +Robert laughed, vain and gratified. + +"Then you know where I have been, and where I am going?" + +"Why not? As you know well, we Vikings are all brothers, and all know +each other's counsel, from ship to ship and port to port." + +Then the two young men looked each other in the face, and each saw that +the other was a man who would suit him. + +"Skall to the Viking!" cried Robert, aping, as was his fancy, the Norse +rovers' slang. "Will you come with me to Holland?" + +"You must ask my young lord there," and he pointed to Arnulf. "I am his +man now, by all laws of honor." + +A flush of jealousy passed over Robert's face. He, haplessly for +himself, thought that he had a grievance. + +The rights of primogeniture--_droits d'ainesse_--were not respected in +the family of the Baldwins as they should have been, had prudence and +common sense had their way. + +No sacred or divine right is conferred by the fact of a man's being the +first-born son. If Scripture be Scripture, the "Lord's anointed" +was usually rather a younger son of talent and virtue; one born, not +according to the flesh, but according to the spirit, like David and +Solomon. And so it was in other realms besides Flanders during the +middle age. The father handed on the work--for ruling was hard work +in those days--to the son most able to do it. Therefore we can believe +Lambert of Aschaffenbourg when he says, that in Count Baldwin's family +for many ages he who pleased his father most took his father's name, and +was hereditary prince of all Flanders; while the other brothers led an +inglorious life of vassalage to him. + +But we can conceive, likewise, that such a method would give rise to +intrigues, envyings, calumnies, murders, fratracidal civil wars, and +all the train of miseries which for some years after this history made +infamous the house of Baldwin, as they did many another noble house, +till they were stopped by the gradual adoption of the rational rule of +primogeniture. + +So Robert, who might have been a daring and useful friend to his +brother, had he been forced to take for granted from birth that he was +nobody, and his brother everybody,--as do all younger sons of English +noblemen, to their infinite benefit,--held himself to be an injured man +for life, because his father called his first-born Baldwin, and promised +him the succession,--which indeed he had worthily deserved, according to +the laws of Mammon and this world, by bringing into the family such an +heiress as Richilda and such a dowry as Mons. + +But Robert, who thought himself as good as his brother,--though he was +not such, save in valor,--nursed black envy in his heart. Hard it was +to him to hear his elder brother called Baldwin of Mons, when he himself +had not a foot of land of his own. Harder still to hear him called +Baldwin the Good, when he felt in himself no title whatsoever to that +epithet. Hardest of all to see a beautiful boy grow up, as heir both of +Flanders and of Hainault. + +Had he foreseen whither that envy would have led him; had he foreseen +the hideous and fratracidal day of February 22d, 1071, and that fair +boy's golden locks rolling in dust and blood,--the wild Viking would +have crushed the growing snake within his bosom; for he was a knight +and a gentleman. But it was hidden from his eyes. He had to "dree his +weird,"--to commit great sins, do great deeds, and die in his bed, +mighty and honored, having children to his heart's desire, and leaving +the rest of his substance to his babes. Heaven help him, and the like of +him! + +But he turned to young Arnulf. + +"Give me your man, boy!" + +Arnulf pouted. He wanted to keep his Viking for himself, and said so. + +"He is to teach me to go 'leding,' as the Norsemen call it, like you." + +Robert laughed. A hint at his piratical attempts pleased his vanity, all +the more because they had been signal failures. + +"Lend him me, then, my pretty nephew, for a month or two, till he has +conquered these Friesland frogs for me; and then, if thou wilt go leding +with him--" + +"I hope you may never come back," thought Robert to himself; but he did +not say it, + +"Let the knight go," quoth Baldwin. + +"Let me go with him, then." + +"No, by all saints! I cannot have thee poked through with a Friesland +pike, or rotted with a Friesland ague." + +Arnulf pouted still. + +"Abbot, what hast thou been at with the boy? He thinks of naught but +blood and wounds, instead of books and prayers." + +"He is gone mad after this--this knight." + +"The Abbot," said Hereward, "knows by hearing of his ears that I bid him +bide at home, and try to govern lands in peace like his father and you, +Sir Marquis." + +"Eh?" + +The Abbot told honestly what had passed between Hereward and the lad, as +they rode to St. Bertin. + +Baldwin was silent, thinking, and smiling jollily, as was the wont of +the Debonair. + +"You are a man of sense, beausire. Come with me," said he at last. + +And he, Hereward, and Robert went into an inner room. + +"Sit down on the settle by me." + +"It is too great an honor." + +"Nonsense, man! If I be who I am, I know enough of men to know that I +need not be ashamed of having you as bench-fellow. Sit down." + +Hereward obeyed of course. + +"Tell me who you are." + +Hereward looked out of the corner of his eyes, smiling and perplexed. + +"Tell me and Robert who you are, man; and be done with it. I believe I +know already. I have asked far and wide of chapmen, and merchants, and +wandering knights, and pirate rascals,--like yourself." + +"And you found that I was a pirate rascal?" + +"I found a pirate rascal who met you in Ireland, three years since, and +will swear that if you have one gray eye and one blue--" + +"As he has," quoth Robert. + +"That I am a wolf's head, and a robber of priests, and an Esau on the +face of the earth; every man's hand against me, and mine--for I never +take but what I give--against every man." + +"That you are the son of my old friend Leofric of Chester: and the +hottest-hearted, shrewdest-headed, hardest-handed Berserker in the North +Seas. You killed Gilbert of Ghent's bear, Siward Digre's cousin. Don't +deny it." + +"Don't hang me, or send me to the Westminster miracle-worker to be +hanged, and I will confess." + +"I? Every man is welcome who comes hither with a bold hand and a strong +heart. 'The Refuge for the Destitute,' they call Flanders; I suppose +because I am too good-natured to turn rogues out. So do no harm to mine, +and mine shall do no harm to you." + +Baldwin's words were true. He found house-room for everybody, helped +everybody against everybody else (as will be seen), and yet quarrelled +with nobody--at least in his old age--by the mere virtue of good +nature,--which blessed is the man who possesseth. + +So Hereward went off to exterminate the wicked Hollanders, and avenge +the wrongs of the Countess Gertrude. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +HOW HEREWARD WON THE MAGIC ARMOR. + + +Torfrida had special opportunities of hearing about Hereward; for young +Arnulf was to her a pet and almost a foster-brother, and gladly escaped +from the convent to tell her the news. + +He had now had his first taste of the royal game of war. He had seen +Hereward fight by day, and heard him tell stories over the camp-fire +by night. Hereward's beauty, Hereward's prowess, Hereward's songs, +Hereward's strange adventures and wanderings, were forever in the young +boy's mouth; and he spent hours in helping Torfrida to guess who the +great unknown might be; and then went back to Hereward, and artlessly +told him of his beautiful friend, and how they had talked of him, and of +nothing else; and in a week or two Hereward knew all about Torfrida; and +Torfrida knew--what filled her heart with joy--that Hereward was bound +to no lady-love, and owned (so he had told Arnulf) no mistress save the +sword on his thigh. + +Whereby there had grown up in the hearts of both the man and the maid a +curiosity, which easily became the parent of love. + +But when Baldwin the great Marquis came to St. Omer, to receive the +homage of Eustace of Guisnes, young Arnulf had run into Torfrida's +chamber in great anxiety. "Would his grandfather approve of what he had +done? Would he allow his new friendship with the unknown?" + +"What care I?" said Torfrida. "But if your friend wishes to have the +Marquis's favor, he would be wise to trust him, at least so far as to +tell his name." + +"I have told him so. I have told him that you would tell him so." + +"I? Have you been talking to him about me?" + +"Why not?" + +"That is not well done, Arnulf, to talk of ladies to men whom they do +not know." + +Arnulf looked up, puzzled and pained; for she spoke haughtily. + +"I know naught of your new friend. He may be a low-born man, for +anything that I can tell." + +"He is not! He is as noble as I am. Everything he says and does--every +look--shows it." + +"You are young,--as you have shown by talking of me to him. But I have +given you my advice"; and she moved languidly away. "Let him tell your +grandfather who he is, or remain suspected." + +The boy went away sadly. + +Early the next morning he burst into Torfrida's room as she was dressing +her hair. + +"How now? Are these manners for the heir of Flanders?" + +"He has told all!" + +"He has!" and she started and dropt her comb. + +"Pick up that comb, girl. You need not go away. I have no secrets with +young gentlemen." + +"I thought you would be glad to hear." + +"I? What can I want in the matter, save that your grandfather should be +satisfied that you are entertaining a man worthy to be your guest?" + +"And he is worthy: he has told my grandfather who he is." + +"But not you?" + +"No. They say I must not know yet. But this I know, that they welcomed +him, when he told them, as if he had been an earl's son; and that he is +going with my Uncle Robert against the Frieslanders." + +"And if he be an earl's son, how comes he here, wandering with rough +seamen, and hiding his honest name? He must have done something of which +he is ashamed." + +"I shall tell you nothing," said Arnulf, pouting. + +"What care I? I can find out by art magic if I like." + +"I don't believe all that. Can you find out, for instance, what he has +on his throat?" + +"A beard." + +"But what is under that beard?" + +"A goitre." + +"You are laughing at me." + +"Of course I am, as I shall at any one who challenges me to find out +anything so silly, and so unfit." + +"I shall go." + +"Go then." For she knew very well that he would come back again. + +"Nurse," said Torfrida to the old Lapp woman, when they were alone, +"find out for me what is the name of this strange champion, and what he +has beneath his beard." + +"Beneath his beard?" + +"Some scar, I suppose, or secret mark. I must know. You will find out +for your Torfrida, will you not, nurse?" + +"I will make a charm that will bring him to you, were all the icebergs +of Quenland between you and him: and then you can see for yourself." + +"No, no, no! not yet, nurse!" and Torfrida smiled. "Only find me out +that one thing: that I must know." + +And yet why she wanted to know, she could not tell herself. + +The old woman came back to her, ere she went to bed. + +"I have found it out all, and more. I know where to get scarlet +toadstools, and I put the juice in his men's ale: they are laughing and +roaring now, merry-mad every one of them." + +"But not he?" + +"No, no. He is with the Marquis. But in madness comes out truth; and +that long hook-nosed body-varlet of his has told us all." + +And she told Torfrida who Hereward was, and the secret mark. + +"There is a cross upon his throat, beneath his chin, pricked in after +their English fashion." + +Torfrida started. + +"Then,--then the spell will not work upon him; the Holy Cross will turn +it off." + +"It must be a great Cross and a holy one that will turn off my charms," +said the old hag, with a sneer, "whatever it may do against yours. But +on the back of his hand,--that will be a mark to know him by,--there is +pricked a bear,--a white bear that he slew." And she told the story of +the fairy bear; which Torfrida duly stored up in her heart. + +"So he has the Cross on his throat," thought Torfrida to herself. "Well, +if it keep off my charm, it will keep off others, that is one comfort; +and one knows not what fairies or witches or evil creatures he may meet +with in the forests and the fens." + +The discovery of Hereward's rank did not, doubtless, lessen Torfrida's +fancy for him. She was ambitious enough, and proud enough of her own +lineage, to be full glad that her heart had strayed away--as it must +needs stray somewhere--to the son of the third greatest man in England. +As for his being an outlaw, that mattered little. He might be inlawed, +and rich and powerful, any day in those uncertain, topsy-turvy times; +and, for the present, his being a wolf's head only made him the more +interesting to her. Women like to pity their lovers. Sometimes--may all +good beings reward them for it--they love merely because they pity. +And Torfrida found it pleasant to pity the insolent young coxcomb, who +certainly never dreamed of pitying himself. + +When Hereward went home that night, he found the Abbey of St. Bertin in +horrible confusion. His men were grouped outside the gate, chattering +like monkeys; the porter and the monks, from inside, entreating them, +vainly, to come in and go to bed quietly. + +But they would not. They vowed and swore that a great gulf had opened +all down the road, and that one step more would tumble them in headlong. +They manifested the most affectionate solicitude for the monks, warning +them, on their lives, not to step across the threshold, or they would be +swallowed (as Martin, who was the maddest of the lot, phrased it) with +Korah, Dathan, and Abiram. In vain Hereward stormed; assured them +that the supposed abyss was nothing but the gutter; proved the fact by +kicking Martin over it. The men determined to believe their own eyes, +and after a while fell asleep, in heaps, in the roadside, and lay there +till morning, when they woke, declaring, as did the monks, that they had +been all bewitched. They knew not--and happily the lower orders, both +in England and on the Continent, do not yet know--the potent virtues of +that strange fungus, with which Lapps and Samoiedes have, it is said, +practised wonders for centuries past. + +The worst of the matter was, that Martin Lightfoot, who had drank most +of the poison, and had always been dreamy and uncanny, in spite of his +shrewdness and humor, had, from that day forward, something very like a +bee in his bonnet. + +But before Count Robert and Hereward could collect sufficient troops for +the invasion of Holland, another chance of being slain in fight arose, +too tempting to be overlooked; namely, the annual tournament at Pont +de l'Arche above Rouen, where all the noblest knights of Normandy would +assemble, to win their honor and ladies' love by hewing at each other's +sinful bodies. Thither, too, the best knights of Flanders must needs go, +and with them Hereward. Though no knight, he was allowed in Flanders, as +he had been in Scotland, to take his place among that honorable company. +For, though he still refused the honor of knighthood, on the ground +that he had, as yet, done no deed deserving thereof, he was held to +have deserved it again and again, and all the more from his modesty in +declining it. + +So away they all went to Pont de l'Arche, a right gallant meinie: and +Torfrida watched them go from the lattice window. + +And when they had passed down the street, tramping and jingling and +caracoling, young Arnulf ran into the house with eyes full of tears, +because he was not allowed to go likewise; and with a message for +Torfrida, from no other than Hereward. + +"I was to tell you this and no more: that if he meets your favor in the +field, he that wears it will have hard work to keep it." + +Torfrida turned pale as ashes; first with wild delight, and then with +wild fear. + +"Ha?--does he know who--Sir Ascelin?" + +"He knows well enough. Why not? Every one knows. Are you afraid that he +is not a match for that great bullock?" + +"Afraid? Who said I was afraid? Sir Ascelin is no bullock either; but a +courteous and gallant knight." + +"You are as pale as death, and so--" + +"Never mind what I am," said she, putting her hands over his eyes, and +kissing him again and again, as a vent for her joy. + +The next few days seemed years for length: but she could wait. She was +sure of him now. She needed no charms. "Perhaps," thought she, as she +looked in the glass, "I was my own charm." And, indeed, she had every +fair right to say so. + +At last news came. + +She was sitting over her books; her mother, as usual, was praying in the +churches; when the old Lapp nurse came in. A knight was at the door. His +name, he said, was Siward the White, and he came from Hereward. + +From Hereward! He was at least alive: he might be wounded, though; +and she rushed out of the chamber into the hall, looking never more +beautiful; her color heightened by the quick beating of her heart; +her dark hair, worn loose and long, after the fashion of those days, +streaming around her and behind her. + +A handsome young man stood in the door-way, armed from head to foot. + +"You are Siward, Hereward's nephew?" + +He bowed assent. She took him by the hands, and, after the fashion of +those days, kissed him on the small space on either cheek, which was +left bare between the nose-piece and the chain-mail. + +"You are welcome. Hereward is--is alive?" + +"Alive and gay, and all the more gay at being able to send to the Lady +Torfrida by me something which was once hers, and now is hers once +more." + +And he drew from his bosom the ribbon of the knight of St. Valeri. + +She almost snatched it from his hand, in her delight at recovering her +favor. + +"How--where--did he get this?" + +"He saw it, in the thick of the tournament, on the helm of a knight who, +he knew, had vowed to maim him or take his life; and, wishing to give +him a chance of fulfilling his vow, rode him down, horse and man. The +knight's Norman friends attacked us in force; and we Flemings, with +Hereward at our head, beat them off, and overthrew so many, that we +are almost all horsed at the Norman's expense. Three more knights, with +their horses, fell before Hereward's lance." + +"And what of this favor?" + +"He sends it to its owner. Let her say what shall be done with it." + +Torfrida was on the point of saying, "He has won it; let him wear it for +my sake." But she paused. She longed to see Hereward face to face; to +speak to him, if but one word. If she allowed him to wear the favor, she +must at least have the pleasure of giving it with her own hands. And she +paused. + +"And he is killed?" + +"Who? Hereward?" + +"Sir Ascelin." + +"Only bruised; but he shall be killed, if you will." + +"God forbid!" + +"Then," said Siward, mistaking her meaning, "all I have to tell Hereward +is, it seems, that he has wasted his blow. He will return, therefore, to +the Knight of St. Valeri his horse, and, if the Lady Torfrida chooses, +the favor which he has taken by mistake from its rightful owner." And he +set his teeth, and could not prevent stamping on the ground, in evident +passion. There was a tone, too, of deep disappointment in his voice, +which made Torfrida look keenly at him. Why should Hereward's nephew +feel so deeply about that favor? And as she looked,--could that man be +the youth Siward? Young he was, but surely thirty years old at least. +His face could hardly be seen, hidden by helmet and nose-piece above, +and mailed up to the mouth below. But his long mustache was that of +a grown man; his vast breadth of shoulder, his hard hand, his sturdy +limbs,--these surely belonged not to the slim youth whom she had seen +from her lattice riding at Hereward's side. And, as she looked, she saw +upon his hand the bear of which her nurse had told her. + +"You are deceiving me!" and she turned first deadly pale, and then +crimson. "You--you are Hereward himself!" + +"I? Pardon me, my lady. Ten minutes ago I should have been glad enough +to have been Hereward. Now, I am thankful enough that I am only Siward; +and not Hereward, who wins for himself contempt by overthrowing a knight +more fortunate than he." And he bowed, and turned away to go. + +"Hereward! Hereward!" and, in her passion, she seized him by both his +hands. "I know you! I know that device upon your hand. At last! at last +my hero,--my idol! How I have longed for this moment! How I have toiled +for it, and not in vain! Good heavens! what am I saying?" And she tried, +in her turn, to escape from Hereward's mailed arms. + +"Then you do not care for that man?" + +"For him? Here! take my favor, wear it before all the world, and guard +it as you only can; and let them all know that Torfrida is your love." + +And with hands trembling with passion, she bound the ribbon round his +helm. + +"Yes! I am Hereward," he almost shouted; "the Berserker, the +brain-hewer, the land-thief, the sea-thief, the feeder of wolf and +raven,--Aoi! Ere my beard was grown, I was a match for giants. How much +more now, that I am a man whom ladies love? Many a champion has quailed +before my very glance. How much more, now that I wear Torfrida's gift? +Aoi!" + +Torfrida had often heard that wild battle-cry of Aoi! of which the early +minstrels were so fond,--with which the great poet who wrote the "Song +of Roland" ends every paragraph; which has now fallen (displaced by our +modern Hurrah), to be merely a sailor's call or hunter's cry. But she +shuddered as she heard it close to her ears, and saw, from the flashing +eye and dilated nostril, the temper of the man on whom she had thrown +herself so utterly. She laid her hand upon his lips. + +"Silence! silence for pity's sake. Remember that you are in a maiden's +house; and think of her good fame." + +Hereward collected himself instantly, and then holding her at arm's +length, gazed upon her. "I was mad a moment. But is it not enough to +make me mad to look at you?" + +"Do not look at me so, I cannot bear it," said she, hanging down her +head. "You forget that I am a poor weak girl." + +"Ah! we are rough wooers, we sea-rovers. We cannot pay glozing French +compliments like your knights here, who fawn on a damsel with soft words +in the hall, and will kiss the dust off their queen's feet, and die for +a hair of their goddess's eyebrow; and then if they catch her in the +forest, show themselves as very ruffians as if they were Paynim Moors. +We are rough, lady, we English: but those who trust us, find us true." + +"And I can trust you?" she asked, still trembling. + +"On God's cross there round your neck," and he took her crucifix and +kissed it. "You only I love, you only I will love, and you will I love +in all honesty, before the angels of heaven, till we be wedded man and +wife. Who but a fool would soil the flower which he means to wear before +all the world?" + +"I knew Hereward was noble! I knew I had not trusted him in vain!" + +"I kept faith and honor with the Princess of Cornwall, when I had her at +my will, and shall I not keep faith and honor with you?" + +"The Princess of Cornwall?" asked Torfrida. + +"Do not be jealous, fair queen. I brought her safe to her betrothed; and +wedded she is, long ago. I will tell you that story some day. And now--I +must go." + +"Not yet! not yet! I have something to--to show you." + +She motioned him to go up the narrow stairs, or rather ladder, which led +to the upper floor, and then led him into her chamber. + +A lady's chamber was then, in days when privacy was little cared for, +her usual reception room; and the bed, which stood in an alcove, was the +common seat of her and her guests. But Torfrida did not ask him to sit +down. She led the way onward towards a door beyond. + +Hereward followed, glancing with awe at the books, parchments, and +strange instruments which lay on the table and the floor. + +The old Lapp nurse sat in the window, sewing busily. She looked up, and +smiled meaningly. But as she saw Torfrida unlock the further door with +one of the keys which hung at her girdle, she croaked out,-- + +"Too fast! Too fast! Trust lightly, and repent heavily." + +"Trust once and for all, or never trust at all," said Torfrida, as she +opened the door. + +Hereward saw within rich dresses hung on perches round the wall, and +chests barred and padlocked. + +"These are treasures," said she, "which many a knight and nobleman has +coveted. By cunning, by flattery, by threats of force even, have they +tried to win what lies here,--and Torfrida herself, too, for the sake of +her wealth. But thanks to the Abbot my uncle, Torfrida is still her own +mistress, and mistress of the wealth which her forefathers won by sea +and land far away in the East. All here is mine,--and if you be but true +to me, all mine is yours. Lift the lid for me, it is too heavy for my +arms." + +Hereward did so; and saw within golden cups and bracelets, horns of +ivory and silver, bags of coin, and among them a mail shirt and helmet, +on which he fixed at once silent and greedy eyes. + +She looked at his face askance, and smiled. "Yes, these are more to +Hereward's taste than gold and jewels. And he shall have them. He shall +have them as a proof that if Torfrida has set her love upon a worthy +knight, she is at least worthy of him; and does not demand, without +being able to give in return." + +And she took out the armor, and held it up to him. + +"This is the work of dwarfs or enchanters! This was not forged by mortal +man! It must have come out of some old cavern, or dragon's hoard!" said +Hereward, in astonishment at the extreme delicacy and slightness of +the mail-rings, and the richness of the gold and silver with which both +hauberk and helm were inlaid. + +"Enchanted it is, they say; but its maker, who can tell? My ancestor won +it, and by the side of Charles Martel. Listen, and I will tell you how. + +"You have heard of fair Provence, where I spent my youth; the land of +the sunny south; the land of the fig and the olive, the mulberry and +the rose, the tulip and the anemone, and all rich fruits and fair +flowers,--the land where every city is piled with temples and theatres +and towers as high as heaven, which the old Romans built with their +enchantments, and tormented the blessed martyrs therein." + +"Heavens, how beautiful you are!" cried Hereward, as her voice shaped +itself into a song, and her eyes flashed, at the remembrance of her +southern home. + +Torfrida was not altogether angry at finding that he was thinking of +her, and not of her words. + +"Peace, and listen. You know how the Paynim held that land,--the +Saracens, to whom Mahound taught all the wisdom of Solomon,--as they +teach us in turn," she added in a lower voice. + +"And how Charles and his Paladins," [Charles Martel and Charlemagne were +perpetually confounded in the legends of the time] "drove them out, and +conquered the country again for God and his mother." + +"I have heard--" but he did not take his eyes off her face. + +"They were in the theatre at Arles, the Saracens, where the blessed +martyr St. Trophimus had died in torments; they had set up there their +idol of Mahound, and turned the place into a fortress. Charles burnt +it over their heads: you see--I have seen--the blackened walls, the +blood-stained marbles, to this day. Then they fled into the plain, and +there they turned and fought. Under Montmajeur, by the hermit's cell, +they fought a summer's day, till they were all slain. There was an Emir +among them, black as a raven, clad in magic armor. All lances turned +from it, all swords shivered on it. He rode through the press without a +wound, while every stroke of his scymitar shore off a head of horse or +man. Charles himself rode at him, and smote him with his hammer. They +heard the blow in Avignon, full thirty miles away. The flame flashed out +from the magic armor a fathom's length, blinding all around; and when +they recovered their sight, the enchanter was far away in the battle, +killing as he went. + +"Then Charles cried, 'Who will stop that devil, whom no steel can wound? +Help us, O blessed martyr St. Trophimus, and save the soldiers of the +Cross from shame!' + +"Then cried Torfrid, my forefather, 'What use in crying to St. +Trophimus? He could not help himself, when the Paynim burnt him: and how +can he help us? A tough arm is worth a score of martyrs here.' + +"And he rode at that Emir, and gript him in his arms. They both fell, +and rolled together on the ground; but Torfrid never loosed his hold +till he had crushed out his unbaptized soul and sent it to join Mahound +in hell. + +"Then he took his armor, and brought it home in triumph. But after a +while he fell sick of a fever; and the blessed St. Trophimus appeared +to him, and told him that it was a punishment for his blasphemy in the +battle. So he repented, and vowed to serve the saint all his life. On +which he was healed instantly, and fell to religion, and went back to +Montmajeur; and there he was a hermit in the cave under the rock, and +tended the graves hewn in the living stone, where his old comrades, the +Paladins who were slain, sleep side by side round the church of the Holy +Cross. But the armor he left here; and he laid a curse upon it, that +whosoever of his descendants should lose that armor in fight, should die +childless, without a son to wield a sword. And therefore it is that +none of his ancestors, valiant as they have been, have dared to put this +harness on their backs." + +And so ended a story, which Torfrida believed utterly, and Hereward +likewise. + +"And now, Hereward mine, dare you wear that magic armor, and face old +Torfrid's curse?" + +"What dare I not?" + +"Think. If you lose it, in you your race must end." + +"Let it end. I accept the curse." + +And he put the armor on. + +But he trembled as he did it. Atheism and superstition go too often hand +in hand; and godless as he was, sceptical of Providence itself, and much +more of the help of saint or angel, still the curse of the old warrior, +like the malice of a witch or a demon, was to him a thing possible, +probable, and formidable. + +She looked at him in pride and exultation. + +"It is yours,--the invulnerable harness! Wear it in the forefront of the +battle! And if weapon wound you through it, may I, as punishment for my +lie, suffer the same upon my tender body,--a wound for every wound of +yours, my knight!" [Footnote: "Volo enim in meo tale quid nunc perpeti +corpore semel, quicquid eas ferrei vel e metallo excederet."] + +And after that they sat side by side, and talked of love with all honor +and honesty, never heeding the old hag, who crooned to herself in her +barbarian tongue,-- + + "Quick thaw, long frost, + Quick joy, long pain, + Soon found, soon lost, + You will take your gift again." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +HOW THE HOLLANDERS TOOK HEREWARD FOR A MAGICIAN. + + +Of this weary Holland war which dragged itself on, campaign after +campaign, for several years, what need to tell? There was, doubtless, +the due amount of murder, plunder, burning, and worse; and the final +event was certain from the beginning. It was a struggle between +civilized and disciplined men, armed to the teeth, well furnished with +ships and military engines, against poor simple folk in "felt coats +stiffened with tar or turpentine, or in very short jackets of hide," +says the chronicler, "who fought by threes, two with a crooked lance +and three darts each, and between them a man with a sword or an axe, +who held his shield before those two;--a very great multitude, but in +composition utterly undisciplined," who came down to the sea-coast, with +carts and wagons, to carry off the spoils of the Flemings, and bade them +all surrender at discretion, and go home again after giving up Count +Robert and Hereward, with the "tribunes of the brigades," to be put to +death, as valiant South Sea islanders might have done; and then found +themselves as sheep to the slaughter before the cunning Hereward, whom +they esteemed a magician on account of his craft and his invulnerable +armor. + +So at least says Leofric's paraphrast, who tells long, confused stories +of battles and campaigns, some of them without due regard to chronology; +for it is certain that the brave Frisians could not on Robert's first +landing have "feared lest they should be conquered by foreigners, as +they had heard the English were by the French," because that event had +not then happened. + +And so much for the war among the Meres of Scheldt. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +HOW HEREWARD TURNED BERSERK. + + +Torfrida's heart misgave her that first night as to the effects of her +exceeding frankness. Her pride in the first place was somewhat wounded; +she had dreamed of a knight who would worship her as his queen, hang on +her smile, die at her frown; and she had meant to bring Hereward to her +feet as such a slave, in boundless gratitude; but had he not rather held +his own, and brought her to his feet, by assuming her devotion as his +right? And if he assumed that, how far could she trust him not to abuse +his claim? Was he quite as perfect, seen close, as seen afar off? And +now that the intoxication of that meeting had passed off, she began to +remember more than one little fault which she would have gladly seen +mended. Certain roughnesses of manner which contrasted unfavorably with +the polish (merely external though it was) of the Flemish and Norman +knights; a boastful self-sufficiency, too, which bordered on the +ludicrous at whiles even in her partial eyes; which would be a matter of +open laughter to the knights of the Court. Besides, if they laughed at +him, they would laugh at her for choosing him. And then wounded vanity +came in to help wounded pride; and she sat over the cold embers till +almost dawn of day, her head between her hands, musing sadly, and half +wishing that the irrevocable yesterday had never come. + +But when, after a few months, Hereward returned from his first campaign +in Holland, covered with glory and renown, all smiles, and beauty, and +health, and good-humor, and gratitude for the magic armor which had +preserved him unhurt, then Torfrida forgot all her fears, and thought +herself the happiest maid alive for four-and-twenty hours at least. + +And then came back, and after that again and again, the old fears. +Gradually she found out that the sneers which she had heard at English +barbarians were not altogether without ground. + +Not only had her lover's life been passed among half-brutal and wild +adventurers; but, like the rest of his nation, he had never felt the +influence of that classic civilization without which good manners seem, +even to this day, almost beyond the reach of the white man. Those among +whom she had been brought up, whether soldiers or clerks, were probably +no nobler or purer at heart--she would gladly have believed them far +less so--than Hereward; but the merest varnish of Roman civilization had +given a charm to their manners, a wideness of range to their thoughts, +which Hereward had not. + +Especially when he had taken too much to drink,--which he did, after +the Danish fashion, far oftener than the rest of Baldwin's men,--he grew +rude, boastful, quarrelsome. He would chant his own doughty deeds, and +"gab," as the Norman word was, in painful earnest, while they gabbed +only in sport, and outvied each other in impossible fanfaronades, simply +to laugh down a fashion which was held inconsistent with the modesty +of a true knight. Bitter it was to her to hear him announcing to the +company, not for the first or second time, how he had slain the Cornish +giant, whose height increased by a foot at least every time he was +mentioned; and then to hear him answered by some smart, smooth-shaven +youth, who, with as much mimicry of his manner as he dared to assume, +boasted of having slain in Araby a giant with two heads, and taken out +of his two mouths the two halves of the princess whom he was devouring, +which being joined together afterwards by the prayers of a holy hermit, +were delivered back safe and sound to her father the King of Antioch. +And more bitter still, to hear Hereward angrily dispute the story, +unaware (at least at first) that he was being laughed at. + +Then she grew sometimes cold, sometimes contemptuous, sometimes +altogether fierce; and shed bitter tears in secret, when she was +complimented on the modesty of her young savage. + +But she was a brave maiden; and what was more, she loved him with +all her heart. Else why endure bitter words for his sake? And she set +herself to teach and train the wild outlaw into her ideal of a very +perfect knight. + +She talked to him of modesty and humility, the root of all virtues; of +chivalry and self-sacrifice; of respect to the weak, and mercy to the +fallen; of devotion to God, and awe of His commandments. She set before +him the example of ancient heroes and philosophers, of saints and +martyrs; and as much awed him by her learning as by the new world of +higher and purer morality which was opened for the first time to the +wandering Viking. + +And he drank it all in. Taught by a woman who loved him, he could listen +to humiliating truths, which he would have sneered at, had they come +from the lips of a hermit or a priest. Often he rebelled; often he broke +loose, and made her angry, and himself ashamed: but the spell was on +him,--a far surer, as well as purer spell than any love-potion of which +foolish Torfrida had ever dreamed,--the only spell which can really +civilize man,--that of woman's tact and woman's purity. + +But there were relapses, as was natural. The wine at Robert the Frison's +table was often too good; and then Hereward's tongue was loosed, and +Torfrida justly indignant. And one evening there came a very serious +relapse, and out of which arose a strange adventure. + +For one day the Great Marquis sent for his son to Bruges, ere he set out +for another campaign in Holland; and made him a great feast, to which +he invited Torfrida and her mother. For Adela of France, the Queen +Countess, had heard so much of Torfrida's beauty, that she must needs +have her as one of her bower-maidens; and her mother, who was an old +friend of Adela's, of course was highly honored by such a promotion for +her daughter. + +So they went to Bruges, and Hereward and his men went of course; and +they feasted and harped and sang; and the saying was fulfilled,-- + + "'Tis merry in the hall + When beards wag all." + +But the only beard which wagged in that hall was Hereward's; for the +Flemings, like the Normans, prided themselves on their civilized and +smooth-shaven chins, and laughed (behind his back) at Hereward, who +prided himself on keeping his beautiful English beard, with locks of +gold which, like his long golden hair, were combed and curled daily, +after the fashion of the Anglo-Danes. + +But Hereward's beard began to wag somewhat too fast, as he sat by +Torfrida's side, when some knight near began to tell of a wonderful +mare, called Swallow, which was to be found in one of the islands of +the Scheldt, and was famous through all the country round; insinuating, +moreover, that Hereward might as well have brought that mare home with +him as a trophy. + +Hereward answered, in his boasting vein, that he would bring home that +mare, or aught else that he had a liking to. + +"You will find it not so easy. Her owner, they say, is a mighty strong +churl of a horse-breeder, Dirk Hammerhand by name; and as for cutting +his throat, that you must not do; for he has been loyal to Countess +Gertrude, and sent her horses whenever she needed." + +"One may pick a fair quarrel with him nevertheless." + +"Then you must bide such a buffet as you never abode before. They +say his arm has seven men's strength; and whosoever visits him, he +challenges to give and take a blow; but every man that has taken a blow +as yet has never needed another." + +"Hereward will have need of his magic head-piece, if he tries that +adventure," quoth another. + +"Ay," retorted the first speaker; "but the helmet may stand the rap well +enough, and yet the brains inside be the worse." + +"Not a doubt. I knew a man once, who was so strong, that he would shake +a nut till the kernel went to powder, and yet never break the shell." + +"That is a lie!" quoth Hereward. And so it was, and told purposely to +make him expose himself. + +Whereon high words followed, which Torfrida tried in vain to stop. +Hereward was flushed with ire and scorn. + +"Magic armor, forsooth!" cried he at last. "What care I for armor or for +magic? I will wager to you"--"my armor," he was on the point of saying, +but he checked himself in time--"any horse in my stable, that I go in my +shirt to Scaldmariland, and bring back that mare single-handed." + +"Hark to the Englishman. He has turned Berserk at last, like his +forefathers. You will surely start in a pair of hose as well, or the +ladies will be shamed." + +And so forth, till Torfrida was purple with shame, and wished herself +fathoms deep; and Adela of France called sternly from the head of the +table to ask what the wrangling meant. + +"It is only the English Berserker, the Lady Torfrida's champion," said +some one, in his most courteous tone, "who is not yet as well acquainted +with the customs of knighthood as that fair lady hopes to make him +hereafter." + +"Torfrida's champion?" asked Adela, in a tone of surprise, if not scorn. + +"If any knight quarrels with my Hereward, he quarrels with Robert +himself!" thundered Count Robert. "Silence!" + +And so the matter was hushed up. + +The banquet ended; and they walked out into the garden to cool their +heads, and play at games, and dance. + +Torfrida avoided Hereward: but he, with the foolish pertinacity of a man +who knows he has had too much wine, and yet pretends to himself that he +has not, would follow her, and speak to her. + +She turned away more than once. At last she was forced to speak to him. + +"So! You have made me a laughing-stock to these knights. You have +scorned at my gifts. You have said--and before these men, too--that you +need neither helm nor hauberk. Give me them back, then, Berserker as you +are, and go sleep off your wine." + +"That will I," laughed Hereward boisterously. + +"You are tipsy," said she, "and do not know what you say." + +"You are angry, and do not know what you say. Hearken, proud lass. I will +take care of one thing, and that is, that you shall speak the truth." + +"Did I not say that you were tipsy?" + +"Pish! You said that I was a Berserker. And truth you shall speak; for +baresark I go to-morrow to the war, and baresark I win that mare or +die." + +"That will be very fit for you." + +And the two turned haughtily from each other. + +Ere Torfrida went to bed that night, there was a violent knocking. Angry +as she was, she was yet anxious enough to hurry out of her chamber, and +open the door herself. + +Martin Lightfoot stood there with a large leather case, which he flung +at her feet somewhat unceremoniously. + +"There is some gear of yours," said he, as it clanged and rattled on the +floor. + +"What do you mean, man?" + +"Only that my master bid me say that he cares as little for his own life +as you do." And he turned away. + +She caught him by the arm:-- + +"What is the meaning of this? What is in this mail?" + +"You should know best. If young folks cannot be content when they are +well off, they will go farther and fare worse," says Martin Lightfoot. +And he slipt from her grasp and fled into the night. + +She took the mail to her room and opened it. It contained the magic +armor. + +All her anger was melted away. She cried; she blamed herself. He would +be killed; his blood would be on her head. She would have carried it +back to him with her own hands; she would have entreated him on her +knees to take it back. But how face the courtiers? and how find him? +Very probably, too, he was by that time hopelessly drunk. And at that +thought she drew herself into herself, and trying to harden her heart +again, went to bed, but not to sleep; and bitterly she cried as she +thought over the old hag's croon:-- + + "Quick joy, long pain, + You will take your gift again." + +It might have been five o'clock the next morning when the clarion rang +down the street. She sprang up and drest herself quickly; but never more +carefully or gayly. She heard the tramp of horse-hoofs. He was moving +a-field early, indeed. Should she go to the window to bid him farewell? +Should she hide herself in just anger? + +She looked out stealthily through the blind of the little window in the +gable. There rode down the street Robert le Frison in full armor, and +behind him, knight after knight, a wall of shining steel. But by his +side rode one bare-headed, his long yellow curls floating over his +shoulders. His boots had golden spurs, a gilt belt held up his sword; +but his only dress was a silk shirt and silk hose. He laughed and sang, +and made his horse caracol, and tossed his lance in the air, and caught +it by the point, like Taillefer at Hastings, as he passed under the +window. + +She threw open the blind, careless of all appearances. She would have +called to him: but the words choked her; and what should she say? + +He looked up boldly, and smiled. + +"Farewell, fair lady mine. Drunk I was last night: but not so drunk as +to forget a promise." + +And he rode on, while Torfrida rushed away and broke into wild weeping. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +HOW HEREWARD WON MARE SWALLOW. + + +On a bench at the door of his high-roofed wooden house sat Dirk +Hammerhand, the richest man in Walcheren. From within the house +sounded the pleasant noise of slave-women, grinding and chatting at the +handquern; from without, the pleasant noise of geese and fowls without +number. And as he sat and drank his ale, and watched the herd of horses +in the fen, he thought himself a happy man, and thanked his Odin and +Thor that owing to his princely supplies of horses to Countess Gertrude, +Robert the Frison and his Christian Franks had not harried him to the +bare walls, as they would probably do ere all was over. + +As he looked at the horses, some half-mile off, he saw a strange stir +among them. They began whinnying and pawing round a four-footed thing +in the midst, which might be a badger, or a wolf,--though both were very +uncommon in that pleasant isle of Walcheren; but which plainly had no +business there. Whereon he took up a mighty staff, and strode over the +fen to see. + +He found neither wolf nor badger; but to his exceeding surprise, a long +lean man, clothed in ragged horse-skins, whinnying and neighing exactly +like a horse, and then stooping to eat grass like one. He advanced to do +the first thing which came into his head, namely to break the man's back +with his staff, and ask him afterwards who he might be. But ere he could +strike, the man or horse kicked up with his hind legs in his face, and +then springing on to the said hind legs ran away with extraordinary +swiftness some fifty yards; and then went down on all-fours and began +grazing again. + +"Beest thou man or devil?" cried Dirk, somewhat frightened. + +The thing looked up. The face at least was human. + +"Art thou a Christian man?" asked it in bad Frisian, intermixed with +snorts and neighs. + +"What's that to thee?" growled Dirk; and began to wish a little that he +was one, having heard that the sign of the cross was of great virtue in +driving away fiends. + +"Thou art not Christian. Thou believest in Thor and Odin? Then there is +hope." + +"Hope of what?" Dirk was growing more and more frightened. + +"Of her, my sister! Ah, my sister, can it be that I shall find thee at +last, after ten thousand miles, and thirty years of woeful wandering?" + +"I have no man's sister here. At least, my wife's brother was killed--" + +"I speak not of a sister in a woman's shape. Mine, alas!--O woeful +prince, O more woeful princess!--eats the herb of the field somewhere in +the shape of a mare, as ugly as she was once beautiful, but swifter than +the swallow on the wing." + +"I've none such here," quoth Dirk, thoroughly frightened, and glancing +uneasily at mare Swallow. + +"You have not? Alas, wretched me! It was prophesied to me, by the witch, +that I should find her in the field of one who worshipped the old gods; +for had she come across a holy priest, she had been a woman again, +long ago. Whither must I wander afresh!" And the thing began weeping +bitterly, and then ate more grass. + +"I--that is--thou poor miserable creature," said Dirk, half pitying, +half wishing to turn the subject, "leave off making a beast of thyself +awhile, and tell me who thou art." + +"I have made no beast of myself, most noble Earl of the Frisians, for so +you doubtless are. I was made a beast of,--a horse of, by an enchanter +of a certain land, and my sister a mare." + +"Thou dost not say so!" quoth Dirk, who considered such an event quite +possible. + +"I was a prince of the county of Alboronia, which lies between Cathay +and the Mountains of the Moon, as fair once as I am foul now, and only +less fair than my lost sister; and, by the enchantments of a cruel +magician, we became what we are." + +"But thou art not a horse, at all events?" + +"Am I not? Thou knowest, then, more of me than I do of myself,"--and it +ate more grass. "But hear the rest of my story. My hapless sister was +sold away, with me, to a merchant; but I, breaking loose from him, fled +until I bathed in a magic fountain. At once I recovered my man's shape, +and was rejoicing therein, when out of the fountain rose a fairy more +beautiful than an elf, and smiled upon me with love. + +"She asked me my story, and I told it. And when it was told, 'Wretch!' +she cried, 'and coward, who hast deserted thy sister in her need. I +would have loved thee, and made thee immortal as myself; but now thou +shalt wander, ugly, and eating grass, clothed in the horse-hide which +has just dropped from thy limbs, till thou shalt find thy sister, and +bring her to bathe, like thee, in this magic well.'" + +"All good spirits help us! And you are really a prince?" + +"As surely," cried the thing, with a voice of sudden rapture, "as that +mare is my sister"; and he rushed at mare Swallow. "I see, I see, my +mother's eyes, my father's nose--" + +"He must have been a chuckle-headed king that, then," grinned Dirk to +himself. "The mare's nose is as big as a buck-basket. But how can she be +a princess, man,--prince, I mean? she has a foal running by her here." + +"A foal?" said the thing, solemnly. "Let me behold it. Alas, alas, my +sister! Thy tyrant's threat has come true, that thou shouldst be his +bride whether thou wouldst or not. I see, I see in the features of thy +son his hated lineaments." + +"Why he must be as like a horse, then, as your father. But this will not +do, Master Horse-man; I know that foal's pedigree better than I do my +own." + +"Man, man, simple, though honest! Hast thou never heard of the skill +of the enchanter of the East? How they transform their victims at night +back again into human shape, and by day into the shape of beasts again?" + +"Yes--well--I know that--" + +"And do you not see how you are deluded? Every night, doubt not, that +mare and foal take their human shape again; and every night, perhaps, +that foul enchanter visits in your fen, perhaps in your very stable, his +wretched and perhaps unwilling bride." + +"An enchanter in my stable? That is an ugly guest. But no. I've been +into the stables fifty times, to see if that mare was safe. Mare was +mare, and colt was colt, Mr. Prince, if I have eyes to see." + +"And what are eyes against enchantments? The moment you opened the door, +the spell was cast over them again. You ought to thank your stars that +no worse has happened yet; that the enchanter, in fleeing, has not wrung +your neck as he went out, or cast a spell on you, which will fire +your barns, lame your geese, give your fowls the pip, your horses the +glanders, your cattle the murrain, your children the St. Vitus' dance, +your wife the creeping palsy, and yourself the chalk-stones in all your +fingers." + +"The Lord have mercy on me! If the half of this be true, I will turn +Christian. I will send for a priest, and be baptized to-morrow!" + +"O my sister, my sister! Dost thou not know me? Dost thou answer my +caresses with kicks? Or is thy heart, as well as thy body, so enchained +by that cruel necromancer, that thou preferest to be his, and scornest +thine own salvation, leaving me to eat grass till I die?" + +"I say, Prince,--I say,--What would you have a man to do? I bought the +mare honestly, and I have kept her well. She can't say aught against +me on that score. And whether she be princess or not, I'm loath to part +with her." + +"Keep her then, and keep with her the curse of all the saints and +angels. Look down, ye holy saints" (and the thing poured out a long +string of saints' names), "and avenge this catholic princess, kept in +bestial durance by an unbaptized heathen! May his--" + +"Don't! don't!" roared Dirk. "And don't look at me like that" (for he +feared the evil eye), "or I'll brain you with my staff!" + +"Fool, if I have lost a horse's figure, I have not lost his swiftness. +Ere thou couldst strike, I should have run a mile and back, to curse +thee afresh." And the thing ran round him, and fell on all-fours again, +and ate grass. + +"Mercy, mercy! And that is more than I ever asked yet of man. But it is +hard," growled he, "that a man should lose his money, because a rogue +sells him a princess in disguise." + +"Then sell her again; sell her, as thou valuest thy life, to the first +Christian man thou meetest. And yet no. What matters? Ere a month be +over, the seven years' enchantment will have passed, and she will return +to her own shape, with her son, and vanish from thy farm, leaving thee +to vain repentance, and so thou wilt both lose thy money and get her +curse. Farewell, and my malison abide with thee!" + +And the thing, without another word, ran right away, neighing as it +went, leaving Dirk in a state of abject terror. + +He went home. He cursed the mare, he cursed the man who sold her, he +cursed the day he saw her, he cursed the day he was born. He told his +story with exaggerations and confusions in plenty to all in the house; +and terror fell on them likewise. No one, that evening, dare go down +into the fen to drive the horses up; and Dirk got very drunk, went to +bed, and trembled there all night (as did the rest of the household), +expecting the enchanter to enter on a flaming fire-drake, at every howl +of the wind. + +The next morning, as Dirk was going about his business with a doleful +face, casting stealthy glances at the fen, to see if the mysterious mare +was still there, and a chance of his money still left, a man rode up to +the door. + +He was poorly clothed, with a long rusty sword by his side. A broad felt +hat, long boots, and a haversack behind his saddle, showed him to be a +traveller, seemingly a horse-dealer; for there followed him, tied head +and tail, a brace of sorry nags. + +"Heaven save all here," quoth he, making the sign of the cross. "Can any +good Christian give me a drink of milk?" + +"Ale, if thou wilt," said Dirk. "But what art thou, and whence?" + +On any other day, he would have tried to coax his guest into trying a +buffet with him for his horse and clothes; but this morning his heart +was heavy with the thought of the enchanted mare, and he welcomed the +chance of selling her to the stranger. + +"We are not very fond of strangers about here, since these Flemings +have been harrying our borders. If thou art a spy, it will be worse for +thee." + +"I am neither spy nor Fleming; but a poor servant of the Lord Bishop +of Utrecht's, buying a garron or two for his lordship's priests. As for +these Flemings, may St. John Baptist save from them both me and you. Do +you know of any man who has horses to sell hereabouts?" + +"There are horses in the fen yonder," quoth Dirk, who knew that +churchmen were likely to give a liberal price, and pay in good silver. + +"I saw them as I rode up. And a fine lot they are; but of too good a +stamp for my short purse, or for my holy master's riding,--a fat priest +likes a quiet nag, my master." + +"Humph. Well, if quietness is what you need, there is a mare down there, +a child might ride her with a thread of wool. But as for price,--and she +has a colt, too, running by her." + +"Ah?" quoth the horseman. "Well, your Walcheren folk make good milk, +that's certain. A colt by her? That's awkward. My Lord does not like +young horses; and it would be troublesome, too, to take the thing along +with me." + +The less anxious the dealer seemed to buy, the more anxious grew Dirk +to sell; but he concealed his anxiety, and let the stranger turn away, +thanking him for his drink. + +"I say!" he called after him. "You might look at her as you ride past +the herd." + +The stranger assented, and they went down into the fen, and looked over +the precious mare, whose feats were afterwards sung by many an English +fireside, or in the forest, beneath the hollins green, by such as Robin +Hood and his merry men. The ugliest, as well as the swiftest, of mares, +she was, say the old chroniclers; and it was not till the stranger +had looked twice at her, that he forgot her great chuckle head, +greyhound-flanks, and drooping hind-quarters, and began to see the great +length of those same quarters,--the thighs let down into the hocks, the +arched loin, the extraordinary girth through the saddle, the sloping +shoulder, the long arms, the flat knees, the large, well-set hoofs, and +all the other points which showed her strength and speed, and justified +her fame. + +"She might carry a big man like you through the mud," said he, +carelessly, "but as for pace, one cannot expect that with such a chuckle +head. And if one rode her through a town, the boys would call after one, +'All head and no tail.' Why, I can't see her tail for her quarters, it +is so ill set on." + +"Ill set on, or none," said Dirk, testily; "don't go to speak against +her pace till you have seen it. Here, lass!" + +Dirk was, in his heart, rather afraid of the princess; but he was +comforted when she came up to him like a dog. + +"She's as sensible as a woman," said he; and then grumbled to himself, +"may be she knows I mean to part with her." + +"Lend me your saddle," said he to the stranger. + +The stranger did so; and Dirk mounting galloped her in a ring. There was +no doubt of her powers, as soon as she began to move. + +"I hope you won't remember this against me, madam," said Dirk, as soon +as he got out of the stranger's hearing. "I can't do less than sell you +to a Christian. And certainly I have been as good a master to you as if +I'd known who you were; but if you wish to stay with me you've only to +kick me off, and say so, and I'm yours to command." + +"Well, she can gallop a bit," said the stranger, as Dirk pulled her up +and dismounted; "but an ugly brute she is nevertheless, and such a +one as I should not care to ride, for I am a gay man among the ladies. +However, what is your price?" + +Dirk named twice as much as he would have taken. + +"Half that, you mean." And the usual haggle began. + +"Tell thee what," said Dirk at last, "I am a man who has his fancies; +and this shall be her price; half thy bid, and a box on the ear." + +The demon of covetousness had entered Dirk's heart. What if he got the +money, brained or at least disabled the stranger, and so had a chance of +selling the mare a second time to some fresh comer? + +"Thou art a strange fellow," quoth the horse-dealer. "But so be it." + +Dirk chuckled. "He does not know," thought he, "that he has to do with +Dirk Hammerhand," and he clenched his fist in anticipation of his rough +joke. + +"There," quoth the stranger, counting out the money carefully, "is thy +coin. And there--is thy box on the ear." + +And with a blow which rattled over the fen, he felled Dirk Hammerhand to +the ground. + +He lay senseless for a moment, and then looked wildly round. His jaw was +broken. + +"Villain!" groaned he. "It was I who was to give the buffet, not thou!" + +"Art mad?" asked the stranger, as he coolly picked up the coins, which +Dirk had scattered in his fall. "It is the seller's business to take, +and the buyer's to give." + +And while Dirk roared for help in vain he leapt on mare Swallow and rode +off shouting, + +"Aha! Dirk Hammerhand! So you thought to knock a hole in my skull, as +you have done to many a better man than yourself. He is a lucky man who +never meets his match, Dirk. I shall give your love to the Enchanted +Prince, my faithful serving-man, whom they call Martin Lightfoot." + +Dirk cursed the day he was born. Instead of the mare and colt, he had +got the two wretched garrons which the stranger had left, and a face +which made him so tender of his own teeth, that he never again offered +to try a buffet with a stranger. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +HOW HEREWARD RODE INTO BRUGES LIKE A BEGGARMAN. + + +The spring and summer had passed, and the autumn was almost over, +when great news came to the Court of Bruges, where Torfrida was now a +bower-maiden. + +The Hollanders had been beaten till they submitted; at least for the +present. There was peace, at least for the present, through all the +isles of Scheldt; and more than all, the lovely Countess Gertrude +had resolved to reward her champion by giving him her hand, and the +guardianship of her lands and the infant son. + +And Hereward? + +From him, or of him, there was no word. That he was alive and fighting, +was all the messenger could say. + +Then Robert came back to Bruges, with a gallant retinue, leading home +his bride. And there met him his father and mother, and his brother of +Mons, and Richilda the beautiful and terrible sorceress,--who had not +yet stained her soul with those fearful crimes which she had expiated by +fearful penances in after years, when young Arnoul, the son for whom +she had sold her soul, lay dead through the very crimes by which she had +meant to make him a mighty prince. And Torfrida went out with them to +meet Count Robert, and looked for Hereward, till her eyes were ready to +fall out of her head. But Hereward was not with them. + +"He must be left behind, commanding the army," thought she. "But he +might have sent one word!" + +There was a great feast that day, of course; and Torfrida sat thereat: +but she could not eat. Nevertheless she was too proud to let the knights +know what was in her heart; so she chatted and laughed as gayly as the +rest, watching always for any word of Hereward. But none mentioned his +name. + +The feast was long; the ladies did not rise till nigh bedtime; and then +the men drank on. + +They went up to the Queen-Countess's chamber; where a solemn undressing +of that royal lady usually took place. + +The etiquette was this. The Queen-Countess sat in her chair of state in +the midst, till her shoes were taken off, and her hair dressed for the +night. Right and left of her, according to their degrees, sat the other +great ladies; and behind each of them, where they could find places, the +maidens. + +It was Torfrida's turn to take off the royal shoes; and she advanced +into the middle of the semicircle, slippers in hand. + +"Stop there!" said the Countess-Queen. + +Whereat Torfrida stopped, very much frightened. + +"Countesses and ladies," said the mistress. "There are, in Provence and +the South, what I wish there were here in Flanders,--Courts of Love, at +which all offenders against the sacred laws of Venus and Cupid are tried +by an assembly of their peers, and punished according to their deserts." + +Torfrida turned scarlet. + +"I know not why we, countesses and ladies, should have less knowledge +of the laws of love than those gayer dames of the South, whose blood +runs--to judge by her dark hair--in the veins of yon fair maid." + +There was a silence. Torfrida was the most beautiful woman in the room; +more beautiful than even Richilda the terrible: and therefore there were +few but were glad to see her--as it seemed--in trouble. + +Torfrida's mother began whimpering, and praying to six or seven saints +at once. But nobody marked her,--possibly not even the saints; being +preoccupied with Torfrida. + +"I hear, fair maid,--for that you are that I will do you the justice to +confess,--that you are old enough to be married this four years since." + +Torfrida stood like a stone, frightened out of her wits, plentiful as +they were. + +"Why are you not married?" + +There was, of course, no answer. + +"I hear that knights have fought for you; lost their lives for you." + +"I did not bid them," gasped Torfrida, longing that the floor would +open, and swallow up the Queen-Countess and all her kin and followers, +as it did for the enemies of the blessed Saint Dunstan, while he was +arguing with them in an upper room at Calne. + +"And that the knight of St. Valeri, to whom you gave your favor, now +lies languishing of wounds got in your cause." + +"I--I did not bid him fight," gasped Torfrida, now wishing that the +floor would open and swallow up herself. + +"And that he who overthrew the knight of St. Valeri,--to whom you gave +that favor, and more--" + +"I gave him nothing a maiden might not give," cried Torfrida, so +fiercely that the Queen-Countess recoiled somewhat. + +"I never said that you did, girl. Your love you gave him. Can you deny +that?" + +Torfrida laughed bitterly: her Southern blood was rising. + +"I put my love out to nurse, instead of weaning it, as many a maiden has +done before me. When my love cried for hunger and cold, I took it back +again to my own bosom: and whether it has lived or died there, is no +one's matter but my own." + +"Hunger and cold? I hear that him to whom you gave your love you drove +out to the cold, bidding him go fight in his bare shirt, if he wished to +win your love." + +"I did not. He angered me--he--" and Torfrida found herself in the act +of accusing Hereward. + +She stopped instantly. + +"What more, Majesty? If this be true, what more may not be true of such +a one as I? I submit myself to your royal grace." + +"She has confessed. What punishment, ladies, does she deserve? Or, +rather, what punishment would her cousins of Provence inflict, did we +send her southward, to be judged by their Courts of Love?" + +One lady said one thing, one another. Some spoke cruelly, some worse +than cruelly; for they were coarse ages, the ages of faith; and ladies +said things then in open company which gentlemen would be ashamed to say +in private now. + +"Marry her to a fool," said Richilda, at last, bitterly. + +"That is too common a misfortune," answered the lady of France. "If we +did no more to her, she might grow as proud as her betters." + +Adela knew that her daughter-in-law considered her husband a fool; and +was somewhat of the same opinion, though she hated Richilda. + +"No," said she; "we will do more. We will marry her to the first man who +enters the castle." + +Torfrida looked at her mistress to see if she were mad. But the +Countess-Queen was serene and sane. Then Torfrida's southern heat and +northern courage burst forth. + +"You--marry--me--to--" said she, slowly, with eyes so fierce, and lips +so vivid, that Richilda herself quailed. + +There was a noise of shouting and laughing in the court below, which +made all turn and listen. + +The next moment a serving-man came in, puzzled and inclined to laugh. + +"May it please your Majesty, here is the strangest adventure. There is +ridden into the castle-yard a beggar-man, with scarce a shirt to his +back, on a great ugly mare, with a foal running by her, and a fool +behind him, carrying lance and shield. And he says that he is come to +fight any knight of the Court, ragged as he stands, for the fairest +lady in the Court, be she who she may, if she have not a wedded husband +already." + +"And what says my Lord Marquis?" + +"That it is a fair challenge, and a good adventure; and that fight he +shall, if any man will answer his defiance." + +"And I say, tell my Lord the Marquis, that fight he shall not: for he +shall have the fairest maiden in this Court for the trouble of carrying +her away; and that I, Adela of France, will give her to him. So let that +beggar dismount, and be brought up hither to me." + +There was silence again. Torfrida looked round her once more, to see +whether or not she was dreaming, and whether there was one human being +to whom she could appeal. Her mother sat praying and weeping in a +corner. Torfrida looked at her with one glance of scorn, which she +confessed and repented, with bitter tears, many a year after, in a +foreign land; and then turned to bay with the spirit of her old Paladin +ancestor, who choked the Emir at Mont Majeur. + +Married to a beggar! It was a strange accident; and an ugly one; and a +great cruelty and wrong. But it was not impossible, hardly improbable, +in days when the caprice of the strong created accidents, and when +cruelty and wrong went for nothing, even with very kindly honest folk. +So Torfrida faced the danger, as she would have faced that of a kicking +horse, or a flooded ford; and like the nut-brown bride, + + "She pulled out a little penknife, + That was both keen and sharp." + +and considered that the beggar-man could wear no armor, and that she +wore none either. For if she succeeded in slaying that beggar-man, +she might need to slay herself after, to avoid being--according to the +fashion of those days--burnt alive. + +So when the arras was drawn back, and that beggar-man came into the +room, instead of shrieking, fainting, hiding, or turning, she made three +steps straight toward him, looking him in the face like a wild-cat at +bay. Then she threw up her arms; and fell upon his neck. + +It was Hereward himself. Filthy, ragged: but Hereward. + +His shirt was brown with gore, and torn with wounds; and through its +rents showed more than one hardly healed scar. His hair and beard was +all in elf-locks; and one heavy cut across the head had shorn not only +hair, but brain-pan, very close. Moreover, any nose, save that of Love, +might have required perfume. + +But Hereward it was; and regardless of all beholders, she lay upon his +neck, and never stirred nor spoke. + +"I call you to witness, ladies," cried the Queen-Countess, "that I am +guiltless. She has given herself to this beggar-man of her own free +will. What say you?" And she turned to Torfrida's mother. + +Torfrida's mother only prayed and whimpered. + +"Countesses and Ladies," said the Queen-Countess, "there will be two +weddings to-morrow. The first will be that of my son Robert and my +pretty Lady Gertrude here. The second will be that of my pretty Torfrida +and Hereward." + +"And the second bride," said the Countess Gertrude, rising and taking +Torfrida in her arms, "will be ten times prettier than the first. There, +sir, I have done all you asked of me. Now go and wash yourself." + + * * * * * + +"Hereward," said Torfrida, a week after, "and did you really never +change your shirt all that time?" + +"Never. I kept my promise." + +"But it must have been very nasty." + +"Well, I bathed now and then." + +"But it must have been very cold." + +"I am warm enough now." + +"But did you never comb your hair, neither?" + +"Well, I won't say that. Travellers find strange bed-fellows. But I had +half a mind never to do it at all, just to spite you." + +"And what matter would it have been to me?" + +"O, none. It is only a Danish fashion we have of keeping clean." + +"Clean! You were dirty enough when you came home. How silly you were! If +you had sent me but one word!" + +"You would have fancied me beaten, and scolded me all over again. I know +your ways now, Torfrida." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +HOW EARL TOSTI GODWINSSON CAME TO ST. OMER. + + +The winter passed in sweet madness; and for the first time in her life, +Torfrida regretted the lengthening of the days, and the flowering of the +primroses, and the return of the now needless wryneck; for they warned +her that Hereward must forth again, to the wars in Scaldmariland, which +had broken out again, as was to be expected, as soon as Count Robert and +his bride had turned their backs. + +And Hereward, likewise, for the first time in his life, was loath to go +to war. He was, doubtless, rich enough in this world's goods. Torfrida +herself was rich, and seems to have had the disposal of her own +property, for her mother is not mentioned in connection therewith. +Hereward seems to have dwelt in her house at St. Omer as long as he +remained in Flanders. He had probably amassed some treasure of his own +by the simple, but then most aristocratic, method of plunder. He had, +too, probably, grants of land in Holland from the Frison, the rents +whereof were not paid as regularly as might be. Moreover, as "_Magister +Militum_," ("Master of the Knights,") he had, it is likely, pay as well +as honor. And he approved himself worthy of his good fortune. He kept +forty gallant housecarles in his hall all the winter, and Torfrida and +her lasses made and mended their clothes. He gave large gifts to the +Abbey of St. Bertin; and had masses sung for the souls of all whom he +had slain, according to a rough list which he furnished,--bidding the +monks not to be chary of two or three masses extra at times, as his +memory was short, and he might have sent more souls to purgatory than +he had recollected. He gave great alms at his door to all the poor. He +befriended, especially, all shipwrecked and needy mariners, feeding +and clothing them, and begging their freedom as a gift from Baldwin. +He feasted the knights of the neighborhood, who since his baresark +campaign, had all vowed him the most gallant of warriors, and since his +accession of wealth, the most courteous of gentlemen; and so all went +merrily, as it is written, "As long as thou doest well unto thyself, men +will speak well of thee." + +So he would have fain stayed at home at St. Omer; but he was Robert's +man, and his good friend likewise; and to the wars he must go forth once +more; and for eight or nine weary months Torfrida was alone: but very +happy, for a certain reason of her own. + +At last the short November days came round; and a joyful woman was fair +Torfrida, when Martin Lightfoot ran into the hall, and throwing himself +down on the rushes like a dog, announced that Hereward and his men would +be home before noon, and then fell fast asleep. + +There was bustling to and fro of her and her maids; decking of the hall +in the best hangings; strewing of fresh rushes, to the dislodgement +of Martin; setting out of square tables, and stoops and mugs thereon; +cooking of victuals, broaching of casks; and above all, for Hereward's +self, heating of much water, and setting out, in the inner chamber, of +the great bath-tub and bath-sheet, which was the special delight of a +hero fresh from the war. + +And by midday the streets of St. Omer rang with clank and tramp and +trumpet-blare, and in marched Hereward and all his men, and swung round +through the gateway into the court, where Torfrida stood to welcome +them, as fair as day, a silver stirrup-cup in her hand. And while the +men were taking off their harness and dressing their horses, she and +Hereward went in together, and either took such joy of the other, that a +year's parting was forgot in a minute's meeting. + +"Now," cried she, in a tone half of triumph, half of tenderness, "look +there!" + +"A cradle? And a baby?" + +"Your baby." + +"Is it a boy?" asked Hereward, who saw in his mind's eye a thing which +would grow and broaden at his knee year by year, and learn from him to +ride, to shoot, to fight. "Happy for him if he does not learn worse +from me," thought Hereward, with a sudden movement of humility and +contrition, which was surely marked in heaven; for Torfrida marked it on +earth. + +But she mistook its meaning. + +"Do not be vexed. It is a girl." + +"Never mind!" as if it was a calamity over which he was bound to comfort +the mother. "If she is half as beautiful as you look at this moment, +what splintering of lances there will be about her! How jolly, to see +the lads hewing at each other, while our daughter sits in the pavilion, +as Queen of Love!" + +Torfrida laughed. "You think of nothing but fighting, bear of the North +Seas." + +"Every one to his trade. Well, yes, I am glad that it is a girl." + +"I thought you seemed vexed. Why did you cross yourself?" + +"Because I thought to myself, how unfit I was to bring up a boy to be +such a knight as--as you would have him; how likely I was, ere all was +over, to make him as great a ruffian as myself." + +"Hereward! Hereward!" and she threw her arms round his neck for the +tenth time. "Blessed be you for those words! Those are the fears which +never come true, for they bring down from heaven the grace of God, to +guard the humble and contrite heart from that which it fears." + +"Ah, Torfrida, I wish I were as good as you!" + +"Now--my joy and my life, my hero and my scald--I have great news for +you, as well as a little baby. News from England." + +"You, and a baby over and above, are worth all England to me." + +"But listen: Edward the king is dead!" + +"Then there is one fool less on earth; and one saint more, I suppose, in +heaven." + +"And Harold Godwinsson is king in his stead. And he has married your +niece Aldytha, and sworn friendship with her brothers." + +"I expected no less. Well, every dog has his day." + +"And his will be a short one. William of Normandy has sworn to drive him +out." + +"Then he will do it. And so the poor little Swan-neck is packed into +a convent, that the houses of Godwin and Leofric may rush into each +other's arms, and perish together! Fools, fools, fools! I will hear no +more of such a mad world. My queen, tell me about your sweet self. What +is all this to me? Am I not a wolf's head, and a landless man?" + +"O my king, have not the stars told me that you will be an earl and a +ruler of men, when all your foes are wolves' heads as you are now? And +the weird is coming true already. Tosti Godwinsson is in the town at +this moment, an outlaw and a wolf's head himself." + +Hereward laughed a great laugh. + +"Aha! Every man to his right place at last. Tell me about that, for it +will amuse me. I have heard naught of him since he sent the king his +Hereford thralls' arms and legs in the pickle-barrels; to show him, he +said, that there was plenty of cold meat on his royal demesnes." + +"You have not heard, then, how he murdered in his own chamber at York, +Gamel Ormsson and Ulf Dolfinsson?" + +"That poor little lad? Well, a gracious youth was Tosti, ever since he +went to kill his brother Harold with teeth and claws, like a wolf; and +as he grows in years, he grows in grace. But what said Ulf's father and +the Gospatricks?" + +"Dolfin and young Gospatrick were I know not where. But old Gospatrick +came down to Westminster, to demand law for his grandnephew's blood." + +"A silly thing of the old Thane, to walk into the wolf's den." + +"And so he found. He was stabbed there, three days after Christmas-tide, +and men say that Queen Edith did it, for love of Tosti, her brother. +Then Dolfin and young Gospatrick took to the sea, and away to Scotland: +and so Tosti rid himself of all the good blood in the North, except +young Waltheof Siwardsson, whose turn, I fear, will come next." + +"How comes he here, then?" + +"The Northern men rose at that, killed his servant at York, took all his +treasures, and marched down to Northampton, plundering and burning. They +would have marched on London town, if Harold had not met them there from +the king. There they cried out against Tosti, and all his taxes, and his +murders, and his changing Canute's laws, and would have young Morcar +for their earl. A tyrant they would not endure. Free they were born and +bred, they said, and free they would live and die. Harold must needs do +justice, even on his own brother." + +"Especially when he knows that that brother is his worst foe." + +"Harold is a better man than you take him for, my Hereward. But be that +as it may, Morcar is earl, and Tosti outlawed, and here in St. Omer, +with wife and child." + +"My nephew Earl of Northumbria! As I might have been, if I had been a +wiser man." + +"If you had, you would never have found me." + +"True, my queen! They say Heaven tempers the wind to the shorn lamb; but +it tempers it too, sometimes, to the hobbled ass; and so it has done by +me. And so the rogues have fallen out, and honest men may come by their +own. For, as the Northern men have done by one brother, so will the +Eastern men do by the other. Let Harold see how many of those fat +Lincolnshire manors, which he has seized into his own hands, he holds by +this day twelve months. But what is all this to me, my queen, while you +and I can kiss, and laugh the world to scorn?" + +"This to you, beloved, that, great as you are, Torfrida must have +you greater still; and out of all this coil and confusion you may win +something, if you be wise." + +"Sweet lips, be still, and let us love instead of plotting." + +"And this, too--you shall not stop my mouth--that Harold Godwinsson has +sent a letter to you." + +"Harold Godwinsson is my very good lord," sneered Hereward. + +"And this it said, with such praises and courtesies concerning you, as +made thy wife's heart beat high with pride: 'If Hereward Leofricsson +will come home to England, he shall have his rights in law again, and +his manors in Lincolnshire, and a thanes-ship in East Anglia, and +manors for his men-at-arms; and if that be not enough, he shall have an +earldom, as soon as there is one to give.'" + +"And what says to that, Torfrida, Hereward's queen?" + +"You will not be angry if I answered the letter for you?" + +"If you answered it one way,--no. If another,--yes." + +Torfrida trembled. Then she looked Hereward full in the face with her +keen clear eyes. + +"Now shall I see whether I have given myself to Hereward in vain, +body and soul, or whether I have trained him to be my true and perfect +knight." + +"You answered, then," said Hereward, "thus--" + +"Say on," said she, turning her face away again. + +"Hereward Leofricsson tells Harold Godwinsson that he is his equal, and +not his man; and that he will never put his hands between the hands of a +son of Godwin. An Etheling born, a king of the house of Cerdic, outlawed +him from his right, and none but an Etheling born shall give him his +right again." + +"I said it, I said it. Those were my very words!" and Torfrida burst +into tears, while Hereward kissed her, almost fawned upon her, calling +her his queen, his saga-wife, his guardian angel. + +"I was sorely tempted," sobbed she. "Sorely. To see you, rich and proud, +upon your own lands, an earl may be,--may be, I thought at whiles, a +king. But it could not be. It did not stand with honor, my hero,--not +with honor." + +"Not with honor. Get me gay garments out of the chest, and let us go in +royally, and royally feast my jolly riders." + +"Stay awhile," said she, kissing his head as she combed and curled his +long golden locks; and her own raven ones, hardly more beautiful, +fell over them and mingled with them. "Stay awhile, my pride. There is +another spell in the wind, stirred up by devil or witch-wife, and it +comes from Tosti Godwinsson." + +"Tosti, the cold-meat butcher? What has he to say to me?" + +"This,--'If Hereward will come with me to William of Normandy, and help +us against Harold, the perjured, then will William do for him all that +Harold would have done, and more beside.'" + +"And what answered Torfrida?" + +"It was not so said to me that I could answer. I had it by a side-wind, +through the Countess Judith." [Footnote: Tosti's wife, Earl Baldwin's +daughter, sister of Matilda, William the Conqueror's wife.] + +"And she had it from her sister, Matilda." + +"And she, of course, from Duke William himself." + +"And what would you have answered, if you had answered, pretty one?" + +"Nay, I know not. I cannot be always queen. You must be king sometimes." + +Torfrida did not say that this latter offer had been a much sorer +temptation than the former. + +"And has not the base-born Frenchman enough knights of his own, that he +needs the help of an outlaw like me?" + +"He asks for help from all the ends of the earth. He has sent that +Lanfranc to the Pope; and there is talk of a sacred banner, and a +crusade against England." + +"The monks are with him, then?" said Hereward. "That is one more count +in their score. But I am no monk. I have shorn many a crown, but I have +kept my own hair as yet, you see." + +"I do see," said she, playing with his locks. "But,--but he wants you. +He has sent for Angevins, Poitevins, Bretons, Flemings,--promising +lands, rank, money, what not. Tosti is recruiting for him here in +Flanders now. He will soon be off to the Orkneys, I suspect, or to Sweyn +in Denmark, after Vikings." + +"Here? Has Baldwin promised him men?" + +"What could the good old man do? He could not refuse his own son-in-law. +This, at least, I know, that a messenger has gone off to Scotland, to +Gilbert of Ghent, to bring or send any bold Flemings who may prefer fat +England to lean Scotland." + +"Lands, rank, money, eh? So he intends that the war should pay +itself--out of English purses. What answer would you have me make to +that, wife mine?" + +"The Duke is a terrible man. What if he conquers? And conquer he will." + +"Is that written in your stars?" + +"It is, I fear. And if he have the Pope's blessing, and the Pope's +banner--Dare we resist the Holy Father?" + +"Holy step-father, you mean; for a step-father he seems to prove to +merry England. But do you really believe that an old man down in Italy +can make a bit of rag conquer by saying a few prayers at it? If I am to +believe in a magic flag, give me Harold Hardraade's Landcyda, at least, +with Harold and his Norsemen behind it." + +"William's French are as good as those Norsemen, man for man; and horsed +withal, Hereward." + +"That may be," said he, half testily, with a curse on the tanner's +grandson and his French popinjays, "and our Englishmen are as good as +any two Norsemen, as the Norse themselves say." He could not divine, and +Torfrida hardly liked to explain to him the glamour which the Duke of +Normandy had cast over her, as the representative of chivalry, learning, +civilization, a new and nobler life for men than the world had yet seen; +one which seemed to connect the young races of Europe with the wisdom of +the ancients and the magic glories of old Imperial Rome. + +"You are not fair to that man," said she, after a while. "Hereward, +Hereward, have I not told you how, though body be strong, mind is +stronger? That is what that man knows; and therefore he has prospered. +Therefore his realms are full of wise scholars, and thriving schools, +and fair minsters, and his men are sober, and wise, and learned like +clerks--" + +"And false like clerks, as he is himself. Schoolcraft and honesty never +went yet together, Torfrida--" + +"Not in me?" + +"You are not a clerk, you are a woman, and more, you are an elf, a +goddess; there is none like you. But hearken to me. This man is false. +All the world knows it." + +"He promises, they say, to govern England justly as King Edward's heir, +according to the old laws and liberties of the realm." + +"Of course. If he does not come as the old monk's heir, how does he +come at all? If he does not promise our--their, I mean, for I am no +Englishman--laws and liberties, who will join him? But his riders and +hirelings will not fight for nothing. They must be paid with English +land, and English land they will have, for they will be his men, whoever +else are not. They will be his darlings, his housecarles, his hawks to +sit on his fist and fly at his game; and English bones will be picked +clean to feed them. And you would have me help to do that, Torfrida? Is +that the honor of which you spoke so boldly to Harold Godwinsson?" + +Torfrida was silent. To have brought Hereward under the influence of +William was an old dream of hers. And yet she was proud at the dream +being broken thus. And so she said: + +"You are right. It is better for you,--it is better than to be William's +darling, and the greatest earl in his court,--to feel that you are still +an Englishman. Promise me but one thing, that you will make no fierce or +desperate answer to the Duke." + +"And why not answer the tanner as he deserves?" + +"Because my art, and my heart too, tells me that your fortunes and +his are linked together. I have studied my tables, but they would not +answer. Then I cast lots in Virgilius--" + +"And what found you there?" asked he, anxiously. + +"I opened at the lines,-- + + 'Pacem me exanimis et Martis sorte peremptis + Oratis? Equidem et vivis concedere vellem.'" + +"And what means that?" + +"That you may have to pray him to pity the slain; and have for answer, +that their lands may be yours if you will but make peace with him. At +least, do not break hopelessly with that man. Above all, never use that +word concerning him which you used just now; the word which he never +forgives. Remember what he did to them of Alencon, when they hung raw +hides over the wall, and cried, 'Plenty of work for the tanner!'" + +"Let him pick out the prisoners' eyes, and chop off their hands, and +shoot them into the town from mangonels,--he must go far and thrive well +ere I give him a chance of doing that by me." + +"Hereward, Hereward, my own! Boast not, but fear God. Who knows, in such +a world as this, to what end we may come? Night after night I am haunted +with spectres, eyeless, handless--" + +"This is cold comfort for a man just out of hard fighting in the +ague-fens!" + +She threw her arms round him, and held him as if she would never let him +go. + +"When you die, I die. And you will not die: you will be great and +glorious, and your name will be sung by scald and minstrel through many +a land, far and wide. Only be not rash. Be not high-minded. Promise me +to answer this man wisely. The more crafty he is, the more crafty must +you be likewise." + +"Let us tell this mighty hero, then," said Hereward,--trying to laugh +away her fears, and perhaps his own,--"that while he has the Holy Father +on his side, he can need no help from a poor sinful worm like me." + +"Hereward, Hereward!" + +"Why, is there aught about hides in that?" + +"I want,--I want an answer which may not cut off all hope in case of the +worst." + +"Then let us say boldly, 'On the day that William is King of all +England, Hereward will come and put his hands between his, and be his +man.'" + +That message was sent to William at Rouen. He laughed,-- + +"It is a fair challenge from a valiant man. The day shall come when I +will claim it." + +Tosti and Hereward passed that winter in St. Omer, living in the same +street, passing each other day by day, and never spoke a word one to the +other. + +Robert the Frison heard of it, and tried to persuade Hereward. + +"Let him purge himself of the murder of Ulf, the boy, son of my friend +Dolfin; and after that, of Gamel, son of Orm; and after that, again, of +Gospatrick, my father's friend, whom his sister slew for his sake; +and then an honest man may talk with him. Were he not my good lord's +brother-in-law, as he is, more's the pity, I would challenge him to +fight _a l'outrance_, with any weapons he might choose." + +"Heaven protect him in that case," quoth Robert the Frison. + +"As it is, I will keep the peace. And I will see that my men keep the +peace, though there are Scarborough and Bamborough lads among them, who +long to cut his throat upon the streets. But more I will not do." + +So Tosti sulked through the winter at St. Omer, and then went off to get +help from Sweyn, of Denmark, and failing that, from Harold Hardraade of +Norway. But how he sped there must be read in the words of a cunninger +saga-man than this chronicler, even in those of the "Icelandic Homer," +Snorro Sturleson. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +HOW HEREWARD WAS ASKED TO SLAY AN OLD COMRADE. + + +In those days Hereward went into Bruges, to Marquis Baldwin, about +his business. And as he walked in Bruges street, he met an old friend, +Gilbert of Ghent. + +He had grown somewhat stouter, and somewhat grayer, in the last ten +years: but he was as hearty as ever; and as honest, according to his own +notions of honesty. + +He shook Hereward by both hands, clapt him on the back, swore with many +oaths, that he had heard of his fame in all lands, that he always said +that he would turn out a champion and a gallant knight, and had said it +long before he killed the bear. As for killing it, it was no more than +he expected, and nothing to what Hereward had done since, and would do +yet. + +Wherefrom Hereward opined that Gilbert had need of him. + +They chatted on: Hereward asking after old friends, and sometimes after +old foes, whom he had long since forgiven; for though he always avenged +an injury, he never bore malice for one; a distinction less common now +than then, when a man's honor, as well as his safety, depended on his +striking again, when he was struck. + +"And how is little Alftruda? Big she must be now?" asked he at last. + +"The fiend fly away with her,--or rather, would that he had flown away +with her, before ever I saw the troublesome little jade. Big? She is +grown into the most beautiful lass that ever was seen,--which is, what +a young fellow like you cares for; and more trouble to me than all my +money, which is what an old fellow like me cares for. It is partly about +her that I am over here now. Fool that I was, ever to let an Etheliza +[Footnote: A princess of the royal blood of Cerdic, and therefore of +Edward the Confessor.] into my house"; and Gilbert swore a great deal. + +"How was she an Etheliza?" asked Hereward, who cared nothing about the +matter. "And how came she into your house? I never could understand +that, any more than how the bear came there." + +"Ah! As to the bear, I have my secrets, which I tell no one. He is dead +and buried, thanks to you." + +"And I sleep on his skin every night." + +"You do, my little Champion? Well, warm is the bed that is well earned. +But as for her;--see here, and I'll tell you. She was Gospatrick's ward +and kinswoman,--how, I do not rightly know. But this I know, that she +comes from Uchtred, the earl whom Canute slew, and that she is heir to +great estates in Northumberland. + +"Gospatrick, that fought at Dunsinane?" + +"Yes, not the old Thane, his uncle, whom Tosti has murdered; but +Gospatrick, King Malcolm's cousin, Dolfin's father. Well, she was his +ward. He gave me her to keep, for he wanted her out of harm's way--the +lass having a bonny dower, lands and money--till he could marry her up +to one of his sons. I took her; of course I was not going to do other +men's work for naught; so I would have married her up to my poor boy, if +he had but lived. But he would not live, as you know. Then I would have +married her to you, and made you my heir, I tell you honestly, if you +had not flown off, like a hot-headed young springald, as you were then." + +"You were very kind. But how is she an Etheliza?" + +"Etheliza? Twice over. Her father was of high blood among those Saxons; +and if not, are not all the Gospatricks Ethelings? Their grandmother, +Uchtred's wife, was Ethelred, Evil-Counsel's daughter, King Edward of +London's sister; and I have heard that this girl's grandfather was their +son,--but died young,--or was killed with his father. Who cares?" + +"Not I," quoth Hereward. + +"Well--he wants to marry her to Dolfin, his eldest son." + +"Why, Dolfin had a wife when I was at Dunsinane." + +"But she is dead since, and young Ulf, her son, murdered by Tosti last +winter." + +"I know." + +"Whereon Gospatrick sends to me for the girl and her dowry. What was I +to do? Give her up? Little it is, lad, that I ever gave up, after I had +it once in my grip, or I should be a poorer man than I am now. Have and +hold, is my rule. What should I do? What I did. I was coming hither +on business of my own, so I put her on board ship, and half her +dower,--where the other half is, I know; and man must draw me with wild +horses, before he finds out;--and came here to my kinsman, Baldwin, to +see if he had any proper young fellow to whom we might marry the lass, +and so go shares in her money and the family connection. Could a man do +more wisely?" + +"Impossible," quoth Hereward. + +"But see how a wise man is lost by fortune. When I come here, whom +should I find but Dolfin himself? The dog had scent of my plan, all +the way from Dolfinston there, by Peebles. He hunts me out, the hungry +Scotch wolf; rides for Leith, takes ship, and is here to meet me, having +accused me before Baldwin as a robber and ravisher, and offers to prove +his right to the jade on my body in single combat." + +"The villain!" quoth Hereward. "There is no modesty left on earth, nor +prudence either. To come here, where he might have stumbled on Tosti, +who murdered his son, and I would surely do the like by him, himself. +Lucky for him that Tosti is off to Norway on his own errand." + +"Modesty and prudence? None now-a-days, young sire; nor justice either, +I think; for when Baldwin hears us both--and I told my story as cannily +as I could--he tells me that he is very sorry for an old vassal and +kinsman, and so forth,--but I must either disgorge or fight." + +"Then fight," quoth Hereward. + +"'Per se aut per campioneem,'--that's the old law, you know." + +"Not a doubt of it." + +"Look you, Hereward. I am no coward, nor a clumsy man of my hands." + +"He is either fool or liar who says so." + +"But see. I find it hard work to hold my own in Scotland now. Folks +don't like me, or trust me; I can't say why." + +"How unreasonable!" quoth Hereward. + +"And if I kill this youth, and so have a blood-feud with Gospatrick, I +have a hornet's nest about my ears. Not only he and his sons,--who +are masters of Scotch Northumberland, [Footnote: Between Tweed and +Forth.]--but all his cousins; King Malcolm, and Donaldbain, and, for +aught I know, Harold and the Godwinssons, if he bid them take up the +quarrel. And beside, that Dolfin is a big man. If you cross Scot and +Saxon, you breed a very big man. If you cross again with a Dane or a +Norseman, you breed a giant. His grandfather was a Scots prince, his +grandmother an English Etheliza, his mother a Norse princess, as you +know,--and how big he is, you should remember. He weighs half as much +again as I, and twice as much as you." + +"Butchers count by weight, and knights by courage," quoth Hereward. + +"Very well for you, who are young and active; but I take him to be a +better man than that ogre of Cornwall, whom they say you killed." + +"What care I? Let him be twice as good, I'd try him." + +"Ah! I knew you were the old Hereward still. Now hearken to me. Be my +champion. You owe me a service, lad. Fight that man, challenge him in +open field. Kill him, as you are sure to do. Claim the lass, and win +her,--and then we will part her dower. And (though it is little that I +care for young lasses' fancies), to tell you truth, she never favored +any man but you." + +Hereward started at the snare which had been laid for him; and then fell +into a very great laughter. + +"My most dear and generous host: you are the wiser, the older you grow. +A plan worthy of Solomon! You are rid of Sieur Dolfin without any blame +to yourself." + +"Just so." + +"While I win the lass, and, living here in Flanders, am tolerably safe +from any blood-feud of the Gospatricks." + +"Just so." + +"Perfect: but there is only one small hindrance to the plan; and that +is--that I am married already." + +Gilbert stopped short, and swore a great oath. + +"But," he said, after a while, "does that matter so much after all?" + +"Very little, indeed, as all the world knows, if one has money enough, +and power enough." + +"And you have both," they say. + +"But, still more unhappily, my money is my wife's." + +"Peste!" + +"And more unhappily still, I am so foolishly fond of her, that I would +sooner have her in her smock, than any other woman with half England for +a dower." + +"Then I suppose I must look out for another champion." + +"Or save yourself the trouble, by being--just as a change--an honest +man." + +"I believe you are right," said Gilbert, laughing; "but it is hard to +begin so late in life." + +"And after one has had so little practice." + +"Aha! Thou art the same merry dog of a Hereward. Come along. But could +we not poison this Dolfin, after all?" + +To which proposal Hereward gave no encouragement. + +"And now, my tres beausire, may I ask you, in return, what business +brings you to Flanders?" + +"Have I not told you?" + +"No, but I have guessed. Gilbert of Ghent is on his way to William of +Normandy." + +"Well. Why not?" + +"Why not?--certainly. And has brought out of Scotland a few gallant +gentlemen, and stout housecarles of my acquaintance." + +Gilbert laughed. + +"You may well say that. To tell you the truth, we have flitted, bag and +baggage. I don't believe that we have left a dog behind." + +"So you intend to 'colonize' in England, as the learned clerks would +call it? To settle; to own land; and enter, like the Jews of old, into +goodly houses which you builded not, farms which you tilled not, wells +which you digged not, and orchards which you planted not?" + +"Why, what a clerk you are! That sounds like Scripture." + +"And so it is. I heard it in a French priest's sermon, which he preached +here in St. Omer a Sunday or two back, exhorting all good Catholics, in +the Pope's name, to enter upon the barbarous land of England, tainted +with the sin of Simon Magus, and expel thence the heretical priests, and +so forth, promising them that they should have free leave to cut long +thongs out of other men's hides." + +Gilbert chuckled. + +"You laugh. The priest did not; for after sermon I went up to him, and +told him how I was an Englishman, and an outlaw, and a desperate man, +who feared neither saint nor devil; and if I heard such talk as that +again in St. Omer, I would so shave the speaker's crown that he should +never need razor to his dying day." + +"And what is that to me?" said Gilbert, in an uneasy, half-defiant tone; +for Hereward's tone had been more than half-defiant. + +"This. That there are certain broad lands in England, which were my +father's, and are now my nephews' and my mother's, and some which should +by right be mine. And I advise you, as a friend, not to make entry on +those lands, lest Hereward in turn make entry on you. And who is he that +will deliver you out of my hand?" + +"God and his Saints alone, thou fiend out of the pit!" quoth Gilbert, +laughing. But he was growing warm, and began to tutoyer Hereward. + +"I am in earnest, Gilbert of Ghent, my good friend of old time." + +"I know thee well enough, man. Why in the name of all glory and plunder +art thou not coming with us? They say William has offered thee the +earldom of Northumberland." + +"He has not. And if he has, it is not his to give. And if it were, it +is by right neither mine nor my nephews', but Waltheof Siwardsson's. Now +hearken unto me; and settle it in your mind, thou and William both, that +your quarrel is against none but Harold and the Godwinssons, and their +men of Wessex; but that if you go to cross the Watling street, and +meddle with the free Danes, who are none of Harold's men--" + +"Stay. Harold has large manors in Lincolnshire, and so has Edith his +sister; and what of them, Sir Hereward?" + +"That the man who touches them, even though the men on them may fight +on Harold's side, had better have put his head into a hornet's nest. +Unjustly were they seized from their true owners by Harold and his +fathers; and the holders of them will owe no service to him a day longer +than they can help; but will, if he fall, demand an earl of their own +race, or fight to the death." + +"Best make young Waltheof earl, then." + +"Best keep thy foot out of them, and the foot of any man for whom thou +carest. Now, good by. Friends we are, and friends let us be." + +"Ah, that thou wert coming to England!" + +"I bide my time. Come I may, when I see fit. But whether I come as +friend or foe depends on that of which I have given thee fair warning." + +So they parted for the time. + +It will be seen hereafter how Gilbert took his own advice about young +Waltheof, but did not take Hereward's advice about the Lincoln manors. + +In Baldwin's hall that day Hereward met Dolfin; and when the magnificent +young Scot sprang to him, embraced him, talked over old passages, +complimented him on his fame, lamented that he himself had won no such +honors in the field, Hereward felt much more inclined to fight for him +than against him. + +Presently the ladies entered from the bower inside the hall. A buzz of +expectation rose from all the knights, and Alftruda's name was whispered +round. + +She came in, and Hereward saw at the first glance that Gilbert had for +once in his life spoken truth. So beautiful a girl he had never beheld; +and as she swept down toward him he for one moment forgot Torfrida, and +stood spell-bound like the rest. + +Her eye caught his. If his face showed recognition, hers showed none. +The remembrance of their early friendship, of her deliverance from the +monster, had plainly passed away. + +"Fickle, ungrateful things, these women," thought Hereward, + +She passed him close. And as she did so, she turned her head and looked +him full in the face one moment, haughty and cold. + +"So you could not wait for me?" said she, in a quiet whisper, and went +on straight to Dolfin, who stood trembling with expectation and delight. + +She put her hand into his. + +"Here stands my champion," said she. + +"Say, here kneels your slave," cried the Scot, dropping to the pavement +a true Highland knee. Whereon forth shrieked a bagpipe, and Dolfin's +minstrel sang, in most melodious Gaelic,-- + + "Strong as a horse's hock, + shaggy as a stag's brisket, + Is the knee of the young torrent-leaper, + the pride of the house of Crinan. + It bent not to Macbeth the accursed, + it bends not even to Malcolm the Anointed, + But it bends like a harebell--who shall blame it?-- + before the breath of beauty." + +Which magnificent effusion being interpreted by Hereward for the +instruction of the ladies, procured for the red-headed bard more than +one handsome gift. + +A sturdy voice arose out of the crowd. + +"The fair lady, my Lord Count, and knights all, will need no champion as +far as I am concerned. When one sees so fair a pair together, what can +a knight say, in the name of all knighthood, but that the heavens have +made them for each other, and that it were sin and shame to sunder +them?" + +The voice was that of Gilbert of Ghent, who, making a virtue of +necessity, walked up to the pair, his weather-beaten countenance +wreathed into what were meant for paternal smiles. + +"Why did you not say as much in Scotland, and save me all this trouble?" +pertinently asked the plain-spoken Scot. + +"My lord prince, you owe me a debt for my caution. Without it, the poor +lady had never known the whole fervency of your love; or these noble +knights and yourself the whole evenness of Count Baldwin's justice." + +Alftruda turned her head away half contemptuously; and as she did so, +she let her hand drop listlessly from Dolfin's grasp, and drew back to +the other ladies. + +A suspicion crossed Hereward's mind. Did she really love the Prince? Did +those strange words of hers mean that she had not yet forgotten Hereward +himself? + +However, he said to himself that it was no concern of his, as it +certainly was not: went home to Torfrida, told her everything that had +happened, laughed over it with her, and then forgot Alftruda, Dolfin, +and Gilbert, in the prospect of a great campaign in Holland. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +HOW HEREWARD TOOK THE NEWS FROM STANFORD BRIGG AND HASTINGS. + + +After that, news came thick and fast. + +News of all the fowl of heaven flocking to the feast of the great God, +that they might eat the flesh of kings, and captains, and mighty men, +and horses, and them that sit on them, and the flesh of all men, both +bond and free. + +News from Rome, how England, when conquered, was to be held as a fief of +St. Peter, and spiritually, as well as temporarily, enslaved. News how +the Gonfanon of St. Peter, and a ring with a bit of St. Peter himself +enclosed therein, had come to Rouen, to go before the Norman host, as +the Ark went before that of Israel. + +Then news from the North. How Tosti had been to Sweyn, and bid him come +back and win the country again, as Canute his uncle had done; and how +the cautious Dane had answered that he was a much smaller man than +Canute, and had enough to hold his own against the Norsemen, and could +not afford to throw for such high stakes as his mighty uncle. + +Then how Tosti had been to Norway, to Harold Hardraade, and asked him +why he had been fighting fifteen years for Denmark, when England lay +open to him. And how Harold of Norway had agreed to come; and how he +had levied one half of the able-bodied men in Norway; and how he was +gathering a mighty fleet at Solundir, in the mouth of the Sogne Fiord. +Of all this Hereward was well informed; for Tosti came back again to +St. Omer, and talked big. But Hereward and he had no dealings with each +other. But at last, when Tosti tried to entice some of Hereward's men to +sail with him, Hereward sent him word that if he met him, he would kill +him in the streets. + +Then Tosti, who (though he wanted not for courage) knew that he was +no match for Hereward, went off to Bruges, leaving his wife and family +behind; gathered sixty ships at Ostend, went off to the Isle of Wight, +and forced the landsfolk to give him money and food. And then Harold of +England's fleet, which was watching the coast against the Normans, +drove him away; and he sailed off north, full of black rage against his +brother Harold and all Englishmen, and burned, plundered, and murdered, +along the coast of Lincolnshire, out of brute spite to the Danes who had +expelled him. + +Then came news how he had got into the Humber; how Earl Edwin and his +Northumbrians had driven him out; and how he went off to Scotland to +meet Harold of Norway; and how he had put his hands between Harold's, +and become his man. + +And all the while the Norman camp at St. Pierre-sur-Dive grew and grew; +and all was ready, if the wind would but change. + +And so Hereward looked on, helpless, and saw these two great +storm-clouds growing,--one from north, and one from south,--to burst +upon his native land. + +Two invasions at the same moment of time; and these no mere Viking raids +for plunder, but deliberate attempts at conquest and colonization, by +the two most famous captains of the age. What if both succeeded? What if +the two storm-clouds swept across England, each on its own path, and met +in the midst, to hurl their lightnings into each other? A fight +between William of Normandy and Harold of Norway, on some moorland in +Mercia,--it would be a battle of giants; a sight at which Odin and +the Gods of Valhalla would rise from their seats, and throw away the +mead-horn, to stare down on the deeds of heroes scarcely less mighty +than themselves. Would that neither might win! Would that they would +destroy and devour, till there was none left of Frenchmen or of +Norwegians! + +So sang Hereward, after his heathen fashion; and his housecarles +applauded the song. But Torfrida shuddered. + +"And what will become of the poor English in the mean time?" + +"They have brought it on themselves," said Hereward, bitterly. "Instead +of giving the crown to the man who should have had it,--to Sweyn of +Denmark,--they let Godwin put it on the head of a drivelling monk; and +as they sowed, so will they reap." + +But Hereward's own soul was black within him. To see these mighty events +passing as it were within reach of his hand, and he unable to take his +share in them,--for what share could he take? That of Tosti Godwinsson +against his own nephews? That of Harold Godwinsson, the usurper? That of +the tanner's grandson against any man? Ah that he had been in England! +Ah that he had been where he might have been,--where he ought to have +been but for his own folly,--high in power in his native land,--perhaps +a great earl; perhaps commander of all the armies of the Danelagh. And +bitterly he cursed his youthful sins as he rode to and fro almost daily +to the port of Calais, asking for news, and getting often only too much. + +For now came news that the Norsemen had landed in Humber: that Edwin and +Morcar were beaten at York; that Hardraade and Tosti were masters of the +North. + +And with that, news that, by the virtue of the relics of St. Valeri, +which had been brought out of their shrine to frighten the demons of +the storm, and by the intercession of the blessed St. Michael, patron +of Normandy, the winds had changed, and William's whole armament had +crossed the Channel, landed upon an undefended shore, and fortified +themselves at Pevensey and Hastings. + +And then followed a fortnight of silence and torturing suspense. + +Hereward could hardly eat, drink, sleep, or speak. He answered +Torfrida's consolations curtly and angrily, till she betook herself to +silent caresses, as to a sick animal. But she loved him all the better +for his sullenness; for it showed that his English heart was wakening +again, sound and strong. + +At last news came. He was down, as usual, at the port. A ship had +just come in from the northward. A man just landed stood on the beach +gesticulating, and calling in an unknown tongue to the bystanders, who +laughed at him, and seemed inclined to misuse him. + +Hereward galloped down the beach. + +"Out of the way, villains! Why man, you are a Norseman!" + +"Norseman am I, Earl, Thord Gunlaugsson is my name, and news I bring for +the Countess Judith (as the French call her) that shall turn her +golden hair to snow,--yea, and all fair lasses' hair from Lindesness to +Loffoden!" + +"Is the Earl dead?" + +"And Harold Sigurdsson!" + +Hereward sat silent, appalled. For Tosti he cared not. But Harold +Sigurdsson, Harold Hardraade, Harold the Viking, Harold the Varanger, +Harold the Lionslayer, Harold of Constantinople, the bravest among +champions, the wisest among kings, the cunningest among minstrels, the +darling of the Vikings of the North; the one man whom Hereward had taken +for his pattern and his ideal, the one man under whose banner he would +have been proud to fight--the earth seemed empty, if Harold Hardraade +were gone. + +"Thord Gunlaugsson," cried he, at last, "or whatever be thy name, if +thou hast lied to me, I will draw thee with wild horses." + +"Would God that I did lie! I saw him fall with an arrow through his +throat. Then Jarl Tosti took the Land-ravager and held it up till he +died. Then Eystein Orre took it, coming up hot from the ships. And then +he died likewise. Then they all died. We would take no quarter. We +threw off our mail, and fought baresark, till all were dead together." +[Footnote: For the details of this battle, see Skorro Sturleson, or the +admirable description in Bulwer's "Harold."] + +"How camest thou, then, hither?" + +"Styrkar the marshal escaped in the night, and I with him, and a few +more. And Styrkar bade me bring the news to Flanders, to the Countess, +while he took it to Olaf Haroldsson, who lay off in the ships." + +"And thou shalt take it. Martin! get this man a horse. A horse, ye +villains, and a good one, on your lives!" + +"And Tosti is dead?" + +"Dead like a hero. Harold offered him quarter,--offered him his earldom, +they say: even in the midst of battle; but he would not take it. He said +he was the Sigurdsson's man now, and true man he would be!" + +"Harold offered him?--what art babbling about? Who fought you?" + +"Harold Godwinsson, the king." + +"Where?" + +"At Stanford Brigg, by York Town." + +"Harold Godwinsson slew Harold Sigurdsson? After this wolves may eat +lions!" + +"The Godwinsson is a gallant fighter, and a wise general, or I had not +been here now." + +"Get on thy horse, man!" said he, scornfully and impatiently, "and +gallop, if thou canst." + +"I have ridden many a mile in Ireland, Earl, and have not forgotten my +seat." + +"Thou hast, hast thou?" said Martin; "thou art Thord Gunlaugsson of +Waterford." + +"That am I. How knowest thou me, man?" + +"I am of Waterford. Thou hadst a slave lass once, I think; Mew: they +called her Mew, her skin it was so white." + +"What's that to thee?" asked Thord, turning on him savagely. + +"Why, I meant no harm. I saw her at Waterford when I was a boy, and +thought her a fair lass enough, that is all." + +And Martin dropped into the rear. By this time they were at the gates of +St. Omer. + +As they rode side by side, Hereward got more details of the fight. + +"I knew it would fall out so. I foretold it!" said Thord. "I had a +dream. I saw us come to English land, and fight; and I saw the banners +floating. And before the English army was a great witchwife, and rode +upon a wolf, and he had a corpse in his bloody jaws. And when he had +eaten one up, she threw him another, till he had swallowed all." + +"Did she throw him thine?" asked Martin, who ran holding by the stirrup. + +"That did she, and eaten I saw myself. Yet here I am alive." + +"Then thy dreams were naught." + +"I do not know that. The wolf may have me yet." + +"I fear thou art fey." [Footnote: Prophesying his own death.] + +"What the devil is it to thee if I be?" + +"Naught. But be comforted. I am a necromancer; and this I know by my +art, that the weapon that will slay thee was never forged in Flanders +here." + +"There was another man had a dream," said Thord, turning from Martin +angrily. "He was standing in the king's ship, and he saw a great +witchwife with a fork and a trough stand on the island. And he saw a +fowl on every ship's stem, a raven, or else an eagle, and he heard the +witchwife sing an evil song." + +By this time they were in St. Omer. + +Hereward rode straight to the Countess Judith's house. He never had +entered it yet, and was likely to be attacked if he entered it now. But +when the door was opened, he thrust in with so earnest and sad a face +that the servants let him pass, but not without growling and motions as +of getting their weapons. + +"I come in peace, my men, I come in peace: this is no time for brawls. +Where is the steward, or one of the Countess's ladies? Tell her, madam, +that Hereward waits her commands, and entreats her, in the name of St. +Mary and all Saints, to vouchsafe him one word in private." + +The lady hurried into the bower. The next moment Judith hurried out into +the hall, her fair face blanched, her fair eyes wide with terror. + +Hereward fell on his knee. + +"What is this? It must be bad news if you bring it." + +"Madam, the grave covers all feuds. Earl Tosti was a very valiant hero; +and would to God that we had been friends!" + +She did not hear the end of the sentence, but fell back with a shriek +into the women's arms. + +Hereward told them all that they needed to know of that fratricidal +strife; and then to Thord Gunlaugsson,-- + +"Have you any token that this is true? Mind what I warned you, if you +lied!" + +"This have I, Earl and ladies," and he drew from his bosom a reliquary. +"Ulf the marshal took this off his neck, and bade me give it to none but +his lady. Therefore, with your pardon, Sir Earl, I did not tell you that +I had it, not knowing whether you were an honest man." + +"Thou hast done well, and an honest man thou shall find me. Come home, +and I will feed thee at my own table; for I have been a sea-rover and a +Viking myself." + +They left the reliquary with the ladies, and went. + +"See to this good man, Martin." + +"That will I, as the apple of my eye." + +And Hereward went into Torfrida's room. + +"I have news, news!" + +"So have I." + +"Harold Hardraade is slain, and Tosti too!" + +"Where? how?" + +"Harold Godwinsson slew them by York." + +"Brother has slain brother? O God that died on cross!" murmured +Torfrida, "when will men look to thee, and have mercy on their own +souls? But, Hereward, I have news,--news more terrible by far. It came +an hour ago. I have been dreading your coming back." + +"Say on. If Harold Hardraade is dead, no worse can happen." + +"But Harold Godwinsson is dead!" + +"Dead! Who next? William of Normandy? The world seems coming to an end, +as the monks say it will soon." [Footnote: There was a general rumor +abroad that the end of the world was at hand, that the "one thousand +years" of prophecy had expired.] + +"A great battle has been fought at a place they call Heathfield." + +"Close by Hastings? Close to the landing-place? Harold must have flown +thither back from York. What a captain the man is, after all." + +"Was. He is dead, and all the Godwinssons, and England lost." + +If Torfrida had feared the effect of her news, her heart was lightened +at once as Hereward answered haughtily,-- + +"England lost? Sussex is not England, nor Wessex either, any more than +Harold was king thereof. England lost? Let the tanner try to cross +the Watling street, and he will find out that he has another stamp of +Englishmen to deal with." + +"Hereward, Hereward, do not be unjust to the dead. Men say--the Normans +say--that they fought like heroes." + +"I never doubted that; but it makes me mad--as it does all Eastern +and Northern men--to hear these Wessex churls and Godwinssons calling +themselves all England." + +Torfrida shook her head. To her, as to most foreigners, Wessex and the +southeast counties were England; the most civilized; the most Norman; +the seat of royalty; having all the prestige of law, and order, and +wealth. And she was shrewd enough to see, that as it was the part of +England which had most sympathy with Norman civilization, it was the +very part where the Norman could most easily gain and keep his hold. +The event proved that Torfrida was right: but all she said was, "It is +dangerously near to France, at least." + +"It is that. I would sooner see 100,000 French north of the Humber, +than 10,000 in Kent and Sussex, where he can hurry over supplies and +men every week. It is the starting-point for him, if he means to conquer +England piecemeal." + +"And he does." + +"And he shall not!" and Hereward started up, and walked to and fro. "If +all the Godwinssons be dead, there are Leofricssons left, I trust, and +Siward's kin, and the Gospatricks in Northumbria. Ah? Where were my +nephews in the battle? Not killed too, I trust?" + +"They were not in the battle." + +"Not with their new brother-in-law? Much he has gained by throwing +away the Swan-neck, like a base hound as he was, and marrying my pretty +niece. But where were they?" + +"No man knows clearly. They followed him down as far as London, and +then lingered about the city, meaning no man can tell what: but we shall +hear--and I fear hear too much--before a week is over." + +"Heavens! this is madness, indeed. This is the way to be eaten up one by +one! Neither to do the thing, nor leave it alone. If I had been there! +If I had been there--" + +"You would have saved England, my hero!" and Torfrida believed her own +words. + +"I don't say that. Besides, I say that England is not lost. But there +were but two things to do: either to have sent to William at once, and +offered him the crown, if he would but guarantee the Danish laws and +liberties to all north of the Watling street; and if he would, fall on +the Godwinssons themselves, by fair means or foul, and send their heads +to William." + +"Or what?" + +"Or have marched down after him, with every man they could muster, and +thrown themselves on the Frenchman's flank in the battle; or between +him and the sea, cutting him off from France; or--O that I had but been +there, what things could I have done! And now these two wretched boys +have fooled away their only chance--" + +"Some say that they hoped for the crown themselves. + +"Which?--not both? Vain babies!" And Hereward laughed bitterly. "I +suppose one will murder the other next, in order to make himself the +stronger by being the sole rival to the tanner. The midden cock, sole +rival to the eagle! Boy Waltheof will set up his claim next, I presume, +as Siward's son; and then Gospatrick, as Ethelred Evil-Counsel's +great-grandson; and so forth, and so forth, till they all eat each other +up, and the tanner's grandson eats the last. What care I? Tell me about +the battle, my lady, if you know aught. That is more to my way than +their statecraft." + +And Torfrida told him all she knew of the great fight on Heathfield +Down--which men call Senlac--and the Battle of Hastings. And as she told +it in her wild, eloquent fashion, Hereward's face reddened, and his +eyes kindled. And when she told of the last struggle round the Dragon +[Footnote: I have dared to differ from the excellent authorities who +say that the standard was that of "A Fighting Man"; because the Bayeux +Tapestry represents the last struggle as in front of a Dragon standard, +which must be--as is to be expected--the old standard of Wessex, the +standard of English Royalty. That Harold had also a "Fighting Man" +standard, and that it was sent by William to the Pope, there is no +reason to doubt. But if the Bayeux Tapestry be correct, the fury of the +fight for the standard would be explained. It would be a fight for the +very symbol of King Edward's dynasty.] standard; of Harold's mighty +figure in the front of all, hewing with his great double-headed axe, and +then rolling in gore and agony, an arrow in his eye; of the last rally +of the men of Kent; of Gurth, the last defender of the standard, falling +by William's sword, the standard hurled to the ground, and the Popish +Gonfanon planted in its place,--then Hereward's eyes, for the first and +last time for many a year, were flushed with noble tears; and springing +up he cried: "Honor to the Godwinssons! Honor to the Southern men! +Honor to all true English hearts! Why was I not there to go with them to +Valhalla?" + +Torfrida caught him round the neck. "Because you are here, my hero, to +free your country from her tyrants, and win yourself immortal fame." + +"Fool that I am, I verily believe I am crying." + +"Those tears," said she, as she kissed them away, "are more precious +to Torfrida than the spoils of a hundred fights, for they tell me that +Hereward still loves his country, still honors virtue, even in a foe." + +And thus Torfrida--whether from woman's sentiment of pity, or from a +woman's instinctive abhorrence of villany and wrong,--had become there +and then an Englishwoman of the English, as she proved by strange deeds +and sufferings for many a year. + +"Where is that Norseman, Martin?" asked Hereward that night ere he went +to bed, "I want to hear more of poor Hardraade." + +"You can't speak to him now, master. He is sound asleep this two hours; +and warm enough, I will warrant." + +"Where?" + +"In the great green bed with blue curtains, just above the kitchen." + +"What nonsense is this?" + +"The bed where you and I shall lie some day; and the kitchen which we +shall be sent down to, to turn our own spits, unless we mend our manners +mightily." + +Hereward looked at the man. Madness glared in his eyes, unmistakably. + +"You have killed him!" + +"And buried him, cheating the priests." + +"Villain!" cried Hereward, seizing him. + +"Take your hands off my throat, master. He was only my father." + +Hereward stood shocked and puzzled. After all, the man was +"No-man's-man," and would not be missed; and Martin Lightfoot, letting +alone his madness, was as a third hand and foot to him all day long. + +So all he said was, "I hope you have buried him well and safely?" + +"You may walk your bloodhound over his grave, to-morrow, without finding +him." + +And where he lay, Hereward never knew. But from that night Martin got a +trick of stroking and patting his little axe, and talking to it as if it +had been alive. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +HOW EARL GODWIN'S WIDOW CAME TO ST. OMER. + + +It would be vain to attempt even a sketch of the reports which came to +Flanders from England during the next two years, or of the conversation +which ensued thereon between Baldwin and his courtiers, or Hereward +and Torfrida. Two reports out of three were doubtless false, and two +conversations out of three founded on those false reports. + +It is best, therefore, to interrupt the thread of the story, by some +small sketch of the state of England after the battle of Hastings; +that so we may, at least, guess at the tenor of Hereward and Torfrida's +counsels. + +William had, as yet, conquered little more than the South of England: +hardly, indeed, all that; for Herefordshire, Worcestershire, and the +neighboring parts, which had belonged to Sweyn, Harold's brother, were +still insecure; and the noble old city of Exeter, confident in her Roman +walls, did not yield till two years after, in A.D. 1068. + +North of his conquered territory, Mercia stretched almost across +England, from Chester to the Wash, governed by Edwin and Morcar, the +two fair grandsons of Leofric, the great earl, and sons of Alfgar. +Edwin called himself Earl of Mercia, and held the Danish burghs. On +the extreme northwest, the Roman city of Chester was his; while on the +extreme southeast (as Domesday book testifies), Morcar held large lands +round Bourne, and throughout the south of Lincolnshire, besides calling +himself the Earl of Northumbria. The young men seemed the darlings +of the half-Danish northmen. Chester, Coventry, Derby, Nottingham, +Leicester, Stamford, a chain of fortified towns stretching across +England, were at their command; Blethyn, Prince of North Wales, was +their nephew. + +Northumbria, likewise, was not yet in William's hands. Indeed, it was in +no man's hands, since the free Danes, north of the Humber, had expelled +Tosti, Harold's brother, putting Morcar in his place, and helped that +brother to slay him at Stanford Brigg. Morcar, instead of residing in +his earldom of Northumbria, had made one Oswulf his deputy; but he had +rivals enough. There was Gospatrick, claiming through his grandfather, +Uchtred, and strong in the protection of his cousin Malcolm, King of +Scotland; there was young Waltheof, "the forest thief," who had been +born to Siward Biorn in his old age, just after the battle of Dunsinane; +a fine and gallant young man, destined to a swift and sad end. + +William sent to the Northumbrians one Copsi, a Thane of mark and worth, +as his procurator, to expel Oswulf. Oswulf and the land-folk answered +by killing Copsi, and doing, every man, that which was right in his own +eyes. + +William determined to propitiate the young earls. Perhaps he intended to +govern the centre and north of England through them, as feudal vassals, +and hoped, meanwhile, to pay his Norman conquerors sufficiently out of +the forfeited lands of Harold, and those who had fought by his side +at Hastings. It was not his policy to make himself, much less to call +himself, the Conqueror of England. He claimed to be its legitimate +sovereign, deriving from his cousin, Edward the Confessor; and whosoever +would acknowledge him as such had neither right nor cause to fear. +Therefore he sent for the young earls. He courted Waltheof, and more, +really loved him. He promised Edwin his daughter in marriage. Some say +it was Constance, afterwards married to Alan Fergant of Brittany; but it +may, also, have been the beautiful Adelaide, who, none knew why, early +gave up the world, and died in a convent. Be that as it may, the two +young people saw each, and loved each other at Rouen, whither William +took Waltheof, Edwin, and his brother; as honored guests in name, in +reality as hostages, likewise. + +With the same rational and prudent policy, William respected the fallen +royal families, both of Harold and of Edward; at least, he warred not +against women; and the wealth and influence of the great English ladies +was enormous. Edith, sister of Harold, and widow of the Confessor, +lived in wealth and honor at Winchester. Gyda, Harold's mother, retained +Exeter and her land. Aldytha, [Footnote: See her history, told as none +other can tell it, in Bulwer's "Harold."] or Elfgiva, sister of Edwin +and Morcar, niece of Hereward, and widow, first of Griffin of Wales, and +then of Harold, lived rich and safe in Chester. Godiva, the Countess, +owned, so antiquarians say, manors from Cheshire to Lincolnshire, +which would be now yearly worth the income of a great duke. Agatha, the +Hungarian, widow of Edmund the outlaw, dwelt at Romsey, in Hampshire, +under William's care. Her son, Edward Etheling, the rightful heir +of England, was treated by William not only with courtesy, but with +affection; and allowed to rebel, when he did rebel, with impunity. For +the descendant of Rollo, the heathen Viking, had become a civilized, +chivalrous, Christian knight. His mighty forefather would have split the +Etheling's skull with his own axe. A Frank king would have shaved the +young man's head, and immersed him in a monastery. An eastern sultan +would have thrust out his eyes, or strangled him at once. But William, +however cruel, however unscrupulous, had a knightly heart, and somewhat +of a Christian conscience; and his conduct to his only lawful rival is a +noble trait amid many sins. + +So far all went well, till William went back to France; to be likened, +not as his ancestors, to the gods of Valhalla, or the barbarous and +destroying Viking of mythic ages, but to Caesar, Pompey, Vespasian, and +the civilized and civilizing heroes of classic Rome. + +But while he sat at the Easter feast at Fecamp, displaying to Franks, +Flemings, and Bretons, as well as to his own Normans, the treasures of +Edward's palace at Westminster, and "more English wealth than could be +found in the whole estate of Gaul"; while he sat there in his glory, +with his young dupes, Edwin, Morcar, and Waltheof by his side, having +sent Harold's banner in triumph to the Pope, as a token that he had +conquered the Church as well as the nation of England; and having +founded abbeys as thank-offerings to Him who had seemed to prosper him +in his great crime: at that very hour the handwriting was on the wall, +unseen by man; and he and his policy and his race were weighed in the +balance, and found wanting. + +For now broke out in England that wrong-doing, which endured as long as +she was a mere appanage and foreign farm of Norman kings, whose hearts +and homes were across the seas in France. Fitz-Osbern, and Odo the +warrior-prelate, William's half-brother, had been left as his regents in +England. Little do they seem to have cared for William's promise to the +English people that they were to be ruled still by the laws of Edward +the Confessor, and that where a grant of land was made to a Norman, he +was to hold it as the Englishman had done before him, with no heavier +burdens on himself, but with no heavier burdens on the poor folk who +tilled the land for him. Oppression began, lawlessness, and violence; +men were ill-treated on the highways; and women--what was worse--in +their own homes; and the regents abetted the ill-doers. "It seems," says +a most impartial historian, [Footnote: The late Sir F. Palgrave.] "as +if the Normans, released from all authority, all restraint, all fear of +retaliation, determined to reduce the English nation to servitude, and +drive them to despair." + +In the latter attempt they succeeded but too soon; in the former, they +succeeded at last: but they paid dearly for their success. + +Hot young Englishmen began to emigrate. Some went to the court of +Constantinople, to join the Varanger guard, and have their chance of +a Polotaswarf like Harold Hardraade. Some went to Scotland to Malcolm +Canmore, and brooded over return and revenge. But Harold's sons went to +their father's cousin; to Sweyn--Swend--Sweno Ulfsson, and called on him +to come and reconquer England in the name of his uncle Canute the Great; +and many an Englishman went with them. + +These things Gospatrick watched, as earl (so far as he could make any +one obey him in the utter subversion of all order) of the lands between +Forth and Tyne. And he determined to flee, ere evil befell him, to his +cousin Malcolm Canmore, taking with him Marlesweyn of Lincolnshire, who +had fought, it is said, by Harold's side at Hastings, and young Waltheof +of York. But, moreover, having a head, and being indeed, as his final +success showed, a man of ability and courage, he determined on a stroke +of policy, which had incalculable after-effects on the history of +Scotland. He persuaded Agatha the Hungarian, Margaret and Christina her +daughters, and Edgar the Etheling himself, to flee with him to +Scotland. How he contrived to send them messages to Romsey, far south in +Hampshire; how they contrived to escape to the Humber, and thence up to +the Forth; this is a romance in itself, of which the chroniclers have +left hardly a hint. But the thing was done; and at St. Margaret's Hope, +as tradition tells, the Scottish king met, and claimed as his unwilling +bride, that fair and holy maiden who was destined to soften his fierce +passions, to civilize and purify his people, and to become--if all had +their just dues--the true patron saint of Scotland. + +Malcolm Canmore promised a mighty army; Sweyn, a mighty fleet. And +meanwhile, Eustace of Boulogne, the Confessor's brother-in-law, himself +a Norman, rebelled at the head of the down-trodden men of Kent; and the +Welshmen were harrying Herefordshire with fire and sword, in revenge for +Norman ravages. + +But as yet the storm did not burst. William returned, and with him +something like order. He conquered Exeter; he destroyed churches and +towns to make his New Forest. He brought over his Queen Matilda with +pomp and great glory; and with her, the Bayeux tapestry which she had +wrought with her own hands; and meanwhile Sweyn Ulfsson was too busy +threatening Olaf Haroldsson, the new king of Norway, to sail for +England; and the sons of King Harold of England had to seek help from +the Irish Danes, and, ravaging the country round Bristol, be beaten off +by the valiant burghers with heavy loss. + +So the storm did not burst; and need not have burst, it may be, at +all, had William kept his plighted word. But he would not give his fair +daughter to Edwin. His Norman nobles, doubtless, looked upon such an +alliance as debasing to a civilized lady. In their eyes, the +Englishman was a barbarian; and though the Norman might well marry the +Englishwoman, if she had beauty or wealth, it was a dangerous precedent +to allow the Englishman to marry the Norman woman, and that woman a +princess. Beside, there were those who coveted Edwin's broad lands; +Roger de Montgomery, who already (it is probable) held part of them +as Earl of Shrewsbury, had no wish to see Edwin the son-in-law of his +sovereign. Be the cause what it may, William faltered, and refused; +and Edwin and Morcar left the Court of Westminster in wrath. Waltheof +followed them, having discovered--what he was weak enough continually to +forget again--the treachery of the Norman. The young earls went off, +one midlandward, one northward. The people saw their wrongs in those +of their earls, and the rebellion burst forth at once, the Welsh under +Blethyn, and the Cumbrians under Malcolm and Donaldbain, giving their +help in the struggle. + +It was the year 1069. A more evil year for England than even the year of +Hastings. + +The rebellion was crushed in a few months. The great general marched +steadily north, taking the boroughs one by one, storming, massacring +young and old, burning, sometimes, whole towns, and leaving, as he +went on, a new portent, a Norman donjon--till then all but unseen in +England--as a place of safety for his garrisons. At Oxford (sacked +horribly, and all but destroyed), at Warwick (destroyed utterly), at +Nottingham, at Stafford, at Shrewsbury, at Cambridge, on the huge barrow +which overhangs the fen; and at York itself, which had opened its gates, +trembling, to the great Norman strategist; at each doomed free borough +rose a castle, with its tall square tower within, its bailey around, and +all the appliances of that ancient Roman science of fortification, of +which the Danes, as well as the Saxons, knew nothing. Their struggle +had only helped to tighten their bonds; and what wonder? There was among +them neither unity nor plan nor governing mind and will. Hereward's +words had come true. The only man, save Gospatrick, who had a head in +England, was Harold Godwinsson: and he lay in Waltham Abbey, while the +monks sang masses for his soul. + +Edwin, Morcar, and Waltheof trembled before a genius superior to their +own,--a genius, indeed, which had not its equal then in Christendom. +They came in and begged grace of the king. They got it. But Edwin's +earldom was forfeited, and he and his brother became, from thenceforth, +desperate men. + +Malcolm of Scotland trembled likewise, and asked for peace. The clans, +it is said, rejoiced thereat, having no wish for a war which could buy +them neither spoil nor land. Malcolm sent ambassadors to William, and +took that oath of fealty to the "Basileus of Britain," which more than +one Scottish king and kinglet had taken before,--with the secret proviso +(which, during the Middle Ages, seems to have been thoroughly understood +in such cases by both parties), that he should be William's man just as +long as William could compel him to be so, and no longer. + +Then came cruel and unjust confiscations. Ednoth the standard-bearer had +fallen at Bristol, fighting for William against the Haroldssons, yet +all his lands were given away to Normans. Edwin and Morcar's lands were +parted likewise; and--to specify cases which bear especially on the +history of Hereward--Oger the Briton got many of Morcar's manors round +Bourne, and Gilbert of Ghent many belonging to Marlesweyn about Lincoln +city. And so did that valiant and crafty knight find his legs once +more on other men's ground, and reappears in monkish story as "the most +devout and pious earl, Gilbert of Ghent." + +What followed, Hereward heard not from flying rumors; but from one who +had seen and known and judged of all. [Footnote: For Gyda's coming to +St. Omer that year, see Ordericus Vitalis.] + +For one day, about this time, Hereward was riding out of the gate of St. +Omer, when the porter appealed to him. Begging for admittance were some +twenty women, and a clerk or two; and they must needs see the chatelain. +The chatelain was away. What should he do? + +Hereward looked at the party, and saw, to his surprise, that they were +Englishwomen, and two of them women of rank, to judge from the rich +materials of their travel-stained and tattered garments. The ladies +rode on sorry country garrons, plainly hired from the peasants who drove +them. The rest of the women had walked; and weary and footsore enough +they were. + +"You are surely Englishwomen?" asked he of the foremost, as he lifted +his cap. + +The lady bowed assent, beneath a heavy veil. + +"Then you are my guests. Let them pass in." And Hereward threw himself +off his horse, and took the lady's bridle. + +"Stay," she said, with an accent half Wessex, half Danish. "I seek the +Countess Judith, if it will please you to tell me where she lives." + +"The Countess Judith, lady, lives no longer in St. Omer. Since her +husband's death, she lives with her mother at Bruges." + +The lady made a gesture of disappointment. + +"It were best for you, therefore, to accept my hospitality, till such +time as I can send you and your ladies on to Bruges." + +"I must first know who it is who offers me hospitality?" + +This was said so proudly, that Hereward answered proudly enough in +return,-- + +"I am Hereward Leofricsson, whom his foes call Hereward the outlaw, and +his friends Hereward the master of knights." + +She started, and threw her veil hack, looking intently at him. He, for +his part, gave but one glance, and then cried,-- + +"Mother of Heaven! You are the great Countess!" + +"Yes, I was that woman once, if all be not a dream. I am now I know +not what, seeking hospitality--if I can believe my eyes and ears--of +Godiva's son." + +"And from Godiva's son you shall have it, as though you were Godiva's +self. God so deal with my mother, madam, as I will deal with you." + +"His father's wit, and his mother's beauty!" said the great Countess, +looking upon him. "Too, too like my own lost Harold!" + +"Not so, my lady. I am a dwarf compared to him." And Hereward led the +garron on by the bridle, keeping his cap in hand, while all wondered +who the dame could be, before whom Hereward the champion would so abase +himself. + +"Leofric's son does me too much honor. He has forgotten, in his +chivalry, that I am Godwin's widow." + +"I have not forgotten that you are Sprakaleg's daughter, and niece of +Canute, king of kings. Neither have I forgotten that you are an English +lady, in times in which all English folk are one, and all old English +feuds are wiped away." + +"In English blood. Ah! if these last words of yours were true, as you, +perhaps, might make them true, England might be saved even yet." + +"Saved?" + +"If there were one man in it, who cared for aught but himself." + +Hereward was silent and thoughtful. + +He had sent Martin back to his house, to tell Torfrida to prepare bath +and food; for the Countess Gyda, with all her train, was coming to be +her guest. And when they entered the court, Torfrida stood ready. + +"Is this your lady?" asked Gyda, as Hereward lifted her from her horse. + +"I am his lady, and your servant," said Torfrida, bowing. + +"Child! child! Bow not to me. Talk not of servants to a wretched slave, +who only longs to crawl into some hole and die, forgetting all she was +and all she had." + +And the great Countess reeled with weariness and woe, and fell upon +Torfrida's neck. + +A tall veiled lady next her helped to support her; and between them +they almost carried her through the hall, and into Torfrida's best +guest-chamber. + +And there they gave her wine, and comforted her, and let her weep awhile +in peace. + +The second lady had unveiled herself, displaying a beauty which was +still brilliant, in spite of sorrow, hunger, the stains of travel, and +more than forty years of life. + +"She must be Gunhilda," guessed Torfrida to herself, and not amiss. + +She offered Gyda a bath, which she accepted eagerly, like a true Dane. + +"I have not washed for weeks. Not since we sat starving on the +Flat-Holme there, in the Severn sea. I have become as foul as my own +fortunes: and why not? It is all of a piece. Why should not beggars beg +unwashed?" + +But when Torfrida offered Gunhilda the bath she declined. + +"I have done, lady, with such carnal vanities. What use in cleansing +that body which is itself unclean, and whitening the outside of this +sepulchre? If I can but cleanse my soul fit for my heavenly Bridegroom, +the body may become--as it must at last--food for worms." + +"She will needs enter religion, poor child," said Gyda; "and what +wonder?" + +"I have chosen the better part, and it shall not be taken from me." + +"Taken! taken! Hark to her! She means to mock me, the proud nun, with +that same 'taken.'" + +"God forbid, mother!" + +"Then why say taken, to me from whom all is taken?--husband, sons, +wealth, land, renown, power,--power which I loved, wretch that I was, as +well as husband and as sons? Ah God! the girl is right. Better to rot in +the convent, than writhe in the world. Better never to have had, than to +have had and lost." + +"Amen!" said Gunhilda. "'Blessed are the barren, and they that never +gave suck,' saith the Lord." + +"No! Not so!" cried Torfrida. "Better, Countess, to have had and lost, +than never to have had at all. The glutton was right, swine as he was, +when he said that not even Heaven could take from him the dinners he had +eaten. How much more we, if we say, not even Heaven can take from us +the love wherewith we have loved. Will not our souls be richer thereby, +through all eternity?" + +"In Purgatory?" asked Gunhilda. + +"In Purgatory, or where else you will. I love my love; and though my +love prove false, he has been true; though he trample me under foot, he +has held me in his bosom; though he kill me, he has lived for me. What I +have had will still be mine, when that which I have shall fail me." + +"And you would buy short joy with lasting woe?" + +"That would I, like a brave man's child. I say,--the present is mine, +and I will enjoy it, as greedily as a child. Let the morrow take thought +for the things of itself.--Countess, your bath is ready." + +Nineteen years after, when the great conqueror lay, tossing with agony +and remorse, upon his dying bed, haunted by the ghosts of his victims, +the clerks of St. Saviour's in Bruges city were putting up a leaden +tablet (which remains, they say, unto this very day) to the memory of +one whose gentle soul had gently passed away. "Charitable to the poor, +kind and agreeable to her attendants, courteous to strangers, and only +severe to herself," Gunhilda had lingered on in a world of war and +crime; and had gone, it may be, to meet Torfrida beyond the grave, and +there finish their doubtful argument. + +The Countess was served with food in Torfrida's chamber. Hereward and +his wife refused to sit, and waited on her standing. + +"I wish to show these saucy Flemings," said he, "that an English +princess is a princess still in the eyes of one more nobly born than any +of them." + +But after she had eaten, she made Torfrida sit before her on the bed, +and Hereward likewise; and began to talk; eagerly, as one who had +not unburdened her mind for many weeks; and eloquently too, as became +Sprakaleg's daughter and Godwin's wife. + +She told them how she had fled from the storm of Exeter, with a troop +of women, who dreaded the brutalities of the Normans. [Footnote: To do +William justice, he would not allow his men to enter the city while they +were blood-hot; and so prevented, as far as he could, the excesses which +Gyda had feared.] How they had wandered up through Devon, found fishers' +boats at Watchet in Somersetshire, and gone off to the little desert +island of the Flat-Holme, in hopes of there meeting with the Irish +fleet, which her sons, Edmund and Godwin, were bringing against the West +of England. How the fleet had never come, and they had starved for many +days; and how she had bribed a passing merchantman to take her and her +wretched train to the land of Baldwin the Debonnaire, who might have +pity on her for the sake of his daughter Judith, and Tosti her husband +who died in his sins. + +And at his name, her tears began to flow afresh; fallen in his +overweening pride,--like Sweyn, like Harold, like herself-- + +"The time was, when I would not weep. If I could, I would not. For a +year, lady, after Senlac, I sat like a stone. I hardened my heart like +a wall of brass, against God and man. Then, there upon the Flat-Holme, +feeding on shell-fish, listening to the wail of the sea-fowl, looking +outside the wan water for the sails which never came, my heart broke +down in a moment. And I heard a voice crying, 'There is no help in man, +go thou to God.' And I answered, That were a beggar's trick, to go +to God in need, when I went not to him in plenty. No. Without God +I planned, and without Him I must fail. Without Him I went into the +battle, and without Him I must bide the brunt. And at best, Can He give +me back my sons? And I hardened my heart again like a stone, and shed no +tear till I saw your fair face this day." + +"And now!" she said, turning sharply on Hereward, "what do you do here? +Do you not know that your nephews' lands are parted between grooms from +Angers and scullions from Normandy?" + +"So much the worse for both them and the grooms." + +"Sir?" + +"You forget, lady, that I am an outlaw." + +"But do you not know that your mother's lands are seized likewise?" + +"She will take refuge with her grandsons, who are, as I hear, again on +good terms with their new master, showing thereby a most laudable and +Christian spirit of forgiveness." + +"On good terms? Do you not know, then, that they are fighting again, +outlaws, and desperate at the Frenchman's treachery? Do you not know +that they have been driven out of York, after defending the city street +by street, house by house? Do you not know that there is not an old +man or a child in arms left in York; and that your nephews, and the few +fighting men who were left, went down the Humber in boats, and north to +Scotland, to Gospatrick and Waltheof? Do you not know that your mother +is left alone--at Bourne, or God knows where--to endure at the hands of +Norman ruffians what thousands more endure?" + +Hereward made no answer, but played with his dagger. + +"And do you not know that England is ready to burst into a blaze, if +there be one man wise enough to put the live coal into the right place? +That Sweyn Ulffson, his kinsman, or Osbern, his brother, will surely +land there within the year with a mighty host? And that if there be one +man in England of wit enough, and knowledge enough of war, to lead the +armies of England, the Frenchman may be driven into the sea--Is there +any here who understands English?" + +"None but ourselves." + +"And Canute's nephew sit on Canute's throne?" + +Hereward still played with his dagger. + +"Not the sons of Harold, then?" asked he, after a while. + +"Never! I promise you that--I, Countess Gyda, their grandmother." + +"Why promise me, of all men, O great lady?" + +"Because--I will tell you after. But this I say, my curse on the +grandson of mine who shall try to seize that fatal crown, which cost the +life of my fairest, my noblest, my wisest, my bravest!" + +Hereward bowed his head, as if consenting to the praise of Harold. But +he knew who spoke; and he was thinking within himself: "Her curse may be +on him who shall seize, and yet not on him to whom it is given." + +"All that they, young and unskilful lads, have a right to ask is, their +father's earldoms and their father's lands. Edwin and Morcar would keep +their earldoms as of right. It is a pity that there is no lady of the +house of Godwin, whom we could honor by offering her to one of your +nephews, in return for their nobleness in giving Aldytha to my Harold. +But this foolish girl here refuses to wed--" + +"And is past forty," thought Hereward to himself. + +"However, some plan to join the families more closely together might be +thought of. One of the young earls might marry Judith here. [Footnote: +Tosti's widow, daughter of Baldwin of Flanders] Waltheof would have +Northumbria, in right of his father, and ought to be well content,--for +although she is somewhat older than he, she is peerlessly beautiful,--to +marry your niece Aldytha." [Footnote: Harold's widow.] + +"And Gospatrick?" + +"Gospatrick," she said, with a half-sneer, "will be as sure, as he is +able, to get something worth having for himself out of any medley. Let +him have Scotch Northumbria, if he claim it. He is a Dane, and our work +will be to make a Danish England once and forever." + +"But what of Sweyn's gallant holders and housecarles, who are to help to +do this mighty deed?" + +"Senlac left gaps enough among the noblemen of the South, which they can +fill up, in the place of the French scum who now riot over Wessex. And +if that should not suffice, what higher honor for me, or for my daughter +the Queen-Dowager, than to devote our lands to the heroes who have won +them back for us?" + +Hereward hoped inwardly that Gyda would be as good as her word; for her +greedy grasp had gathered to itself, before the Battle of Hastings, no +less than six-and-thirty thousand acres of good English soil. + +"I have always heard," said he, bowing, "that if the Lady Gyda had been +born a man, England would have had another all-seeing and all-daring +statesman, and Earl Godwin a rival, instead of a helpmate. Now I believe +what I have heard." + +But Torfrida looked sadly at the Countess. There was something pitiable +in the sight of a woman ruined, bereaved, seemingly hopeless, portioning +out the very land from which she was a fugitive; unable to restrain the +passion for intrigue, which had been the toil and the bane of her sad +and splendid life. + +"And now," she went on, "surely some kind saint brought me, even on my +first landing, to you of all living men." + +"Doubtless the blessed St. Bertin, beneath whose shadow we repose here +in peace," said Hereward, somewhat dryly. + +"I will go barefoot to his altar to-morrow, and offer my last jewel," +said Gunhilda. + +"You," said Gyda, without noticing her daughter, "are, above all men, +the man who is needed." And she began praising Hereward's valor, his +fame, his eloquence, his skill as a general and engineer; and when he +suggested, smiling, that he was an exile and an outlaw, she insisted +that he was all the fitter from that very fact. He had no enemies among +the nobles. He had been mixed up in none of the civil wars and blood +feuds of the last fifteen years. He was known only as that which he +was, the ablest captain of his day,--the only man who could cope with +William, the only man whom all parties in England would alike obey. + +And so, with flattery as well as with truth, she persuaded, if not +Hereward, at least Torfrida, that he was the man destined to free +England once more; and that an earldom--anything which he chose to +ask--would be the sure reward of his assistance. + +"Torfrida," said Hereward that night, "kiss me well; for you will not +kiss me again for a while." + +"What?" + +"I am going to England to-morrow." + +"Alone?" + +"Alone. I and Martin to spy out the land; and a dozen or so of +housecarles to take care of the ship in harbor." + +"But you have promised to fight the Viscount of Pinkney." + +"I will be back again in time for him. Not a word,--I must go to +England, or go mad." + +"But Countess Gyda? Who will squire her to Bruges?" + +"You, and the rest of my men. You must tell her all. She has a woman's +heart, and will understand. And tell Baldwin I shall be back within the +month, if I am alive on land or water." + +"Hereward, Hereward, the French will kill you!" + +"Not while I have your armor on. Peace, little fool! Are you actually +afraid for Hereward at last?" + +"O heavens! when am I not afraid for you!" and she cried herself to +sleep upon his bosom. But she knew that it was the right, and knightly, +and Christian thing to do. + +Two days after, a long ship ran out of Calais, and sailed away north and +east. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +HOW HEREWARD CLEARED BOURNE OF FRENCHMEN. + + +It may have been well, a week after, that Hereward rode from the +direction of Boston, with Martin running at his heels. + +As Hereward rode along the summer wold the summer sun sank low, till +just before it went down he came to an island of small enclosed fields, +high banks, elm-trees, and a farm inside; one of those most ancient +holdings of the South and East Counts, still to be distinguished, by +their huge banks and dikes full of hedgerow timber, from the more +modern corn-lands outside, which were in Hereward's time mostly common +pasture-lands. + +"This should be Azerdun," said he; "and there inside, as I live, stands +Azer getting in his crops. But who has he with him?" + +With the old man were some half-dozen men of his own rank; some helping +the serfs with might and main; one or two standing on the top of the +banks, as if on the lookout; but all armed _cap-a-pie_. + +"His friends are helping him to get them in," quoth Martin, "for fear of +the rascally Normans. A pleasant and peaceable country we have come back +to." + +"And a very strong fortress are they holding," said Hereward, "against +either Norman horsemen or Norman arrows. How to dislodge those six +fellows without six times their number, I do not see. It is well to +recollect that." + +And so he did; and turned to use again and again, in after years, the +strategetic capabilities of an old-fashioned English farm. + +Hereward spurred his horse up to the nearest gate, and was instantly +confronted by a little fair-haired man, as broad as he was tall, who +heaved up a long "twybill," or double axe, and bade him, across the +gate, go to a certain place. + +"Little Winter, little Winter, my chuck, my darling, my mad fellow, +my brother-in-arms, my brother in robbery and murder, are you grown so +honest in your old age that you will not know Hereward the wolf's-head?" + +"Hereward!" shrieked the doughty little man. "I took you for an accursed +Norman in those outlandish clothes;" and lifting up no little voice, he +shouted,-- + +"Hereward is back, and Martin Lightfoot at his heels!" + +The gate was thrown open, and Hereward all but pulled off his horse. He +was clapped on the back, turned round and round, admired from head +to foot, shouted at by old companions of his boyhood, naughty young +housecarles of his old troop, now settled down into honest thriving +yeomen, hard working and hard fighting, who had heard again and again, +with pride, of his doughty doings over sea. There was Winter, and +Gwenoch, and Gery, Hereward's cousin,--ancestor, it may be, of the +ancient and honorable house of that name, and of those parts; and Duti +and Outi, the two valiant twins; and Ulfard the White, and others, some +of whose names, and those of their sons, still stand in Domesday-book. + +"And what," asked Hereward, after the first congratulations were over, +"of my mother? What of the folk at Bourne?" + +All looked each at the other, and were silent. + +"You are too late, young lord," said Azer. + +"Too late?" + +"The Norman"--Azer called him what most men called him then--"has given +it to a man of Gilbert of Ghent's,--his butler, groom, cook, for aught I +know." + +"To Gilbert's man? And my mother?" + +"God help your mother, and your young brother, too. We only know that +three days ago some five-and-twenty French marched into the place." + +"And you did not stop them?" + +"Young sir, who are we to stop an army? We have enough to keep our own. +Gilbert, let alone the villain Ivo of Spalding, can send a hundred men +down on us in four-and-twenty hours." + +"Then I," said Hereward in a voice of thunder, "will find the way to +send two hundred down on him"; and turning his horse from the gate, he +rode away furiously towards Bourne. + +He turned back as suddenly, and galloped into the field. + +"Lads! old comrades! will you stand by me if I need you? Will you follow +Hereward, as hundreds have followed him already, if he will only go +before?" + +"We will, we will." + +"I shall be back ere morning. What you have to do, I will tell you +then." + +"Stop and eat, but for a quarter of an hour." + +Then Hereward swore a great oath, by oak and ash and thorn, that he +would neither eat bread nor drink water while there was a Norman left in +Bourne. + +"A little ale, then, if no water," said Azer. + +Hereward laughed, and rode away, + +"You will not go single-handed against all those ruffians," shouted the +old man after him. "Saddle, lads, and go with him, some of you, for very +shame's sake." + +But when they galloped after Hereward, he sent them back. He did not +know yet, he said, what he would do. Better that they should gather +their forces, and see what men they could afford him, in case of open +battle. And he rode swiftly on. + +When he came within the lands of Bourne it was dark. + +"So much the better," thought Hereward. "I have no wish to see the old +place till I have somewhat cleaned it out." + +He rode slowly into the long street between the overhanging gables. At +the upper end he could see the high garden walls of his mother's house, +and rising over them the great hall, its narrow windows all ablaze with +light. With a bitter growl he rode on, trying to recollect a house where +he could safely lodge. Martin pointed one out. + +"Old Viking Surturbrand, the housecarle, did live there, and maybe lives +there still." + +"We will try." And Martin knocked at the door. + +The wicket was opened, but not the door; and through the wicket window a +surly voice asked who was there. + +"Who lives here?" + +"Perry, son of Surturbrand. Who art thou who askest?" + +"An honest gentleman and his servant, looking for a night's lodging." + +"This is no place for honest folk." + +"As for that, we don't wish to be more honest than you would have us; +but lodging we will pay for, freely and well." + +"We want none of your money"; and the wicket was shut. + +Martin pulled out his axe, and drove the panel in. + +"What are you doing? We shall rouse the town," said Hereward. + +"Let be; these are no French, but honest English, and like one all the +better for a little horse-play." + +"What didst do that for?" asked the surly voice again. "Were it not for +those rascal Frenchmen up above, I would come out and split thy skull +for thee." + +"If there be Frenchmen up above," said Martin, in a voice of feigned +terror, "take us in for the love of the Virgin and all the saints, or +murdered we shall be ere morning light." + +"You have no call to stay in the town, man, unless you like." + +Hereward rode close to the wicket, and said in a low voice, "I am a +nobleman of Flanders, good sir, and a sworn foe to all French. My horse +is weary, and cannot make a step forward; and if you be a Christian man, +you will take me in and let me go off safe ere morning light." + +"From Flanders?" And the man turned and seemed to consult those within. +At length the door was slowly opened, and Perry appeared, his double axe +over his shoulder. + +"If you be from Flanders, come in for mercy; but be quick, ere those +Frenchmen get wind of you." + +Hereward went in. Five or six men were standing round the long table, +upon which they had just laid down their double axes and javelins. More +than one countenance Hereward recognized at once. Over the peat-fire in +the chimney-corner sat a very old man, his hands upon his knees, as +he warmed his bare feet at the embers. He started up at the noise, and +Hereward saw at once that it was old Surturbrand, and that he was blind. + +"Who is it? Is Hereward come?" asked he, with the dull, dreamy voice of +age. + +"Not Hereward, father," said some one, "but a knight from Flanders." + +The old man dropped his head upon his breast again with a querulous +whine, while Hereward's heart beat high at hearing his own name. At all +events he was among friends; and approaching the table he unbuckled his +sword and laid it down among the other weapons. "At least," said he, "I +shall have no need of thee as long as I am here among honest men." + +"What shall I do with my master's horse?" asked Martin. "He can't stand +in the street to be stolen by drunken French horseboys." + +"Bring him in at the front door, and out at the back," said Perry. "Fine +times these, when a man dare not open his own yard-gate." + +"You seem to be all besieged here," said Hereward. "How is this?" + +"Besieged we are," said the man; and then, partly to turn the subject +off, "Will it please you to eat, noble sir?" + +Hereward ate and drank: while his hosts eyed him, not without some +lingering suspicion, but still with admiration and some respect. His +splendid armor and weapons, as well as the golden locks which fell far +below his shoulders, and conveniently hid a face which he did not wish +yet to have recognized, showed him to be a man of the highest rank; +while the palm of his small hand, as hard and bony as any woodman's, +proclaimed him to be no novice of a fighting man. The strong Flemish +accent which both he and Martin Lightfoot had assumed prevented the +honest Englishmen from piercing his disguise. They watched him, while he +in turn watched them, struck by their uneasy looks and sullen silence. + +"We are a dull company," said he after a while, courteously enough. "We +used to be told in Flanders that there were none such stout drinkers and +none such jolly singers as you gallant men of the Danelagh here." + +"Dull times make dull company," said one, "and no offence to you, Sir +Knight." + +"Are you such a stranger," asked Perry, "that you do not know what has +happened in this town during the last three days?" + +"No good, I will warrant, if you have Frenchmen in it." + +"Why was not Hereward here?" wailed the old man in the corner. "It never +would have happened if he had been in the town." + +"What?" asked Hereward, trying to command himself. + +"What has happened," said Perry, "makes a free Englishman's blood boil +to tell of. Here, Sir Knight, three days ago, comes in this Frenchman +with some twenty ruffians of his own, and more of one Taillebois's, too, +to see him safe; says that this new king, this base-born Frenchman, has +given away all Earl Morcar's lands, and that Bourne is his; kills a man +or two; upsets the women; gets drunk, ruffles, and roisters; breaks into +my lady's bower, calling her to give up her keys, and when she gives +them, will have all her jewels too. She faces them like a brave +Princess, and two of the hounds lay hold of her, and say that she shall +ride through Bourne as she rode through Coventry. The boy Godwin--he +that was the great Earl's godson, our last hope, the last of our +house--draws sword on them; and he, a boy of sixteen summers, kills them +both out of hand. The rest set on him, cut his head off, and there it +sticks on the gable spike of the hall to this hour. And do you ask, +after that, why free Englishmen are dull company?" + +"And our turn will come next," growled somebody. "The turn will go all +round; no man's life or land, wife or daughters, will be safe soon for +these accursed Frenchmen, unless, as the old man says, Hereward comes +back." + +Once again the old man wailed out of the chimney-corner: "Why did they +ever send Hereward away? I warned the good Earl, I warned my good lady, +many a time, to let him sow his wild oats and be done with them; or they +might need him some day when they could not find him! He was a lad! He +was a lad!" and again he whined, and sank into silence. + +Hereward heard all this dry-eyed, hardening his heart into a great +resolve. "This is a dark story," said he calmly, "and it would behoove +me as a gentleman to succor this distressed lady, did I but know how. +Tell me what I can do now, and I will do it." + +"Your health!" cried one. "You speak like a true knight." + +"And he looks the man to keep his word, I'll warrant him," spoke +another. + +"He does," said Perry, shaking his head; "but if anything could have +been done, sir, be sure we would have done it: but all our armed men are +scattered up and down the country, each taking care, as is natural, +of his own cattle and his own women. There are not ten men-at-arms in +Bourne this night; and, what is worse, sir, as you know, who seem to +have known war as well as me, there is no man to lead them." + +Here Hereward was on the point of saying, "And what if I led you?"--On +the point too of discovering himself: but he stopped short. + +Was it fair to involve this little knot of gallant fellows in what might +be a hopeless struggle, and have all Bourne burned over their heads ere +morning by the ruffian Frenchmen? No; his mother's quarrel was his own +private quarrel. He would go alone and see the strength of the enemy; +and after that, may be, he would raise the country on them: or--and +half a dozen plans suggested themselves to his crafty brain as he sat +brooding and scheming: then, as always, utterly self-confident. + +He was startled by a burst of noise outside,--music, laughter, and +shouts. + +"There," said Perry, bitterly, "are those Frenchmen, dancing and singing +in the hall with my Lord Godwin's head above them!" And curses bitter +and deep went round the room. They sat sullen and silent it may be for +an hour or more; only moving when, at some fresh outbreak of revelry, +the old man started from his doze and asked if that was Hereward coming. + +"And who is this Hereward of whom you speak?" said Hereward at last. + +"We thought you might know him, Sir Knight, if you come from Flanders, +as you say you do," said three or four voices in a surprised and surly +tone. + +"Certainly I know such a man, if he be Hereward the wolf's-head, +Hereward the outlaw, as they call him. And a good soldier he is, though +he be not yet made a knight; and married, too, to a rich and fair lady. +I served under this Hereward a few months ago in the Friesland War, and +know no man whom I would sooner follow." + +"Nor I neither," chimed in Martin Lightfoot from the other end of the +table. + +"Nor we," cried all the men-at-arms at once, each vying with the other +in extravagant stories of their hero's prowess, and in asking the knight +of Flanders whether they were true or not. + +To avoid offending them, Hereward was forced to confess to a great many +deeds which he had never done: but he was right glad to find that his +fame had reached his native place, and that he could count on the men if +he needed them. + +"But who is this Hereward," said he, "that he should have to do with +your town here?" + +Half a dozen voices at once told him his own story. + +"I always heard," said he, dryly, "that that gentleman was of some very +noble kin; and I will surely tell him all that has befallen here as soon +as I return to Flanders." + +At last they grew sleepy, and the men went out and brought in bundles of +sweet rush, and spread them against the wall, and prepared to lie down, +each his weapon by his side. And when they were lain down, Hereward +beckoned to him Perry and Martin Lightfoot, and went out into the back +yard, under the pretence of seeing to his horse. + +"Perry Surturbrandsson," said he, "you seem to be an honest man, as we +in foreign parts hold all the Danelagh to be. Now it is fixed in my +mind to go up, and my servant, to your hall, and see what those French +upstarts are about. Will you trust me to go, without my fleeing back +here if I am found out, or in any way bringing you to harm by mixing you +up in my private matters? And will you, if I do not come back, keep for +your own the horse which is in your stable, and give moreover this purse +and this ring to your lady, if you can find means to see her face to +face; and say thus to her,--that he that sent that purse and ring may be +found, if he be alive, at St. Omer, or with Baldwin, Count of Flanders; +and that if he be dead, as he is like enough to be, his trade being +naught but war, she will still find at St. Omer a home and wealth and +friends, till these evil times be overpast?" + +As Hereward had spoken with some slight emotion, he had dropped unawares +his assumed Flemish accent, and had spoken in broad burly Lincolnshire; +and therefore it was that Perry, who had been staring at him by the +moonlight all the while, said, when he was done, tremblingly,-- + +"Either you are Hereward, or you are his fetch. You speak like Hereward, +you look like Hereward. Just what Hereward would be now, you are. You +are my lord, and you cannot deny it." + +"Perry, if you know me, speak of me to no living soul, save to your lady +my mother; and let me and my serving-man go free out of your yard-gate. +If I ask you before morning to open it again to me, you will know that +there is not a Frenchman left in the Hall of Bourne." + +Perry threw his arms around him, and embraced him silently. + +"Get me only," said Hereward, "some long woman's gear and black mantle, +if you can, to cover this bright armor of mine." + +Perry went off in silence as one stunned,--brought the mantle, and let +them out of the yard-gate. In ten minutes more, the two slipping in by +well-known paths, stood under the gable of the great hall. Not a soul +was stirring outside. The serfs were all cowering in their huts like so +many rabbits in their burrows, listening in fear to the revelry of their +new tyrants. The night was dark: but not so dark but that Hereward could +see between him and the sky his brother's long locks floating in the +breeze. + +"That I must have done, at least," said he, in a low voice. + +"Then here is wherewithal," said Martin Lightfoot, as he stumbled over +something. "The drunken villains have left the ladder in the yard." + +Hereward got up the ladder, took down the head and wrapped it in the +cloak, and ere he did so kissed the cold forehead. How he had hated that +boy! Well, at least he had never wilfully harmed him,--or the boy him +either, for that matter. And now he had died like a man, killing his +foe. He was of the true old blood after all. And Hereward felt that he +would have given all that he had, save his wife or his sword-hand, to +have that boy alive again, to pet him, and train him, and teach him to +fight at his side. + +Then he slipped round to one of the narrow unshuttered windows and +looked in. The hall was in a wasteful blaze of light,--a whole month's +candles burning in one night. The table was covered with all his +father's choicest plate; the wine was running waste upon the floor; the +men were lolling at the table in every stage of drunkenness; the loose +women, camp-followers, and such like, almost as drunk as their masters; +and at the table head, most drunk of all, sat, in Earl Leofric's seat, +the new Lord of Bourne. + +Hereward could scarce believe his eyes. He was none other than Gilbert +of Ghent's stout Flemish cook, whom he had seen many a time in Scotland. +Hereward turned from the window in disgust; but looked again as he heard +words which roused his anger still more. + +For in the open space nearest the door stood a gleeman, a dancing, +harping, foul-mouthed fellow, who was showing off ape's tricks, jesting +against the English, and shuffling about in mockeries of English +dancing. At some particularly coarse jest of his, the new Lord of Bourne +burst into a roar of admiration. + +"Ask what thou wilt, fellow, and thou shalt have it. Thou wilt find me a +better master to thee than ever was Morcar, the English barbarian." + +The scoundrel, say the old chroniclers, made a request concerning +Hereward's family which cannot be printed here. + +Hereward ground his teeth. "If thou livest till morning light," said he, +"I will not." + +The last brutality awoke some better feeling in one of the girls,--a +large coarse Fleming, who sat by the new lord's side. "Fine words," +said she, scornfully enough, "for the sweepings of Norman and Flemish +kennels. You forget that you left one of this very Leofric's sons behind +in Flanders, who would besom all out if he was here before the morning's +dawn." + +"Hereward?" cried the cook, striking her down with a drunken blow; "the +scoundrel who stole the money which the Frisians sent to Count Baldwin, +and gave it to his own troops? We are safe enough from him at all +events; he dare not show his face on this side the Alps, for fear of the +gallows." + +Hereward had heard enough. He slipped down from the window to Martin, +and led him round the house. + +"Now then, down with the ladder quick, and dash in the door. I go in; +stay thou outside. If any man passes me, see that he pass not thee." + +Martin chuckled a ghostly laugh as he helped the ladder down. In another +moment the door was burst in, and Hereward stood upon the threshold. He +gave one war-shout,--his own terrible name,--and then rushed forward. +As he passed the gleeman, he gave him one stroke across the loins; the +wretch fell shrieking. + +And then began a murder, grim and great. They fought with ale-cups, with +knives, with benches: but, drunken and unarmed, they were hewn down +like sheep. Fourteen Normans, says the chronicler, were in the hall when +Hereward burst in. When the sun rose there were fourteen heads upon the +gable. Escape had been impossible. Martin had laid the ladder across the +door; and the few who escaped the master's terrible sword, stumbled over +it, to be brained by the man's not less terrible axe. + +Then Hereward took up his brother's head, and went in to his mother. + +The women in the bower opened to him. They had seen all that passed from +the gallery above, which, as usual, hidden by a curtain, enabled the +women to watch unseen what passed in the hall below. + +The Lady Godiva sat crouched together, all but alone,--for her +bower-maidens had fled or been carried off long since,--upon a low stool +beside a long dark thing covered with a pall. So utterly crushed was +she, that she did not even lift up her head as Hereward entered. + +He placed his ghastly burden reverently beneath the pall, and then went +and knelt before his mother. + +For a while neither spoke a word. Then the Lady Godiva suddenly +drew back her hood, and dropping on her knees, threw her arms round +Hereward's neck, and wept till she could weep no more. + +"Blessed strong arms," sobbed she at last, "around me! To feel something +left in the world to protect me; something left in the world which loves +me." + +"You forgive me, mother?" + +"You forgive me? It was I, I who was in fault,--I, who should have +cherished you, my strongest, my bravest, my noblest,--now my all." + +"No, it was all my fault; and on my head is all this misery. If I had +been here, as I ought to have been, all this might have never happened." + +"You would only have been murdered too. No: thank God you were away; or +God would have taken you with the rest. His arm is bared against me, and +His face turned away from me. All in vain, in vain! Vain to have washed +my hands in innocency, and worshipped Him night and day. Vain to have +builded minsters in his honor, and heaped the shrines of his saints with +gold. Vain to have fed the hungry, and clothed the naked, and washed the +feet of His poor, that I might atone for my own sins, and the sins of my +house. This is His answer. He has taken me up, and dashed me down: and +naught is left but, like Job, to abhor myself and repent in dust and +ashes--of I know not what." + +"God has not deserted you. See, He has sent you me!" said Hereward, +wondering to find himself, of all men on earth, preaching consolation. + +"Yes, I have you! Hold me. Love me. Let me feel that one thing loves me +upon earth. I want love; I must have it: and if God, and His mother, and +all the saints, refuse their love, I must turn to the creature, and ask +it to love me, but for a day." + +"For ever, mother." + +"You will not leave me?" + +"If I do, I come back, to finish what I have begun." + +"More blood? O God! Hereward, not that! Let us return good for evil. Let +us take up our crosses. Let us humble ourselves under God's hand, and +flee into some convent, and there die praying for our country and our +kin." + +"Men must work, while women pray. I will take you to a minster,--to +Peterborough." + +"No, not to Peterborough!" + +"But my Uncle Brand is abbot there, they tell me, now this four years; +and that rogue Herluin, prior in his place." + +"He is dying,--dying of a broken heart, like me. And the Frenchman has +given his abbey to one Thorold, the tyrant of Malmesbury,--a Frenchman +like himself. No, take me where I shall never see a French face. Take +me to Crowland--and him with me--where I shall see naught but English +faces, and hear English chants, and die a free Englishwoman under St. +Guthlac's wings." + +"Ah!" said Hereward, bitterly, "St. Guthlac is a right Englishman, +and will have some sort of fellow-feeling for us; while St. Peter, +of course, is somewhat too fond of Rome and those Italian monks. +Well,--blood is thicker than water; so I hardly blame the blessed +Apostle." + +"Do not talk so, Hereward." + +"Much the saints have done for us, mother, that we are to be so very +respectful to their high mightinesses. I fear, if this Frenchman goes on +with his plan of thrusting his monks into our abbeys, I shall have to +do more even for St. Guthlac than ever he did for me. Do not say more, +mother. This night has made Hereward a new man. Now, prepare"--and she +knew what he meant--"and gather all your treasures; and we will start +for Crowland to-morrow afternoon." + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +HOW HEREWARD WAS MADE A KNIGHT AFTER THE FASHION OF THE ENGLISH. + + +A wild night was that in Bourne. All the folk, free and unfree, man and +woman, out on the streets, asking the meaning of those terrible shrieks, +followed by a more terrible silence. + +At last Hereward strode down from the hall, his drawn sword in his hand. + +"Silence, good folks, and hearken to me, once for all. There is not a +Frenchman left alive in Bourne. If you be the men I take you for, there +shall not be one left alive between Wash and Humber. Silence, again!" as +a fierce cry of rage and joy arose, and men rushed forward to take him +by the hand, women to embrace him. "This is no time for compliments, +good folks, but for quick wit and quick blows. For the law we fight, +if we do fight; and by the law we must work, fight or not. Where is the +lawman of the town?" + +"I was lawman last night, to see such law done as there is left," said +Perry. "But you are lawman now. Do as you will. We will obey you." + +"You shall be our lawman," shouted many voices. + +"I! Who am I? Out-of-law, and a wolf's-head." + +"We will put you back into your law,--we will give you your lands in +full husting." + +"Never mind a husting on my behalf. Let us have a husting, if we have +one, for a better end than that. Now, men of Bourne, I have put the coal +in the bush. Dare you blow the fire till the forest is aflame from south +to north? I have fought a dozen of Frenchmen. Dare you fight Taillebois +and Gilbert of Ghent, with William, Duke of Normandy, at their back? Or +will you take me, here as I stand, and give me up to them as an outlaw +and a robber, to feed the crows outside the gates of Lincoln? Do it, if +you will. It will be the wiser plan, my friends. Give me up to be judged +and hanged, and so purge yourselves of the villanous murder of Gilbert's +cook,--your late lord and master." + +"Lord and master! We are free men!" shouted the holders, or yeomen +gentlemen. "We hold our lands from God and the sun." + +"You are our lord!" shouted the socmen, or tenants. "Who but you? We +will follow, If you will lead!" + +"Hereward is come home!" cried a feeble voice behind. "Let me come to +him. Let me feel him." + +And through the crowd, supported by two ladies, tottered the mighty form +of Surturbrand, the blind Viking. + +"Hereward is come!" cried he, as he folded his master's son in his arms. +"Hoi! he is wet with blood! Hoi! he smells of blood! Hoi! the ravens +will grow fat now, for Hereward is come home!" + +Some would have led the old man away; but he thrust them off fiercely. + +"Hoi! come wolf! Hoi! come kite! Hoi! come erne from off the fen! You +followed us, and we fed you well, when Swend Forkbeard brought us over +the sea. Follow us now, and we will feed you better still, with the +mongrel Frenchers who scoff at the tongue of their forefathers, and +would rob their nearest kinsman of land and lass. Hoi! Swend's men! +Hoi! Canute's men! Vikings' sons, sea-cocks' sons, Berserkers' sons +all! Split up the war-arrow, and send it round, and the curse of Odin on +every man that will not pass it on! A war-king to-morrow, and Hildur's +game next day, that the old Surturbrand may fall like a freeholder, axe +in hand, and not die like a cow, in the straw which the Frenchman has +spared him." + +All men were silent, as the old Viking's voice, cracked and feeble when +he began, gathered strength from rage, till it rang through the still +night-air like a trumpet-blast. + +The silence was broken by a long wild cry from the forest, which made +the women start, and catch their children closer to them. It was the +howl of a wolf. + +"Hark to the witch's horse! Hark to the son of Fenris, how he calls for +meat! Are ye your fathers' sons, ye men of Bourne? They never let the +gray beast call in vain." + +Hereward saw his opportunity and seized it. There were those in the +crowd, he well knew, as there must needs be in all crowds, who wished +themselves well out of the business; who shrank from the thought of +facing the Norman barons, much more the Norman king; who were ready +enough, had the tide of feeling begun to ebb, of blaming Hereward for +rashness, even though they might not have gone so far as to give him +up to the Normans; who would have advised some sort of compromise, +pacifying half-measure, or other weak plan for escaping present danger, +by delivering themselves over to future destruction. But three out of +four there were good men and true. The savage chant of the old barbarian +might have startled them somewhat, for they were tolerably orthodox +Christian folk. But there was sense as well as spirit in its savageness; +and they growled applause, as he ceased. But Hereward heard, and +cried,-- + +"The Viking is right! So speaks the spirit of our fathers, and we must +show ourselves their true sons. Send round the war-arrow, and death to +the man who does not pass it on! Better die bravely together than falter +and part company, to be hunted down one by one by men who will never +forgive us as long as we have an acre of land for them to seize. Perry, +son of Surturbrand, you are the lawman. Put it to the vote!" + +"Send round the war-arrow!" shouted Perry himself; and if there was a +man or two who shrank from the proposal they found it prudent to shout +as loudly as did the rest. + +Ere the morning light, the war-arrow was split into four splinters, and +carried out to the four airts, through all Kesteven. If the splinter +were put into the house-father's hand, he must send it on at once to the +next freeman's house. If he were away, it was stuck into his house-door, +or into his great chair by the fireside, and woe to him if, on his +return, he sent it not on likewise. All through Kesteven went that +night the arrow-splinters, and with them the whisper, "Hereward is come +again!" And before midday there were fifty well-armed men in the old +camping-field outside the town, and Hereward haranguing them in words of +fire. + +A chill came over them, nevertheless, when he told them that he must +return at once to Flanders. + +"But it must be," he said. He had promised his good lord and sovereign, +Baldwin of Flanders, and his word of honor he must keep. Two visits he +must pay, ere he went; and then to sea. But within the year, if he were +alive on ground, he would return, and with him ships and men, it might +be with Sweyn and all the power of Denmark. Only let them hold their own +till the Danes should come, and all would be well. And whenever he came +back, he would set a light to three farms that stood upon a hill, whence +they could be seen far and wide over the Bruneswold and over all the +fen; and then all men might know for sure that Hereward was come again. + +"And nine-and-forty of them," says the chronicler, "he chose to guard +Bourne," seemingly the lands which had been his nephew Morcar's, till he +should come back and take them for himself. Godiva's lands, of Witham, +Toft and Mainthorpe, Gery his cousin should hold till his return, and +send what he could off them to his mother at Crowland. + +Then they went down to the water and took barge, and laid the corpse +therein; and Godiva and Hereward sat at the dead lad's head; and Winter +steered the boat, and Gwenoch took the stroke-oar. + +And they rowed away for Crowland, by many a mere and many an ea; through +narrow reaches of clear brown glassy water; between the dark-green +alders; between the pale-green reeds; where the coot clanked, and the +bittern boomed, and the sedge-bird, not content with its own sweet song, +mocked the song of all the birds around; and then out into the broad +lagoons, where hung motionless, high overhead, hawk beyond hawk, buzzard +beyond buzzard, kite beyond kite, as far as eye could see. Into the air, +as they rowed on, whirred up the great skeins of wild fowl innumerable, +with a cry as of all the bells of Crowland, or all the hounds of +Bruneswold; and clear above all the noise sounded the wild whistle of +the curlews, and the trumpet-note of the great white swan. Out of the +reeds, like an arrow, shot the peregrine, singled one luckless mallard +from the flock, caught him up, struck him stone dead with one blow of +his terrible heel, and swept his prey with him into the reeds again. + +"Death! death! death!" said Lady Godiva, as the feathers fluttered down +into the boat and rested on the dead boy's pall. "War among man and +beast, war on earth, war in air, war in the water beneath," as a great +pike rolled at his bait, sending a shoal of white fish flying along the +surface. "And war, says holy writ, in heaven above. O Thou who didst die +to destroy death, when will it all be over?" + +And thus they glided on from stream to stream, until they came to the +sacred isle of "the inheritance of the Lord, the soil of St. Mary and +St. Bartholomew; the most holy sanctuary of St. Guthlac and his monks; +the minster most free from worldly servitude; the special almshouse of +the most illustrious kings; the sole place of refuge for any one in +all tribulations; the perpetual abode of the saints; the possession +of religious men, especially set apart by the Common Council of the +kingdom; by reason of the frequent miracles of the most holy Confessor, +an ever fruitful mother of camphire in the vineyards of Engedi; and, +by reason of the privileges granted by the kings, a city of grace and +safety to all who repent." + +As they drew near, they passed every minute some fisher's log canoe, +in which worked with net or line the criminal who had saved his life by +fleeing to St. Guthlac, and becoming his man henceforth; the slave who +had fled from his master's cruelty; and here and there in those evil +days, the master who had fled from the cruelty of Normans, who would +have done to him as he had done to others. But all old grudges were put +away there. They had sought the peace of St. Guthlac; and therefore +they must keep his peace, and get their living from the fish of the +five rivers, within the bounds whereof was peace, as of their own quiet +streams; for the Abbot and St. Guthlac were the only lords thereof, and +neither summoner nor sheriff of the king, nor armed force of knight or +earl, could enter there. + +At last they came to Crowland minster,--a vast range of high-peaked +buildings, founded on piles of oak and hazel driven into the +fen,--itself built almost entirely of timber from the Bruneswold; barns, +granaries, stables, workshops, stranger's hall,--fit for the boundless +hospitality of Crowland,--infirmary, refectory, dormitory, library, +abbot's lodgings, cloisters; and above, the great minster towering up, a +steep pile, half wood, half stone, with narrow round-headed windows and +leaden roofs; and above all the great wooden tower, from which, on high +days, chimed out the melody of the seven famous bells, which had not +their like in English land. Guthlac, Bartholomew, and Bettelm were the +names of the biggest, Turketul and Tatwin of the middle, and Pega and +Bega of the smallest. So says Ingulf, who saw them a few years after, +pouring down on his own head in streams of melted metal. Outside the +minster walls were the cottages of the corodiers, or laboring folk; and +beyond them again the natural park of grass, dotted with mighty oaks +and ashes; and, beyond all those, cornlands of inexhaustible fertility, +broken up by the good Abbot Egelric some hundred years before, from +which, in times of dearth, the monks of Crowland fed the people of all +the neighboring fens. + +They went into the great court-yard. All men were quiet, yet all +men were busy. Baking and brewing, carpentering and tailoring in the +workshops, reading and writing in the cloister, praying and singing +in the church, and teaching the children in the school-house. Only the +ancient sempects--some near upon a hundred and fifty years old--wandered +where they would, or basked against a sunny wall, like autumn flies, +with each a young monk to guide him, and listen to his tattle of old +days. For, said the laws of Turketul the good, "Nothing disagreeable +about the affairs of the monastery shall be mentioned in their presence. +No person shall presume in any way to offend them; but with the greatest +peace and tranquillity they shall await their end." + +So, while the world outside raged, and fought, and conquered, and +plundered, they within the holy isle kept up some sort of order, and +justice, and usefulness, and love to God and man. And about the yards, +among the feet of the monks, hopped the sacred ravens, descendants +of those who brought back the gloves at St. Guthlac's bidding; +and overhead, under all the eaves, built the sacred swallows, the +descendants of those who sat and sang upon St. Guthlac's shoulders; and +when men marvelled thereat, he, the holy man, replied: "Know that they +who live the holy life draw nearer to the birds of the air, even as they +do to the angels in heaven." + +And Lady Godiva called for old Abbot Ulfketyl, the good and brave, and +fell upon his neck, and told him all her tale; and Ulfketyl wept upon +her neck, for they were old and faithful friends. + +And they passed into the dark, cool church, where in the crypt under the +high altar lay the thumb of St. Bartholomew, which old Abbot Turketul +used to carry about, that he might cross himself with it in times of +danger, tempest, and lightning; and some of the hair of St. Mary, Queen +of Heaven, in a box of gold; and a bone of St. Leodegar of Aquitaine; +and some few remains, too, of the holy bodies of St. Guthlac; and of St. +Bettelm, his servant; and St. Tatwin, who steered him to Crowland; and +St. Egbert, his confessor; and St. Cissa the anchorite; and of the most +holy virgin St. Etheldreda; and many more. But little of them remained +since Sigtryg and Bagsac's heathen Danes had heaped them pellmell on the +floor, and burned the church over them and the bodies of the slaughtered +monks. + +The plunder which was taken from Crowland on that evil day lay, and lies +still, with the plunder of Peterborough and many a minster more, at +the bottom of the Nene, at Huntingdon Bridge. But it had been more than +replaced by the piety of the Danish kings and nobles; and above the +twelve white bearskins which lay at the twelve altars blazed, in the +light of many a wax candle, gold and jewels inferior only to those of +Peterborough and Coventry. + +And there in the nave they buried the lad Godwin, with chant and dirge; +and when the funeral was done Hereward went up toward the high altar, +and bade Winter and Gwenoch come with him. And there he knelt, and vowed +a vow to God and St. Guthlac and the Lady Torfrida his true love, never +to leave from slaying while there was a Frenchman left alive on English +ground. + +And Godiva and Ulfketyl heard his vow, and shuddered; but they dared not +stop him, for they, too, had English hearts. + +And Winter and Gwenoch heard it, and repeated it word for word. + +Then he kissed his mother, and called Winter and Gwenoch, and went +forth. He would be back again, he said, on the third day. + +Then those three went to Peterborough, and asked for Abbot Brand. And +the monks let them in; for the fame of their deed had passed through the +forest, and all the French had fled. + +And old Brand lay back in his great arm-chair, his legs all muffled up +in furs, for he could get no heat; and by him stood Herluin the prior, +and wondered when he would die, and Thorold take his place, and they +should drive out the old Gregorian chants from the choir, and have the +new Norman chants of Robert of Fecamp, and bring in French-Roman customs +in all things, and rule the English boors with a rod of iron. + +And old Brand knew all that was in his heart, and looked up like a +patient ox beneath the butcher's axe, and said, "Have patience with me, +Brother Herluin, and I will die as soon as I can, and go where there is +neither French nor English, Jew nor Gentile, bond or free, but all are +alike in the eyes of Him who made them." + +But when he saw Hereward come in, he cast the mufflers off him, and +sprang up from his chair, and was young and strong in a moment, and for +a moment. + +And he threw his arms round Hereward, and wept upon his neck, as his +mother had done. And Hereward wept upon his neck, though he had not wept +upon his mother's. + +Then Brand held him at arms' length, or thought he held him, for he was +leaning on Hereward, and tottering all the while; and extolled him as +the champion, the warrior, the stay of his house, the avenger of his +kin, the hero of whom he had always prophesied that his kin would need +him, and that then he would not fail. + +But Hereward answered him modestly and mildly,-- + +"Speak not so to me and of me, Uncle Brand. I am a very foolish, vain, +sinful man, who have come through great adventures, I know not how, to +great and strange happiness, and now again to great and strange sorrows; +and to an adventure greater and stranger than all that has befallen me +from my youth up until now. Therefore make me not proud, Uncle Brand, +but keep me modest and lowly, as befits all true knights and penitent +sinners; for they tell me that God resists the proud, and giveth grace +to the humble. And I have that to do which do I cannot, unless God and +his saints give me grace from this day forth." + +Brand looked at him, astonished; and then turned to Herluin. + +"Did I not tell thee, prior? This is the lad whom you called graceless +and a savage; and see, since he has been in foreign lands, and seen the +ways of knights, he talks as clerkly as a Frenchman, and as piously as +any monk." + +"The Lord Hereward," said Herluin, "has doubtless learned much from +the manners of our nation which he would not have learned in England. I +rejoice to see him returned so Christian and so courtly a knight." + +"The Lord Hereward, Prior Herluin, has learnt one thing in his +travels,--to know somewhat of men and the hearts of men, and to deal +with them as they deserve of him. They tell me that one Thorold of +Malmesbury,--Thorold of Fecamp, the minstrel, he that made the song of +Rowland,--that he desires this abbey." + +"I have so heard, my lord." + +"Then I command,--I, Hereward, Lord of Bourne!--that this abbey be held +against him and all Frenchmen, in the name of Swend Ulfsson, king of +England, and of me. And he that admits a Frenchman therein, I will shave +his crown for him so well, that he shall never need razor more. This I +tell thee; and this I shall tell your monks before I go. And unless you +obey the same, my dream will be fulfilled; and you will see Goldenbregh +in a light low, and burning yourselves in the midst thereof." + +"Swend Ulfsson? Swend of Denmark? What words are these?" cried Brand. + +"You will know within six months, uncle." + +"I shall know better things, my boy, before six months are out." + +"Uncle, uncle, do not say that." + +"Why not? If this mortal life be at best a prison and a grave, what is +it worth now to an Englishman?" + +"More than ever; for never had an Englishman such a chance of showing +English mettle, and winning renown for the English name. Uncle, you must +do something for me and my comrades ere we go." + +"Well, boy?" + +"Make us knights." + +"Knights, lad? I thought you had been a belted knight this dozen years?" + +"I might have been made a knight by many, after the French, fashion, +many a year agone. I might have been knight when I slew the white bear. +Ladies have prayed me to be knighted again and again since. Something +kept me from it. Perhaps" (with a glance at Herluin) "I wanted to show +that an English squire could be the rival and the leader of French and +Flemish knights." + +"And thou hast shown it, brave lad!" said Brand, clapping his great +hands. + +"Perhaps I longed to do some mighty deed at last, which would give me a +right to go to the bravest knight in all Christendom, and say, 'Give +me the accolade, then! Thou only art worthy to knight as good a man as +thyself.'" + +"Pride and vainglory," said Brand, shaking his head. + +"But now I am of a sounder mind. I see now why I was kept from being +knighted,--till I had done a deed worthy of a true knight; till I had +mightily avenged the wronged, and mightily succored the oppressed; till +I had purged my soul of my enmity against my own kin, and could go out +into the world a new man, with my mother's blessing on my head." + +"But not of the robbery of St. Peter," said Herluin. The French monk +wanted not for moral courage,--no French monk did in those days. And he +proved it by those words. + +"Do not anger the lad, Prior; now, too, above all times, when his heart +is softened toward the Lord." + +"He has not angered me. The man is right. Here, Lord Abbot and Sir +Prior, is a chain of gold, won in the wars. It is worth fifty times the +sixteen pence which I stole, and which I repaid double. Let St. Peter +take it, for the sins of me and my two comrades, and forgive. And now, +Sir Prior, I do to thee what I never did for mortal man. I kneel, and +ask thy forgiveness. Kneel, Winter! Kneel, Gwenoch!" And Hereward knelt. + +Herluin was of double mind. He longed to keep Hereward out of St. +Peter's grace. He longed to see Hereward dead at his feet; not because +of any personal hatred, but because he foresaw in him a terrible foe to +the Norman cause. But he wished, too, to involve Abbot Brand as much as +possible in Hereward's "rebellions" and "misdeeds," and above all, in +the master-offence of knighting him; for for that end, he saw, Hereward +was come. Moreover, he was touched with the sudden frankness and +humility of the famous champion. So he answered mildly,-- + +"Verily, thou hast a knightly soul. May God and St. Peter so forgive +thee and thy companions as I forgive thee, freely and from my heart." + +"Now," cried Hereward, "a boon! a boon! Knight me and these my fellows, +Uncle Brand, this day." + +Brand was old and weak, and looked at Herluin. + +"I know," said Hereward, "that the French look on us English monk-made +knights as spurious and adulterine, unworthy of the name of knight. +But, I hold--and what churchman will gainsay me?--that it is nobler to +receive sword and belt from a man of God than from a man of blood like +one's self; the fittest to consecrate the soldier of an earthly king, +is the soldier of Christ, the King of kings." [Footnote: Almost word for +word from the "Life of Hereward."] + +"He speaks well," said Herluin. "Abbot, grant him his boon." + +"Who celebrates high mass to-morrow?" + +"Wilton the priest, the monk of Ely," said Herluin, aloud. "And a very +dangerous and stubborn Englishman," added he to himself. + +"Good. Then this night you shall watch in the church. To-morrow, after +the Gospel, the thing shall be done as you will." + +That night two messengers, knights of the Abbot, galloped from +Peterborough. One to Ivo Taillebois at Spalding, to tell him that +Hereward was at Peterborough, and that he must try to cut him off upon +the Egelric's road, the causeway which one of the many Abbots Egelric +had made some thirty years before, through Deeping Fen to Spalding, at +an enormous expense of labor and of timber. The other knight rode south, +along the Roman road to London, to tell King William of the rising of +Kesteven, and all the evil deeds of Hereward and of Brand. + +And old Brand slept quietly in his bed, little thinking on what errands +his prior had sent his knights. + +Hereward and his comrades watched that night in St. Peter's church. +Oppressed with weariness of body, and awe of mind, they heard the monks +drone out their chants through the misty gloom; they confessed the +sins--and they were many--of their past wild lives. They had to summon +up within themselves courage and strength henceforth to live, not for +themselves, but for the fatherland which they hoped to save. They prayed +to all the heavenly powers of that Pantheon which then stood between +man and God, to help them in the coming struggle; but ere the morning +dawned, they were nodding, unused to any long strain of mind. + +Suddenly Hereward started, and sprang up, with a cry of fire. + +"What? Where?" cried his comrades, and the monks who ran up. + +"The minster is full of flame. No use! too late! you cannot put it out! +It must burn." + +"You have been dreaming," said one. + +"I have not," said Hereward. "Is it Lammas night?" + +"What a question! It is the vigil of the Nativity of St. Peter and St. +Paul." + +"Thank heaven! I thought my old Lammas night's dream was coming true at +last." + +Herluin heard, and knew what he meant. + +After which Hereward was silent, filled with many thoughts. + +The next morning, before the high mass, those three brave men walked up +to the altar; laid thereon their belts and swords; and then knelt humbly +at the foot of the steps till the Gospel was finished. + +Then came down from the altar Wilton of Ely, and laid on each man's bare +neck the bare blade, and bade him take back his sword in the name of +God and of St. Peter and St. Paul, and use it like a true knight, for +a terror and punishment to evil-doers, and a defence for women and +orphans, and the poor and the oppressed, and the monks the servants of +God. + +And then the monks girded each man with his belt and sword once +more. And after mass was sung, they rose and went forth, each feeling +himself--and surely not in vain--a better man. + +At least this is certain, that Hereward would say to his dying day, +how he had often proved that none would fight so well as those who had +received their sword from God's knights the monks. And therefore he +would have, in after years, almost all his companions knighted by the +monks; and brought into Ely with him that same good custom which he had +learnt at Peterborough, and kept it up as long as he held the isle. + +So says the chronicler Leofric, the minstrel and priest. + +It was late when they got back to Crowland. The good Abbot received them +with a troubled face. + +"As I feared, my Lord, you have been too hot and hasty. The French have +raised the country against you." + +"I have raised it against them, my lord. But we have news that Sir +Frederick--" + +"And who may he be?" + +"A very terrible Goliath of these French; old and crafty, a brother of +old Earl Warrenne of Norfolk, whom God confound. And he has sworn to +have your life, and has gathered knights and men-at-arms at Lynn in +Norfolk." + +"Very good; I will visit him as I go home, Lord Abbot. Not a word of +this to any soul." + +"I tremble for thee, thou young David." + +"One cannot live forever, my lord. Farewell." + +A week after, a boatman brought news to Crowland, how Sir Frederick was +sitting in his inn at Lynn, when there came in one with a sword, and +said: "I am Hereward. I was told that thou didst desire, greatly, to see +me; therefore I am come, being a courteous knight," and therewith smote +off his head. And when the knights and others would have stopped him, +he cut his way through them, killing some three or four at each stroke, +himself unhurt; for he was clothed from head to foot in magic armor, and +whosoever smote it, their swords melted in their hands. And so, gaining +the door, he vanished in a great cloud of sea-fowl, that cried forever, +"Hereward is come home again!" + +And after that, the fen-men said to each other, that all the birds upon +the meres cried nothing, save "Hereward is come home again!" + +And so, already surrounded with myth and mystery, Hereward flashed +into the fens and out again, like the lightning brand, destroying as he +passed. And the hearts of all the French were turned to water; and the +land had peace from its tyrants for many days. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +HOW IVO TAILLEBOIS MARCHED OUT OF SPALDING TOWN. + + +A proud man was Ivo Taillebois, as he rode next morning out of Spalding +town, with hawk on fist, and hound at heel, and a dozen men-at-arms +at his back, who would, on due or undue cause shown, hunt men while he +hunted game. + +An adventurer from Anjou, brutal, ignorant, and profligate,--low-born, +too (for his own men whispered, behind his back, that he was no more +than his name hinted, a wood-cutter's son), he still had his deserts. +Valiant he was, cunning, and skilled in war. He and his troop of +Angevine ruttiers had fought like tigers by William's side, at Hastings; +and he had been rewarded with many a manor, which had been Earl Algar's, +and should now have been Earl Edwin's, or Morcar's, or, it may be, +Hereward's own. + +"A fat land and fair," said he to himself; "and, after I have hanged a +few more of these barbarians, a peaceful fief enough to hand down to +the lawful heirs of my body, if I had one. I must marry. Blessed Virgin! +this it is to serve and honor your gracious majesty, as I have always +done according to my poor humility. Who would have thought that Ivo +Taillebois would ever rise so high in life as to be looking out for a +wife,--and that a lady, too?" + +Then thought he over the peerless beauties of the Lady Lucia, Edwin and +Morcar's sister, almost as fair as that hapless aunt of hers,--first +married (though that story is now denied) to the wild Griffin, Prince +of Snowdon, and then to his conqueror, and (by complicity) murderer, +Harold, the hapless king. Eddeva faira, Eddeva pulcra, stands her name +in Domesday-book even now, known, even to her Norman conquerors, as the +Beauty of her time, as Godiva, her mother, had been before her. Scarcely +less beautiful was Lucia, as Ivo had seen her at William's court, half +captive and half guest: and he longed for her; love her he could not. "I +have her father's lands," quoth he; "what more reasonable than to +have the daughter, too? And have her I will, unless the Mamzer, in his +present merciful and politic mood, makes a Countess of her, and marries +her up to some Norman coxcomb with a long pedigree,--invented the year +before last. If he does throw away his daughter on that Earl Edwin, in +his fancy for petting and patting these savages into good humor, he is +not likely to throw away Edwin's sister on a Taillebois. Well, I must +put a spoke in Edwin's wheel. It will not be difficult to make him, or +Morcar, or both of them, traitors. We must have a rebellion in these +parts. I will talk about it to Gilbert of Ghent. We must make these +savages desperate, and William furious, or he will be soon giving them +back their lands, beside asking them to Court; and then, how are valiant +knights, like us, who have won England for him, to be paid for their +trouble? No, no. We must have a rebellion, and a confiscation, and then, +when English lasses are going cheap, perhaps the Lady Lucia may fall to +my share." + +And Ivo Taillebois kept his word; and without difficulty, for he had +many to help him. To drive the English to desperation, and get a pretext +for seizing their lands, was the game which the Normans played, and but +too well. + +As he rode out of Spalding town, a man was being hanged on the gallows +there permanently provided. + +That was so common a sight, that Ivo would not have stopped, had not a +priest, who was comforting the criminal, ran forward, and almost thrown +himself under the horse's feet. + +"Mercy, good my Lord, in the name of God and all his saints!" + +Ivo went to ride on. + +"Mercy!" and he laid hands on Ivo's bridle. "If he took a few pike out +of your mere, remember that the mere was his, and his father's before +him; and do not send a sorely tempted soul out of the world for a paltry +pike." + +"And where am I to get fish for Lent, Sir Priest, if every rascal nets +my waters, because his father did so before him? Take your hand off +my bridle, or, par le splendeur Dex" (Ivo thought it fine to use King +William's favorite oath), "I will hew it off!" + +The priest looked at him, with something of honest English fierceness +in his eyes, and dropping the bridle, muttered to himself in Latin: +"The bloodthirsty and deceitful man shall not live out half his days. +Nevertheless my trust shall be in Thee, O Lord!" + +"What art muttering, beast? Go home to thy wife" (wife was by no means +the word which Ivo used) "and make the most of her, before I rout out +thee and thy fellow-canons, and put in good monks from Normandy in +the place of your drunken English swine. Hang him!" shouted he, as the +by-standers fell on their knees before the tyrant, crouching in terror, +every woman for her husband, every man for wife and daughter. "And +hearken, you fen-frogs all. Who touches pike or eel, swimming or wading +fowl, within these meres of mine, without my leave, I will hang him as I +hanged this man,--as I hanged four brothers in a row on Wrokesham bridge +but yesterday." + +"Go to Wrokesham bridge and see," shouted a shrill cracked voice from +behind the crowd. + +All looked round; and more than one of Ivo's men set up a yell, the +hangman loudest of all. + +"That's he, the heron, again! Catch him! Stop him! Shoot him!" + +But that was not so easy. As Ivo pushed his horse through the crowd, +careless of whom he crushed, he saw a long lean figure flying through +the air seven feet aloft, with his heels higher than his head, on the +further side of a deep broad ditch; and on the nearer side of the same +one of his best men lying stark, with a cloven skull. + +"Go to Wrokesham!" shrieked the lean man, as he rose and showed a +ridiculously long nose, neck, and legs,--a type still not uncommon in +the fens,--a quilted leather coat, a double-bladed axe slung over his +shoulder by a thong, a round shield at his back, and a pole three times +as long as himself, which he dragged after him, like an unwieldy tail. + +"The heron! the heron!" shouted the English. + +"Follow him, men, heron or hawk!" shouted Ivo, galloping his horse up to +the ditch, and stopping short at fifteen feet of water. + +"Shoot, some one! Where are the bows gone?" + +The heron was gone two hundred yards, running, in spite of his pole, at +a wonderful pace, before a bow could be brought to bear. He seemed to +expect an arrow; for he stopped, glanced his eye round, threw himself +flat on his face, with his shield, not over his body, but over his bare +legs; sprang up as the shaft stuck in the ground beside him, ran on, +planted his pole in the next dike, and flew over it. + +In a few minutes he was beyond pursuit; and Ivo turned, breathless with +rage, to ask who he was. + +"Alas, sir! he is the man who set free the four men at Wrokesham Bridge +last night." + +"Set free! Are they not hanged and dead?" + +"We--we dared not tell you. But he came upon us--" + +"Single-handed, you cowards?" + +"Sir, he is not a man, but a witch or a devil. He asked us what we did +there. One of our men laughed at his long neck and legs, and called him +heron. 'Heron I am,' says he, 'and strike like a heron, right at the +eyes'; and with that he cuts the man over the face with his axe, and +laid him dead, and then another, and another.' + +"Till you all ran away, villains!" + +"We gave back a step,--no more. And he freed one of those four, and +he again the rest; and then they all set on us, and went to hang us in +their own stead." + +"When there were ten of you, I thought?" + +"Sir, as we told you, he is no mortal man, but a fiend." + +"Beasts, fools! Well, I have hanged this one, at least!" growled Ivo, +and then rode sullenly on. + +"Who is this fellow?" cried he to the trembling English. + +"Wulfric Raher, Wulfric the Heron, of Wrokesham in Norfolk." + +"Aha! And I hold a manor of his," said Ivo to himself. "Look you, +villains, this fellow is in league with you." + +A burst of abject denial followed. "Since the French,--since Sir +Frederick, as they call him, drove him out of his Wrokesham lands, he +wanders the country, as you see: to-day here, but Heaven only knows +where he will be to-morrow." + +"And finds, of course, a friend everywhere. Now march!" And a string of +threats and curses followed. + +It was hard to see why Wulfric should not have found friends; as he +was simply a small holder, or squire, driven out of house and land, and +turned adrift on the wide world, for the offence of having fought in +Harold's army at the battle of Hastings. But to give him food or shelter +was, in Norman eyes, an act of rebellion against the rightful King +William; and Ivo rode on, boiling over with righteous indignation, along +the narrow drove which led toward Deeping. + +A pretty lass came along the drove, driving a few sheep before her, and +spinning as she walked. + +"Whose lass are you?" shouted Ivo. + +"The Abbot of Crowland's, please your lordship," said she, trembling. + +"Much too pretty to belong to monks. Chuck her up behind you, one of +you." + +The shrieking and struggling girl was mounted behind a horseman and +bound, and Ivo rode on. + +A woman ran out of a turf-hut on the drove side, attracted by the girl's +cries. It was her mother. + +"My lass! Give me my lass, for the love of St. Mary and all saints!" and +she clung to Ivo's bridle. + +He struck her down, and rode on over her. + +A man cutting sedges in a punt in the lode alongside looked up at the +girl's shrieks, and leapt on shore, scythe in hand. + +"Father! father!" cried she. + +"I'll rid thee, lass, or die for it," said he, as he sprang up the +drove-dike and swept right and left at the horses' legs. + +The men recoiled. One horse went down, lamed for life; another staggered +backwards into the further lode, and was drowned. But an arrow went +through the brave serf's heart, and Ivo rode on, cursing more bitterly +than ever, and comforted himself by flying his hawks at a covey of +patridges. + +Soon a group came along the drove which promised fresh sport to the +man-hunters: but as the foremost person came up, Ivo stopped in wonder +at the shout of,-- + +"Ivo! Ivo Taillebois! Halt and have a care! The English are risen, and +we are all dead men!" + +The words were spoken in French; and in French Ivo answered, laughing,-- + +"Thou art not a dead man yet it seems, Sir Robert; art going on +pilgrimage to Jerusalem, that thou comest in this fashion? Or dost mean +to return to Anjou as bare as thou camest out of it?" + +For Sir Robert had, like Edgar in Shakespear's _Lear_, "reserved himself +a blanket, else had we all been shamed." + +But very little more did either he, his lady, and his three children +wear, as they trudged along the drove, in even poorer case than that + + Robert of Coningsby, + Who came out of Normandy, + With his wife Tiffany, + And his maid Maupas, + And his dog Hardigras. + +"For the love of heaven and all chivalry, joke me no jokes, Sir Ivo, +but give me and mine clothes and food! The barbarians rose on us last +night,--with Azer, the ruffian who owned my lands, at their head, and +drove us out into the night as we are, bidding us carry the news to you, +for your turn would come next. There are forty or more of them in West +Deeping now, and coming eastward, they say, to visit you, and, what is +more than all, Hereward is come again." + +"Hereward?" cried Ivo, who knew that name well. + +Whereon Sir Robert told him the terrible tragedy of Bourne. + +"Mount the lady on a horse, and wrap her in my cloak. Get that dead +villain's clothes for Sir Robert as we go back. Put your horses' heads +about and ride for Spalding." + +"What shall we do with the lass?" + +"We cannot be burdened with the jade. She has cost us two good horses +already. Leave her in the road, bound as she is, and let us see if St. +Guthlac her master will come and untie her." + +So they rode back. Coming from Deeping two hours after, Azer and his men +found the girl on the road, dead. + +"Another count in the long score," quoth Azer. But when, in two hours +more, they came to Spalding town, they found all the folk upon the +street, shouting and praising the host of Heaven. There was not a +Frenchman left in the town. + +For when Ivo returned home, ere yet Sir Robert and his family were +well clothed and fed, there galloped into Spalding from, the north Sir +Ascelin, nephew and man of Thorold, would-be Abbot of Peterborough, and +one of the garrison of Lincoln, which was then held by Hereward's old +friend, Gilbert of Ghent. + +"Not bad news, I hope," cried Ivo, as Ascelin clanked into the hall. "We +have enough of our own. Here is all Kesteven, as the barbarians call it, +risen, and they are murdering us right and left." + +"Worse news than that, Ivo Taillebois," ("Sir," or "Sieur," Ascelin +was loath to call him, being himself a man of family and fashion; and +holding the _nouveaux venus_ in deep contempt,)--"worse news than that: +the North has risen again, and proclaimed Prince Edgar King." + +"A king of words! What care I, or you, as long as the Mamzer, God bless +him! is a king of deeds?" + +"They have done their deeds, though, too. Gospatrick and Marlesweyn +are back out of Scotland. They attacked Robert de Comines [Footnote: +Ancestor of the Comyns of Scotland.] at Durham, and burnt him in his own +house. There was but one of his men got out of Durham to tell the news. +And now they have marched on York; and all the chiefs, they say, have +joined them,--Archill the Thane, and Edwin and Morcar, and Waltheof too, +the young traitors." + +"Blessed Virgin!" cried Ivo, "thou art indeed gracious to thy most +unworthy knight!" + +"What do you mean?" + +"You will see some day. Now, I will tell you but one word. When fools +make hay, wise men can build ricks. This rebellion,--if it had not come +of itself, I would have roused it. We wanted it, to cure William of this +just and benevolent policy of his, which would have ended in sending +us back to France as poor as we left it. Now, what am I expected to do? +What says Gilbert of Ghent, the wise man of Lic--nic--what the pest do +you call that outlandish place, which no civilized lips can pronounce?" + +"Lic-nic-cole?" replied Ascelin, who, like the rest of the French, never +could manage to say Lincoln. "He says, 'March to me, and with me to join +the king at York.'" + +"Then he says well. These fat acres will be none the leaner, if I leave +the English slaves to crop them for six months. Men! arm and horse Sir +Robert of Deeping. Then arm and horse yourselves. We march north in half +an hour, bag and baggage, scrip and scrippage. You are all bachelors, +like me, and travel light. So off with you!--Sir Ascelin, you will eat +and drink?" + +"That will I." + +"Quick, then, butler! and after that pack up the Englishman's +plate-chest, which we inherited by right of fist,--the only plate and +the only title-deeds I ever possessed." + +"Now, Sir Ascelin,"--as the three knights, the lady, and the poor +children ate their fastest,--"listen to me. The art of war lies in this +one nutshell,--to put the greatest number of men into one place at one +time, and let all other places shift. To strike swiftly, and strike +heavily. That is the rule of our liege lord, King William; and by it he +will conquer England, or the world, if he will; and while he does that, +he shall never say that Ivo Taillebois stayed at home to guard his own +manors while he could join his king, and win all the manors of England +once and for all." + +"Pardieu! whatever men may say of thy lineage or thy virtues, they +cannot deny this,--that thou art a most wise and valiant captain." + +"That am I," quoth Taillebois, too much pleased with the praise to care +about being _tutoye_ by younger men. "As for my lineage, my lord the +king has a fellow-feeling for upstarts; and the woodman's grandson may +very well serve the tanner's. Now, men! is the litter ready for the lady +and children? I am sorry to rattle you about thus, madame, but war has +no courtesies; and march I must." + +And so the French went out of Spalding town. + +"Don't be in a hurry to thank your saints!" shouted Ivo to his victims. +"I shall be back this day three months; and then you shall see a row of +gibbets all the way from here to Deeping, and an Englishman hanging on +every one." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +HOW HEREWARD SAILED FOE ENGLAND ONCE AND FOR ALL. + + +So Hereward fought the Viscount of Pinkney, who had the usual luck which +befell those who crossed swords with him, and plotted meanwhile with +Gyda and the Countess Judith. Abbot Egelsin sent them news from King +Sweyn in Denmark; soon Judith and Tosti's two sons went themselves to +Sweyn, and helped the plot and the fitting out of the armament. News +they had from England in plenty, by messengers from Queen Matilda to +the sister who was intriguing to dethrone her husband, and by private +messengers from Durham and from York. + +Baldwin, the _debonnaire_ marquis, had not lived to see this fruit of +his long efforts to please everybody. He had gone to his rest the year +before; and now there ruled in Bruges his son, Baldwin the Good, "Count +Palatine," as he styled himself, and his wife Richilda, the Lady of +Hainault. + +They probably cared as little for the success of their sister Matilda as +they did for that of their sister Judith; and followed out--Baldwin at +least--the great marquis's plan of making Flanders a retreat for the +fugitives of all the countries round. + +At least, if (as seems) Sweyn's fleet made the coast of Flanders its +rendezvous and base of operations against King William, Baldwin offered +no resistance. + +So the messengers came, and the plots went on. Great was the delight +of Hereward and the ladies when they heard of the taking of Durham and +York; but bitter their surprise and rage when they heard that Gospatrick +and the Confederates had proclaimed Edgar Atheling king. + +"Fools! they will ruin all!" cried Gyda. "Do they expect Swend Ulfsson, +who never moved a finger yet, unless he saw that it would pay him within +the hour, to spend blood and treasure in putting that puppet boy upon +the throne instead of himself?" + +"Calm yourself, great Countess," said Hereward, with a smile. "The man +who puts him on the throne will find it very easy to take him off again +when he needs." + +"Pish!" said Gyda. "He must put him on the throne first. And how will he +do that? Will the men of the Danelagh, much less the Northumbrians, ever +rally round an Atheling of Cerdic's house? They are raising a Wessex +army in Northumbria; a southern army in the north. There is no real +loyalty there toward the Atheling, not even the tie of kin, as there +would be to Swend. The boy is a mere stalking-horse, behind which each +of these greedy chiefs expects to get back his own lands; and if they +can get them back by any other means, well and good. Mark my words, Sir +Hereward, that cunning Frenchman will treat with them one by one, and +betray them one by one, till there is none left." + +How far Gyda was right will be seen hereafter. But a less practised +diplomat than the great Countess might have speculated reasonably on +such an event. + +At least, let this be said, that when historians have complained of +the treachery of King Swend Ulfsson and his Danes, they have forgotten +certain broad and simple facts. + +Swend sailed for England to take a kingdom which he believed to be his +by right; which he had formerly demanded of William. When he arrived +there, he found himself a mere cat's-paw for recovering that kingdom +for an incapable boy, whom he believed to have no right to the throne at +all. + +Then came darker news. As Ivo had foreseen, and as Ivo had done his best +to bring about, William dashed on York, and drove out the Confederates +with terrible slaughter; profaned the churches, plundered the town. +Gospatrick and the earls retreated to Durham; the Atheling, more +cautious, to Scotland. + +Then came a strange story, worthy of the grown children who, in those +old times, bore the hearts of boys with the ferocity and intellect of +men. + +A great fog fell on the Frenchmen as they struggled over the Durham +moors. The doomed city was close beneath them; they heard Wear roaring +in his wooded gorge. But a darkness, as of Egypt, lay upon them: +"neither rose any from his place." + +Then the Frenchmen cried: "This darkness is from St. Cuthbert himself. +We have invaded his holy soil. Who has not heard how none who offend St. +Cuthbert ever went unpunished? how palsy, blindness, madness, fall on +those who dare to violate his sanctuary?" + +And the French turned and fled from before the face of St. Cuthbert; +and William went down to Winchester angry and sad, and then went off +to Gloucestershire; and hunted--for, whatever befell, he still would +hunt--in the forest of Dean. + +And still Swend and his Danes had not sailed; and Hereward walked to and +fro in his house, impatiently, and bided his time. + +In July, Baldwin died. Arnoul, the boy, was Count of Flanders, and +Richilda, his sorceress-mother, ruled the land in his name. She began to +oppress the Flemings; not those of French Flanders, round St. Omer, but +those of Flemish Flanders, toward the north. They threatened to send for +Robert the Frison to right them. + +Hereward was perplexed. He was Robert the Frison's friend, and old +soldier. Richilda was Torfrida's friend; so was, still more, the boy +Arnoul; which party should he take? Neither, if he could help it. And he +longed to be safe out of the land. + +And at last his time came. Martin Lightfoot ran in, breathless, to tell +how the sails of a mighty fleet were visible from the Dunes. + +"Here?" cried Hereward. "What are the fools doing down here, wandering +into the very jaws of the wolf? How will they land here? They were to +have gone straight to the Lincolnshire coast. God grant this mistake be +not the first of dozens!" + +Hereward went into Torfrida's bower. + +"This is an evil business. The Danes are here, where they have no +business, instead of being off Scheldtmouth, as I entreated them. But go +we must, or be forever shamed. Now, true wife, are you ready? Dare you +leave home and kin and friends, once and for all, to go, you know not +whither, with one who may be a gory corpse by this day week?" + +"I dare," said she. + +So they went down to Calais by night, with Torfrida's mother, and all +their jewels, and all they had in the world. And their housecarles +went with them, forty men, tried and trained, who had vowed to follow +Hereward round the world. And there were two long ships ready, and +twenty good mariners in each. So when the Danes made the South Foreland +the next morning, they were aware of two gallant ships bearing down on +them, with a great white bear embroidered on their sails. + +A proud man was Hereward that day, as he sailed into the midst of the +Danish fleet, and up to the royal ships, and shouted: "I am Hereward +the Berserker, and I come to take service under my rightful lord, Sweyn, +king of England." + +"Come on board, then; we know you well, and right glad we are to have +Hereward with us." + +And Hereward laid his ship's bow upon the quarter of the royal ship (to +lay alongside was impossible, for fear of breaking oars), and came on +board. + +"And thou art Hereward?" asked a tall and noble warrior. + +"I am. And thou art Swend Ulfsson, the king?" + +"I am Earl Osbiorn, his brother." + +"Then, where is the king?" + +"He is in Denmark, and I command his fleet; and with me are Canute and +Harold, Sweyn's sons, and earls and bishops enough for all England." + +This was spoken in a somewhat haughty tone, in answer to the look of +surprise and disappointment which Hereward had, unawares, allowed to +pass over his face. + +"Thou art better than none," said Hereward. "Now, hearken, Osbiorn the +Earl. Had Swend been here, I would have put my hand between his, and +said in my own name, and that of all the men in Kesteven and the fens, +Swend's men we are, to live and die! But now, as it is, I say, for me +and them, thy men we are, to live and die, as long as thou art true to +us." + +"True to you I will be," said Osbiorn. + +"Be it so," said Hereward. "True we shall be, whatever betide. Now, +whither goes Earl Osbiorn, and all his great meinie?" + +"We purpose to try Dover." + +"You will not take it. The Frenchman has strengthened it with one of his +accursed keeps, and without battering-engines you may sit before it a +month." + +"What if I asked you to go in thither yourself, and try the mettle and +the luck which, they say, never failed Hereward yet?" + +"I should say that it was a child's trick to throw away against a +paltry stone wall the life of a man who was ready to raise for you in +Lincolnshire and Cambridgeshire, five times as many men as you will lose +in taking Dover." + +"Hereward is right," said more than one Earl. "We shall need him in his +own country." + +"If you are wise, to that country you yourselves will go. It is ready +to receive you. This is ready to oppose you. You are attacking the +Frenchman at his strongest point instead of his weakest. Did I not send +again and again, entreating you to cross from Scheldtmouth to the Wash, +and send me word that I might come and raise the Fen-men for you, and +then we would all go north together?" + +"I have heard, ere now," said Earl Osbiorn, haughtily, "that Hereward, +though he be a valiant Viking, is more fond of giving advice than of +taking it." + +Hereward was about to answer very fiercely. If he had, no one would +have thought any harm, in those plain-spoken times. But he was wise; and +restrained himself, remembering that Torfrida was there, all but alone, +in the midst of a fleet of savage men; and that beside, he had a great +deed to do, and must do it as he could. So he answered,-- + +"Osbiorn the Earl has not, it seems, heard this of Hereward: that +because he is accustomed to command, he is also accustomed to obey. What +thou wilt do, do, and bid me do. He that quarrels with his captain cuts +his own throat and his fellows' too." + +"Wisely spoken!" said the earls; and Hereward went back to his ship. + +"Torfrida," said he, bitterly, "the game is lost before it is begun." + +"God forbid, my beloved! What words are these?" + +"Swend--fool that he is with his over-caution,--always the same!--has +let the prize slip from between his fingers. He has sent Osbiorn instead +of himself." + +"But why is that so terrible a mistake?" + +"We do not want a fleet of Vikings in England, to plunder the French +and English alike. We want a king, a king, a king!" and Hereward stamped +with rage. "And instead of a king, we have this Osbiorn,--all men know +him, greedy and false and weak-headed. Here he is going to be beaten off +at Dover; and then, I suppose, at the next port; and so forth, till the +whole season is wasted, and the ships and men lost by driblets. Pray for +us to God and his saints, Torfrida, you who are nearer to Heaven than I; +for we never needed it more." + +And Osbiorn went in; tried to take Dover; and was beaten off with heavy +loss. + +Then the earls bade him take Hereward's advice. But he would not. + +So he went round the Foreland, and tried Sandwich,--as if, landing +there, he would have been safe in marching on London, in the teeth of +the _elite_ of Normandy. + +But he was beaten off there, with more loss. Then, too late, he took +Hereward's advice,--or, rather, half of it,--and sailed north; but only +to commit more follies. + +He dared not enter the Thames. He would not go on to the Wash; but he +went into the Orwell, and attacked Ipswich, plundering right and left, +instead of proclaiming King Sweyn, and calling the Danish folk around +him. The Danish folk of Suffolk rose, and, like valiant men, beat him +off; while Hereward lay outside the river mouth, his soul within him +black with disappointment, rage, and shame. He would not go in. He would +not fight against his own countrymen. He would not help to turn the +whole plan into a marauding raid. And he told Earl Osbiorn so, so +fiercely, that his life would have been in danger, had not the force of +his arm been as much feared as the force of his name was needed. + +At last they came to Yarmouth. Osbiorn would needs land there, and try +Norwich. + +Hereward was nigh desperate: but he hit upon a plan. Let Osbiorn do so, +if he would. He himself would sail round to the Wash, raise the Fen-men, +and march eastward at their head through Norfolk to meet him. Osbiorn +himself could not refuse so rational a proposal. All the earls and +bishops approved loudly; and away Hereward went to the Wash, his heart +well-nigh broken, foreseeing nothing but evil. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +HOW HEREWARD GATHERED AN ARMY. + + +The voyage round the Norfolk coast was rough and wild. Torfrida was ill, +the little girl was ill; the poor old mother was so ill that she could +not even say her prayers. Packed uncomfortably under the awning on the +poop, Torfrida looked on from beneath it upon the rolling water-waste, +with a heart full of gloomy forebodings, and a brain whirling with wild +fancies. The wreaths of cloud were gray witches, hurrying on with the +ship to work her woe; the low red storm-dawn was streaked with blood; +the water which gurgled all night under the lee was alive with hoarse +voices; and again and again she started from fitful slumber to clasp the +child closer to her, or look up for comfort to the sturdy figure of her +husband, as he stood, like a tower of strength, steering and commanding, +the long night through. + +Yes; on him she could depend. On his courage, on his skill. And as for +his love, had she not that utterly? And what more did woman need? + +But she was going, she scarce knew whither; and she scarce knew for +what. At least, on a fearful adventure, which might have a fearful end. +She looked at the fair child, and reproached herself for a moment; at +the poor old mother, whining and mumbling, her soft southern heart quite +broken by the wild chill northern sea-breeze; and reproached herself +still more. But was it not her duty? Him she loved, and his she was; +and him she must follow, over sea and land, till death; and if possible, +beyond death again forever. For his sake she would slave. For his sake +she would be strong. If ever there rose in her a homesickness, a regret +for leaving Flanders, and much more for that sunnier South where she was +born, he at least should never be saddened or weakened by one hint of +her sadness and weakness. And so it befell that, by the time they made +the coast, she had (as the old chronicler says) "altogether conquered +all womanly softness." + +And yet she shuddered at the dreary mud-creek into which they ran their +ships, at the dreary flats on which they landed shivering, swept over by +the keen northeast wind. A lonely land; and within, she knew not what of +danger, it might be of hideous death. + +But she would be strong. And when they were all landed, men, arms, +baggage, and had pitched the tents which the wise Hereward had brought +with them, she rose up like a queen, and took her little one by the +hand, and went among the men, and spoke:-- + +"Housecarles and mariners! you are following a great captain upon a +great adventure. How great he is, you know as well as I. I have given +him myself, my wealth, and all I have, and have followed him I know not +whither, because I trust him utterly. Men, trust him as I trust him, and +follow him to the death." + +"That will we!" + +"And, men, I am here among you, a weak woman, trying to be brave for his +sake--and for yours. Be true to me, too, as I have been true to you. For +your sake have I worked hard day and night, for many a year. For you I +have baked and brewed and cooked, like any poor churl's wife. Is there +a garment on your backs which my hands have not mended? Is there a wound +on your limbs which my hands have not salved? O, if Torfrida has been +true to you, promise me this day that you will be true men to her and +hers; that if--which Heaven forbid!--aught should befall him and me, you +will protect this my poor old mother, and this my child, who has grown +up among you all,--a lamb brought up within the lions' den. Look at her, +men, and promise me, on the faith of valiant soldiers, that you will be +lions on her behalf, if she shall ever need you. Promise me, that if you +have but one more stroke left to strike on earth, you will strike it to +defend the daughter of Hereward and Torfrida from cruelty and shame" + +The men answered by a shout which rolled along the fen, and startled +the wild-fowl up from far-off pools. They crowded round their lady; they +kissed her hands; they bent down and kissed their little playmate, and +swore--one by God and his apostles, and the next by Odin and Thor--that +she should be a daughter to each and every one of them, as long as they +could grip steel in hand. + +Then (says the chronicler) Hereward sent on spies, to see whether the +Frenchmen were in the land, and how folks fared at Holbeach, Spalding, +and Bourne. + +The two young Siwards, as knowing the country and the folk, pushed +forward, and with them Martin Lightfoot, to bring back news. + +Martin ran back all the way from Holbeach, the very first day, with +right good news. There was not a Frenchman in the town. Neither was +there, they said, in Spalding. Ivo Taillebois was still away at the +wars, and long might he stay. + +So forward they marched, and everywhere the landsfolk were tilling the +ground in peace; and when they saw that stout array, they hurried out +to meet the troops, and burdened them with food, and ale, and all they +needed. + +And at Holbeach, and at Spalding, Hereward split up the war-arrow, and +sent it through Kesteven, and south into the Cambridge fens, calling on +all men to arm and come to him at Bourne, in the name of Waltheof and +Morcar the earls. + +And at every farm and town he blew the war-horn, and summoned every man +who could bear arms to be ready, against the coming of the Danish host +from Norwich. And so through all the fens came true what the wild-fowl +said upon the meres, that Hereward was come again. + +And when he came to Bourne, all men were tilling in peace. The terror of +Hereward had fallen on the Frenchmen, and no man had dared to enter +on his inheritance, or to set a French foot over the threshold of that +ghastly hall, over the gable whereof still grinned the fourteen heads; +on the floor whereof still spread the dark stains of blood. + +Only Geri dwelt in a corner of the house, and with him Leofric the +Unlucky, once a roistering housecarle of Hereward's youth, now a monk of +Crowland, and a deacon, whom Lady Godiva had sent thither that he might +take care of her poor. And there Geri and Leofric had kept house, and +told sagas to each other over the beech-log fire night after night; for +all Leofric's study was, says the chronicler, "to gather together for +the edification of his hearers all the acts of giants and warriors out +of the fables of the ancients or from faithful report, and commit them +to writing, that he might keep England in mind thereof." Which Leofric +was afterwards ordained priest, probably in Ely, by Bishop Egelwin of +Durham; and was Hereward's chaplain for many a year. + +Then Hereward, as he had promised, set fire to the three farms close +to the Bruneswold; and all his outlawed friends, lurking in the forest, +knew by that signal that Hereward was come again. So they cleansed out +the old house: though they did not take down the heads from off the +gable; and Torfrida went about it, and about it, and confessed that +England was, after all, a pleasant place enough. And they were as happy, +it may be, for a week or two, as ever they had been in their lives. + +"And now," said Torfrida, "while you see to your army, I must be doing; +for I am a lady now, and mistress of great estates. So I must be seeing +to the poor." + +"But you cannot speak their tongue." + +"Can I not? Do you think that in the face of coming to England and +fighting here, and plotting here, and being, may be, an earl's countess, +I have not made Martin Lightfoot teach me your English tongue, till I +can speak it as well as you? I kept that hidden as a surprise for you, +that you might find out, when you most needed, how Torfrida loved you." + +"As if I had not found out already! O woman! woman! I verily believe +that God made you alone, and left the Devil to make us butchers of men." + +Meanwhile went round through all the fens, and north into the +Bruneswold, and away again to Lincoln and merry Sherwood, that Hereward +was come again. And Gilbert of Ghent, keeping Lincoln Castle for the +Conqueror, was perplexed in mind, and looked well to gates and bars and +sentinels; for Hereward sent him at once a message, that forasmuch as he +had forgotten his warning in Bruges street, and put a rascal cook into +his mother's manors, he should ride Odin's horse on the highest ash in +the Bruneswold. + +On which Gilbert of Ghent, inquiring what Odin's horse might be, and +finding it to signify the ash-tree whereon, as sacred to Odin, thieves +were hanged by Danes and Norse, made answer,-- + +That he Gilbert had not put his cook into Bourne, nor otherwise harmed +Hereward or his. That Bourne had been seized by the king himself, +together with Earl Morcar's lands in those parts, as all men knew. That +the said cook so pleased the king with a dish of stewed eel-pout, which +he served up to him at Cambridge, and which the king had never eaten +before, that the king begged the said cook of him Gilbert and took him +away; and that after, so he heard, the said cook had begged the said +manors of Bourne of the king, without the knowledge or consent of him +Gilbert. That he therefore knew naught of the matter. That if Hereward +meant to keep the king's peace, he might live in Bourne till Doomsday, +for aught he, Gilbert, cared. But that if he and his men meant to break +the king's peace, and attack Lincoln city, he Gilbert would nail their +skins to the door of Lincoln Cathedral, as they used to do by the +heathen Danes in old time. And that, therefore, they now understood each +other. + +At which Hereward laughed, and said that they had done that for many a +year. + +And now poured into Bourne from every side brave men and true,--some +great holders dispossessed of their land; some the sons of holders who +were not yet dispossessed; some Morcar's men, some Edwin's, who had been +turned out by the king. + +To him came "Guenoch and Alutus Grogan, foremost in all valor and +fortitude, tall and large, and ready for work," and with them their +three nephews, Godwin Gille, "so called because he was not inferior +to that Godwin Guthlacsson who is preached much in the fables of the +ancients," "and Douti and Outi, [Footnote: Named in Domesday-book (?).] +the twins, alike in face and manners;" and Godric, the knight of Corby, +nephew of the Count of Warwick; and Tosti of Davenesse, his kinsman; and +Azer Vass, whose father had possessed Lincoln Tower; and Leofwin Moue, +[Footnote: Probably the Leofwin who had lands in Bourne.]--that is, the +scythe, so called, "because when he was mowing all alone, and twenty +country folk set on him with pitchforks and javelins, he slew and +wounded almost every one, sweeping his scythe among them as one that +moweth"; and Wluncus the Black-face, so called because he once blackened +his face with coal, and came unknown among the enemy, and slew ten of +them with one lance; and "Turbertin, a great-nephew (surely a mistake) +of Earl Edwin"; and Leofwin Prat (perhaps the ancestor of the ancient +and honorable house of Pratt of Ryston), so called from his "Praet" or +craft, "because he had oft escaped cunningly when taken by the enemy, +having more than once killed his keepers;" and the steward of Drayton; +and Thurkill the outlaw, Hereward's cook; and Oger, Hereward's kinsman; +and "Winter and Linach, two very famous ones;" and Ranald, the butler of +Ramsey Abbey,--"he was the standard-bearer"; and Wulfric the Black +and Wulfric the White; and Hugh the Norman, a priest; and Wulfard, his +brother; and Tosti and Godwin of Rothwell; and Alsin; and Hekill; and +Hugh the Breton, who was Hereward's chaplain, and Whishaw, his brother, +"a magnificent" knight, which two came with him from Flanders; and so +forth;--names merely of whom naught is known, save, in a few cases, +from Domesday-book, the manors which they held. But honor to their very +names! Honor to the last heroes of the old English race! + +These valiant gentlemen, with the housecarles whom, more or fewer, they +would bring with them, constituted a formidable force, as after +years proved well. But having got his men, Hereward's first care was, +doubtless, to teach them that art of war of which they, like true +Englishmen, knew nothing. + +The art of war has changed little, if at all, by the introduction of +gunpowder. The campaigns of Hannibal and Caesar succeeded by the same +tactics as those of Frederic or Wellington; and so, as far as we can +judge, did those of the master-general of his age, William of Normandy. + +But of those tactics the English knew nothing. Their armies were little +more than tumultuous levies, in which men marched and fought under local +leaders, often divided by local jealousies. The commissariats of the +armies seem to have been so worthless, that they had to plunder friends +as well as foes as they went along; and with plunder came every sort +of excess: as when the northern men marching down to meet Harold +Godwinsson, and demand young Edwin as their earl, laid waste, seemingly +out of mere brute wantonness, the country round Northampton, which must +have been in Edwin's earldom, or at least in that of his brother Morcar. +And even the local leaders were not over-well obeyed. The reckless +spirit of personal independence, especially among the Anglo-Danes, +prevented anything like discipline, or organized movement of masses, and +made every battle degenerate into a confusion of single combats. + +But Hereward had learned that art of war, which enabled the Norman to +crush, piecemeal, with inferior numbers, the vast but straggling levies +of the English. His men, mostly outlaws and homeless, kept together by +the pressure from without, and free from local jealousies, resembled +rather an army of professional soldiers than a country _posse +comitatus_. And to the discipline which he instilled into them; to his +ability in marching and manoeuvring troops; to his care for their food +and for their transport, possibly, also, to his training them in that +art of fighting on horseback in which the men of Wessex, if not the +Anglo-Danes of the East, are said to have been quite unskilled,--in +short, to all that he had learned, as a mercenary, under Robert +the Frison, and among the highly civilized warriors of Flanders and +Normandy, must be attributed the fact, that he and his little army +defied, for years, the utmost efforts of the Normans, appearing and +disappearing with such strange swiftness, and conquering against such +strange odds, as enshrouded the guerilla captain in an atmosphere of +myth and wonder, only to be accounted for, in the mind of Normans as +well as English, by the supernatural counsels of his sorceress wife. + +But Hereward grew anxious and more anxious, as days and weeks went on, +and yet there was no news of Osbiorn and his Danes at Norwich. Time +was precious. He had to march his little army to the Wash, and then +transport it by boats--no easy matter--to Lynn in Norfolk, as his +nearest point of attack. And as the time went on, Earl Warren and Ralph +de Guader would have gathered their forces between him and the Danes, +and a landing at Lynn might become impossible. Meanwhile there were +bruits of great doings in the north of Lincolnshire. Young Earl Waltheof +was said to be there, and Edgar the Atheling with him; but what it +portended, no man knew. Morcar was said to have raised the centre of +Mercia, and to be near Stafford; Edwin to have raised the Welsh, and to +be at Chester with Alfgiva, his sister, Harold Godwinsson's widow. And +Hereward sent spies along the Roman Watling Street--the only road, then, +toward the northwest of England--and spies northward along the Roman +road to Lincoln. But the former met the French in force near Stafford, +and came back much faster than they went. And the latter stumbled on +Gilbert of Ghent, riding out of Lincoln to Sleaford, and had to flee +into the fens, and came back much slower than they went. + +At last news came. For into Bourne stalked Wulfric the Heron, with axe +and bow, and leaping-pole on shoulder, and an evil tale he brought. + +The Danes had been beaten utterly at Norwich. Ralph de Guader and his +Frenchmen had fought like lions. They had killed many Danes in the +assault on the castle. They had sallied out on them as they recoiled, +and driven them into the river, drowning many more. The Danes had gone +down the Yare again, and out to sea northward, no man knew whither. He, +the Heron, prowling about the fenlands of Norfolk to pick off straggling +Frenchmen and looking out for the Danes, had heard all the news from +the landsfolk. He had watched the Danish fleet along the shore as far as +Blakeney. But when they came to the isle, they stood out to sea, right +northwest. He, the Heron, believed that they were gone for Humber Mouth. + +After a while, he had heard how Hereward was come again and sent round +the war-arrow, and thought that a landless man could be in no better +company; wherefore he had taken boat, and come across the deep fen. And +there he was, if they had need of him. + +"Need of you?" said Hereward, who had heard of the deed at Wrokesham +Bridge. "Need of a hundred like you. But this is bitter news." + +And he went in to ask counsel of Torfrida, ready to weep with rage. He +had disappointed, deceived his men. He had drawn them into a snare. He +had promised that the Danes should come. How should he look them in the +face? + +"Look them in the face? Do that at once--now--without losing a moment. +Call them together and tell them all. If their hearts are staunch, you +may do great things without the traitor earl. If their hearts fail them, +you would have done nothing with them worthy of yourself, had you had +Norway as well as Denmark at your back. At least, be true with them, as +your only chance of keeping them true to you." + +"Wise, wise wife," said Hereward, and went out and called his band +together, and told them every word, and all that had passed since he +left Calais Straits. + +"And now I have deceived you, and entrapped you, and I have no right +to be your captain more. He that will depart in peace, let him depart, +before the Frenchmen close in on us on every side and swallow us up at +one mouthful." + +Not a man answered. + +"I say it again: He that will depart, let him depart." + +They stood thoughtful. + +Ranald, the Monk of Ramsey, drove the White-Bear banner firm into the +earth, tucked up his monk's frock, and threw his long axe over his +shoulder, as if preparing for action. + +Winter spoke at last. + +"If all go, there are two men here who stay, and fight by Hereward's +side as long as there is a Frenchman left on English soil; for they have +sworn an oath to Heaven and to St. Peter, and that oath will they keep. +What say you, Gwenoch, knighted with us at Peterborough?" + +Gwenoch stepped to Hereward's side. + +"None shall go!" shouted a dozen voices. "With Hereward we will live and +die. Let him lead us to Lincoln, to Stafford, where he will. We can save +England for ourselves without the help of Danes." + +"It is well for one at least of you, gentlemen, that you are in this +pleasant mind," quoth Ranald the monk. + +"Well for all of us, thou valiant purveyor of beef and beer." + +"Well for one. For the first man that had turned to go, I would have +brained him with this axe." + +"And now, gallant gentlemen," said Hereward, "we must take new counsel, +as our old has failed. Whither shall we go? For stay here, eating up the +country, we must not do." + +"They say that Waltheof is in Lindsay, raising the landsfolk. Let us go +and join him." + +"We can, at least, find what he means to do. There can be no better +counsel. Let us march. Only we must keep clear of Lincoln as yet. I hear +that Gilbert has a strong garrison there, and we are not strong enough +yet to force it." + +So they rode north, and up the Roman road toward Lincoln, sending out +spies as they went; and soon they had news of Waltheof,--news, too, that +he was between them and Lincoln. + +"Then the sooner we are with him, the better, for he will find himself +in trouble ere long, if old Gilbert gets news of him. So run your best, +footmen, for forward we must get." + +And as they came up the Roman road, they were aware of a great press of +men in front of them, and hard fighting toward. + +Some of the English would have spurred forward at once. But Hereward +held them back with loud reproaches. + +"Will you forget all I have told you in the first skirmish, like so many +dogs when they see a bull? Keep together for five minutes more, the pot +will not be cool before we get our sup of it. I verily believe that it +is Waltheof, and that Gilbert has caught him already." + +As he spoke, one part of the combatants broke up, and fled right and +left; and a knight in full armor galloped furiously down the road right +at them, followed by two or three more. + +"Here comes some one very valiant, or very much afeared," said Hereward, +as the horseman rode right upon him, shouting,-- + +"I am the King!" + +"The King?" roared Hereward, and dropping his lance, spurred his horse +forward, kicking his feet clear of the stirrups. He caught the knight +round the neck, dragged him over his horse's tail, and fell with him to +the ground. + +The armor clashed; the sparks flew from the old gray Roman flints; and +Hereward, rolling over once, rose, and knelt upon his prisoner. + +"William of Normandy, yield or die!" + +The knight lay still and stark. + +"Ride on!" roared Hereward from the ground. "Ride at them, and strike +hard! You will soon find out which is which. This booty I must pick for +myself. What are you at?" roared he, after his knights. "Spread off the +road, and keep your line, as I told you, and don't override each other! +Curse the hot-headed fools! The Normans will scatter them like sparrows. +Run on, men-at-arms, to stop the French if we are broken. And don't +forget Guisnes field and the horses' legs. Now, King, are you come to +life yet?" + +"You have killed him," quoth Leofric the deacon, whom Hereward had +beckoned to stop with him. + +"I hope not. Lend me a knife. He is a much slighter man than I fancied," +said Hereward, as they got his helmet off. + +And when it was off, both started and stared. For they had uncovered, +not the beetling brow, Roman nose, and firm curved lip of the Ulysses +of the middle age, but the face of a fair lad, with long straw-colored +hair, and soft blue eyes staring into vacancy. + +"Who are you?" shouted Hereward, saying very bad words, "who come here +aping the name of king?" + +"Mother! Christina! Margaret! Waltheof Earl!" moaned the lad, raising +his head and letting it fall again. + +"It is the Atheling!" cried Leofric. + +Hereward rose, and stood over the boy. + +"Ah! what was I doing to handle him so tenderly? I took him for the +Mamzer, and thought of a king's ransom." + +"Do you call that tenderly? You have nigh pulled the boy's head off." + +"Would that I had! Ah," went on Hereward, apostrophizing the unconscious +Atheling,--"ah, that I had broken that white neck once and for all! To +have sent thee feet foremost to Winchester, to lie by thy grandfathers +and great-grandfathers, and then to tell Norman William that he must +fight it out henceforth, not with a straw malkin like thee, which +the very crows are not afraid to perch on, but with a cock of a very +different hackle,--Sweyn Ulfsson, King of Denmark." + +And Hereward drew Brain-biter. + +"For mercy's sake! you will not harm the lad?" + +"If I were a wise man now, and hard-hearted as wise men should be, I +should--I should--" and he played the point of the sword backwards and +forwards, nearer and nearer to the lad's throat. + +"Master! master!" cried Leofric, clinging to his knees; "by all the +saints! What would the Blessed Virgin say to such a deed!" + +"Well, I suppose you are right. And I fear what my lady at home might +say; and we must not do anything to vex her, you know. Well, let us do +it handsomely, if we must do it. Get water somewhere, in his helmet. No, +you need not linger. I will not cut his throat before you come back." + +Leofric went off in search of water, and Hereward knelt with the +Atheling's head on his knee, and on his lip a sneer at all things +in heaven and earth. To have that lad stand between him and all his +projects, and to be forced, for honor's sake, to let him stand! + +But soon his men returned, seemingly in high glee, and other knights +with them. + +"Hey, lads!" said he, "I aimed at the falcon and shot the goose. Here is +Edgar Atheling prisoner. Shall we put him to ransom?" + +"He has no money, and Malcolm of Scotland is much too wise to lend him +any," said some one. And some more rough jokes passed. + +"Do you know, sirs, that he who lies there is your king?" asked a very +tall and noble-looking knight. + +"That do we not," said Hereward, sharply. "There is no king in England +this day, as far as I know. And there will be none north of the Watling +Street, till he be chosen in full husting, and anointed at York, as well +as Winchester or London. We have had one king made for us in the last +forty years, and we intend to make the next ourselves." + +"And who art thou, who talkest so bold, of king-making?" + +"And who art thou, who askest so bold who I am?" + +"I am Waltheof Siwardsson, the Earl, and yon is my army behind me." + +"And I am Hereward Leofricsson, the outlaw, and yon is my army behind +me." + +If the two champions had flown at each other's throats, and their armies +had followed their example, simply as dogs fly at each other, they know +not why, no one would have been astonished in those unhappy times. + +But it fell not out upon that wise; for Waltheof, leaping from his +horse, pulled off his helmet, and seizing Hereward by both hands, +cried,-- + +"Blessed is the day which sees again in England Hereward, who has upheld +throughout all lands and seas the honor of English chivalry!" + +"And blessed is the day in which Hereward meets the head of the house +of Siward where he should be, at the head of his own men, in his own +earldom. When I saw my friend, thy brother Osbiorn, brought into the +camp at Dunsinane with all his wounds in front, I wept a young man's +tears, and said, 'There ends the glory of the White-Bear's house!' +But this day I say, the White-Bear's blood is risen from the grave +in Waltheof Siwardsson, who with his single axe kept the gate of York +against all the army of the French; and who shall keep against them all +England, if he will be as wise as he is brave." + +Was Hereward honest in his words? Hardly so. He wished to be honest. As +he looked upon that magnificent young man, he hoped and trusted that his +words were true. But he gave a second look at the face, and whispered +to himself: "Weak, weak. He will be led by priests; perhaps by William +himself. I must be courteous; but confide I must not." + +The men stood round, and looked with admiration on the two most splendid +Englishmen then alive. Hereward had taken off his helmet likewise, and +the contrast between the two was as striking as the completeness of +each of them in his own style of beauty. It was the contrast between +the slow-hound and the deer-hound; each alike high bred; but the former, +short, sturdy, cheerful, and sagacious; the latter tall, stately, +melancholy, and not over-wise withal. + +Waltheof was a full head and shoulders taller than Hereward,--one of the +tallest men of his generation, and of a strength which would have been +gigantic, but for the too great length of neck and limb, which made him +loose and slow in body, as he was somewhat loose and slow in mind. An +old man's child, although that old man was as one of the old giants, +there was a vein of weakness in him, which showed in the arched eyebrow, +the sleepy pale blue eye, the small soft mouth, the lazy voice, the +narrow and lofty brain over a shallow brow. His face was not that of +a warrior, but of a saint in a painted window; and to his own place he +went, and became a saint, in his due time. But that he could outgeneral +William, that he could even manage Gospatrick and his intrigues Hereward +expected as little as that his own nephews Edwin and Morcar could do it. + +"I have to thank you, noble sir," said Waltheof, languidly, "for sending +your knights to our rescue when we were really hard bested,--I fear +much by our own fault. Had they told me whose men they were, I should +not have spoken to you so roughly as I fear I did." + +"There is no offence. Let Englishmen speak their minds, as long as +English land is above sea. But how did you get into trouble, and with +whom?" + +Waltheof told him how he was going round the country, raising forces in +the name of the Atheling, when, as they were straggling along the Roman +road, Gilbert of Ghent had dashed out on them from a wood, cut their +line in two, driven Waltheof one way, and the Atheling another, and that +the Atheling had only escaped by riding, as they saw, for his life. + +"Well done, old Gilbert!" laughed Hereward. "You must beware, my Lord +Earl, how you venture within reach of that old bear's paw!" + +"Bear? By the by, Sir Hereward," asked Waltheof, whose thoughts ran +loosely right and left, "why is it that you carry the white bear on your +banner?" + +"Do you not know? Your house ought to have a blood-feud against me. I +slew your great-uncle, or cousin, or some other kinsman, at Gilbert's +house in Scotland long ago; and since then I sleep on his skin every +night, and carry his picture in my banner all day." + +"Blood-feuds are solemn things," said Waltheof, frowning. "Karl killed +my grandfather Aldred at the battle of Settrington, and his four sons +are with the army at York now--" + +"For the love of all saints and of England, do not think of avenging +that! Every man must now put away old grudges, and remember that he has +but one foe,--William and his Frenchmen." + +"Very nobly spoken. But those sons of Karl--and I think you said you had +killed a kinsman of mine?" + +"It was a bear, Lord Earl, a great white bear. Cannot you understand a +jest? Or are you going to take up the quarrels of all white bears that +are slain between here and Iceland? You will end by burning Crowland +minster then, for there are twelve of your kinsmen's skins there, which +Canute gave forty years ago." + +"Burn Crowland minster? St. Guthlac and all saints forbid!" said +Waltheof, crossing himself devoutly. + +"Are you a monk-monger into the bargain, as well as a dolt? A bad +prospect for us, if you are," said Hereward to himself. + +"Ah, my dear Lord King!" said Waltheof, "and you are recovering?" + +"Somewhat," said the lad, sitting up, "under the care of this kind +knight." + +"He is a monk, Sir Atheling, and not a knight," said Hereward. "Our +fenmen can wear a mail-shirt as easily as a frock, and handle a twybill +as neatly as a breviary." + +Waltheof shook his head. "It is contrary to the canons of Holy Church." + +"So are many things that are done in England just now. Need has no +master. Now, Sir Earl and Sir Atheling, what are you going to do?" + +Neither of them, it seemed, very well knew. They would go to York if +they could get there, and join Gospatrick and Marlesweyn. And certainly +it was the most reasonable thing to be done. + +"But if you mean to get to York, you must march after another fashion +than this," said Hereward. "See, Sir Earl, why you were broken by +Gilbert; and why you will be broken again, if this order holds. If you +march your men along one of these old Roman streets--By St. Mary! these +Romans had more wits than we; for we have spoilt the roads they left us, +and never made a new one of our own--" + +"They were heathens and enchanters,"--and Waltheof crossed himself. + +"And conquered the world. Well,--if you march along one of these +streets, you must ride as I rode, when I came up to you. You must not +let your knights go first, and your men-at-arms straggle after in a tail +a mile long, like a scratch pack of hounds, all sizes but except each +others'. You must keep your footmen on the high street, and make your +knights ride in two bodies, right and left, upon the wold, to protect +their flanks and baggage." + +"But the knights won't. As gentlemen, they have a right to the best +ground." + +"Then they may go to--whither they will go, if the French come upon +them. If they are on the flanks, and you are attacked then they can +charge in right and left on the enemy's flank, while the footmen make a +stand to cover the wagons." + +"Yes,--that is very good; I believe that is your French fashion?" + +"It is the fashion of common-sense, like all things which succeed." + +"But, you see, the knights would not submit to ride in the mire." + +"Then you must make them. What else have they horses for, while honester +men than they trudge on foot?" + +"Make them?" said Waltheof, with a shrug and a smile. "They are all free +gentlemen, like ourselves." + +"And, like ourselves, will come to utter ruin, because every one of them +must needs go his own way." + +"I am glad," said Waltheof, as they rode along, "that you called this my +earldom. I hold it to be mine of course, in right of my father; but the +landsfolks, you know, gave it to your nephew Morcar." + +"I care not to whom it is given. I care for the man who is on it, to +raise these landsfolk and make them fight. You are here: therefore you +are earl." + +"Yes, the powers that be are ordained by God." + +"You must not strain that text too far, Lord Earl; for the only power +that is, whom I see in England--worse luck for it!--is William the +Mamzer." + +"So I have often thought." + +"You have? As I feared!" (To himself:) "The pike will have you next, +gudgeon!" + +"He has with him the Holy Father at Rome, and therefore the blessed +Apostle St. Peter of course. And is a man right, in the sight of Heaven, +who resists them? I only say it. But where a man looks to the salvation +of his own soul, he must needs think thereof seriously, at least." + +"O, are you at that?" thought Hereward. "_Tout est perdu_. The question +is, Earl," said he aloud, "simply this: How many men can you raise off +this shire?" + +"I have raised--not so many as I could wish. Harold and Edith's men have +joined me fairly well; but your nephew, Morcar's--" + +"I can command them. I have half of them here already." + +"Then,--then we may raise the rest?" + +"That depends, my Lord Earl, for whom we fight!" + +"For whom?--I do not understand." + +"Whether we fight for that lad, Child Edgar, or for Sweyn of Denmark, +the rightful king of England." + +"Sweyn of Denmark! Who should be the rightful king but the heir of the +blessed St. Edward?" + +"Blessed old fool! He has done harm to us enough on earth, without +leaving his second-cousins' aunts' malkins to harm us after he is in +Heaven." + +"Sir Hereward, Sir Hereward, I fear thou art not as good a Christian as +so good a knight should be." + +"Christian or not, I am as good a one as my neighbors. I am Leofric's +son. Leofric put Harthacanute on the throne, and your father, who was a +man, helped him. You know what has befallen England since we Danes left +the Danish stock at Godwin's bidding, and put our necks under the yoke +of Wessex monks and monk-mongers. You may follow your father's track +or not, as you like. I shall follow my father's, and fight for Sweyn +Ulfsson, and no man else." + +"And I," said Waltheof, "shall follow the anointed of the Lord." + +"The anointed of Gospatrick and two or three boys!" said Hereward. +"Knights! Turn your horses' heads. Right about face, all! We are going +back to the Bruneswold, to live and die free Danes." + +And to Waltheof's astonishment, who had never before seen discipline, +the knights wheeled round; the men-at-arms followed them; and Waltheof +and the Atheling were left to themselves on Lincoln Heath. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +HOW ARCHBISHOP ALDRED DIED OF SORROW. + + +In the tragedies of the next few months Hereward took no part; but they +must be looked at near, in order to understand somewhat of the men who +were afterwards mixed up with him for weal or woe. + +When William went back to the South, the confederates, Child Edgar +the Atheling, Gospatrick, and their friends, had come south again from +Durham. It was undignified; a confession of weakness. If a Norman had +likened them to mice coming out when the cat went away, none could +blame him. But so they did; and Osbiorn and his Danes, landing in +Humber-mouth, "were met" (says the Anglo-Saxon chronicle) "by Child +Edgar and Earl Waltheof and Marlesweyn, and Earl Gospatrick with the men +of Northumberland, riding and marching joyfully with an immense army"; +not having the spirit of prophecy, or foreseeing those things which were +coming on the earth. + +To them repaired Edwin and Morcar, the two young Earls, Arkill and Karl, +"the great Thanes," or at least the four sons of Karl,--for accounts +differ,--and what few else of the northern nobility Tosti had left +unmurdered. + +The men of Northumberland received the Danes with open arms. They would +besiege York. They would storm the new Norman Keep. They would proclaim +Edgar king at York. + +In that Keep sat two men, one of whom knew his own mind, the other did +not. One was William Malet, knight, one of the heroes of Hastings, a +noble Norman, and chatelain of York Castle. The other was Archbishop +Aldred. + +Aldred seems to have been a man like too many more,--pious and virtuous +and harmless enough, and not without worldly prudence; but his prudence +was of that sort which will surely swim with the stream, and "honor the +powers that be," if they be but prosperous enough. For after all, if +success be not God, it is like enough to Him in some men's eyes to +do instead. So Archbishop Aldred had crowned Harold Godwinsson, when +Harold's star was in the ascendant. And who but Archbishop Aldred should +crown William, when his star had cast Harold's down from heaven? He +would have crowned Satanas himself, had he only proved himself king _de +facto_--as he asserts himself to be _de jure_--of this wicked world. + +So Aldred, who had not only crowned William, but supported his power +north of Humber by all means lawful, sat in York Keep, and looked at +William Malet, wondering what he would do. + +Malet would hold it to the last. As for the new keep, it was surely +impregnable. The old walls--the Roman walls on which had floated the +flag of Constantine the Great--were surely strong enough to keep out +men without battering-rams, balistas, or artillery of any kind. What +mattered Osbiorn's two hundred and forty ships, and their crews of some +ten or fifteen thousand men? What mattered the tens of thousands of +Northern men, with Gospatrick at their head? Let them rage and rob round +the walls. A messenger had galloped in from William in the Forest of +Dean, to tell Malet to hold out to the last. He had galloped out again, +bearing for answer, that the Normans could hold York for a year. + +But the Archbishop's heart misgave him, as from north and south at once +came up the dark masses of two mighty armies, broke up into columns, +and surged against every gate of the city at the same time. They had no +battering-train to breach the ancient walls; but they had--and none knew +it better than Aldred--hundreds of friends inside, who would throw open +to them the gates. + +One gate he could command from the Castle tower. His face turned pale +as he saw a mob of armed townsmen rushing down the street towards it; a +furious scuffle with the French guards; and then, through the gateway, +the open champaign beyond, and a gleaming wave of axes, helms, and +spears, pouring in, and up the street. + +"The traitors!" he almost shrieked, as he turned and ran down the ladder +to tell Malet below. + +Malet was firm, but pale as Aldred. + +"We must fight to the last," said he, as he hurried down, commanding his +men to sally at once _en masse_ and clear the city. + +The mistake was fatal. The French were entangled in the narrow streets. +The houses, shut to them, were opened to the English and Danes; and, +overwhelmed from above, as well as in front, the greater part of the +Norman garrison perished in the first fight. The remnant were shut up in +the Castle. The Danes and English seized the houses round, and shot +from the windows at every loophole and embrasure where a Norman showed +himself. + +"Shoot fire upon the houses!" said Malet. + +"You will not burn York? O God! is it come to this?" + +"And why not York town, or York minster, or Rome itself, with the Pope +inside it, rather than yield to barbarians?" + +Archbishop Aldred went into his room, and lay down on his bed. Outside +was the roar of the battle; and soon, louder and louder, the roar of +flame. This was the end of his time-serving and king-making. And he said +many prayers, and beat his breast; and then called to his chaplain for +blankets, for he was very cold. "I have slain my own sheep!" he moaned, +"slain my own sheep!" + +His chaplain hapt him up in bed, and looked out of the window at the +fight. There was no lull, neither was there any great advantage on +either side. Only from the southward he could see fresh bodies of Danes +coming across the plain. + +"The carcass is here, and the eagles are gathered together. Fetch me +the holy sacrament, Chaplain, and God be merciful to an unfaithful +shepherd." + +The chaplain went. + +"I have slain my own sheep!" moaned the archbishop. "I have given them +up to the wolves,--given my own minster, and all the treasures of the +saints; and--and--I am very cold." + +When the chaplain came back with the blessed sacrament, Archbishop +Aldred was more than cold; for he was already dead and stiff. + +But William Malet would not yield. He and his Normans fought, day after +day, with the energy of despair. They asked leave to put forth the body +of the archbishop; and young Waltheof, who was a pious man, insisted +that leave should be given. + +So the archbishop's coffin was thrust forth of the castle-gate, and +the monks from the abbey came and bore it away, and buried it in the +Cathedral church. + +And then the fight went on, day after day, and more and more houses +burned, till York was all aflame. On the eighth day the minster was in +a light low over Archbishop Aldred's new-made grave. All was +burnt,--minster, churches, old Roman palaces, and all the glories of +Constantine the Great and the mythic past. + +The besiegers, hewing and hammering gate after gate, had now won all +but the Keep itself. Then Malet's heart failed him. A wife he had, and +children; and for their sake he turned coward and fled by night, with a +few men-at-arms, across the burning ruins. + +Then into what once was York the confederate Earls and Thanes marched in +triumph, and proclaimed Edgar king,--a king of dust and ashes. + +And where were Edwin and Morcar the meanwhile? It is not told. Were they +struggling against William at Stafford, or helping Edric the Wild +and his Welshmen to besiege Chester? Probably they were aiding the +insurrection,--if not at these two points, still at some other of their +great earldoms of Mercia and Chester. They seemed to triumph for a +while: during the autumn of 1069 the greater part of England seemed +lost to William. Many Normans packed up their plunder and went back to +France; and those whose hearts were too stout to return showed no mercy +to the English, even as William showed none. To crush the heart of the +people by massacres and mutilations and devastations was the only hope +of the invader; and thoroughly he did his work whenever he had a chance. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +HOW HEREWARD FOUND A WISER MAN IN ENGLAND THAN HIMSELF. + + +There have been certain men so great, that he who describes them in +words, much more pretends to analyze their inmost feelings, must be a +very great man himself, or incur the accusation of presumption. And +such a great man was William of Normandy,--one of those unfathomable +master-personages who must not be rashly dragged on any stage. The +genius of a Bulwer, in attempting to draw him, took care, with a wise +modesty, not to draw him in too much detail,--to confess always that +there was much beneath and behind in William's character which none, +even of his contemporaries, could guess. And still more modest than +Bulwer is this chronicler bound to be. + +But one may fancy, for once in a way, what William's thoughts were, when +they brought him the evil news of York. For we know what his acts were; +and he acted up to his thoughts. + +Hunting he was, they say, in the forest of Dean, when first he heard +that all England, north of the Watling Street, had broken loose, and +that he was king of only half the isle. + +Did he--as when, hunting in the forest of Rouen, he got the news of +Harold's coronation--play with his bow, stringing and unstringing it +nervously, till he had made up his mighty mind? Then did he go home to +his lodge, and there spread on the rough oak board a parchment map of +England, which no child would deign to learn from now, but was then good +enough to guide armies to victory, because the eyes of a great general +looked upon it? + +As he pored over the map, by the light of bog-deal torch or rush candle, +what would he see upon it? + +Three separate blazes of insurrection, from northwest to east, along the +Watling Street. + +At Chester, Edric, "the wild Thane," who, according to Domesday-book, +had lost vast lands in Shropshire; Algitha, Harold's widow, and +Blethwallon and all his Welsh,--"the white mantles," swarming along +Chester streets, not as usually, to tear and ravage like the wild-cats +of their own rocks, but fast friends by blood of Algitha, once their +queen on Penmaenmawr. [Footnote: See the admirable description of the +tragedy of Penmaenmawr, in Bulwer's 'Harold.'] Edwin, the young Earl, +Algitha's brother, Hereward's nephew,--he must be with them too, if he +were a man. + +Eastward, round Stafford, and the centre of Mercia, another blaze of +furious English valor. Morcar, Edwin's brother, must be there, as their +Earl, if he too was a man. + +Then in the fens and Kesteven. What meant this news, that Hereward of +St. Omer was come again, and an army with him? That he was levying war +on all Frenchmen, in the name of Sweyn, King of Denmark and of England? +He is an outlaw, a desperado, a boastful swash-buckler, thought William, +it may be, to himself. He found out, in after years, that he had +mistaken his man. + +And north, at York, in the rear of those three insurrections lay +Gospatrick, Waltheof, and Marlesweyn, with the Northumbrian host. Durham +was lost, and Comyn burnt therein. But York, so boasted William Malet, +could hold out for a year. He should not need to hold out for so long. + +And last, and worst of all, hung on the eastern coast the mighty fleet +of Sweyn, who claimed England as his of right. The foe whom he had part +feared ever since he set foot on English soil, a collision with whom had +been inevitable all along, was come at last; but where would he strike +his blow? + +William knew, it may be, that the Danes had been defeated at Norwich; +he knew, doubt it not (for his spies told him everything), that they +had purposed entering the Wash. To prevent a junction between them and +Hereward was impossible. He must prevent a junction between them and +Edwin and Morcar's men. + +He determined, it seems--for he did it--to cut the English line in two, +and marched upon Stafford as its centre. + +So it seems; for all records of these campaigns are fragmentary, +confused, contradictory. The Normans fought, and had no time to write +history. The English, beaten and crushed, died and left no sign. The +only chroniclers of the time are monks. And little could Ordericus +Vitalis, or Florence of Worcester, or he of Peterborough, faithful as he +was, who filled up the sad pages of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle,--little +could they see or understand of the masterly strategy which was +conquering all England for Norman monks, in order that they, following +the army like black ravens, might feast themselves upon the prey which +others won for them. To them, the death of an abbot, the squabbles of a +monastery, the journey of a prelate to Rome, are more important than the +manoeuvres which decided the life and freedom of tens of thousands. + +So all we know is, that William fell upon Morcar's men at Stafford, +and smote them with a great destruction; rolling the fugitives west and +east, toward Edwin, perhaps, at Chester, certainly toward Hereward in +the fens. + +At Stafford met him the fugitives from York, Malet, his wife, and +children, with the dreadful news that the Danes had joined Gospatrick, +and that York was lost. + +William burst into fiendish fury. He accused the wretched men of +treason. He cut off their hands, thrust out their eyes, threw Malet into +prison, and stormed on north. + +He lay at Pontefract for three weeks. The bridges over the Aire were +broken down. But at last he crossed and marched on York. + +No man opposed him. The Danes were gone down to the Humber. Gospatrick +and Waltheof's hearts had failed them, and they had retired before the +great captain. + +Florence, of Worcester, says that William bought Earl Osbiorn off, +giving him much money, and leave to forage for his fleet along the +coast, and that Osbiorn was outlawed on his return to Denmark. + +Doubtless William would have so done if he could. Doubtless the angry +and disappointed English raised such accusations against the earl, +believing them to be true. But is not the simpler cause of Osbiorn's +conduct to be found in this plain fact? He had sailed from Denmark to +put Sweyn, his brother, on the throne. He found, on his arrival, that +Gospatrick and Waltheof had seized it in the name of Edgar Atheling. +What had he to do more in England, save what he did?--go out into the +Humber, and winter safely there, waiting till Sweyn should come with +reinforcements in the spring? + +Then William had his revenge. He destroyed, in the language of +Scripture, "the life of the land." Far and wide the farms were burnt +over their owners' heads, the growing crops upon the ground; the horses +were houghed, the cattle driven off; while of human death and misery +there was no end. Yorkshire, and much of the neighboring counties, lay +waste, for the next nine years. It did not recover itself fully till +several generations after. + +The Danes had boasted that they would keep their Yule at York. William +kept his Yule there instead. He sent to Winchester for the regalia +of the Confessor; and in the midst of the blackened ruins, while the +English, for miles around, wandered starving in the snows, feeding on +carrion, on rats and mice, and, at last, upon each other's corpses, he +sat in his royal robes, and gave away the lands of Edwin and Morcar to +his liegemen. And thus, like the Romans, from whom he derived both his +strategy and his civilization, he "made a solitude and called it peace." + +He did not give away Waltheof's lands; and only part of Gospatrick's. He +wanted Gospatrick; he loved Waltheof, and wanted him likewise. + +Therefore, through the desert which he himself had made, he forced his +way up to the Tees a second time, over snow-covered moors; and this +time St. Cuthbert had sent no fog, being satisfied, presumably, with +William's orthodox attachment to St. Peter and Rome; so the Conqueror +treated quietly with Waltheof and Gospatrick, who lay at Durham. + +Gospatrick got back his ancestral earldom from Tees to Tyne; and paid +down for it much hard money and treasure; bought it, in fact, he said. + +Waltheof got back his earldom, and much of Morcar's. From the fens to +the Tees was to be his province. And then, to the astonishment alike of +Normans and English, and it may be, of himself, he married Judith, the +Conqueror's niece; and became, once more, William's loved and trusted +friend--or slave. + +It seems inexplicable at first sight. Inexplicable, save as an instance +of that fascination which the strong sometimes exercise over the weak. + +Then William turned southwest. Edwin, wild Edric, the dispossessed Thane +of Shropshire, and the wilder Blethwallon and his Welshmen, were still +harrying and slaying. They had just attacked Shrewsbury. William would +come upon them by a way they thought not of. + +So over the backbone of England, by way, probably, of Halifax, or +Huddersfield, through pathless moors and bogs, down towards the plains +of Lancashire and Cheshire, he pushed over and on. His soldiers from the +plains of sunny France could not face the cold, the rain, the bogs, the +hideous gorges, the valiant peasants,--still the finest and shrewdest +race of men in all England,--who set upon them in wooded glens, or +rolled stones on them from the limestone crags. They prayed to be +dismissed, to go home. + +"Cowards might go back," said William; "he should go on. If he could not +ride, he would walk. Whoever lagged, he would be foremost." And, cheered +by his example, the army at last debouched upon the Cheshire flats. + +Then he fell upon Edwin, as he had fallen upon Morcar. He drove the wild +Welsh through the pass of Mold, and up into their native hills. He +laid all waste with fire and sword for many a mile, as Domesday-book +testifies to this day. He strengthened the walls of Chester, and +trampled out the last embers of rebellion; he went down south to +Salisbury, King of England once again. + +Why did he not push on at once against the one rebellion left +alight,--that of Hereward and his fenmen? + +It may be that he understood him and them. It may be that he meant to +treat with Sweyn, as he had done, if the story be true, with Osbiorn. It +is more likely that he could do no more; that his army, after so swift +and long a campaign, required rest. It may be that the time of service +of many of his mercenaries was expired. Be that as it may, he mustered +them at Old Sarum,--the Roman British burgh which still stands on the +down side, and rewarded them, according to their deserts, from the lands +of the conquered English. + +How soon Hereward knew all this, or how he passed the winter of +1070-71, we cannot tell. But to him it must have been a winter of bitter +perplexity. + +It was impossible to get information from Edwin; and news from York was +almost as impossible to get, for Gilbert of Ghent stood between him and +it. + +He felt himself now pent in, all but trapped. Since he had set foot +last in England ugly things had risen up, on which he had calculated +too little,--namely, Norman castles. A whole ring of them in Norfolk +and Suffolk cut him off from the south. A castle at Cambridge closed +the south end of the fens; another at Bedford, the western end; while +Lincoln Castle to the north, cut him off from York. + +His men did not see the difficulty; and wanted him to march towards +York, and clear all Lindsay and right up to the Humber. + +Gladly would he have done so, when he heard that the Danes were +wintering in the Humber. + +"But how can we take Lincoln Castle without artillery, or even a +battering-ram?" + +"Let us march past, it then, and leave it behind." + +"Ah, my sons," said Hereward, laughing sadly, "do you suppose that the +Mamzer spends his time--and Englishmen's life and labor--in heaping up +those great stone mountains, that you and I may walk past them? They are +put there just to prevent our walking past, unless we choose to have the +garrison sallying out to attack our rear, and cut us off from home, and +carry off our women into the bargain, when our backs are turned." + +The English swore, and declared that they had never thought of that. + +"No. We drink too much ale this side of the Channel, to think of +that,--or of anything beside." + +"But," said Leofwin Prat, "if we have no artillery, we can make some." + +"Spoken like yourself, good comrade. If we only knew how." + +"I know," said Torfrida. "I have read of such things in books of the +ancients, and I have watched them making continually,--I little knew +why, or that I should ever turn engineer." + +"What is there that you do not know?" cried they all at once. And +Torfrida actually showed herself a fair practical engineer. + +But where was iron to come from? Iron for catapult springs, iron for ram +heads, iron for bolts and bars? + +"Torfrida," said Hereward, "you are wise. Can you use the divining-rod? + +"Why, my knight?" + +"Because there might be iron ore in the wolds; and if you could find it +by the rod, we might get it up and smelt it." + +Torfrida said humbly that she would try; and walked with the +divining-rod between her pretty fingers for many a mile in wood and +wold, wherever the ground looked red and rusty. But she never found any +iron. + +"We must take the tires off the cart-wheels," said Leofwin Prat. + +"But how will the carts do without? For we shall want them if we march." + +"In Provence, where I was born, the wheels of the carts are made out of +one round piece of wood. Could we not cut out wheels like them?" asked +Torfrida. + +"You are the wise woman, as usual," said Hereward. + +Torfrida burst into a violent flood of tears, no one knew why. + +There came over her a vision of the creaking carts, and the little sleek +oxen, dove-colored and dove-eyed, with their canvas mantles tied neatly +on to keep off heat and flies, lounging on with their light load of vine +and olive twigs beneath the blazing southern sun. When should she see +the sun once more? She looked up at the brown branches overhead, howling +in the December gale, and down at the brown fen below, dying into mist +and darkness as the low December sun died down; and it seemed as if her +life was dying down with it. There would be no more sun, and no more +summers, for her upon this earth. + +None certainly for her poor old mother. Her southern blood was chilling +more and more beneath the bitter sky of Kesteven. The fall of the leaf +had brought with it rheumatism, ague, an many miseries. Cunning old +leech-wives treated the French lady with tonics, mugwort, and bogbean, +and good wine enow, But, like David of old, she got no heat; and before +Yule-tide came, she had prayed herself safely out of this world, and +into the world to come. And Torfrida's heart was the more light when she +saw her go. + +She was absorbed utterly in Hereward and his plots. She lived for +nothing else; and clung to them all the more fiercely, the more +desperate they seemed. + +So that small band of gallant men labored on, waiting for the Danes, and +trying to make artillery and take Lincoln Keep. And all the while--so +unequal is fortune when God so wills--throughout the Southern Weald, +from Hastings to Hind-head, every copse glared with charcoal-heaps, +every glen was burrowed with iron diggings, every hammer-pond stamped +and gurgled night and day, smelting and forging English iron, wherewith +the Frenchmen might slay Englishmen. + +William--though perhaps he knew it not himself--had, in securing +Sussex and Surrey, secured the then great iron-field of England, and +an unlimited supply of weapons; and to that circumstance, it may be, as +much as to any other, the success of his campaigns may be due. + +It must have been in one of these December days that a handful of +knights came through the Bruneswold, mud and blood bespattered, urging +on tired horses, as men desperate and foredone. And the foremost of them +all, when he saw Hereward at the gate of Bourne, leaped down, and threw +his arms round his neck and burst into bitter weeping. + +"Hereward, I know you, though you know me not. I am your nephew, Morcar +Algarsson; and all is lost." + +As the winter ran on, other fugitives came in, mostly of rank and +family. At last Edwin himself came, young and fair, like Morcar; he +who should have been the Conqueror's son-in-law; for whom his true-love +pined, as he pined, in vain. Where were Sweyn and his Danes? Whither +should they go till he came? + +"To Ely," answered Hereward. + +Whether or not it was his wit which first seized on the military +capabilities of Ely is not told. Leofric the deacon, who is likely to +know best, says that there were men there already holding theirs out +against William, and that they sent for Hereward. But it is not clear +from his words whether they were fugitives, or merely bold Abbot +Thurstan and his monks. + +It is but probable, nevertheless, that Hereward, as the only man among +the fugitives who ever showed any ability whatsoever, and who was, also, +the only leader (save Morcar) connected with the fen, conceived the +famous "Camp of Refuge," and made it a formidable fact. Be that as it +may, Edwin and Morcar went to Ely; and there joined them a Count Tosti +(according to Leofric), unknown to history; a Siward Barn, or "the boy," +who had been dispossessed of lands in Lincolnshire; and other valiant +and noble gentlemen,--the last wrecks of the English aristocracy. And +there they sat in Abbot Thurstan's hall, and waited for Sweyn and the +Danes. + +But the worst Job's messenger who, during that evil winter and spring, +came into the fen, was Bishop Egelwin of Durham. He it was, most +probably, who brought the news of Yorkshire laid waste with fire and +sword. He it was, most certainly, who brought the worse news still, that +Gospatrick and Waltheof were gone over to the king. He was at Durham, +seemingly, when he saw that; and fled for his life ere evil overtook +him: for to yield to William that brave bishop had no mind. + +But when Hereward heard that Waltheof was married to the Conqueror's +niece, he smote his hands together, and cursed him, and the mother who +bore him to Siward the Stout. + +"Could thy father rise from his grave, he would split thy craven head in +the very lap of the Frenchwoman." + +"A hard lap will he find it, Hereward," said Torfrida. "I know +her,--wanton, false, and vain. Heaven grant he do not rue the day he +ever saw her!" + +"Heaven grant he may rue it! Would that her bosom were knives and +fish-hooks, like that of the statue in the fairy-tale. See what he has +done for us! He is Earl not only of his own lands, but he has taken +poor Morcar's too, and half his earldom. He is Earl of Huntingdon, of +Cambridge, they say,--of this ground on which we stand. What right +have I here now? How can I call on a single man to arm, as I could in +Morcar's name? I am an outlaw here and a robber; and so is every man +with me. And do you think that William did not know that? He saw well +enough what he was doing when he set up that great brainless idol as +Earl again. He wanted to split up the Danish folk, and he has done it. +The Northumbrians will stick to Waltheof. They think him a mighty +hero, because he held York-gate alone with his own axe against all the +French." + +"Well, that was a gallant deed." + +"Pish! we are all gallant men, we English. It is not courage that we +want, it is brains. So the Yorkshire and Lindsay men, and the Nottingham +men too, will go with Waltheof. And round here, and all through the +fens, every coward, every prudent man even,--every man who likes to be +within the law, and feel his head safe on his shoulders,--no blame to +him--will draw each from me for fear of this new Earl, and leave us to +end as a handful of outlaws. I see it all. As William sees it all. He is +wise enough, the Mamzer, and so is his father Belial, to whom he will +go home some day. Yes, Torfrida," he went on after a pause, more gently, +but in a tone of exquisite sadness, "you were right, as you always are. +I am no match for that man. I see it now." + +"I never said that. Only--" + +"Only you told me again and again that he was the wisest man on earth." + +"And yet, for that very reason, I bade you win glory without end, by +defying the wisest man on earth." + +"And do you bid me do it still?" + +"God knows what I bid," said Torfrida, bursting into tears. "Let me go +pray, for I never needed it more." + +Hereward watched her kneeling, as he sat moody, all but desperate. Then +he glided to her side, and said gently,-- + +"Teach me how to pray, Torfrida. I can say a Pater or an Ave. But that +does not comfort a man's heart, as far as I could ever find. Teach me to +pray, as you and my mother do." + +And she put her arms round the wild man's neck, and tried to teach him, +like a little child. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +HOW HEREWARD FULFILLED HIS WORDS TO THE PRIOR OF THE GOLDEN BOROUGH. + + +In the course of that winter died good Abbot Brand. Hereward went over +to see him, and found him mumbling to himself texts of Isaiah, and +confessing the sins of his people. + +"'Woe to the vineyard that bringeth forth wild grapes. Woe to those that +join house to house, and field to field,'--like us, and the Godwinssons, +and every man that could, till we 'stood alone in the land.' 'Many +houses, great and fair, shall be without inhabitants.' It is all +foretold in Holy Writ, Hereward, my son. 'Woe to those who rise early to +fill themselves with strong drink, and the tabret and harp are in their +feasts; but they regard not the works of the Lord.' 'Therefore my people +are gone into captivity, because they have no knowledge.' Ah, those +Frenchmen have knowledge, and too much of it; while we have brains +filled with ale instead of justice. 'Therefore hell hath enlarged +herself, and opened her mouth without measure'; and all go down into +it, one by one. And dost thou think thou shalt escape, Hereward, thou +stout-hearted?" + +"I neither know nor care; but this I know, that whithersoever I go, I +shall go sword in hand." + +"'They that take the sword shall perish by the sword,'" said Brand, and +blessed Hereward, and died. + +A week after came news that Thorold of Malmesbury was coming to take +the Abbey of Peterborough, and had got as far as Stamford, with a right +royal train. + +Then Hereward sent Abbot Thorold word, that if he or his Frenchmen put +foot into Peterborough, he, Hereward, would burn it over their heads. +And that if he rode a mile beyond Stamford town, he should walk back +into it barefoot in his shirt. + +Whereon Thorold abode at Stamford, and kept up his spirits by singing +the songs of Roland,--which some say he himself composed. + +A week after that, and the Danes were come. + +A mighty fleet, with Sweyn Ulfsson at their head, went up the Ouse +toward Ely. Another, with Osbiorn at their head, having joined them off +the mouth of the Humber, sailed (it seems) up the Nene. All the chivalry +of Denmark and Ireland was come. And with it, all the chivalry and +the unchivalry of the Baltic shores. Vikings from Jomsburg and Arkona, +Gottlanders from Wisby; and with them savages from Esthonia, Finns from +Aeland, Letts who still offered in the forests of Rugen, human victims +to the four-headed Swantowit; foul hordes in sheep-skins and primeval +filth, who might have been scented from Hunstanton Cliff ever since +their ships had rounded the Skaw. + +Hereward hurried to them with all his men. He was anxious, of course, +to prevent their plundering the landsfolk as they went,--and that the +savages from the Baltic shore would certainly do, if they could, however +reasonable the Danes, Orkneymen, and Irish Ostmen might be. + +Food, of course, they must take where they could find it; but outrages +were not a necessary, though a too common, adjunct to the process of +emptying a farmer's granaries. + +He found the Danes in a dangerous mood, sulky, and disgusted, as they +had good right to be. They had gone to the Humber, and found nothing but +ruin; the land waste; the French holding both the shores of the Humber; +and Osbiorn cowering in Humber-mouth, hardly able to feed his men. They +had come to conquer England, and nothing was left for them to conquer, +but a few peat-bogs. Then they would have what there was in them. Every +one knew that gold grew up in England out of the ground, wherever a monk +put his foot. And they would plunder Crowland. Their forefathers had +done it, and had fared none the worse. English gold they would have, if +they could not get fat English manors. + +"No! not Crowland!" said Hereward; "any place but Crowland, endowed +and honored by Canute the Great,--Crowland, whose abbot was a Danish +nobleman, whose monks were Danes to a man, of their own flesh and blood. +Canute's soul would rise up in Valhalla and curse them, if they took the +value of a penny from St. Guthlac. St. Guthlac was their good friend. +He would send them bread, meat, ale, all they needed. But woe to the man +who set foot upon his ground." + +Hereward sent off messengers to Crowland, warning all to be ready to +escape into the fens; and entreating Ulfketyl to empty his storehouses +into his barges, and send food to the Danes, ere a day was past. And +Ulfketyl worked hard and well, till a string of barges wound its way +through the fens, laden with beeves and bread, and ale-barrels in +plenty, and with monks too, who welcomed the Danes as their brethren, +talked to them in their own tongue, blessed them in St. Guthlac's name +as the saviors of England, and went home again, chanting so sweetly +their thanks to Heaven for their safety, that the wild Vikings were +awed, and agreed that St. Guthlac's men were wise folk and open-hearted, +and that it was a shame to do them harm. + +But plunder they must have. + +"And plunder you shall have!" said Hereward, as a sudden thought struck +him. "I will show you the way to the Golden Borough,--the richest +minster in England; and all the treasures of the Golden Borough shall be +yours, if you will treat Englishmen as friends, and spare the people of +the fens." + +It was a great crime in the eyes of men of that time. A great crime, +taken simply, in Hereward's own eyes. But necessity knows no law. +Something the Danes must have, and ought to have; and St. Peter's gold +was better in their purses than in that of Thorold and his French monks. + +So he led them across the fens and side rivers, till they came into the +old Nene, which men call Catwater and Muscal now. + +As he passed Nomanslandhirne, and the mouth of the Crowland river, he +trembled, and trusted that the Danes did not know that they were within +three miles of St. Guthlac's sanctuary. But they went on ignorant, and +up the Muscal till they saw St. Peter's towers on the wooded rise, and +behind them the great forest which now is Milton Park. + +There were two parties in Peterborough minster: a smaller faction of +stout-hearted English, a larger one who favored William and the French +customs, with Prior Herluin at their head. Herluin wanted not for +foresight, and he knew that evil was coming on him. He knew that the +Danes were in the fen. He knew that Hereward was with them. He knew that +they had come to Crowland. Hereward could never mean to let them sack +it. Peterborough must be their point. And Herluin set his teeth, like a +bold man determined to abide the worst, and barred and barricaded every +gate and door. + +That night a hapless churchwarden, Ywar was his name, might have been +seen galloping through Milton and Castor Hanglands, and on by Barnack +quarries over Southorpe heath, with saddlebags of huge size stuffed with +"gospels, mass-robes, cassocks, and other garments, and such other small +things as he could carry away." And he came before day to Stamford, +where Abbot Thorold lay at his ease in his inn with his _hommes d'armes_ +asleep in the hall. + +And the churchwarden knocked them up, and drew Abbot Thorold's curtains +with a face such as his who + + "drew Priam's curtains in the dead of night, + And would have told him, half his Troy was burned"; + +and told Abbot Thorold that the monks of Peterborough had sent him; and +that unless he saddled and rode his best that night, with his meinie of +men-at-arms, his Golden Borough would be even as Troy town by morning +light. + +"A moi, hommes d'armes!" shouted Thorold, as he used to shout whenever +he wanted to scourge his wretched English monks at Malmesbury into some +French fashion. + +The men leaped up, and poured in, growling. + +"Take me this monk, and kick him into the street for waking me with such +news." + +"But, gracious lord, the outlaws will surely burn Peterborough; and +folks said that you were a mighty man of war." + +"So I am; but if I were Roland, Oliver, and Turpin rolled into one, how +am I to fight Hereward and the Danes with forty men-at-arms? Answer me +that, thou dunder-headed English porker. Kick him out." + +And Ywar was kicked into the cold, while Thorold raged up and down his +chamber in mantle and slippers, wringing his hands over the treasure +of the Golden Borough, snatched from his fingers just as he was closing +them upon it. + +That night the monks of Peterborough prayed in the minster till the long +hours passed into the short. The poor corrodiers, and other servants +of the monastery, fled from the town outside into the Milton woods. The +monks prayed on inside till an hour after matin. When the first flush +of the summer's dawn began to show in the northeastern sky, they heard +mingling with their own chant another chant, which Peterborough had not +heard since it was Medehampstead, three hundred years ago,--the terrible +Yuch-hey-saa-saa-saa,--the war-song of the Vikings of the north. + +Their chant stopped of itself. With blanched faces and trembling knees +they fled, regardless of all discipline, up into the minster tower, and +from the leads looked out northeastward on the fen. + +The first rays of the summer sun were just streaming over the vast sheet +of emerald, and glittering upon the winding river; and on a winding +line, too, seemingly endless, of scarlet coats and shields, black +hulls, gilded poops and vanes and beak-heads, and the flash and foam of +innumerable oars. + +And nearer and louder came the oar-roll, like thunder working up from +the northeast; and mingled with it that grim yet laughing Heysaa, which +bespoke in its very note the revelry of slaughter. + +The ships had all their sails on deck. But as they came nearer, the +monks could see the banners of the two foremost vessels. + +The one was the red and white of the terrible Dannebrog. The other, the +scarcely less terrible white bear of Hereward. + +"He will burn the minster! He has vowed to do it. As a child he vowed, +and he must do it. In this very minster the fiend entered into him and +possessed him; and to this minster has the fiend brought him back to do +his will. Satan, my brethren, having a special spite (as must needs be) +against St. Peter, rock and pillar of the Holy Church, chose out and +inspired this man, even from his mother's womb, that he might be the +foe and robber of St. Peter, and the hater of all who, like my humility, +honor him, and strive to bring this English land into due obedience to +that blessed apostle. Bring forth the relics, my brethren. Bring forth, +above all things, those filings of St. Peter's own chains,--the special +glory of our monastery, and perhaps its safeguard this day." + +Some such bombast would any monk of those days have talked in like case. +And yet, so strange a thing is man, he might have been withal, like +Herluin, a shrewd and valiant man. + +They brought out all the relics. They brought out the filings +themselves, in a box of gold. They held them out over the walls at the +ships, and called on all the saints to whom they belonged. But they +stopped that line of scarlet, black, and gold as much as their spiritual +descendants stop the lava-stream of Vesuvius, when they hold out similar +matters at them, with a hope unchanged by the experience of eight +hundred years. The Heysaa rose louder and nearer. The Danes were coming. +And they came. + +And all the while a thousand skylarks rose from off the fen, and chanted +their own chant aloft, as if appealing to Heaven against that which +man's greed and man's rage and man's superstition had made of this fair +earth of God. + +The relics had been brought out. But, as they would not work, the only +thing to be done was to put them back again and hide them safe, lest +they should bow down like Bel and stoop like Nebo, and be carried, like +them, into captivity themselves, being worth a very large sum of money +in the eyes of the more Christian part of the Danish host. + +Then to hide the treasures as well as they could; which (says the +Anglo-Saxon Chronicle) they hid somewhere in the steeple. + +The Danes were landing now. The shout which they gave, as they leaped +on shore, made the hearts of the poor monks sink low. Would they be +murdered, as well as robbed? Perhaps not,--probably not. Hereward would +see to that. And some wanted to capitulate. + +Herluin would not hear of it. They were safe enough. St. Peter's relic +might not have worked a miracle on the spot; but it must have done +something. St. Peter had been appealed to on his honor, and on his honor +he must surely take the matter up. At all events, the walls and gates +were strong, and the Danes had no artillery. Let them howl and rage +round the holy place, till Abbot Thorold and the Frenchmen of the +country rose and drove them to their ships. + +In that last thought the cunning Norman was not so far wrong. The +Danes pushed up through the little town, and to the minster gates: but +entrance was impossible; and they prowled round and round like raging +wolves about a winter steading; but found no crack of entry. + +Prior Herluin grew bold; and coming to the leads of the gateway +tower, looked over cautiously, and holding up a certain most sacred +emblem,--not to be profaned in these pages,--cursed them in the name of +his whole Pantheon. + +"Aha, Herluin! Are you there?" asked a short, square man in gay armor. +"Have you forgotten the peat-stack outside Bolldyke Gate, and how you +bade light it under me thirty years since?" + +"Thou art Winter?" and the Prior uttered what would be considered, from +any but a churchman's lips, a blasphemous and bloodthirsty curse; but +which was, as their writings sufficiently testify, merely one of the +lawful weapons or "arts" of those Christians who were "forbidden to +fight,"--the other weapon or art being that of lying. + +"Aha! That goes like rain off a duck's back to one who has been a +minster scholar in his time. You! Danes! Ostmen! down! If you shoot at +that man I'll cut your heads off. He is the oldest foe I have in the +world, and the only one who ever hit me without my hitting him again; +and nobody shall touch him but me. So down bows, I say." + +The Danes--humorous all of them--saw that there was a jest toward, and +perhaps some earnest too, and joined in jeering the Prior. + +Herluin had ducked his head behind the parapet; not from cowardice, but +simply because he had on no mail, and might be shot any moment. But when +he heard Winter forbid them to touch him, he lifted up his head, and +gave his old pupil as good as he brought. + +With his sharp, swift Norman priest's tongue he sneered, he jeered, he +scolded, he argued; and then threatened, suddenly changing his tone, +in words of real eloquence. He appealed to the superstitions of his +hearers. He threatened them with supernatural vengeance. + +Some of them began to slink away frightened. St. Peter was an ill man to +have a blood feud with. + +Winter stood, laughing and jeering again, for full ten minutes. At last: +"I asked, and you have not answered: have you forgotten the peat-stack +outside Bolldyke Gate? For if you have, Hereward has not. He has piled +it against the gate, and it should be burnt through by this time. Go and +see." + +Herluin disappeared with a curse. + +"Now, you sea-cocks," said Winter, springing up, "we'll to the Bolldyke +Gate, and all start fair." + +The Bolldyke Gate was on fire; and more, so were the suburbs. There was +no time to save them, as Hereward would gladly have done, for the sake +of the poor corrodiers. They must go,--on to the Bolldyke Gate. Who +cared to put out flames behind him, with all the treasures of Golden +Borough before him? In a few minutes all the town was alight. In a few +minutes more, the monastery likewise. + +A fire is detestable enough at all times, but most detestable by day. +At night it is customary, a work of darkness which lights up the dark, +picturesque, magnificent, with a fitness Tartarean and diabolic. +But under a glaring sun, amid green fields and blue skies, all its +wickedness is revealed without its beauty. You see its works, and little +more. The flame is hardly noticed. All that is seen is a canker eating +up God's works, cracking the bones of its prey,--for that horrible +cracking is uglier than all stage-scene glares,--cruelly and shamelessly +under the very eye of the great, honest, kindly sun. + +And that felt Hereward, as he saw Peterborough burn. He could not put +his thoughts into words, as men of this day can: so much the better +for him, perhaps. But he felt all the more intensely--as did men of his +day--the things he could not speak. All he said was aside to Winter,-- + +"It is a dark job. I wish it had been done in the dark." And Winter knew +what he meant. + +Then the men rushed into the Bolldyke Gate, while Hereward and Winter +stood and looked with their men, whom they kept close together, waiting +their commands. The Danes and their allies cared not for the great +glowing heap of peat. They cared not for each other, hardly for +themselves. They rushed into the gap; they thrust the glowing heap +inward through the gateway with their lances; they thrust each other +down into it, and trampled over them to fall themselves, rising scorched +and withered, and yet struggling on toward the gold of the Golden +Borough. One savage Lett caught another round the waist, and hurled him +bodily into the fire, crying in his wild tongue:-- + +"You will make a good stepping-stone for me." + +"That is not fair," quoth Hereward, and clove him to the chine. + +It was wild work. But the Golden Borough was won. + +"We must in now and save the monks," said Hereward, and dashed over the +embers. + +He was only just in time. In the midst of the great court were all +the monks, huddled together like a flock of sheep, some kneeling, most +weeping bitterly, after the fashion of monks. + +Only Herluin stood in front of them, at bay, a lofty crucifix in his +hand. He had no mind to weep. But with a face of calm and bitter wrath, +he preferred words of peace and entreaty. They were what the time +needed. Therefore they should be given. To-morrow he would write to +Bishop Egelsin, to excommunicate with bell, book, and candle, to the +lowest pit of Tartarus, all who had done the deed. + +But to-day he spoke them fair. However, his fair speeches profited +little, not being understood by a horde of Letts and Finns, who howled +and bayed at him, and tried to tear the crucifix from his hands; but +feared "the white Christ." + +They were already gaining courage from their own yells; in a moment +more blood would have been shed, and then a general massacre must have +ensued. + +Hereward saw it, and shouting, "After me, Hereward's men! a bear! a +bear!" swung Letts and Finns right and left like corn-sheaves, and stood +face to face with Herluin. + +An angry Finn smote him on the hind-head full with a stone axe. He +staggered, and then looked round and laughed. + +"Fool! hast thou not heard that Hereward's armor was forged by dwarfs in +the mountain-bowels? Off, and hunt for gold, or it will be all gone." + +The Finn, who was astonished at getting no more from his blow than a few +sparks, and expected instant death in return, took the hint and vanished +jabbering, as did his fellows. + +"Now, Herluin, the Frenchman!" said Hereward. + +"Now, Hereward, the robber of saints!" said Herluin. + +It was a fine sight. The soldier and the churchman, the Englishman +and the Frenchman, the man of the then world, and the man of the then +Church, pitted fairly, face to face. + +Hereward tried, for one moment, to stare down Herluin. But those +terrible eye-glances, before which Vikings had quailed, turned off +harmless from the more terrible glance of the man who believed himself +backed by the Maker of the universe, and all the hierarchy of heaven. + +A sharp, unlovely face it was: though, like many a great churchman's +face of those days, it was neither thin nor haggard; but rather round, +sleek, of a puffy and unwholesome paleness. But there was a thin lip +above a broad square jaw, which showed that Herluin was neither fool nor +coward. + +"A robber and a child of Belial thou hast been from thy cradle; and a +robber and a child of Belial thou art now. Dare thy last iniquity, and +slay the servants of St. Peter on St. Peter's altar, with thy worthy +comrades, the heathen Saracens [Footnote: The Danes were continually +mistaken, by Norman churchmen, for Saracens, and the Saracens considered +to be idolaters. A maumee, or idol, means a Mahomet.], and set up +Mahound with them in the holy place." + +Hereward laughed so jolly a laugh, that the Prior was taken aback. + +"Slay St. Peter's rats? I kill men, not monks. There shall not a hair +of your head be touched. Here! Hereward's men! march these traitors and +their French Prior safe out of the walls, and into Milton Woods, to look +after their poor corrodiers, and comfort their souls, after they have +ruined their bodies by their treason!" + +"Out of this place I stir not. Here I am, and here I will live or die, +as St. Peter shall send aid." + +But as he spoke, he was precipitated rudely forward, and hurried +almost into Hereward's arms. The whole body of monks, when they heard +Hereward's words, cared to hear no more, but desperate between fear and +joy, rushed forward, bearing away their Prior in the midst. + +"So go the rats out of Peterborough, and so is my dream fulfilled. Now +for the treasure, and then to Ely." + +But Herluin burst himself clear of the frantic mob of monks, and turned +back on Hereward. + +"Thou wast dubbed knight in that church!" + +"I know it, man; and that church and the relics of the saints in it are +safe, therefore. Hereward gives his word." + +"That,--but not that only, if thou art a true knight, as thou holdest, +Englishman." + +Hereward growled savagely, and made an ugly step toward Herluin. That +was a point which he would not have questioned. + +"Then behave as a knight, and save, save,"--as the monks dragged him +away,--"save the hospice! There are women,--ladies there!" shouted he, +as he was borne off. + +They never met again on earth; but both comforted themselves in after +years, that two old enemies' last deed in common had been one of mercy. + +Hereward uttered a cry of horror. If the wild Letts, even the +Jomsburgers, had got in, all was lost. He rushed to the door. It was not +yet burst: but a bench, swung by strong arms, was battering it in fast. + +"Winter! Geri! Siwards! To me, Hereward's men! Stand back, fellows. Here +are friends here inside. If you do not, I'll cut you down." + +But in vain. The door was burst, and in poured the savage mob. Hereward, +unable to stop them, headed them, or pretended to do so, with five or +six of his own men round him, and went into the hall. + +On the rushes lay some half-dozen grooms. They were butchered instantly, +simply because they were there. Hereward saw, but could not prevent. He +ran as hard as he could to the foot of the wooden stair which led to the +upper floor. + +"Guard the stair-foot, Winter!" and he ran up. + +Two women cowered upon the floor, shrieking and praying with hands +clasped over their heads. He saw that the arms of one of them were of +the most exquisite whiteness, and judging her to be the lady, bent over +her. "Lady! you are safe. I will protect you. I am Hereward." + +She sprang up, and threw herself with a scream into his arms. + +"Hereward! Hereward! Save me. I am--" + +"Alftruda!" said Hereward. + +It was Alftruda; if possible more beautiful than ever. + +"I have got you!" she cried. "I am safe now. Take me away,--out of this +horrible place! Take me into the woods,--anywhere. Only do not let me +be burnt here,--stifled like a rat. Give me air! Give me water!" And she +clung to him so madly, that Hereward, as he held her in his arms, and +gazed on her extraordinary beauty, forgot Torfrida for the second time. + +But there was no time to indulge in evil thoughts, even had any crossed +his mind. He caught her in his arms, and commanding the maid to follow, +hurried down the stair. + +Winter and the Siwards were defending the foot with swinging blades. +The savages were howling round like curs about a bull; and when Hereward +appeared above with the women, there was a loud yell of rage and envy. + +He should not have the women to himself,--they would share the plunder +equally,--was shouted in half a dozen barbarous dialects. + +"Have you left any valuables in the chamber?" whispered he to Alftruda. + +"Yes, jewels,--robes. Let them have all, only save me!" + +"Let me pass!" roared Hereward. "There is rich booty in the room above, +and you may have it as these ladies' ransom. Them you do not touch. +Back, I say, let me pass!" + +And he rushed forward. Winter and the housecarles formed round him and +the women, and hurried down the hall, while the savages hurried up the +ladder, to quarrel over their spoil. + +They were out in the court-yard, and safe for the moment. But whither +should he take her? + +"To Earl Osbiorn," said one of the Siwards. But how to find him? + +"There is Bishop Christiern!" And the Bishop was caught and stopped. + +"This is an evil day's work, Sir Hereward." + +"Then help to mend it by taking care of these ladies, like a man of +God." And he explained the case. + +"You may come safely with me, my poor lambs," said the Bishop. "I +am glad to find something to do fit for a churchman. To me, my +housecarles." + +But they were all off plundering. + +"We will stand by you and the ladies, and see you safe down to the +ships," said Winter, and so they went off. + +Hereward would gladly have gone with them, as Alftruda piteously +entreated him. But he heard his name called on every side in angry +tones. + +"Who wants Hereward?" + +"Earl Osbiorn,--here he is." + +"Those scoundrel monks have hidden all the altar furniture. If you wish +to save them from being tortured to death, you had best find it." + +Hereward ran with him into the Cathedral. It was a hideous sight; torn +books and vestments; broken tabernacle work; foul savages swarming in +and out of every dark aisle and cloister, like wolves in search of prey; +five or six ruffians aloft upon the rood screen; one tearing the golden +crown from the head of the crucifix, another the golden footstool from +its feet. [Footnote: The crucifix was probably of the Greek pattern, in +which the figure stood upon a flat slab, projecting from the cross.] + +As Hereward came up, crucifix and man fell together, crashing upon the +pavement, amid shouts of brutal laughter. + +He hurried past them, shuddering, into the choir. The altar was bare, +the golden pallium which covered it, gone. + +"It may be in the crypt below. I suppose the monks keep their relics +there," said Osbiorn. + +"No! Not there. Do not touch the relics! Would you have the curse of all +the saints? Stay! I know an old hiding-place. It may be there. Up into +the steeple with me." + +And in a chamber in the steeple they found the golden pall, and +treasures countless and wonderful. + +"We had better keep the knowledge of this to ourselves awhile," said +Earl Osbiorn, looking with greedy eyes on a heap of wealth such as he +had never beheld before. + +"Not we! Hereward is a man of his word, and we will share and share +alike." And he turned and went down the narrow winding stair. + +Earl Osbiorn gave one look at his turned back; an evil spirit of +covetousness came over him; and he smote Hereward full and strong upon +the hind-head. + +The sword turned upon the magic helm, and the sparks flashed out bright +and wide. + +Earl Osbiorn shrunk back, appalled and trembling. + +"Aha!" said Hereward without looking round. "I never thought there would +be loose stones in the roof. Here! Up here, Vikings, Berserker, and +sea-cocks all! Here, Jutlanders, Jomsburgers, Letts, Finns, witches' +sons and devils' sons all! Here!" cried he, while Osbiorn profited by +that moment to thrust an especially brilliant jewel into his boot. "Here +is gold, here is the dwarfs work! Come up and take your Polotaswarf! You +would not get a richer out of the Kaiser's treasury. Here, wolves and +ravens, eat gold, drink gold, roll in gold, and know that Hereward is a +man of his word, and pays his soldiers' wages royally!" + +They rushed up the narrow stair, trampling each other to death, and +thrust Hereward and the Earl, choking, into a corner. The room was so +full for a few moments, that some died in it. Hereward and Osbiorn, +protected by their strong armor, forced their way to the narrow window, +and breathed through it, looking out upon the sea of flame below. + +"That was an unlucky blow," said Hereward, "that fell upon my head." + +"Very unlucky. I saw it coming, but had no time to warn you. Why do you +hold my wrist?" + +"Men's daggers are apt to get loose at such times as these." + +"What do you mean?" and Earl Osbiorn went from him, and into the now +thinning press. Soon only a few remained, to search, by the glare of the +flames, for what their fellows might have overlooked. + +"Now the play is played out," said Hereward, "we may as well go down, +and to our ships." + +Some drunken ruffians would have burnt the church for mere mischief. But +Osbiorn, as well as Hereward, stopped that. And gradually they got the +men down to the ships; some drunk, some struggling under plunder; some +cursing and quarrelling because nothing had fallen to their lot. It was +a hideous scene; but one to which Hereward, as well as Osbiorn, was too +well accustomed to see aught in it save an hour's inevitable trouble in +getting the men on board. + +The monks had all fled. Only Leofwin the Long was left, and he lay sick +in the infirmary. Whether he was burned therein, or saved by Hereward's +men, is not told. + +And so was the Golden Borough sacked and burnt. Now then, whither? + +The Danes were to go to Ely and join the army there. Hereward would +march on to Stamford; secure that town if he could; then to Huntingdon, +to secure it likewise; and on to Ely afterwards. + +"You will not leave me among these savages?" said Alftruda. + +"Heaven forbid! You shall come with me as far as Stamford, and then I +will set you on your way." + +"My way?" said Alftruda, in a bitter and hopeless tone. + +Hereward mounted her on a good horse, and rode beside her, looking--and +he well knew it--a very perfect knight. Soon they began to talk. What +had brought Alftruda to Peterborough, of all places on earth? + +"A woman's fortune. Because I am rich,--and some say fair,--I am a +puppet, and a slave, a prey. I was going back to my,--to Dolfin." + +"Have you been away from him, then?" + +"What! Do you not know?" + +"How should I know, lady?" + +"Yes, most true. How should Hereward know anything about Alftruda? But I +will tell you. Maybe you may not care to hear?" + +"About you? Anything. I have often longed to know how,--what you were +doing." + +"Is it possible? Is there one human being left on earth who cares to +hear about Alftruda? Then listen. You know when Gospatrick fled to +Scotland his sons went with him. Young Gospatrick, Waltheof, [Footnote: +This Waltheof Gospatricksson must not be confounded with Waltheof +Siwardsson, the young Earl. He became a wild border chieftain, then +Baron of Atterdale, and then gave Atterdale to his sister Queen +Ethelreda, and turned monk, and at last Abbot, of Crowland: crawling +home, poor fellow, like many another, to die in peace in the sanctuary +of the Danes.] and he,--Dolfin. Ethelreda, his girl, went too,--and she +is to marry, they say, Duncan, Malcolm's eldest son by Ingebiorg. So +Gospatrick will find himself, some day, father-in-law of the King of +Scots." + +"I will warrant him to find his nest well lined, wherever he be. But of +yourself?" + +"I refused to go. I could not face again that bleak black North. +Beside--but that is no concern of Hereward's--" + +Hereward was on the point of saying, "Can anything concern you, and not +be interesting to me?" + +But she went on,-- + +"I refused, and--" + +"And he misused you?" asked he, fiercely. + +"Better if he had. Better if he had tied me to his stirrup, and scourged +me along into Scotland, than have left me to new dangers and to old +temptations." + +"What temptations?" + +Alftruda did not answer; but went on,-- + +"He told me, in his lofty Scots' fashion, that I was free to do what I +list. That he had long since seen that I cared not for him; and that he +would find many a fairer lady in his own land." + +"There he lied. So you did not care for him? He is a noble knight." + +"What is that to me? Women's hearts are not to be bought and sold with +their bodies, as I was sold. Care for him? I care for no creature upon +earth. Once I cared for Hereward, like a silly child. Now I care not +even for him." + +Hereward was sorry to hear that. Men are vainer than women, just as +peacocks are vainer than peahens; and Hereward was--alas for him!--a +specially vain man. Of course, for him to fall in love with Alftruda +would have been a shameful sin,--he would not have committed it for all +the treasures of Constantinople; but it was a not unpleasant thought +that Alftruda should fall in love with him. But he only said, tenderly +and courteously,-- + +"Alas, poor lady!" + +"Poor lady. Too true, that last. For whither am I going now? Back to +that man once more." + +"To Dolfin?" + +"To my master, like a runaway slave. I went down south to Queen Matilda. +I knew her well, and she was kind to me, as she is to all things that +breathe. But now that Gospatrick is come into the king's grace again, +and has bought the earldom of Northumbria, from Tweed to Tyne--" + +"Bought the earldom?" + +"That has he; and paid for it right heavily." + +"Traitor and fool! He will not keep it seven years. The Frenchman will +pick a quarrel with him, and cheat him out of earldom and money too." + +The which William did, within three years. + +"May it be so! But when he came into the king's grace, he must needs +demand me back in his son's name." + +"What does Dolfin want with you?" + +"His father wants my money, and stipulated for it with the king. And +besides, I suppose I am a pretty plaything enough still." + +"You? You are divine, perfect. Dolfin is right. How could a man who had +once enjoyed you live without you?" + +Alftruda laughed,--a laugh full of meaning; but what that meaning was, +Hereward could not divine. + +"So now," she said, "what Hereward has to do, as a true and courteous +knight, is to give Alftruda safe conduct, and, if he can, a guard; +and to deliver her up loyally and knightly to his old friend and +fellow-warrior, Dolfin Gospatricksson, earl of whatever he can lay hold +of for the current month." + +"Are you in earnest?" + +Alftruda laughed one of her strange laughs, looking straight before her. +Indeed, she had never looked Hereward in the face during the whole ride. + +"What are those open holes? Graves?" + +"They are Barnack stone-quarries, which Alfgar my brother gave to +Crowland." + +"So? That is pity. I thought they had been graves; and then you might +have covered me up in one of them, and left me to sleep in peace." + +"What can I do for you, Alftruda, my old play-fellow: Alftruda, whom I +saved from the bear?" + +"If she had foreseen the second monster into whose jaws she was to fall, +she would have prayed you to hold that terrible hand of yours, which +never since, men say, has struck without victory and renown. You won +your first honor for my sake. But who am I now, that you should turn out +of your glorious path for me?" + +"I will do anything,--anything. But why miscall this noble prince a +monster?" + +"If he were fairer than St. John, more wise than Solomon, and more +valiant than King William, he is to me a monster; for I loathe him, and +I know not why. But do your duty as a knight, sir. Convey the lawful +wife to her lawful spouse." + +"What cares an outlaw for law, in a land where law is dead and gone? I +will do what I--what you like. Come with me to Torfrida at Bourne; and +let me see the man who dares try to take you out of my hand." + +Alftruda laughed again. + +"No, no. I should interrupt the little doves in their nest. Beside, the +billing and cooing might make me envious. And I, alas! who carry misery +with me round the land, might make your Torfrida jealous." + +Hereward was of the same opinion, and rode silent and thoughtful through +the great woods which are now the noble park of Burghley. + +"I have found it!" said he at last. "Why not go to Gilbert of Ghent, at +Lincoln?" + +"Gilbert? Why should he befriend me?" + +"He will do that, or anything else, which is for his own profit." + +"Profit? All the world seems determined to make profit out of me. I +presume you would, if I had come with you to Bourne." + +"I do not doubt it. This is a very wild sea to swim in; and a man must +be forgiven, if he catches at every bit of drift-timber." + +"Selfishness, selfishness everywhere;--and I suppose you expect to gain +by sending me to Gilbert of Ghent?" + +"I shall gain nothing, Alftruda, save the thought that you are not so +far from me--from us--but that we can hear of you,--send succor to you +if you need." + +Alftruda was silent. At last-- + +"And you think that Gilbert would not be afraid of angering the king?" + +"He would not anger the king. Gilbert's friendship is more important +to William, at this moment, than that of a dozen Gospatricks. He holds +Lincoln town, and with it the key of Waltheof's earldom: and things may +happen, Alftruda--I tell you; but if you tell Gilbert, may Hereward's +curse be on you!" + +"Not that! Any man's curse save yours!" said she in so passionate a +voice that a thrill of fire ran through Hereward. And he recollected +her scoff at Bruges,--"So he could not wait for me?" And a storm of +evil thoughts swept through him. "Would to heaven!" said he to himself, +crushing them gallantly down, "I had never thought of Lincoln. But there +is no other plan." + +But he did not tell Alftruda, as he meant to do, that she might see him +soon in Lincoln Castle as its conqueror and lord. He half hoped that +when that day came, Alftruda might be somewhere else. + +"Gilbert can say," he went on, steadying himself again, "that you feared +to go north on account of the disturbed state of the country; and that, +as you had given yourself up to him of your own accord, he thought it +wisest to detain you, as a hostage for Dolfin's allegiance." + +"He shall say so. I will make him say so." + +"So be it, Now, here we are at Stamford town; and I must to my trade. Do +you like to see fighting, Alftruda,--the man's game, the royal game, the +only game worth a thought on earth? For you are like to see a little in +the next ten minutes." + +"I should like to see you fight. They tell me none is so swift and +terrible in the battle as Hereward. How can you be otherwise, who slew +the bear,--when we were two happy children together? But shall I be +safe?" + +"Safe? of course," said Hereward, who longed, peacock-like, to show off +his prowess before a lady who was--there was no denying it--far more +beautiful than even Torfrida. + +But he had no opportunity to show off his prowess. For as he galloped in +over Stamford Bridge, Abbot Thorold galloped out at the opposite end of +the town through Casterton, and up the Roman road to Grantham. + +After whom Hereward sent Alftruda (for he heard that Thorold was going +to Gilbert at Lincoln) with a guard of knights, bidding them do him no +harm, but say that Hereward knew him to be a _preux chevalier_ and +lover of fair ladies; that he had sent him a right fair one to bear him +company to Lincoln, and hoped that he would sing to her on the way the +song of Roland. + +And Alftruda, who knew Thorold, went willingly, since it could no better +be. + +After which, according to Gaimar, Hereward tarried three days at +Stamford, laying a heavy tribute on the burgesses for harboring Thorold +and his Normans; and also surprised at a drinking-bout a certain special +enemy of his, and chased him from room to room sword in hand, till he +took refuge shamefully in an outhouse, and begged his life. And when his +knights came back from Grantham, he marched to Bourne. + +"The next night," says Leofric the deacon, or rather the monk who +paraphrased his saga in Latin prose,--"Hereward saw in his dreams a +man standing by him of inestimable beauty, old of years, terrible of +countenance, in all the raiment of his body more splendid than all +things which he had ever seen, or conceived in his mind; who threatened +him with a great club which he carried in his hand, and with a fearful +doom, that he should take back to his church all that had been carried +off the night before, and have them restored utterly, each in its place, +if he wished to provide for the salvation of his soul, and escape on the +spot a pitiable death. But when awakened, he was seized with a divine +terror, and restored in the same hour all that he took away, and so +departed, going onward with all his men." + +So says Leofric, wishing, as may be well believed, to advance the glory +of St. Peter, and purge his master's name from the stain of sacrilege. +Beside, the monks of Peterborough, no doubt, had no wish that the world +should spy out their nakedness, and become aware that the Golden Borough +was stript of all its gold. + +Nevertheless, truth will out. Golden Borough was Golden Borough no more. +The treasures were never restored; they went to sea with the Danes, and +were scattered far and wide,--to Norway, to Ireland, to Denmark; "all +the spoils," says the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, "which reached the latter +country, being the pallium and some of the shrines and crosses; and many +of the other treasures they brought to one of the king's towns, and laid +them up in the church. But one night, through their carelessness and +drunkenness, the church was burned, with all that was therein. Thus was +the minster of Peterborough burned and pillaged. May Almighty God have +pity on it in His great mercy." + +Hereward, when blamed for the deed, said always that he did it "because +of his allegiance to the monastery." Rather than that the treasures +gathered by Danish monks should fall into the hands of the French +robbers, let them be given to their own Danish kinsmen, in payment for +their help to English liberty. + +But some of the treasure, at least, he must have surely given back, +it so appeased the angry shade of St. Peter. For on that night, when +marching past Stamford, they lost their way. "To whom, when they had +lost their way, a certain wonder happened, and a miracle, if it can be +said that such would be worked in favor of men of blood. For while in +the wild night and dark they wandered in the wood, a huge wolf met them, +wagging his tail like a tame dog, and went before them on a path. And +they, taking the gray beast in the darkness for a white dog, cheered on +each other to follow him to his farm, which ought to be hard by. And +in the silence of the midnight, that they might see their way, suddenly +candles appeared, burning, and clinging to the lances of all the +knights,--not very bright, however; but like those which the folk call +_candelae nympharum_,--wills of the wisp. But none could pull them off, +or altogether extinguish them, or throw them from their hands. And thus +they saw their way, and went on, although astonished out of mind, with +the wolf leading them, until day dawned, and they saw, to their +great astonishment, that he was a wolf. And as they questioned +among themselves about what had befallen, the wolf and the candles +disappeared, and they came whither they had been minded,--beyond +Stamford town,--thanking God, and wondering at what had happened." + +After which Hereward took Torfrida, and his child, and all he had, and +took ship at Bardeney, and went for Ely. Which when Earl Warrenne heard, +he laid wait for him, seemingly near Southery: but got nothing thereby, +according to Leofric, but the pleasure of giving and taking a great deal +of bad language; and (after his men had refused, reasonably enough, to +swim the Ouse and attack Hereward) an arrow, which Hereward, "_modicum +se inclinans_," stooping forward, says Leofric,--who probably saw the +deed,--shot at him across the Ouse, as the Earl stood cursing on the top +of the dike. Which arrow flew so stout and strong, that though it sprang +back from Earl Warrenne's hauberk, it knocked him almost senseless off +his horse, and forced him to defer his purpose of avenging Sir Frederic +his brother. + +After which Hereward threw himself into Ely, and assumed, by consent of +all, the command of the English who were therein. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +HOW THEY HELD A GREAT MEETING IN THE HALL OF ELY + + +There sat round the hall of Ely all the magnates of the East land and +East sea. The Abbot on his high seat; and on a seat higher than his, +prepared specially, Sweyn Ulfsson, King of Denmark and England. By +them sat the Bishops, Egelwin the Englishman and Christiern the Dane; +Osbiorn, the young Earls Edwin and Morcar, and Sweyn's two sons; and, +it may be, the sons of Tosti Godwinsson, and Arkill the great Thane, +and Hereward himself. Below them were knights, Vikings, captains, +great holders from Denmark, and the Prior and inferior officers of Ely +minster. And at the bottom of the misty hall, on the other side of the +column of blue vapor which went trembling up from the great heap of +burning turf amidst, were housecarles, monks, wild men from the Baltic +shores, crowded together to hear what was done in that parliament of +their betters. + +They spoke like free Danes; the betters from the upper end of the hall, +but every man as he chose. They were in full Thing; in parliament, as +their forefathers had been wont to be for countless ages. Their House of +Lords and their House of Commons were not yet defined from each other: +but they knew the rules of the house, the courtesies of debate; and, by +practice of free speech, had educated themselves to bear and forbear, +like gentlemen. + +But the speaking was loud and earnest, often angry, that day. "What was +to be done?" was the question before the house. + +"That depended," said Sweyn, the wise and prudent king, "on what could +be done by the English to co-operate with them." And what that was has +been already told. + +"When Tosti Godwinsson, ye Bishops, Earls, Knights, and Holders, came to +me five years ago, and bade me come and take the kingdom of England, I +answered him, that I had not wit enough to do the deeds which Canute +my uncle did; and so sat still in peace. I little thought that I should +have lost in five years so much of those small wits which I confessed +to, that I should come after all to take England, and find two kings +in it already, both more to the English mind than me. While William +the Frenchman is king by the sword, and Edgar the Englishman king by +proclamation of Danish Earls and Thanes, there seems no room here for +Sweyn Ulfsson." + +"We will make room for you! We will make a rid road from here to +Winchester!" shouted the holders and knights. + +"It is too late. What say you, Hereward Leofricsson, who go for a wise +man among men?" + +Hereward rose, and spoke gracefully, earnestly, eloquently; but he could +not deny Sweyn's plain words. + +"Sir Hereward beats about the bush," said Earl Osbiorn, rising when +Hereward sat down. "None knows better than he that all is over. Earl +Edwin and Earl Morcar, who should have helped us along Watling Street, +are here fugitives. Earl Gospatrick and Earl Waltheof are William's +men now, soon to raise the landsfolk against us. We had better go home, +before we have eaten up the monks of Ely." + +Then Hereward rose again, and without an openly insulting word, poured +forth his scorn and rage upon Osbiorn. Why had he not kept to the +agreement which he and Countess Gyda had made with him through Tosti's +sons? Why had he wasted time and men from Dover to Norwich, instead of +coming straight into the fens, and marching inland to succor Morcar and +Edwin? Osbiorn had ruined the plan, and he only, if it was ruined. + +"And who was I, to obey Hereward?" asked Osbiorn, fiercely. + +"And who wert thou, to disobey me?" asked Sweyn, in a terrible voice. +"Hereward is right. We shall see what thou sayest to all this, in full +Thing at home in Denmark." + +Then Edwin rose, entreating peace. "They were beaten. The hand of +God was against them. Why should they struggle any more? Or, if they +struggled on, why should they involve the Danes in their own ruin?" + +Then holder after holder rose, and spoke rough Danish common sense. They +had come hither to win England. They had found it won already. Let them +take what they had got from Peterborough, and go. + +Then Winter sprang up. "Take the pay, and sail off with it, without +having done the work? That would be a noble tale to carry home to your +fair wives in Jutland. I shall not call you niddering, being a man of +peace, as all know." Whereat all laughed; for the doughty little man +had not a hand's breadth on head or arm without its scar. "But if +your ladies call you so, you must have a shrewd answer to give, beside +knocking them down." + +Sweyn spoke without rising: "The good knight forgets that this +expedition has cost Denmark already nigh as much as Harold Hardraade's +cost Norway. It is hard upon the Danes, If they are to go away +empty-handed as well as disappointed." + +"The King has right!" cried Hereward. "Let them take the plunder of +Peterborough as pay for what they have done, and what beside they +would have done if Osbiorn the Earl--Nay, men of England, let us be +just!--what they would have done if there had been heart and wit, one +mind and one purpose, in England. The Danes have done their best. They +have shown themselves what they are, our blood and kin. I know that +some talk of treason, of bribes. Let us have no more such vain and foul +suspicions. They came as our friends; and as our friends let them go, +and leave us to fight out our own quarrel to the last drop of blood." + +"Would God!" said Sweyn, "thou wouldest go too, thou good knight. Here, +earls and gentlemen of England! Sweyn Ulfsson offers to every one of +you, who will come to Denmark with him, shelter and hospitality till +better times shall come." + +Then arose a mixed cry. Some would go, some would not. Some of the Danes +took the proposal cordially; some feared bringing among themselves +men who would needs want land, of which there was none to give. If the +English came, they must go up the Baltic, and conquer fresh lands for +themselves from heathen Letts and Finns. + +Then Hereward rose again, and spoke so nobly and so well, that all ears +were charmed. + +They were Englishmen; and they would rather die in their own merry +England than conquer new kingdoms in the cold northeast. They were +sworn, the leaders of them, to die or conquer, fighting the accursed +Frenchman. They were bound to St. Peter, and to St. Guthlac, and to St. +Felix of Ramsey, and St. Etheldreda the holy virgin, beneath whose roof +they stood, to defend against Frenchmen the saints of England whom +they despised and blasphemed, whose servants they cast out, thrust into +prison, and murdered, that they might bring in Frenchmen from Normandy, +Italians from the Pope of Rome. Sweyn Ulfsson spoke as became him, as a +prudent and a generous prince; the man who alone of all kings defied +and fought the great Hardraade till neither could fight more; the true +nephew of Canute the king of kings: and they thanked him: but they would +live and die Englishmen. + +And every Englishman shouted, "Hereward has right! We will live and die +fighting the French!" + +And Sweyn Ulfsson rose again, and said with a great oath, "That if there +had been three such men as Hereward in England, all would have gone +well." + +Hereward laughed. "Thou art wrong for once, wise king. We have failed, +just because there were a dozen men in England as good as me, every man +wanting his own way; and too many cooks have spoiled the broth. What we +wanted is, not a dozen men like me, but one like thee, to take us all by +the back of the neck and shake us soundly, and say, 'Do that, or die!'" + +And so, after much talk, the meeting broke up. And when it broke up, +there came to Hereward in the hall a noble-looking man of his own age, +and put his hand within his, and said,-- + +"Do you not know me, Hereward Leofricsson?" + +"I know thee not, good knight, more pity; but by thy dress and carriage, +thou shouldest be a true Viking's son." + +"I am Sigtryg Ranaldsson, now King of Waterford. And my wife said to +me, 'If there be treachery or faint-heartedness, remember this,--that +Hereward Leofricsson slew the Ogre, and Hannibal of Gweek likewise, and +brought me safe to thee. And, therefore, if thou provest false to him, +niddering thou art; and no niddering is spouse of mine.'" + +"Thou art Sigtryg Ranaldsson?" cried Hereward, clasping him in his arms, +as the scenes of his wild youth rushed across his mind. "Better is old +wine than new, and old friends likewise." + +"And I, and my five ships, are thine to death. Let who will go back." + +"They must go," said Hereward, half-peevishly. "Sweyn has right, and +Osbiorn too. The game is played out. Sweep the chessmen off the board, +as Earl Ulf did by Canute the king." + +"And lost his life thereby. I shall stand by, and see thee play the last +pawn." + +"And lose thy life equally." + +"What matter? I heard thee sing,-- + + 'A bed-death, a priest death, + A straw death, a cow death, + Such death likes not me!' + +Nor likes it me either, Hereward Leofricsson." + +So the Danes sailed away: but Sigtryg Ranaldsson and his five ships +remained. + +Hereward went to the minster tower, and watched the Ouse flashing with +countless oars northward toward Southrey Fen. And when they were all out +of sight, he went back, and lay down on his bed and wept,--once and for +all. Then he arose, and went down into the hall to abbots and monks, and +earls and knights, and was the boldest, cheeriest, wittiest of them all. + +"They say," quoth he to Torfrida that night, "that some men have gray +heads on green shoulders. I have a gray heart in a green body." + +"And my heart is growing very gray, too," said Torfrida. + +"Certainly not thy head." And he played with her raven locks. + +"That may come, too; and too soon." + +For, indeed, they were in very evil case. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +HOW THEY FOUGHT AT ALDRETH. + + +When William heard that the Danes were gone, he marched on Ely, as on an +easy prey. + +Ivo Taillebois came with him, hungry after those Spalding lands, the +rents whereof Hereward had been taking for his men for now twelve +months. William de Warrenne was there, vowed to revenge the death of Sir +Frederic, his brother. Ralph Guader was there, flushed with his success +at Norwich. And with them all the Frenchmen of the east, who had been +either expelled from their lands, or were in fear of expulsion. + +With them, too, was a great army of mercenaries, ruffians from all +France and Flanders, hired to fight for a certain term, on the chance of +plunder or of fiefs in land. Their brains were all aflame with the tales +of inestimable riches hidden in Ely. There were there the jewels of +all the monasteries round; there were the treasures of all the fugitive +English nobles; there were there--what was there not? And they grumbled, +when William halted them and hutted them at Cambridge, and began to feel +cautiously the strength of the place,--which must be strong, or Hereward +and the English would not have made it their camp of refuge. + +Perhaps he rode up to Madingley windmill, and saw fifteen miles away, +clear against the sky, the long line of what seemed naught but a low +upland park, with the minster tower among the trees; and between him and +them, a rich champaign of grass, over which it was easy enough to march +all the armies of Europe; and thought Ely an easy place to take. But men +told him that between him and those trees lay a black abyss of mud and +peat and reeds, Haddenham fen and Smithy fen, with the deep sullen West +water or "Ald-reche" of the Ouse winding through them. The old Roman +road was sunk and gone long since under the bog, whether by English +neglect, or whether (as some think) by actual and bodily sinking of the +whole land. The narrowest space between dry land and dry land was a full +half-mile; and how to cross that half-mile, no man knew. + +What were the approaches on the west? There were none. Beyond Earith, +where now run the great washes of the Bedford Level, was a howling +wilderness of meres, seas, reed-ronds, and floating alder-beds, through +which only the fen-men wandered, with leaping-pole and log canoe. + +What in the east? The dry land neared the island on that side. And it +may be that William rowed round by Burwell to Fordham and Soham, and +thought of attempting the island by way of Barraway, and saw beneath him +a labyrinth of islands, meres, fens, with the Ouse, now increased by +the volume of the Cam, lying deep and broad between Barraway and +Thetford-in-the-Isle; and saw, too, that a disaster in that labyrinth +might be a destruction. + +So he determined on the near and straight path, through Long Stratton +and Willingham, down the old bridle-way from Willingham ploughed +field,--every village there, and in the isle likewise, had and has still +its "field," or ancient clearing of ploughed land,--and then to try that +terrible half-mile, with the courage and wit of a general to whom human +lives were as those of the gnats under the hedge. + +So all his host camped themselves in Willingham field, by the old +earthwork which men now call Belsar's Hills; and down the bridle-way +poured countless men, bearing timber and fagots cut from all the hills, +that they might bridge the black half-mile. + +They made a narrow, firm path through the reeds, and down to the brink +of the Ouse, if brink it could be called, where the water, rising and +falling a foot or two each tide, covered the floating peat for many +yards before it sunk into a brown depth of bottomless slime. They would +make a bottom for themselves by driving piles. + +The piles would not hold; and they began to make a floating bridge with +long beams, says Leofric, and blown-up cattle-hides to float them. + +Soon they made a floating sow, and thrust it on before them as they +worked across the stream; for they were getting under shot from the +island. + +Meanwhile the besieged had not been idle. They had thrown up, says +Leofric, a turf rampart on the island shore, and _antemuralia et +propugnacula,_--doubtless overhanging "hoardings," or scaffolds, through +the floor of which they could shower down missiles. And so they awaited +the attack, contenting themselves with gliding in and out of the reeds +in their canoes, and annoying the builders with arrows and cross-bow +bolts. + +At last the bridge was finished, and the sow safe across the West water, +and thrust in, as far as it would float, among the reeds on the high +tide. They in the fort could touch it with a pole. + +The English would have destroyed it if they could. But Hereward bade +them leave it alone. He had watched all their work, and made up his mind +to the event. + +"The rats have set a trap for themselves," he said to his men, "and we +shall be fools to break it up till the rats are safe inside." + +So there the huge sow lay, black and silent, showing nothing to the +enemy but a side of strong plank, covered with hide to prevent its being +burned. It lay there for three hours, and Hereward let it lie. + +He had never been so cheerful, so confident. "Play the man this day, +every one of you, and ere nightfall you will have taught the Norman once +more the lesson of York. He seems to have forgotten that. It is me to +remind him of it." + +And he looked to his bow and to his arrows, and prepared to play the man +himself,--as was the fashion in those old days, when a general proved +his worth by hitting harder and more surely than any of his men. + +At last the army was in motion, and Willingham field opposite was like a +crawling ants' nest. Brigade after brigade moved down to the reed beds, +and the assault began. + +And now advanced along the causeway and along the bridge a dark column +of men, surmounted by glittering steel. Knights in complete mail, +footmen in leather coats and quilted jerkins; at first orderly enough, +each under the banner of his lord; but more and more mingled and +crowded as they hurried forward, each eager for his selfish share of +the inestimable treasures of Ely. They pushed along the bridge. The mass +became more and more crowded; men stumbled over each other, and fell +off into the mire and the water, calling vainly for help, while their +comrades hurried on unheeding, in the mad thirst for spoil. + +On they came in thousands; and fresh thousands streamed out of the +fields, as if the whole army intended to pour itself into the isle at +once. + +"They are numberless," said Torfrida, in a serious and astonished voice, +as she stood by Hereward's side. + +"Would they were!" said Hereward. "Let them come on, thick and +threefold. The more their numbers the fatter will the fish below be +before to-morrow morning. Look there, already!" + +And already the bridge was swaying, and sinking beneath their weight. +The men in places were ankle deep in water. They rushed on all the more +eagerly, and filled the sow, and swarmed up to its roof. + +Then, what with its own weight, what with the weight of the laden +bridge,--which dragged upon it from behind,--the huge sow began to tilt +backwards, and slide down the slimy bank. + +The men on the top tried vainly to keep their footing, to hurl grapnels +into the rampart, to shoot off their quarrels and arrows. + +"You must be quick, Frenchmen," shouted Hereward in derision, "if you +mean to come on board here." + +The Normans knew that well; and as Hereward spoke two panels in the +front of the sow creaked on their hinges, and dropped landward, forming +two draw-bridges, over which reeled to the attack a close body of +knights, mingled with soldiers bearing scaling ladders. + +They recoiled. Between the ends of the draw-bridges and the foot of the +rampart was some two fathoms' depth of black ooze. The catastrophe which +Hereward had foreseen was come, and a shout of derision arose from the +unseen defenders above. + +"Come on,--leap it like men! Send back for your horses, knights, and +ride them at it like bold huntsmen!" + +The front rank could not but rush on: for the pressure behind forced +them forward, whether they would or not. In a moment they were wallowing +waist deep, trampled on, and disappearing under their struggling +comrades, who disappeared in their turn. + +"Look, Torfrida! If they plant their scaling ladders, it will be on a +foundation of their comrades' corpses." + +Torfrida gave one glance through the openings of the hoarding, upon +the writhing mass below, and turned away in horror. The men were not +so merciful. Down between the hoarding-beams rained stones, javelins, +arrows, increasing the agony and death. The scaling ladders would not +stand in the mire. If they had stood a moment, the struggles of the +dying would have thrown them down; and still fresh victims pressed on +from behind, shouting "Dex Aie! On to the gold of Ely!" And still the +sow, under the weight, slipped further and further back into the stream, +and the foul gulf widened between besiegers and besieged. + +At last one scaling ladder was planted upon the bodies of the dead, and +hooked firmly on the gunwale of the hoarding. Ere it could be hurled off +again by the English, it was so crowded with men that even Hereward's +strength was insufficient to lift it off. He stood at the top, ready to +hew down the first comer; and he hewed him down. + +But the Normans were not to be daunted. Man after man dropped dead from +the ladder top,--man after man took his place; sometimes two at a time; +sometimes scrambling over each other's backs. + +The English, even in the insolence of victory, cheered them with honest +admiration. "You are fellows worth fighting, you French!" + +"So we are," shouted a knight, the first and last who crossed that +parapet; for, thrusting Hereward back with a blow of his sword-hilt, he +staggered past him over the hoarding, and fell on his knees. + +A dozen men were upon him; but he was up again and shouting,-- + +"To me, men-at-arms! A Dade! a Dade!" But no man answered. + +"Yield!" quoth Hereward. + +Sir Dade answered by a blow on Hereward's helmet, which felled the chief +to his knees, and broke the sword into twenty splinters. + +"Well hit," said Hereward, as he rose. "Don't touch him, men! this is +my quarrel now. Yield, sir! you have done enough for your honor. It is +madness to throw away your life." + +The knight looked round on the fierce ring of faces, in the midst of +which he stood alone. + +"To none but Hereward." + +"Hereward am I." + +"Ah," said the knight, "had I but hit a little harder!" + +"You would have broke your sword into more splinters. My armor is +enchanted. So yield like a reasonable and valiant man." + +"What care I?" said the knight, stepping on to the earthwork, and +sitting down quietly. "I vowed to St. Mary and King William that into +Ely I would get this day; and in Ely I am; so I have done my work." + +"And now you shall taste--as such a gallant knight deserves--the +hospitality of Ely." + +It was Torfrida who spoke. + +"My husband's prisoners are mine; and I, when I find them such +_prudhommes_ as you are, have no lighter chains for them than that which +a lady's bower can afford." + +Sir Dade was going to make an equally courteous answer, when over and +above the shouts and curses of the combatants rose a yell so keen, so +dreadful, as made all hurry forward to the rampart. + +That which Hereward had foreseen was come at last. The bridge, strained +more and more by its living burden, and by the falling tide, had +parted,--not at the Ely end, where the sliding of the sow took off the +pressure,--but at the end nearest the camp. One sideway roll it gave, +and then, turning over, engulfed in that foul stream the flower of +Norman chivalry; leaving a line--a full quarter of a mile in length--of +wretches drowning in the dark water, or, more hideous still, in the +bottomless slime of peat and mud. + +Thousands are said to have perished. Their armor and weapons were found +at times, by delvers and dikers, for centuries after; are found at times +unto this day, beneath the rich drained cornfields which now fill up +that black half-mile, or in the bed of the narrow brook to which the +Westwater, robbed of its streams by the Bedford Level, has dwindled down +at last. + +William, they say, struck his tents and departed forthwith, "groaning +from deep grief of heart;" and so ended the first battle of Aldreth. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +HOW SIR DADE BROUGHT NEWS FROM ELY. + + +A month after the fight, there came into the camp at Cambridge, riding +on a good horse, himself fat and well-liking, none other than Sir Dade. + +Boisterously he was received, as one alive from the dead; and questioned +as to his adventures and sufferings. + +"Adventures I have had, and strange ones; but for sufferings, instead of +fetter-galls, I bring back, as you see, a new suit of clothes; instead +of an empty and starved stomach, a surfeit from good victuals and +good liquor; and whereas I went into Ely on foot, I came out on a fast +hackney." + +So into William's tent he went; and there he told his tale. + +"So, Dade, my friend?" quoth the Duke, in high good humor, for he loved +Dade, "you seem to have been in good company?" + +"Never in better, Sire, save in your presence. Of the earls and knights +in Ely, all I can say is, God's pity that they are rebels, for more +gallant and courteous knights or more perfect warriors never saw +I, neither in Normandy nor at Constantinople, among the Varangers +themselves." + +"Eh! and what are the names of these gallants; for you have used your +eyes and ears, of course?" + +"Edwin and Morcar, the earls,--two fine young lads." + +"I know it. Go on"; and a shade passed over William's brow, as he +thought of his own falsehood, and his fair Constance, weeping in vain +for the fair bridegroom whom he had promised to her. + +"Siward Barn, as they call him, the boy Orgar, and Thurkill Barn. Those +are the knights. Egelwin, bishop of Durham, is there too; and besides +them all, and above them all, Hereward. The like of that knight I may +have seen. His better saw I never." + +"Sir fool!" said Earl Warrenne, who had not yet--small blame to +him--forgotten his brother's death. "They have soused thy brains with +their muddy ale, till thou knowest not friend from foe. What! hast +thou to come hither praising up to the King's Majesty such an outlawed +villain as that, with whom no honest knight would keep company?" + +"If you, Earl Warrenne, ever found Dade drunk or lying, it is more than +the King here has done." + +"Let him speak, Earl," said William. "I have not an honester man in my +camp; and he speaks for my information, not for yours." + +"Then for yours will I speak, Sir King. These men treated me knightly, +and sent me away without ransom." + +"They had an eye to their own profit, it seems," grumbled the Earl. + +"But force me they did to swear on the holy Gospels that I should tell +your Majesty the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. And +I keep my oath," quoth Dade. + +"Go on, then, without fear or favor. Are there any other men of note in +the island!" + +"No." + +"Are they in want of provisions?" + +"Look how they have fattened me." + +"What do they complain of?" + +"I will tell you, Sir King. The monks, like many more, took fright at +the coming over of our French men of God to set right all their filthy, +barbarous ways; and that is why they threw Ely open to the rebels." + +"I will be even with the sots," quoth William. + +"However, they think that danger blown over just now; for they have a +story among them, which, as my Lord the King never heard before, he may +as well hear now." + +"Eh?" + +"How your Majesty should have sent across the sea a whole shipload of +French monks." + +"That have I, and will more, till I reduce these swine into something +like obedience to his Holiness of Rome." + +"Ah, but your Majesty has not heard how one Bruman, a valiant English +knight, was sailing on the sea and caught those monks. Whereon he tied +a great sack to the ship's head, and cut the bottom out, and made every +one of those monks get into that sack and so fall through into the sea; +whereby he rid the monks of Ely of their rivals." + +"Pish! why tell me such an old-wives' fable, knight?" + +"Because the monks believe that old-wives' fable, and are stout-hearted +and stiff-necked accordingly." + +"The blood of martyrs is the seed of the Church," said William's +chaplain, a pupil and friend of Lanfranc; "and if these men of Belial +drowned every man of God in Normandy, ten would spring up in their +places to convert this benighted and besotted land of Simonites and +Balaamites, whose priests, like the brutes which perish, scruple not to +defile themselves and the service of the altar with things which they +impudently call their wives." + +"We know that, good chaplain," quoth William, impatiently. He had enough +of that language from Lanfranc himself; and, moreover, was thinking more +of the Isle of Ely than of the celibacy of the clergy. + +"Well, Sir Dade?" + +"So they have got together all their kin; for among these monks every +one is kin to a Thane, or Knight, or even an Earl. And there they are, +brother by brother, cousin by cousin, knee to knee, and back to back, +like a pack of wolves, and that in a hold which you will not enter yet +awhile." + +"Does my friend Dade doubt his Duke's skill at last?" + +"Sir Duke,--Sir King I mean now, for King you are and deserve to be,--I +know what you can do. I remember how we took England at one blow on +Senlac field; but see you here, Sir King. How will you take an island +where four kings such as you (if the world would hold four such at once) +could not stop one churl from ploughing the land, or one bird-catcher +from setting lime-twigs?" + +"And what if I cannot stop the bird-catchers? Do they expect to lime +Frenchmen as easily as sparrows?" + +"Sparrows! It is not sparrows that I have been fattening on this last +month. I tell you, Sire, I have seen wild-fowl alone in that +island enough to feed them all the year round. I was there in the +moulting-time, and saw them take,--one day one hundred, one two hundred; +and once, as I am a belted knight, a thousand duck out of one +single mere. There is a wood there, with herons sprawling about the +tree-tops,--I did not think there were so many in the world,--and fish +for Lent and Fridays in every puddle and leat, pike and perch, tench +and eels, on every old-wife's table; while the knights think scorn of +anything worse than smelts and burbot." + +"Splendeur Dex!" quoth William, who, Norman-like, did not dislike a good +dinner. "I must keep Lent in Ely before I die." + +"Then you had best make peace with the burbot-eating knights, my lord." + +"But have they flesh-meat?" + +"The isle is half of it a garden,--richer land, they say, is none in +these realms, and I believe it; but, besides that, there is a deer-park +there with a thousand head in it, red and fallow; and plenty of swine in +woods, and sheep, and cattle; and if they fail, there are plenty more to +be got, they know where." + +"They know where? Do you, Sir Knight?" asked William, keenly. + +"Out of every little Island in their fens, for forty miles on end. There +are the herds fattening themselves on the richest pastures in the land, +and no man needing to herd them, for they are all safe among dikes and +meres." + +"I will make my boats sweep their fens clear of every head--" + +"Take care, my Lord King, lest never a boat come back from that errand. +With their narrow flat-bottomed punts, cut out of a single log, and +their leaping-poles, wherewith they fly over dikes of thirty feet in +width,--they can ambuscade in those reed-beds and alder-beds, kill +whom they will, and then flee away through the marsh like so many +horse-flies. And if not, one trick have they left, which they never try +save when driven into a corner; but from that, may all saints save us!" + +"What then?" + +"Firing the reeds." + +"And destroying their own cover?" + +"True: therefore they will only do it in despair." + +"Then to despair will I drive them, and try their worst. So these monks +are as stout rebels as the earls?" + +"I only say what I saw. At the hall-table there dined each day maybe +some fifty belted knights, with every one a monk next to him; and at the +high table the abbot, and the three earls, and Hereward and his lady, +and Thurkill Barn. And behind each knight, and each monk likewise, hung +against the wall lance and shield, helmet and hauberk, sword and axe." + +"To monk as well as knight?" + +"As I am a knight myself; and were as well used, too, for aught I saw. +The monks took turns with the knights as sentries, and as foragers, too; +and the knights themselves told me openly, the monks were as good men as +they." + +"As wicked, you mean," groaned the chaplain. "O, accursed and +bloodthirsty race, why does not the earth open and swallow you, with +Korah, Dathan, and Abiram?" + +"They would not mind," quoth Dade. "They are born and bred in the +bottomless pit already. They would jump over, or flounder out, as they +do to their own bogs every day." + +"You speak irreverently, my friend," quoth William. + +"Ask those who are in camp, and not me. As for whither they went, or +how, the English were not likely to tell me. All I know is, that I saw +fresh cattle come every few days, and fresh farms burnt, too, on the +Norfolk side. There were farms burning last night only, between here and +Cambridge. Ask your sentinels on the Rech-dike how that came about!" + +"I can answer that," quoth a voice from the other end of the tent. "I +was on the Rech-dike last night, close down to the fen,--worse luck and +shame for me." + +"Answer, then!" quoth William, with one of his horrible oaths, glad to +have some one on whom he could turn his rage and disappointment. + +"There came seven men in a boat up from Ely yestereven, and five of +them were monks; they came up from Burwell fen, and plundered and burnt +Burwell town." + +"And where were all you mighty men of war?" + +"Ten of us ran down to stop them, with Richard, Earl Osbern's nephew, +at their head. The villains got to the top of the Rech-dike, and made a +stand, and before we could get to them--" + +"Thy men had run, of course." + +"They were every one dead or wounded, save Richard; and he was fighting +single-handed with an Englishman, while the other six stood around, and +looked on." + +"Then they fought fairly?" said William. + +"As fairly, to do them justice, as if they had been Frenchmen, and not +English churls. As we came down along the dike, a little man of them +steps between the two, and strikes down their swords as if they had been +two reeds. 'Come!' cries he, 'enough of this. You are two _prudhommes_ +well matched, and you can fight out this any other day'; and away he and +his men go down the dike-end to the water." + +"Leaving Richard safe?" + +"Wounded a little,--but safe enough." + +"And then?" + +"We followed them to the boat as hard as we could; killed one with a +javelin, and caught another." + +"Knightly done!" and William swore an awful oath, "and worthy of valiant +Frenchmen. These English set you the example of chivalry by letting +your comrade fight his own battle fairly, instead of setting on him all +together; and you repay them by hunting them down with darts, because +you dare not go within sword's-stroke of better men than yourselves. Go. +I am ashamed of you. No, stay. Where is your prisoner? For, Splendeur +Dex! I will send him back safe and sound in return for Dade, to tell the +knights of Ely that if they know so well the courtesies of war, William +of Rouen does too." + +"The prisoner, Sire," quoth the knight, trembling, "is--is--" + +"You have not murdered him?" + +"Heaven forbid! but--" + +"He broke his bonds and escaped?" + +"Gnawed them through, Sire, as we suppose, and escaped through the mire +in the dark, after the fashion of these accursed frogs of Girvians." + +"But did he tell you naught ere he bade you good morning?" + +"He told as the names of all the seven. He that beat down the swords was +Hereward himself." + +"I thought as much. When shall I have that fellow at my side?" + +"He that fought Richard was one Wenoch." + +"I have heard of him." + +"He that we slew was Siward, a monk." + +"More shame to you." + +"He that we took was Azer the Hardy, a monk of Nicole--Licole,"--the +Normans could never say Lincoln. + +"And the rest were Thurstan the Younger; Leofric the Deacon, Hereward's +minstrel; and Boter, the traitor monk of St. Edmund's." + +"And if I catch them," quoth William, "I will make an abbot of every one +of them." + +"Sire?" quoth the chaplain, in a deprecating tone. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +HOW HEREWARD PLAYED THE POTTER; AND HOW HE CHEATED THE KING. + + +They of Ely were now much straitened, being shut in both by land and +water; and what was to be done, either by themselves or by the king, +they knew not. Would William simply starve them; or at least inflict on +them so perpetual a Lent,--for of fish there could be no lack, even if +they ate or drove away all the fowl,--as would tame down their proud +spirits; which a diet of fish and vegetables, from some ludicrous theory +of monastic physicians, was supposed to do? [Footnote: The Cornish--the +stoutest, tallest, and most prolific race of the South--live on hardly +anything else but fish and vegetables.] Or was he gathering vast armies, +from they knew not whence, to try, once and for all, another assault on +the island,--it might be from several points at once? + +They must send out a spy, and find out news from the outer world, if +news were to be gotten. But who would go? + +So asked the bishop, and the abbot, and the earls, in council in the +abbot's lodging. + +Torfrida was among them. She was always among them now. She was their +Alruna-wife, their Vala, their wise woman, whose counsels all received +as more than human. + +"I will go," said she, rising up like a goddess on Olympus. "I will +cut off my hair, and put on boy's clothes, and smirch myself brown with +walnut leaves; and I will go. I can talk their French tongue. I know +their French ways; and as for a story to cover my journey and my doings, +trust a woman's wit to invent that." + +They looked at her, with delight in her courage, but with doubt. + +"If William's French grooms got hold of you, Torfrida, it would not be +a little walnut brown which would hide you," said Hereward. "It is like +you to offer,--worthy of you, who have no peer." + +"That she has not," quoth churchmen and soldiers alike. + +"But--to send you would be to send Hereward's wrong half. The right half +of Hereward is going; and that is, himself." + +"Uncle, uncle!" said the young earls, "send Winter, Geri, Leofwin Prat, +any of your fellows: but not yourself. If we lose you, we lose our head +and our king." + +And all prayed Hereward to let any man go, rather than himself. + +"I am going, lords and knights; and what Hereward says he does. It is +one day to Brandon. It may be two days back; for if I miscarry,--as I +most likely shall,--I must come home round about. On the fourth day, you +shall hear of me or from me. Come with me, Torfrida." + +And he strode out. + +He cropped his golden locks, he cropped his golden beard; and Torfrida +cried, as she cropped them, half with fear for him, half for sorrow over +his shorn glories. + +"I am no Samson, my lady; my strength lieth not in my locks. Now for +some rascal's clothes,--as little dirty as you can get me, for fear of +company." + +And Hereward put on filthy garments, and taking mare Swallow with him, +got into a barge and went across the river to Soham. + +He could not go down the Great Ouse, and up the Little Ouse, which was +his easiest way, for the French held all the river below the isle; and, +beside, to have come straight from Ely might cause suspicion. So he went +down to Fordham, and crossed the Lark at Mildenhall; and just before he +got to Mildenhall, he met a potter carrying pots upon a pony. + +"Halt, my stout fellow," quoth he, "and put thy pots on my mare's back." + +"The man who wants them must fight for them," quoth that stout churl, +raising a heavy staff. + +"Then here is he that will," quoth Hereward; and, jumping off his mare, +he twisted the staff out of the potter's hands, and knocked him down +therewith. + +"That will teach thee to know an Englishman when thou seest him." + +"I have met my master," quoth the churl, rubbing his head. "But dog does +not eat dog; and it is hard to be robbed by an Englishman, after being +robbed a dozen times by the French." + +"I will not rob thee. There is a silver penny for thy pots and thy +coat,--for that I must have likewise. And if thou tellest to mortal man +aught about this, I will find those who will cut thee to ribbons; and +if not, then turn thy horse's head and ride back to Ely, if thou canst +cross the water, and say what has befallen thee; and thou wilt find +there an abbot who will give thee another penny for thy news." + +So Hereward took the pots, and the potter's clay-greased coat, and went +on through Mildenhall, "crying," saith the chronicler, "after the manner +of potters, in the English tongue, 'Pots! pots! good pots and pans!'" + +But when he got through Mildenhall, and well into the rabbit-warrens, +he gave mare Swallow a kick, and went over the heath so fast northward, +that his pots danced such a dance as broke half of them before he got to +Brandon. + +"Never mind," quoth he, "they will think that I have sold them." And +when he neared Brandon he pulled up, sorted his pots, kept the whole +ones, threw the sherds at the rabbits, and walked on into Brandon +solemnly, leading the mare, and crying "Pots!" + +So "semper marcida et deformis aspectu"--lean and ill-looking--was that +famous mare, says the chronicler, that no one would suspect her splendid +powers, or take her for anything but a potter's nag, when she was +caparisoned in proper character. Hereward felt thoroughly at home in +his part; as able to play the Englishman which he was by rearing, as the +Frenchman which he was by education. He was full of heart, and happy. He +enjoyed the keen fresh air of the warrens; he enjoyed the ramble out of +the isle, in which he had been cooped up so long; he enjoyed the fun +of the thing,--disguise, stratagem, adventure, danger. And so did the +English, who adored him. None of Hereward's deeds is told so carefully +and lovingly; and none, doubt it not, was so often sung in after years +by farm-house hearths, or in the outlaws' lodge, as this. Robin Hood +himself may have trolled out many a time, in doggrel strain, how +Hereward played the potter. + +And he came to Brandon, to the "king's court,"--probably Weeting Hall, +or castle, from which William could command the streams of Wissey and +Little Ouse, with all their fens,--and cast about for a night's lodging, +for it was dark. + +Outside the town was a wretched cabin of mud and turf,--such a one as +Irish folk live in to this day; and Hereward said to himself, "This is +bad enough to be good enough for me." + +So he knocked at the door, and knocked till it was opened, and a hideous +old crone put out her head. + +"Who wants to see me at this time of night?" + +"Any one would, who had heard how beautiful you are. Do you want any +pots?" + +"Pots! What have I to do with pots, thou saucy fellow? I thought it was +some one wanting a charm." And she shut the door. + +"A charm?" thought Hereward. "Maybe she can tell me news, if she be a +witch. They are shrewd souls, these witches, and know more than they +tell. But if I can get any news, I care not if Satan brings it in +person." + +So he knocked again, till the old woman looked out once more, and bade +him angrily be off. + +"But I am belated here, good dame, and afraid of the French. +And I will give thee the best bit of clay on my mare's +back,--pot,--pan,--pansion,--crock,--jug, or what thou wilt, for a +night's lodging." + +"Have you any little jars,--jars no longer than my hand?" asked she; for +she used them in her trade, and had broken one of late: but to pay for +one, she had neither money nor mind. So she agreed to let Hereward sleep +there, for the value of two jars. "But what of that ugly brute of a +horse of thine?" + +"She will do well enough in the turf-shed." + +"Then thou must pay with a pannikin." + +"Ugh!" groaned Hereward; "thou drivest a hard bargain, for an +Englishwoman, with a poor Englishman." + +"How knowest thou that I am English?" + +"So much the better if thou art not," thought Hereward; and bargained +with her for a pannikin against a lodging for the horse in the +turf-house, and a bottle of bad hay. + +Then he went in, bringing his panniers with him with ostentatious care. + +"Thou canst sleep there on the rushes. I have naught to give thee to +eat." + +"Naught needs naught," said Hereward; threw himself down on a bundle of +rush, and in a few minutes snored loudly. + +But he was never less asleep. He looked round the whole cabin; and he +listened to every word. + +The Devil, as usual, was a bad paymaster; for the witch's cabin seemed +only somewhat more miserable than that of other old women. The floor was +mud, the rafters unceiled; the stars shone through the turf roof. The +only hint of her trade was a hanging shelf, on which stood five or six +little earthen jars, and a few packets of leaves. A parchment, scrawled +with characters which the owner herself probably did not understand, +hung against the cob wall; and a human skull--probably used only to +frighten her patients--dangled from the roof-tree. + +But in a corner, stuck against the wall, was something which chilled +Hereward's blood a little. A dried human hand, which he knew must have +been stolen off the gallows, gripping in its fleshless fingers a candle, +which he knew was made of human fat. That candle, he knew, duly lighted +and carried, would enable the witch to walk unseen into any house on +earth, yea, through the court of King William himself, while it drowned +all men in preternatural slumber. + +Hereward was very much frightened. He believed as devoutly in the powers +of a witch as did then--and does now, for aught Italian literature, _e +permissu superiorum_, shows--the Pope of Rome. + +So he trembled on his rushes, and wished himself safe through that +adventure, without being turned into a hare or a wolf. + +"I would sooner be a wolf than a hare, of course, killing being more in +my trade than being killed; but--who comes here?" + +And to the first old crone, who sat winking her bleared eyes, and +warming her bleared hands over a little heap of peat in the middle of +the cabin, entered another crone, if possible uglier. + +"Two of them! If I am not roasted and eaten this night, I am a lucky +man." + +And Hereward crossed himself devoutly, and invoked St. Ethelfrida +of Ely, St. Guthlac of Crowland, St. Felix of Ramsey,--to whom, he +recollected, he had been somewhat remiss; but, above all, St. Peter of +Peterborough, whose treasures he had given to the Danes. And he argued +stoutly with St. Peter and with his own conscience, that the means +sanctify the end, and that he had done it all for the best. + +"If thou wilt help me out of this strait, and the rest, blessed Apostle, +I will give thee--I will go to Constantinople but what I will win it--a +golden table twice as fine as those villains carried off, and one of the +Bourne manors--Witham--or Toft--or Mainthorpe--whichever pleases thee +best, in full fee; and a--and a--" + +But while Hereward was casting in his mind what gewgaw further might +suffice to appease the Apostle, he was recalled to business and +common-sense by hearing the two old hags talk to each other in French. + +His heart leapt for joy, and he forgot St. Peter utterly. + +"Well, how have you sped? Have you seen the king?" + +"No; but Ivo Taillebois. Eh! Who the foul fiend have you lying there?" + +"Only an English brute. He cannot understand us. Talk on: only don't +wake the hog. Have you got the gold?" + +"Never mind." + +Then there was a grumbling and a quarrelling, from which Hereward +understood that the gold was to be shared between them. + +"But it is a bit of chain. To cut it will spoil it." + +The other insisted; and he heard them chop the gold chain in two. + +"And is this all?" + +"I had work enough to get that. He said, No play no pay; and he would +give it me after the isle was taken. But I told him my spirit was a +Jewish spirit, that used to serve Solomon the Wise; and he would not +serve me, much less come over the sea from Normandy, unless he smelt +gold; for he loved it like any Jew." + +"And what did you tell him then?" + +"That the king must go back to Aldreth again; for only from thence he +would take the isle; for--and that was true enough--I dreamt I saw all +the water of Aldreth full of wolves, clambering over into the island on +each other's backs." + +"That means that some of them will be drowned." + +"Let them drown. I left him to find out that part of the dream for +himself. Then I told him how he must make another causeway, bigger and +stronger than the last, and a tower on which I could stand and curse the +English. And I promised him to bring a storm right in the faces of the +English, so that they could neither fight nor see." + +"But if the storm does not come?" + +"It will come. I know the signs of the sky,--who better?--and the +weather will break up in a week. Therefore I told him he must begin his +works at once, before the rain came on; and that we would go and ask the +spirit of the well to tell us the fortunate day for attacking." + +"That is my business," said the other; "and my spirit likes the smell of +gold as well as yours. Little you would have got from me, if you had not +given me half the chain." + +Then the two rose. + +"Let us see whether the English hog is asleep." + +One of them came and listened to Hereward's breathing, and put her hand +upon his chest. His hair stood on end; a cold sweat came over him. But +he snored more loudly than ever. + +The two old crones went out satisfied. Then Hereward rose, and glided +after them. + +They went down a meadow to a little well, which Hereward had marked as +he rode thither, hung round with bits of rag and flowers, as similar +"holy wells" are decorated in Ireland to this day. + +He hid behind a hedge, and watched them stooping over the well, mumbling +he knew not what of cantrips. + +Then there was silence, and a tinkling sound as of water. + +"Once--twice--thrice," counted the witches. Nine times he counted the +tinkling sound. + +"The ninth day,--the ninth day, and the king shall take Ely," said one +in a cracked scream, rising, and shaking her fist toward the isle. + +Hereward was more than half-minded to have put his dagger--the only +weapon which he had--into the two old beldames on the spot. But the fear +of an outcry kept him still. He had found out already so much, that +he was determined to find out more. So to-morrow he would go up to the +court itself, and take what luck sent. + +He slipt back to the cabin and lay down again; and as soon as he had +seen the two old crones safe asleep, fell asleep himself, and was so +tired that he lay till the sun was high. + +"Get up!" screamed the old dame at last, kicking him, "or I shall make +you give me another crock for a double night's rest." + +He paid his lodging, put the panniers on the mare, and went on crying +pots. + +When he came to the outer gateway of the court he tied up the mare, and +carried the crockery in on his own back boldly. The scullions saw him, +and called him into the kitchen to see his crockery, without the least +intention of paying for what they took. + +A man of rank belonging to the court came in, and stared fixedly at +Hereward. + +"You are mightily like that villain Hereward, man," quoth he. + +"Anon?" asked Hereward, looking as stupid as he could. + +"If it were not for his brown face and short hair, he is as like the +fellow as a churl can be to a knight." + +"Bring him into the hall," quoth another, "and let us see if any man +knows him." + +Into the great hall he was brought, and stared at by knights and +squires. He bent his knees, rounded his shoulders, and made himself look +as mean as he could. + +Ivo Taillebois and Earl Warrenne came down and had a look at him. + +"Hereward!" said Ivo. "I will warrant that little slouching cur is not +he. Hereward must be half as big again, if it be true that he can kill a +man with one blow of his fist." + +"You may try the truth of that for yourself some day," thought Hereward. + +"Does any one here talk English? Let us question the fellow," said Earl +Warrenne. + +"Hereward? Hereward? Who wants to know about that villain?" answered +the potter, as soon as he was asked in English. "Would to Heaven he were +here, and I could see some of you noble knights and earls paying him for +me; for I owe him more than ever I shall pay myself." + +"What does he mean?" + +"He came out of the isle ten days ago, nigh on to evening, and drove off +a cow of mine and four sheep, which was all my living, noble knights, +save these pots." + +"And where is he since?" + +"In the isle, my lords, wellnigh starved, and his folk falling away from +him daily from hunger and ague-fits. I doubt if there be a hundred sound +men left in Ely." + +"Have you been in thither, then, villain?" + +"Heaven forbid! I in Ely? I in the wolf's den? If I went in with naught +but my skin, they would have it off me before I got out again. If your +lordships would but come down, and make an end of him once for all; for +he is a great tyrant and terrible, and devours us poor folk like so many +mites in cheese." + +"Take this babbler into the kitchen, and feed him," quoth Earl Warrenne; +and so the colloquy ended. + +Into the kitchen again the potter went. The king's luncheon was +preparing; and he listened to their chatter, and picked up this at +least, which was valuable to him,--that the witches' story was true; +that a great attack would be made from Aldreth; that boats had been +ordered up the river to Cotinglade, and pioneers and entrenching tools +were to be sent on that day to the site of the old causeway. + +But soon he had to take care of himself. Earl Warrenne's commands to +feed him were construed by the cook-boys and scullions into a command to +make him drunk likewise. To make a laughing-stock of an Englishman was +too tempting a jest to be resisted; and Hereward was drenched (says the +chronicler) with wine and beer, and sorely baited and badgered. At last +one rascal hit upon a notable plan. + +"Pluck out the English hog's hair and beard, and put him blindfold in +the midst of his pots, and see what a smash we shall have." + +Hereward pretended not to understand the words, which were spoken in +French; but when they were interpreted to him, he grew somewhat red +about the ears. + +Submit he would not. But if he defended himself, and made an uproar in +the king's Court, he might very likely find himself riding Odin's horse +before the hour was out. However, happily for him, the wine and beer had +made him stout of heart, and when one fellow laid hold of his beard, he +resisted sturdily. + +The man struck him, and that hard. Hereward, hot of temper, and careless +of life, struck him again, right under the ear. + +The fellow dropped for dead. + +Up leapt cook-boys, scullions, _lecheurs_ (who hung about the kitchen +to _lecher,_ lick the platters), and all the foul-mouthed rascality of +a great mediaeval household; and attacked Hereward _cum fureis et +tridentibus,_ with forks and flesh-hooks. + +Then was Hereward aware of a great broach, or spit, before the fire; and +recollecting how he had used such a one as a boy against the monks of +Peterborough, was minded to use it against the cooks of Brandon; which +he did so heartily, that in a few moments he had killed one, and driven +the others backward in a heap. + +But his case was hopeless. He was soon overpowered by numbers from +outside, and dragged into the hall, to receive judgment for the mortal +crime of slaying a man within the precincts of the Court. + +He kept up heart. He knew that the king was there; he knew that he +should most likely get justice from the king. If not, he could but +discover himself, and so save his life: for that the king would kill him +knowingly, he did not believe. + +So he went in boldly and willingly, and up the hall, where, on the dais, +stood William the Norman. + +William had finished his luncheon, and was standing at the board side. +A page held water in a silver basin, in which he was washing his hands. +Two more knelt, and laced his long boots, for he was, as always, going +a-hunting. + +Then Hereward looked at the face of the great man, and felt at once that +it was the face of the greatest man whom he had ever met. + +"I am not that man's match," said he to himself. "Perhaps it will all +end in being his man, and he my master." + +"Silence, knaves!" said William, "and speak one of you at a time. How +came this?" + +"A likely story, forsooth!" said he, when he had heard. "A poor English +potter comes into my court, and murders my men under my very eyes for +mere sport. I do not believe you, rascals! You, churl," and he spoke +through an English interpreter, "tell me your tale, and justice you +shall have or take, as you deserve. I am the King of England, man, and I +know your tongue, though I speak it not yet, more pity." + +Hereward fell on his knees. + +"If you are indeed my Lord the King, then I am safe; for there is +justice in you, at least so all men say." And he told his tale, +manfully. + +"Splendeur Dex! but this is a far likelier story, and I believe it. +Hark you, you ruffians! Here am I, trying to conciliate these English by +justice and mercy whenever they will let me, and here are you outraging +them, and driving them mad and desperate, just that you may get a handle +against them, and thus rob the poor wretches and drive them into the +forest. From the lowest to the highest,--from Ivo Taillebois there down +to you cook-boys,--you are all at the same game. And I will stop it! +The next time I hear of outrage to unarmed man or harmless woman, I will +hang that culprit, were he Odo my brother himself." + +This excellent speech was enforced with oaths so strange and terrible, +that Ivo Taillebois shook in his boots; and the chaplain prayed +fervently that the roof might not fall in on their heads. + +"Thou smilest, man?" said William, quickly, to the kneeling Hereward. +"So thou understandest French?" + +"A few words only, most gracious King, which we potters pick up, +wandering everywhere with our wares," said Hereward, speaking in French; +for so keen was William's eye, that he thought it safer to play no +tricks with him. + +Nevertheless, he made his French so execrable, that the very scullions +grinned, in spite of their fear. + +"Look you," said William, "you are no common churl; you have fought too +well for that. Let me see your arm." + +Hereward drew up his sleeve. + +"Potters do not carry sword-scars like those; neither are they tattooed +like English thanes. Hold up thy head, man, and let us see thy throat." + +Hereward, who had carefully hung down his head to prevent his +throat-patterns being seen, was forced to lift it up. + +"Aha! So I expected. More fair ladies' work there. Is not this he who +was said to be so like Hereward? Very good. Put him in ward till I +come back from hunting. But do him no harm. For"--and William fixed +on Hereward eyes of the most intense intelligence--"were he Hereward +himself, I should be right glad to see Hereward safe and sound; my man +at last, and earl of all between Humber and the Fens." + +But Hereward did not rise at the bait. With a face of stupid and +ludicrous terror, he made reply in broken French. + +"Have mercy, mercy, Lord King! Make not that fiend earl over us. Even +Ivo Taillebois there would be better than he. Send him to be earl over +the imps in hell, or over the wild Welsh who are worse still: but not +over us, good Lord King, whom he hath polled and peeled till we are--" + +"Silence!" said William, laughing, as did all round him, "Thou art +a cunning rogue enough, whoever thou art. Go into limbo, and behave +thyself till I come back." + +"All saints send your grace good sport, and thereby me a good +deliverance," quoth Hereward, who knew that his fate might depend on the +temper in which William returned. So he was thrust into an outhouse, and +there locked up. + +He sat on an empty barrel, meditating on the chances of his submitting +to the king after all, when the door opened, and in strode one with a +drawn sword in one hand, and a pair of leg-shackles in the other. + +"Hold out thy shins, fellow! Thou art not going to sit at thine ease +there like an abbot, after killing one of us grooms, and bringing the +rest of us into disgrace. Hold out thy legs, I say!" + +"Nothing easier," quoth Hereward, cheerfully, and held out a leg. But +when the man stooped to put on the fetters, he received a kick which +sent him staggering. + +After which he recollected very little, at least in this world. For +Hereward cut off his head with his own sword. + +After which (says the chronicler) he broke away out of the house, and +over garden walls and palings, hiding and running, till he got to the +front gate, and leaped upon mare Swallow. + +And none saw him, save one unlucky groom-boy, who stood yelling and +cursing in front of the mare's head, and went to seize the bridle. + +Whereon, between the imminent danger and the bad language, Hereward's +blood rose, and he smote that unlucky groom-boy; but whether he slew him +or not, the chronicler had rather not say. + +Then he shook up mare Swallow, and rode for his life, with knights and +squires (for the hue and cry was raised) galloping at her heels. + +Who then were astonished but those knights, as they saw the ugly +potter's garron gaining on them length after length, till she and her +rider had left them far behind? + +Who then was proud but Hereward, as the mare tucked her great thighs +under her, and swept on over heath and rabbit burrow, over rush and fen, +sound ground and rotten all alike to that enormous stride, to that keen +bright eye which foresaw every footfall, to that raking shoulder which +picked her up again at every stagger? + +Hereward laid the bridle on her neck, and let her go. Fall she could +not, and tire she could not; and he half wished she might go on forever. +Where could a man be better than on a good horse, with all the cares +of this life blown away out of his brains by the keen air which rushed +around his temples? And he galloped on, as cheery as a boy, shouting at +the rabbits as they scuttled from under his feet, and laughing at the +dottrel as they postured and anticked on the mole-hills. + +But think he must, at last, of how to get home. For to go through +Mildenhall again would not be safe, and he turned over the moors to +Icklingham; and where he went after, no man can tell. + +Certainly not the chronicler; for he tells how Hereward got back by +the Isle of Somersham. Which is all but impossible, for Somersham is in +Huntingdonshire, many a mile on the opposite side of Ely Isle. + +And of all those knights that followed him, none ever saw or heard sign +of him save one; and his horse came to a standstill in "the aforesaid +wood," which the chronicler says was Somersham; and he rolled off +his horse, and lay breathless under a tree, looking up at his horse's +heaving flanks and wagging tail, and wondering how he should get out of +that place before the English found him and made an end of him. + +Then there came up to him a ragged churl, and asked him who he was, and +offered to help him. + +"For the sake of God and courtesy," quoth he,--his Norman pride being +wellnigh beat out of him,--"if thou hast seen or heard anything of +Hereward, good fellow, tell me, and I will repay thee well." + +"As thou hast asked me for the sake of God and of courtesy, Sir Knight, +I will tell thee. I am Hereward. And in token thereof, thou shalt give +me up thy lance and sword, and take instead this sword which I carried +off from the king's court; and promise me, on the faith of a knight, to +bear it back to King William; and tell him that Hereward and he have +met at last, and that he had best beware of the day when they shall meet +again." + +So that knight, not having recovered his wind, was fain to submit, +and go home a sadder and a wiser man. And King William laughed a royal +laugh, and commanded his knights that they should in no wise harm +Hereward, but take him alive, and bring him in, and they should have +great rewards. + +Which seemed to them more easily said than done. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +HOW THEY FOUGHT AGAIN AT ALDRETH. + + +Hereward came back in fear and trembling, after all. He believed in +the magic powers of the witch of Brandon; and he asked Torfrida, in his +simplicity, whether she was not cunning enough to defeat her spells by +counter spells. + +Torfrida smiled, and shook her head. + +"My knight, I have long since given up such vanities. Let us not fight +evil with evil, but rather with good. Better are prayers than charms; +for the former are heard in heaven above, and the latter only in the pit +below. Let me and all the women of Ely go rather in procession to +St. Etheldreda's well, there above the fort at Aldreth, and pray St. +Etheldreda to be with us when the day shall come, and defend her own +isle and the honor of us women who have taken refuge in her holy arms." + +So all the women of Ely walked out barefoot to St. Etheldreda's well, +with Torfrida at their head clothed in sackcloth, and with fetters on +her wrists and waist and ankles; which she vowed, after the strange, +sudden, earnest fashion of those times, never to take off again till she +saw the French host flee from Aldreth before the face of St. Etheldreda. +So they prayed, while Hereward and his men worked at the forts below. +And when they came back, and Torfrida was washing her feet, sore and +bleeding from her pilgrimage, Hereward came in. + +"You have murdered your poor soft feet, and taken nothing thereby, I +fear." + +"I have. If I had walked on sharp razors all the way, I would have done +it gladly, to know what I know now. As I prayed I looked out over +the fen; and St. Etheldreda put a thought into my heart. But it is so +terrible a one, that I fear to tell it to you. And yet it seems our only +chance." + +Hereward threw himself at her feet, and prayed her to tell. At last she +spoke, as one half afraid of her own words,-- + +"Will the reeds burn, Hereward?" + +Hereward kissed her feet again and again, calling her his prophetess, +his savior. + +"Burn! yes, like tinder, in this March wind, if the drought only holds. +Pray that the drought may hold, Torfrida." + +"There, there, say no more. How hard-hearted war makes even us women! +There, help me to take off this rough sackcloth, and dress myself +again." + +Meanwhile William had moved his army again to Cambridge, and on to +Willingham field, and there he began to throw up those "globos and +montanas," of which Leofric's paraphraser talks, but of which now +no trace remains. Then he began to rebuild his causeway, broader and +stronger; and commanded all the fishermen of the Ouse to bring their +boats to Cotinglade, and ferry over his materials. "Among whom came +Hereward in his boat, with head and beard shaven lest he should be +known, and worked diligently among the rest. But the sun did not set +that day without mischief; for before Hereward went off, he finished his +work by setting the whole on fire, so that it was all burnt, and some of +the French killed and drowned." + +And so he went on, with stratagems and ambushes, till "after seven +days' continual fighting, they had hardly done one day's work; save four +'globos' of wood, in which they intended to put their artillery. But on +the eighth day they determined to attack the isle, putting in the midst +of them that pythoness woman on a high place, where she might be safe +freely to exercise her art." + +It was not Hereward alone who had entreated Torfrida to exercise her +magic art in their behalf. But she steadily refused, and made good Abbot +Thurstan support her refusal by a strict declaration, that he would have +no fiends' games played in Ely, as long as he was abbot alive on land. + +Torfrida, meanwhile, grew utterly wild. Her conscience smote her, +in spite of her belief that St. Etheldreda had inspired her, at the +terrible resource which she had hinted to her husband, and which she +knew well he would carry out with terrible success. Pictures of agony +and death floated before her eyes, and kept her awake at night. She +watched long hours in the church in prayer; she fasted; she disciplined +her tender body with sharp pains; she tried, after the fashion of those +times, to atone for her sin, if sin it was. At last she had worked +herself up into a religious frenzy. She saw St. Etheldreda in the +clouds, towering over the isle, menacing the French host with her virgin +palm-branch. She uttered wild prophecies of ruin and defeat to the +French; and then, when her frenzy collapsed, moaned secretly of ruin and +defeat hereafter to themselves. But she would be bold; she would play +her part; she would encourage the heroes who looked to her as one +inspired, wiser and loftier than themselves. + +And so it befell, that when the men marched down to Haddenham that +afternoon, Torfrida rode at their head on a white charger, robed from +throat to ankle in sackcloth, her fetters clanking on her limbs. But she +called on the English to see in her the emblem of England, captive yet, +unconquered, and to break her fetters and the worse fetters of every +woman in England who was the toy and slave of the brutal invaders; and +so fierce a triumph sparkled from her wild hawk-eyes that the Englishmen +looked up to her weird beauty as to that of an inspired saint; and when +the Normans came on to the assault there stood on a grassy mound +behind the English fort a figure clothed in sackcloth, barefooted and +bareheaded, with fetters shining on waist, and wrist, and ankle,--her +long black locks streaming in the wind, her long white arms stretched +crosswise toward heaven, in imitation of Moses of old above the battle +with Amalek; invoking St. Etheldreda and all the powers of Heaven, and +chanting doom and defiance to the invaders. + +And the English looked on her, and cried: "She is a prophetess! We will +surely do some great deed this day, or die around her feet like heroes!" + +And opposite to her, upon the Norman tower, the old hag of Brandon +howled and gibbered with filthy gestures, calling for the thunder-storm +which did not come; for all above, the sky was cloudless blue. + +And the English saw and felt, though they could not speak it, dumb +nation as they were, the contrast between the spirit of cruelty and +darkness and the spirit of freedom and light. + +So strong was the new bridge, that William trusted himself upon it on +horseback, with Ivo Taillebois at his side. + +William doubted the powers of the witch, and felt rather ashamed of +his new helpmate; but he was confident in his bridge, and in the heavy +artillery which he had placed in his four towers. + +Ivo Taillebois was utterly confident in his witch, and in the bridge +likewise. + +William waited for the rising of the tide; and when the tide was near +its height, he commanded the artillery to open, and clear the fort +opposite of the English. Then with crash and twang, the balistas and +catapults went off, and great stones and heavy lances hurtled through +the air. + +"Back!" shouted Torfrida, raised almost to madness, by fasting, +self-torture, and religious frenzy. "Out of yon fort, every man. Why +waste your lives under that artillery? Stand still this day, and see how +the saints of Heaven shall fight for you." + +So utter was the reverence which she commanded for the moment, that +every man drew back, and crowded round her feet outside the fort. + +"The cowards are fleeing already. Let your men go, Sir King!" shouted +Taillebois. + +"On to the assault! Strike for Normandy!" shouted William. + +"I fear much," said he to himself, "that this is some stratagem of that +Hereward's. But conquered they must be." + +The evening breeze curled up the reach. The great pike splashed out from +the weedy shores, and sent the white-fish flying in shoals into the +low glare of the setting sun; and heeded not, stupid things, the barges +packed with mailed men, which swarmed in the reeds on either side the +bridge, and began to push out into the river. + +The starlings swung in thousands round the reed-ronds, looking to settle +in their wonted place: but dare not; and rose and swung round again, +telling each other, in their manifold pipings, how all the reed-ronds +teemed with mailed men. And all above, the sky was cloudless blue. + +And then came a trample, a roll of many feet on the soft spongy peat, +a low murmur which rose into wild shouts of "Dex Aie!" as a human tide +poured along the causeway, and past the witch of Brandon Heath. + +"'Dex Aie?'" quoth William, with a sneer. "'Debbles Aie!' would fit +better." + +"If, Sire, the powers above would have helped us, we should have been +happy enough to----But if they would not, it is not our fault if we try +below," said Ivo Taillebois. + +William laughed. "It is well to have two strings to one's bow, sir. +Forward, men! forward!" shouted he, riding out to the bridge-end, under +the tower. + +"Forward!" shouted Ivo Taillebois. + +"Forward!" shouted the hideous hag overhead. "The spirit of the well +fights for you." + +"Fight for yourselves," said William. + +There was twenty yards of deep clear water between Frenchman and +Englishman. Only twenty yards. Not only the arrows and arblast quarrels, +but heavy hand-javelins, flew across every moment; every now and then a +man toppled forward, and plunged into the blue depth among the eels and +pike, to find his comrades of the summer before; then the stream was +still once more. The coots and water-hens swam in and out of the reeds, +and wondered what it was all about. The water-lilies flapped upon the +ripple, as lonely as in the loneliest mere. But their floats were soon +broken, their white cups stained with human gore. Twenty yards of deep +clear water. And treasure inestimable to win by crossing it. + +They thrust out baulks, canoes, pontoons; they crawled upon them like +ants, and thrust out more yet beyond, heedless of their comrades, who +slipped, and splashed, and sank, holding out vain hands to hands too +busy to seize them. And always the old witch jabbered overhead, with her +cantrips, pointing, mumming, praying for the storm; while all above, the +sky was cloudless blue. + +And always on the mound opposite, while darts and quarrels whistled +round her head, stood Torfrida, pointing with outstretched scornful +finger at the stragglers in the river, and chanting loudly, what the +Frenchmen could not tell; but it made their hearts, as it was meant to +do, melt like wax within them. + +"They have a counter witch to yours, Ivo, it seems; and a fairer one. I +am afraid the devils, especially if Asmodeus be at hand, are more likely +to listen to her than to that old broomstick-rider aloft." + +"Fair is, that fair cause has, Sir King." + +"A good argument for honest men, but none for fiends. What is the fair +fiend pointing at so earnestly there?" + +"Somewhat among the reeds. Hark to her now! She is singing, somewhat +more like an angel than a fiend, I will say for her." + +And Torfrida's bold song, coming clear and sweet across the water, rose +louder and shriller till it almost drowned the jabbering of the witch. + +"She sees more there than we do." + +"I see it!" cried William, smiting his hand upon his thigh. "Par le +splendeur Dex! She has been showing them where to fire the reeds; and +they have done it!" + +A puff of smoke; a wisp of flame; and then another and another; and a +canoe shot out from the reeds on the French shore, and glided into the +reeds of the island. + +"The reeds are on fire, men! Have a care," shouted Ivo. + +"Silence, fool! Frighten them once, and they will leap like sheep into +that gulf. Men! right about! Draw off,--slowly and in order. We will +attack again to-morrow." + +The cool voice of the great captain arose too late. A line of flame was +leaping above the reed bed, crackling and howling before the evening +breeze. The column on the causeway had seen their danger but too soon, +and fled. But whither? + +A shower of arrows, quarrels, javelins, fell upon the head of the column +as it tried to face about and retreat, confusing it more and more. One +arrow, shot by no common aim, went clean through William's shield, and +pinned it to the mailed flesh. He could not stifle a cry of pain. + +"You are wounded, Sire. Ride for your life! It is worth that of a +thousand of these churls," and Ivo seized William's bridle and dragged +him, in spite of himself, through the cowering, shrieking, struggling +crowd. + +On came the flames, leaping and crackling, laughing and shrieking, like +a live fiend. The archers and slingers In the boats cowered before it; +and fell, scorched corpses, as it swept on. It reached the causeway, +surged up, recoiled from the mass of human beings, then sprang over +their heads and passed onwards, girding them with flame. + +The reeds were burning around them; the timbers of the bridge caught +fire; the peat and fagots smouldered beneath their feet. They sprang +from the burning footway and plunged into the fathomless bog, covering +their faces and eyes with scorched hands, and then sank in the black +gurgling slime. + +Ivo dragged William on, regardless of curses and prayers from his +soldiery; and they reached the shore just in time to see between them +and the water a long black smouldering writhing line; the morass to +right and left, which had been a minute before deep reed, an open smutty +pool, dotted with boatsful of shrieking and cursing men; and at the +causeway-end the tower, with the flame climbing up its posts, and the +witch of Brandon throwing herself desperately from the top, and falling +dead upon the embers, a motionless heap of rags. + +"Fool that you are! Fool that I was!" cried the great king, as he rolled +off his horse at his tent door, cursing with rage and pain. + +Ivo Taillebois sneaked off, sent over to Mildenhall for the second +witch, and hanged her, as some small comfort to his soul. Neither did he +forget to search the cabin till he found buried in a crock the bits of +his own gold chain and various other treasures, for which the wretched +old women had bartered their souls. All which he confiscated to his own +use, as a much injured man. + +The next day William withdrew his army. The men refused to face again +that blood-stained pass. The English spells, they said, were stronger +than theirs, or than the daring of brave men. Let William take Torfrida +and burn her, as she had burned them, with reeds out of Willingham fen; +then might they try to storm Ely again. + +Torfrida saw them turn, flee, die in agony. Her work was done; her +passion exhausted; her self-torture, and the mere weight of her fetters, +which she had sustained during her passion, weighed her down; she +dropped senseless on the turf, and lay in a trance for many hours. + +Then she arose, and casting off her fetters and her sackcloth, was +herself again: but a sadder woman till her dying day. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +HOW KING WILLIAM TOOK COUNSEL OF A CHURCHMAN. + + +If Torfrida was exhausted, so was Hereward likewise. He knew well that a +repulse was not a defeat. He knew well the indomitable persistence, the +boundless resources, of the mastermind whom he defied; and he knew well +that another attempt would be made, and then another, till--though it +took seven years in the doing--Ely would be won at last. To hold out +doggedly as long as he could was his plan: to obtain the best terms he +could for his comrades. And he might obtain good terms at last. William +might be glad to pay a fair price in order to escape such a thorn in +his side as the camp of refuge, and might deal--or, at least, promise +to deal--mercifully and generously with the last remnant of the English +gentry. For himself yield he would not: when all was over, he would flee +to the sea, with Torfrida and his own housecarles, and turn Viking; or +go to Sweyn Ulfsson in Denmark, and die a free man. + +The English did not foresee these things. Their hearts were lifted up +with their victory, and they laughed at William and his French, and +drank Torfrida's health much too often for their own good. Hereward did +not care to undeceive them. But he could not help speaking his mind +in the abbot's chamber to Thurstan, Egelwin, and his nephews, and +to Sigtryg Ranaldsson, who was still in Ely, not only because he had +promised to stay there, but because he could not get out if he would. + +Blockaded they were utterly, by land and water. The isle furnished a +fair supply of food; and what was wanting, they obtained by foraging. +But they had laid the land waste for so many miles round, that their +plundering raids brought them in less than of old; and if they went far, +they fell in with the French, and lost good men, even though they were +generally successful. So provisions were running somewhat short, and +would run shorter still. + +Moreover, there was a great cause of anxiety. Bishop Egelwin, Abbot +Thurstan, and the monks of Ely were in rebellion, not only against +King William, but more or less against the Pope of Rome. They might be +excommunicated. The minster lands might be taken away. + +Bishop Egelwin set his face like a flint. He expected no mercy. All he +had ever done for the French was to warn Robert Comyn that if he stayed +in Durham, evil would befall him. But that was as little worth to him as +it was to the said Robert. And no mercy he craved. The less a man had, +the more fit he was for Heaven. He could but die; and that he had known +ever since he was a chanter-boy. Whether he died in Ely, or in prison, +mattered little to him, provided they did not refuse him the sacraments; +and that they would hardly do. But call the Duke of Normandy his +rightful sovereign he would not, because he was not,--nor anybody else +just now, as far as he could see. + +Valiant likewise was Abbot Thurstan, for himself. But he had--unlike +Bishop Egelwin, whose diocese had been given to a Frenchman--an abbey, +monks, and broad lands, whereof he was father and steward. And he must +do what was best for the abbey, and also what the monks would let him +do. For severe as was the discipline of a minster in time of peace, yet +in time of war, when life and death were in question, monks had ere now +turned valiant from very fear, like Cato's mouse, and mutinied: and so +might the monks of Ely. + +And Edwin and Morcar? + +No man knows what they said or thought; perhaps no man cared much, even +in their own days. No hint does any chronicler give of what manner of +men they were, or what manner of deeds they did. Fair, gentle, noble, +beloved even by William, they are mere names, and nothing more, in +history: and it is to be supposed, therefore, that they were nothing +more in fact. The race of Leofric and Godiva had worn itself out. + +One night the confederates had sat late, talking over the future more +earnestly than usual. Edwin, usually sad enough, was especially sad that +night. + +Hereward jested with him, tried to cheer him; but he was silent, would +not drink, and went away before the rest. + +The next morning he was gone, and with him half a dozen of his private +housecarles. + +Hereward was terrified. If defections once began, they would be endless. +The camp would fall to pieces, and every man among them would be hanged, +mutilated, or imprisoned, one by one, helplessly. They must stand or +fall together. + +He went raging to Morcar. Morcar knew naught of it. On the faith and +honor of a knight, he knew naught. Only his brother had said to him a +day or two before, that he must see his betrothed before he died. + +"He is gone to William, then? Does he think to win her now,--an outcast +and a beggar,--when he was refused her with broad lands and a thousand +men at his back? Fool! See that thou play not the fool likewise, nephew, +or--" + +"Or what?" said Morcar, defiantly. + +"Or thou wilt go, whither Edwin is gone,--to betrayal and ruin." + +"Why so? He has been kind enough to Waltheof and Gospatrick, why not to +Edwin?" + +"Because," laughed Hereward, "he wanted Waltheof, and he does not want +you and Edwin. He can keep Mercia quiet without your help. Northumbria +and the Fens he cannot without Waltheof's. They are a rougher set as +you go east and north, as you should know already, and must have one of +themselves over them to keep them in good humor for a while. When he has +used Waltheof as his stalking-horse long enough to build a castle every +ten miles, he will throw him away like a worn bowstring, Earl Morcar, +nephew mine." + +Morcar shook his head. + +In a week more he was gone likewise. He came to William at Brandon. + +"You are come in at last, young earl?" said William, sternly. "You are +come too late." + +"I throw myself on your knightly faith," said Morcar. But he had come in +an angry and unlucky hour. + +"How well have you kept your own, twice a rebel, that you should appeal +to mine? Take him away." + +"And hang him?" asked Ivo Taillebois. + +"Pish! No,--thou old butcher. Put him in irons, and send him into +Normandy." + +"Send him to Roger de Beaumont, Sire. Roger's son is safe in Morcar's +castle at Warwick, so it is but fair that Morcar should be safe in +Roger's.". + +And to Roger de Beaumont he was sent, while young Roger was Lord of +Warwick, and all around that once was Leofric and Godiva's. + +Morcar lay in a Norman keep till the day of William's death. On his +death-bed the tyrant's heart smote him, and he sent orders to release +him. For a few short days, or hours, he breathed free air again. Then +Rufus shut him up once more, and forever. + +And that was the end of Earl Morcar. + +A few weeks after, three men came to the camp at Brandon, and they +brought a head to the king. And when William looked upon it, it was the +head of Edwin. + +The human heart must have burst up again in the tyrant, as he looked on +the fair face of him he had so loved, and so wronged; for they say he +wept. + +The knights and earls stood round, amazed and awed, as they saw iron +tears ran down Pluto's cheek. + +"How came this here, knaves?" thundered he at last. + +They told a rambling story, how Edwin always would needs go to +Winchester, to see the queen, for she would stand his friend, and do him +right. And how they could not get to Winchester, for fear of the French, +and wandered in woods and wolds; and how they were set upon, and hunted; +and how Edwin still was mad to go to Winchester: but when he could not, +he would go to Blethwallon and his Welsh; and how Earl Randal of Chester +set upon them; and how they got between a stream and the tide-way of the +Dee, and were cut off. And how Edwin would not yield. And how then they +slew him in self-defence, and Randal let them bring the head to the +king. + +This, or something like it, was their story. But who could believe +traitors? Where Edwin wandered, what he did during those months, no man +knows. All that is known is, three men brought his head to William, and +told some such tale. And so the old nobility of England died up and down +the ruts and shaughs, like wounded birds; and, as of wounded birds, none +knew or cared how far they had run, or how their broken bones had ached +before they died. + +"Out of their own mouths they are condemned, says Holy Writ," thundered +William. "Hang them on high." + +And hanged on high they were, on Brandon heath. + +Then the king turned on his courtiers, glad to ease his own conscience +by cursing them. + +"This is your doing, sirs! If I had not listened to your base counsels, +Edwin might have been now my faithful liegeman and my son-in-law; and +I had had one more Englishman left in peace, and one less sin upon my +soul." + +"And one less thorn in thy side," quoth Ivo Taillebois. + +"Who spoke to thee? Ralph Guader, thou gavest me the counsel: thou wilt +answer it to God and his saints." + +"That did I not. It was Earl Roger, because he wanted the man's +Shropshire lands." + +Whereon high words ensued; and the king gave the earl the lie in his +teeth, which the earl did not forget. + +"I think," said the rough, shrewd voice of Ivo, "that instead of crying +over spilt milk,--for milk the lad was, and never would have grown to +good beef, had he lived to my age--" + +"Who spoke to thee?" + +"No man, and for that reason I spoke myself. I have lands in Spalding, +by your Majesty's grace, and wish to enjoy them in peace, having worked +for them hard enough--and how can I do that, as long as Hereward sits in +Ely?" + +"Splendeur Dex!" said William, "them art right, old butcher." + +So they laid their heads together to slay Hereward. And after they had +talked awhile, then spoke William's chaplain for the nonce, an +Italian, a friend and pupil of Lanfranc of Pavia, an Italian also, then +Archbishop of Canterbury, scourging and imprisoning English monks in the +south. And he spoke like an Italian of those times, who knew the ways of +Rome. + +"If his Majesty will allow my humility to suggest--" + +"What? Thy humility is proud enough under the rose, I will warrant: but +it has a Roman wit under the rose likewise. Speak!" + +"That when the secular and carnal arm has failed, as it is written +[Footnote: I do not laugh at Holy Scripture myself. I only insert this +as a specimen of the usual mediaeval "cant,"--a name and a practice +which are both derived, not from Puritans, but from monks.]--He poureth +contempt upon princes, and letteth them wander out of the way in the +wilderness--or fens; for the Latin word, and I doubt not the Hebrew, has +both meanings." + +"Splendeur Dex!" cried William, bitterly; "that hath he done with a +vengeance! Thou art right so far, Clerk!" + +"Yet helpeth He the poor, videlicet, His Church and the religious, who +are vowed to holy poverty, out of misery, videlicet, the oppression of +barbarous customs, and maketh them households like a flock of sheep." + +"They do that for themselves already, here in England," said William, +with a sneer at the fancied morals of the English monks and clergy. +[Footnote: The alleged profligacy and sensuality of the English Church +before the Conquest rests merely on a few violent and vague expressions +of the Norman monks who displaced them. No facts, as far as I can +find, have ever been alleged. And without facts on the other side, +an impartial man will hold by the one fact which is certain, that the +Church of England, popish as it was, was, unfortunately for it, not +popish enough; and from its insular freedom, obnoxious to the Church of +Rome, and the ultramontane clergy of Normandy; and was therefore to be +believed capable--and therefore again accused--of any and every crime.] + +"But Heaven, and not the Church, does it for the true poor, whom your +Majesty is bringing in, to your endless glory." + +"But what has all this to do with taking Ely?" asked William, +impatiently. "I asked thee for reason, and not sermons." + +"This. That it is in the power of the Holy Father,--and that power he +would doubtless allow you, as his dear son and most faithful servant, to +employ for yourself, without sending to Rome, which might cause painful +delays--to--" + +It might seem strange that William, Taillebois, Guader, Warrenne, +short-spoken, hard-headed, hard-swearing warriors, could allow, +complacently, a smooth churchman to dawdle on like this, counting his +periods on his fingers, and seemingly never coming to the point. + +But they knew well, that the churchman was a far cunninger, as well as +a more learned, man than themselves. They knew well that they could not +hurry him, and that they need not; that he would make his point at last, +hunting it out step by step, and letting them see how he got thither, +like a cunning hound. They knew that if he spoke, he had thought long +and craftily, till he had made up his mind; and that, therefore, he +would very probably make up their minds likewise. It was--as usual in +that age--the conquest, not of a heavenly spirit, though it boasted +itself such, but of a cultivated mind over brute flesh. + +They might have said all this aloud, and yet the churchman would have +gone on, as he did, where he left off, with unaltered blandness of tone. + +"To convert to other uses the goods of the Church,--to convert them to +profane uses would, I need not say, be a sacrilege as horrible to Heaven +as impossible to so pious a monarch--" + +Ivo Taillebois winced. He had just stolen a manor from the monks of +Crowland, and meant to keep it. + +"Church lands belonging to abbeys or sees, whose abbots or bishops are +contumaciously disobedient to the Holy See, or to their lawful monarch, +he being in the communion of the Church and at peace with the said +Holy See. If, therefore,--to come to that point at which my incapacity, +through the devious windings of my own simplicity, has been tending, but +with halting steps, from the moment that your Majesty deigned to hear--" + +"Put in the spur, man!" said Ivo, tired at last, "and run the deer to +soil." + +"Hurry no man's cattle, especially thine own," answered the churchman, +with so shrewd a wink, and so cheery a voice, that Ivo, when he +recovered from his surprise, cried,-- + +"Why, thou art a good huntsman thyself, I believe now." + +"All things to all men, if by any means--But to return. If your Majesty +should think fit to proclaim to the recalcitrants of Ely, that unless +they submit themselves to your Royal Grace--and to that, of course, +of His Holiness, our Father--within a certain day, you will convert to +other uses--premising, to avoid scandal, that those uses shall be for +the benefit of Holy Church--all lands and manors of theirs lying without +the precincts of the Isle of Ely,--those lands being, as is known, +large, and of great value,--Quid plura? Why burden your exalted +intellect by detailing to you consequences which it has, long ere now, +foreseen." + +"----" quoth William, who was as sharp as the Italian, and had seen it +all. "I will make thee a bishop!" + +"Spare to burden my weakness," said the chaplain; and slipt away into +the shade. + +"You will take his advice?" asked Ivo. + +"I will." + +"Then I shall see that Torfrida burn at last." + +"Burn her?" and William swore. + +"I promised my soldiers to burn the witch with reeds out of Haddenham +fen, as she had burned them; and I must keep my knightly word." + +William swore yet more. Ivo Taillebois was a butcher and a churl. + +"Call me not butcher and churl too often, Lord King, ere thou hast found +whether thou needest me or not. Rough I may be, false was I never." + +"That thou wert not," said William, who needed Taillebois much, and +feared him somewhat; and remarked something meaning in his voice, which +made him calm himself, diplomat as he was, instantly. "But burn Torfrida +thou shalt not." + +"Well, I care not. I have seen a woman burnt ere now, and had no fancy +for the screeching. Beside, they say she is a very fair dame, and has a +fair daughter, too, coming on, and she may very well make a wife for a +Norman." + +"Marry her thyself." + +"I shall have to kill Hereward first." + +"Then do it, and I will give thee his lands." + +"I may have to kill others before Hereward." + +"You may?" + +And so the matter dropped. But William caught Ivo alone after an hour, +and asked him what he meant. + +"No pay, no play. Lord King, I have served thee well, rough and smooth." + +"Thou hast, and hast been well paid. But if I have said aught hasty--" + +"Pish, Majesty. I am a plain-spoken man, and like a plain-spoken master. +But, instead of marrying Torfrida or her daughter, I have more mind to +her niece, who is younger, and has no Hereward to be killed first." + +"Her niece? Who?" + +"Lucia, as we call her,--Edwin and Morcar's sister,--Hereward's niece, +Torfrida's niece." + +"No pay, no play, saidst thou?--so say I. What meant you by having to +kill others before Hereward?" + +"Beware of Waltheof!" said Ivo. + +"Waltheof? Pish! This is one of thy inventions for making me hunt every +Englishman to death, that thou mayest gnaw their bones." + +"Is it? Then this I say more. Beware of Ralph Guader!" + +"Pish!" + +"Pish on, Lord King." Etiquette was not yet discovered by Norman barons +and earls, who thought themselves all but as good as their king, gave +him their advice when they thought fit, and if he did not take it, +attacked him with all their meinie. "Pish on, but listen. Beware of +Roger!" + +"And what more?" + +"And give me Lucia. I want her. I will have her." + +William laughed. "Thou of all men! To mix that ditch-water with that +wine?" + +"They were mixed in thy blood, Lord King, and thou art the better man +for it, so says the world. Old wine and old blood throw any lees to the +bottom of the cask; and we shall have a son worthy to ride behind--" + +"Take care!" quoth William. + +"The greatest captain upon earth." + +William laughed again, like Odin's self. + +"Thou shalt have Lucia for that word." + +"And thou shalt have the plot ere it breaks. As it will." + +"To this have I come at last," said William to himself, as they parted. +"To murder these English nobles, to marry their daughters to my grooms. +Heaven forgive me! They have brought it upon themselves by contumacy to +Holy Church." + +"Call my secretary, some one." + +The Italian re-entered. + +"The valiant and honorable and illustrious knight, Ivo Taillebois, Lord +of Holland and Kesteven, weds Lucia, sister of the late earls Edwin and +Morcar, now with the queen; and with, her, her manors. You will prepare +the papers. + +"I am yours to death," said Ivo. + +"To do you justice, I think thou wert that already. Stay--here--Sir +Priest--do you know any man who knows this Torfrida?" + +"I do, Majesty," said Ivo. "There is one Sir Ascelin, a man of Gilbert's, +in the camp." + +"Send for him." + +"This Torfrida," said William, "haunts me." + +"Pray Heaven she have not bewitched your Majesty." + +"Tut! I am too old a campaigner to take much harm by woman's +sharpshooting at fifteen score yards off, beside a deep stream between. +No. The woman has courage,--and beauty, too, you say?" + +"What of that, O Prince?" said the Italian. "Who more beautiful--if +report be true--than those lost women who dance nightly in the forests +with Venus and Herodias,--as it may be this Torfrida has done many a +time?" + +"You priests are apt to be hard upon poor women." + +"The fox found that the grapes were sour," said the Italian, laughing +at himself and his cloth, or at anything else by which he could curry +favor. + +"And this woman was no vulgar witch. That sort of personage suits +Taillebois's taste, rather than Hereward's." + +"Hungry dogs eat dirty pudding," said Ivo, pertinently. + +"The woman believed herself in the right. She believed that the saints +of heaven were on her side. I saw it in her attitude, in her gestures. +Perhaps she was right." + +"Sire?" said both by-standers, in astonishment. + +"I would fain see that woman, and see her husband too. They are folks +after my own heart. I would give them an earldom to win them." + +"I hope that in that day you will allow your faithful servant Ivo to +retire to his ancestral manors in Anjou; for England will be too hot +for him. Sire, you know not this man,--a liar, a bully, a robber, a +swash-buckling ruffian, who--" and Ivo ran on with furious invective, +after the fashion of the Normans, who considered no name too bad for an +English rebel. + +"Sir Ascelin," said William, as Ascelin came in, "you know Hereward?" + +Ascelin bowed assent. + +"Are these things true which Ivo alleges?" + +"The Lord Taillebois may know best what manner of man he is since he +came into this English air, which changes some folks mightily," with a +hardly disguised sneer at Ivo; "but in Flanders he was a very perfect +knight, beloved and honored of all men, and especially of your +father-in-law, the great marquis." + +"He is a friend of yours, then?" + +"No man less. I owe him more than one grudge, though all in fair +quarrel; and one, at least, which can only be wiped out in blood." + +"Eh! What?" + +Ascelin hesitated. + +"Tell me, sir!" thundered William, "unless you have aught to be ashamed +of." + +"It is no shame, as far as I know, to confess that I was once a suitor, +as were all knights for miles round, for the hand of the once peerless +Torfrida. And no shame to confess, that when Hereward knew thereof, he +sought me out at a tournament, and served me as he has served many a +better man before and since" + +"Over thy horse's croup, eh?" said William. + +"I am not a bad horseman, as all know, Lord King. But Heaven save +me, and all I love, from that Hereward. They say he has seven men's +strength; and I verily can testify to the truth thereof." + +"That may be by enchantment," interposed the Italian. + +"True, Sir Priest. This I know, that he wears enchanted armor, which +Torfrida gave him before she married him." + +"Enchantments again," said the secretary. + +"Tell me now about Torfrida," said William. + +Ascelin told him all about her, not forgetting to say--what, according +to the chronicler, was a common report--that she had compassed +Hereward's love by magic arts. She used to practise sorcery, he said, +with her sorceress mistress, Richilda of Hainault. All men knew it. +Arnoul, Richilda's son, was as a brother to her. And after old Baldwin +died, and Baldwin of Mons and Richilda came to Bruges, Torfrida was +always with her while Hereward was at the wars. + +"The woman is a manifest and notorious witch," said the secretary. + +"It seems so indeed," said William, with something like a sigh. And so +were Torfrida's early follies visited on her; as all early follies are. +"But Hereward, you say, is a good knight and true?" + +"Doubtless. Even when he committed that great crime at Peterborough--" + +"For which he and all his are duly excommunicated by the Bishop," said +the secretary. + +"He did a very courteous and honorable thing." And Ascelin told how he +had saved Alftruda, and instead of putting her to ransom, had sent her +safe to Gilbert. + +"A very knightly deed. He should be rewarded for it." + +"Why not burn the witch, and reward him with Alftruda instead, since +your Majesty is in so gracious a humor?" said Ivo. + +"Alftruda! Who is she? Ay, I recollect her. Young Dolfin's wife. Why, +she has a husband already." + +"Ay, but his Holiness at Rome can set that right. What is there that he +cannot do?" + +"There are limits, I fear, even to his power. Eh, priest?" + +"What his Holiness's powers as the viceroy of Divinity on earth +might be, did he so choose, it were irreverent to inquire. But as +he condescends to use that power only for the good of mankind, he +condescends, like Divinity, to be bound by the very laws which he has +promulgated for the benefit of his subjects; and to make himself only a +life-giving sun, when he might be a destructive thunderbolt." + +"He is very kind, and we all owe him thanks," said Ivo, who had a +confused notion that the Pope might strike him dead with lightning, but +was good-natured enough not to do so. "Still, he might think of this +plan; for they say that the lady is an old friend of Hereward's, and not +over fond of her Scotch husband." + +"That I know well," said William. + +"And beside--if aught untoward should happen to Dolfin and his kin--" + +"She might, with her broad lands, be a fine bait for Hereward. I see. +Now, do this, by my command. Send a trusty monk into Ely. Let him tell +the monks that we have determined to seize all their outlying lands, +unless they surrender within the week. And let him tell Hereward, by the +faith and oath of William of Normandy, that if he will surrender himself +to my grace, he shall have his lands in Bourne, and a free pardon for +himself and all his comrades." + +The men assented, much against their will, and went out on their errand. + +"You have played me a scurvy trick, sir," said Ascelin, "in advising the +king to give the Lady Alftruda to Hereward." + +"What! Did you want her yourself? On my honor I knew not of it. But have +patience. You shall have her yet, and all her lands, if you will hear my +counsel, and keep it." + +"But you would give her to Hereward!" + +"And to you too. It is a poor bait, say these frogs of fenmen, that will +not take two pike running. Listen to me. I must kill this Hereward. I +hate him. I cannot eat my meat for thinking of him. Kill him I must." + +"And so must I." + +"Then we are both agreed. Let us work together, and never mind if one's +blood be old and the other's new. I am neither fool nor weakly, as thou +knowest." + +Ascelin could not but assent. + +"Then here. We must send the King's message. But we must add to it." + +"That is dangerous." + +"So is war; so is eating, drinking; so is everything. But we must not +let Hereward come in. We must drive him to despair. Make the messenger +add but one word,--that the king exempts from the amnesty Torfrida, on +account of----You can put it into more scholarly shape than I can." + +"On account of her abominable and notorious sorceries; and demands +that she shall be given up forthwith to the ecclesiastical power, to be +judged as she deserves." + +"Just so. And then for a load of reeds out of Haddenham fen." + +"Heaven forbid!" said Ascelin, who had loved her once. "Would not +perpetual imprisonment suffice?" + +"What care I? That is the churchmen's affair, not ours. But I fear we +shall not get her. Even so Hereward will flee with her,--maybe escape to +Flanders, or Denmark. He can escape through a rat's-hole if he will. And +then we are at peace. I had sooner kill him and have done with it: but +out of the way he must be put." + +So they sent a monk in with the message, and commanded him to tell the +article about the Lady Torfrida, not only to Hereward, but to the abbot +and all the monks. + +A curt and fierce answer came back, not from Hereward, but from Torfrida +herself,--that William of Normandy was no knight himself, or he would +not offer a knight his life, on condition of burning his lady. + +William swore horribly. "What is all this about?" They told him--as much +as they chose to tell him. He was very wroth. "Who was Ivo Taillebois, +to add to his message? He had said that Torfrida should not burn." +Taillebois was stout; for he had won the secretary over to his side +meanwhile. He had said nothing about burning. He had merely supplied an +oversight of the king's. The woman, as the secretary knew, could not, +with all deference to his Majesty, be included in an amnesty. She was +liable to ecclesiastical censure, and the ecclesiastical courts. William +might exercise his influence on them in all lawful ways, and more, remit +her sentence, even so far as to pardon her entirely, if his merciful +temper should so incline him. But meanwhile, what better could he, Ivo, +have done, than to remind the monks of Ely that she was a sorceress; +that she had committed grave crimes, and was liable to punishment +herself, and they to punishment also, as her shelterers and accomplices? +What he wanted was to bring over the monks; and he believed that message +had been a good stroke toward that. As for Hereward, the king need not +think of him. He never would come in alive. He had sworn an oath, and he +would keep it. + +And so the matter ended. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +HOW THE MONKS OF ELY DID AFTER THEIR KIND. + + +William's bolt, or rather inextinguishable Greek fire, could not have +fallen into Ely at a more propitious moment. + +Hereward was away, with a large body of men, and many ships, foraging in +the northeastern fens. He might not be back for a week. + +Abbot Thurstan--for what cause is not said--had lost heart a little +while before, and fled to "Angerhale, taking with him the ornaments and +treasure of the church." + +Hereward had discovered his flight with deadly fear: but provisions he +must have, and forth he must go, leaving Ely in charge of half a dozen +independent English gentlemen, each of whom would needs have his own +way, just because it was his own. + +Only Torfrida he took, and put her hand into the hand of Ranald +Sigtrygsson, and said, "Thou true comrade and perfect knight, as I did +by thy wife, do thou by mine, if aught befall." + +And Ranald swore first by the white Christ, and then by the head of +Sleipnir, Odin's horse, that he would stand by Torfrida till the last; +and then, if need was, slay her. + +"You will not need, King Ranald. I can slay myself," said she, as she +took the Ost-Dane's hard, honest hand. + +And Hereward went, seemingly by Mepal or Sutton. Then came the message; +and all men in Ely knew it. + +Torfrida stormed down to the monks, in honest indignation, to demand +that they should send to William, and purge her of the calumny. She +found the Chapter-door barred and bolted. They were all gabbling inside, +like starlings on a foggy morning, and would not let her in. She hurried +back to Ranald, fearing treason, and foreseeing the effect of the +message upon the monks. + +But what could Ranald do? To find out their counsels was impossible +for him, or any man in Ely. For the monks could talk Latin, and the men +could not. Torfrida alone knew the sacred tongue. + +If Torfrida could but listen at the keyhole. Well,--all was fair in war. +And to the Chapter-house door she went, guarded by Ranald and some of +his housecarles, and listened, with a beating heart. She heard words now +incomprehensible. That men who most of them lived no better than their +own serfs; who could have no amount of wealth, not even the hope +of leaving that wealth to their children,--should cling to +wealth,--struggle, forge, lie, do anything for wealth, to be used +almost entirely not for themselves, but for the honor and glory of the +convent,--indicates an intensity of corporate feeling, unknown in the +outer world then, or now. + +The monastery would be ruined! Without this manor, without that wood, +without that stone quarry, that fishery,--what would become of them? + +But mingled with those words were other words, unfortunately more +intelligible to this day,--those of superstition. + +What would St. Etheldreda say? How dare they provoke her wrath? Would +she submit to lose her lands? She might do,--what might she not do? Her +bones would refuse ever to work a miracle again. They had been but too +slack in miracle-working for many years. She might strike the isle with +barrenness, the minster with lightning. She might send a flood up the +fens. She might-- + +William the Norman, to do them justice, those valiant monks feared +not; for he was man, and could but kill the body. But St. Etheldreda, a +virgin goddess, with all the host of heaven to back her,--might she not, +by intercession with powers still higher than her own, destroy both body +and soul in hell? + +"We are betrayed. They are going to send for the Abbot from Angerhale," +said Torfrida at last, reeling from the door, "All is lost." + +"Shall we burst open the door and kill them all?" asked Ranald, simply. + +"No, King,--no. They are God's men; and we have blood enough on our +souls." + +"We can keep the gates, lest any go out to the King." + +"Impossible. They know the isle better than we, and have a thousand +arts." + +So all they could do was to wait in fear and trembling for Hereward's +return, and send Martin Lightfoot off to warn him, wherever he might be. + +The monks remained perfectly quiet. The organ droned, the chants wailed, +as usual; nothing interrupted the stated order of the services; and in +the hall, each day, they met the knights as cheerfully as ever. Greed +and superstition had made cowards of them,--and now traitors. + +It was whispered that Abbot Thurstan had returned to the minster; but no +man saw him; and so three or four days went on. + +Martin found Hereward after incredible labors, and told him all, clearly +and shrewdly. The man's manifest insanity only seemed to quicken his +wit, and increase his powers of bodily endurance. + +Hereward was already on his way home; and never did he and his good +men row harder than they rowed that day back to Sutton. He landed, and +hurried on with half his men, leaving the rest to disembark the booty. +He was anxious as to the temper of the monks. He foresaw all that +Torfrida had foreseen. And as for Torfrida herself, he was half mad. Ivo +Taillebois's addition to William's message had had its due effect. +He vowed even deadlier hate against the Norman than he had ever felt +before. He ascended the heights to Sutton. It was his shortest way to +Ely. He could not see Aldreth from thence; but he could see Willingham +field, and Belsar's hills, round the corner of Haddenham Hill. + +The sun was setting long before they reached Ely; but just as he sank +into the western fen, Winter stopped, pointing. "Was that the flash of +arms? There, far away, just below Willingham town. Or was it the setting +sun upon the ripple of some long water?" + +"There is not wind enough for such a ripple," said one. But ere they +could satisfy themselves, the sun was down, and all the fen was gray. + +Hereward was still more uneasy. If that had been the flash of arms, it +must have come off a very large body of men, moving in column, and on +the old straight road between Cambridge and Ely. He hastened on his men. +But ere they were within sight of the minster-tower, they were aware +of a horse galloping violently towards them through the dusk. Hereward +called a halt. He heard his own heart beat as he stopped. The horse was +pulled up short among them, and a lad threw himself off. + +"Hereward? Thank God, I am in time!" + +The voice was the voice of Torfrida. + +"Treason!" she gasped. + +"I knew it." + +"The French are in the island. They have got Aldreth. The whole army is +marching from Cambridge. The whole fleet is coming up from Southrey. And +you have time--" + +"To burn Ely over the monks' heads. Men! Get bogwood out of yon cottage, +make yourselves torches, and onward!" + +Then rose a babel of questions, which Torfrida answered as she could. +But she had nothing to tell. "Clerks' cunning," she said bitterly, "was +an overmatch for woman's wit." She had sent out a spy: but he had not +returned till an hour since. Then he came back breathless, with the news +that the French army was on the march from Cambridge, and that, as he +came over the water at Alrech, he found a party of French knights in the +fort on the Ely side, talking peaceably with the monks on guard. + +She had run up to the borough hill,--which men call Cherry Hill at this +day,--and one look to the northeast had shown her the river swarming +with ships. She had rushed home, put on men's clothes, hid a few jewels +in her bosom, saddled Swallow, and ridden for her life thither. + +"And King Ranald?" + +He and his men had gone desperately out towards Haddenham, with what +English they could muster; but all were in confusion. Some were getting +the women and children into boats, to hide them in the reeds. Others +battering the minster gates, vowing vengeance on the monks. + +"Then Ranald will be cut off! Alas for the day that ever brought his +brave heart hither!" + +And when the men heard that, a yell of fury and despair burst from all +throats. + +Should they go back to their boats? + +"No! onward," cried Hereward. "Revenge first, and safety after. Let us +leave nothing for the accursed Frenchmen but smoking ruins, and then +gather our comrades, and cut our way back to the north." + +"Good counsel," cried Winter. "We know the roads, and they do not; +and in such a dark night as is coming, we can march out of the island +without their being able to follow us a mile." + +They hurried on; but stopped once more, at the galloping of another +horse. + +"Who comes, friend or foe?" + +"Alwyn, son of Orgar!" cried a voice under breath. "Don't make such a +noise, men! The French are within half a mile of you." + +"Then one traitor monk shall die ere I retreat," cried Hereward, seizing +him by the throat. + +"For Heaven's sake, hold!" cried Torfrida, seizing his arm. "You know +not what he may have to say." + +"I am no traitor, Hereward; I have fought by your side as well as the +best; and if any but you had called Alwyn--" + +"A curse on your boasting. Tell us the truth." + +"The Abbot has made peace with the King. He would give up the island, +and St. Etheldreda should keep all her lands and honors. I said what I +could; but who was I to resist the whole chapter? Could I alone brave +St. Etheldreda's wrath?" + +"Alwyn, the valiant, afraid of a dead girl!" + +"Blaspheme not, Hereward! She may hear you at this moment! Look there!" +and pointing up, the monk cowered in terror, as a meteor flashed through +the sky. + +"That is St. Etheldreda shooting at us, eh? Then all I can say is, she +is a very bad marksman. And the French are in the island?" + +"They are." + +"Then forward, men, for one half-hour's pleasure; and then to die like +Englishmen." + +"On?" cried Alwyn. "You cannot go on. The King is at Whichford at this +moment with all his army, half a mile off! Right across the road to +Ely!" + +Hereward grew Berserk. "On! men!" shouted he, "we shall kill a few +Frenchmen apiece before we die!" + +"Hereward," cried Torfrida, "you shall not go on! If you go, I shall +be taken. And if I am taken, I shall be burned. And I cannot burn,--I +cannot! I shall go mad with terror before I come to the stake. I cannot +go stript to my smock before those Frenchmen. I cannot be roasted +piecemeal! Hereward, take me away! Take me away! or kill me, now and +here!" + +He paused. He had never seen Torfrida thus overcome. + +"Let us flee! The stars are against us. God is against us! Let us +hide,--escape abroad: beg our bread, go on pilgrimage to Jerusalem +together,--for together it must be always: but take me away!" + +"We will go back to the boats, men," said Hereward. + +But they did not go. They stood there, irresolute, looking towards Ely. + +The sky was pitchy dark. The minster roofs, lying northeast, were +utterly invisible against the blackness. + +"We may at least save some who escape out," said Hereward. "March on +quickly to the left, under the hill to the plough-field." + +They did so. + +"Lie down, men. There are the French, close on our right. Down among the +bushes." + +And they heard the heavy tramp of men within a quarter of a mile. + +"Cover the mare's eyes, and hold her mouth, lest she neigh," said +Winter. + +Hereward and Torfrida lay side by side upon the heath. She was shivering +with cold and horror. He laid his cloak over her; put his arm round her. + +"Your stars did not foretell you this, Torfrida." He spoke not bitterly, +but in utter sadness. + +She burst into an agony of weeping. + +"My stars at least foretold me nothing but woe, since first I saw your +face." + +"Why did you marry me, then?" asked he, half angrily. + +"Because I loved you. Because I love you still." + +"Then you do not regret?" + +"Never, never, never! I am quite happy,--quite happy. Why not?" + +A low murmur from the men made them look up. They were near enough to +the town to hear,--only too much. They heard the tramp of men, shouts +and yells. Then the shrill cries of women. All dull and muffled +the sounds came to them through the still night; and they lay there +spell-bound, as in a nightmare, as men assisting at some horrible +tragedy, which they had no power to prevent. Then there was a glare, and +a wisp of smoke against the black sky, and then a house began burning +brightly, and then another. + +"This is the Frenchman's faith!" + +And all the while, as the sack raged in the town below, the minster +stood above, dark, silent, and safe. The church had provided for +herself, by sacrificing the children beneath her fostering shadow. + +They waited nearly an hour: but no fugitives came out. + +"Come, men," said Hereward, wearily, "we may as well to the boats." + +And so they went, walking on like men in a dream, as yet too stunned +to realize to themselves the hopeless horror of their situation. +Only Hereward and Torfrida saw it all, looking back on the splendid +past,--the splendid hopes for the future: glory, honor, an earldom, a +free Danish England,--and this was all that was left! + +"No it is not!" cried Torfrida suddenly, as if answering her own +unspoken thoughts, and his. "Love is still left. The gallows and the +stake cannot take that away." And she clung closer to her husband's +side, and he again to hers. + +They reached the shore, and told their tale to their comrades. Whither +now? + +"To Well. To the wide mere," said Hereward. + +"But their ships will hunt us out there." + +"We shall need no hunting. We must pick up the men at Cissham. You would +not leave them to be murdered, too, as we have left the Ely men?" + +No. They would go to Well. And then? + +"The Bruneswald, and the merry greenwood," said Hereward. + +"Hey for the merry greenwood!" shouted Leofric the Deacon. And the men, +in the sudden delight of finding any place, any purpose, answered with a +lusty cheer. + +"Brave hearts," said Hereward. "We will live and die together like +Englishmen." + +"We will, we will, Viking." + +"Where shall we stow the mare?" asked Geri, "the boats are full +already." + +"Leave her to me. On board, Torfrida." + +He got on board last, leading the mare by the bridle. + +"Swim, good lass!" said he, as they pushed off; and the good lass, who +had done it many a time before, waded in, and was soon swimming behind. +Hereward turned, and bent over the side in the darkness. There was a +strange gurgle, a splash, and a swirl. He turned round, and sat upright +again. They rowed on. + +"That mare will never swim all the way to Well," said one. + +"She will not need it," said Hereward. + +"Why," cried Torfrida, feeling in the darkness, "she is loose. What is +this in your hand? Your dagger! And wet!" + +"Mare Swallow is at the bottom of the reach. We could never have got her +to Well." + +"And you have--" cried a dozen voices. + +"Do you think that I would let a cursed Frenchman--ay, even William's +self--say that he had bestridden Hereward's mare?" + +None answered: but Torfrida, as she laid her head upon her husband's +bosom, felt the great tears running down from his cheek on to her own. + +None spoke a word. The men were awe-stricken. There was something +despairing and ill-omened in the deed. And yet there was a savage +grandeur in it, which bound their savage hearts still closer to their +chief. + +And so mare Swallow's bones lie somewhere in the peat unto this day. + +They got to Well; they sent out spies to find the men who had been +"wasting Cissham with fire and sword"; and at last brought them in. Ill +news, as usual, had travelled fast. They had heard of the fall of Ely, +and hidden themselves "in a certain very small island which is called +Stimtench," where, thinking that the friends in search of them were +Frenchmen in pursuit, they hid themselves among the high reeds. There +two of them--one Starkwolf by name, the other Broher--hiding near each +other, "thought that, as they were monks, it might conduce to their +safety if they had shaven crowns; and set to work with their swords to +shave each other's heads as well as they could. But at last, by their +war-cries and their speech, recognizing each other, they left off +fighting," and went after Hereward. + +So jokes, grimly enough, Leofric the Deacon, who must have seen them +come in the next morning, with bleeding coxcombs, and could laugh over +the thing in after years. But he was in no humor for jesting in the +days in which they lay at Well. Nor was he in jesting humor when, a +week afterwards, hunted by the Normans from Well, and forced too take to +meres and waterways known only to them, and too shallow and narrow for +the Norman ships, they found their way across into the old Nene, and so +by Thorney on toward Crowland, leaving Peterborough far on the left. For +as they neared Crowland, they saw before them, rowing slowly, a barge +full of men. And as they neared that barge, behold, all they who rowed +were blind of both their eyes; and all they who sat and guided them were +maimed of both their hands. And as they came alongside, there was not +a man in all that ghastly crew but was an ancient friend, by whose side +they had fought full many a day, and with whom they had drunk deep full +many a night. They were the first-fruits of William's vengeance; thrust +into that boat, to tell the rest of the fen-men what those had to expect +who dared oppose the Norman. And they were going, by some by-stream, to +Crowland, to the sanctuary of the Danish fen-men, that they might cast +themselves down before St. Guthlac, and ask of him that mercy for their +souls which the conqueror had denied to their bodies. Alas for them! +they were but a handful among hundreds, perhaps thousands, of mutilated +cripples, who swarmed all over England, and especially in the north and +east, throughout the reign of the Norman conquerors. They told their +comrades' fate, slaughtered in the first attack, or hanged afterwards as +rebels and traitors to a foreigner whom they had never seen, and to whom +they owed no fealty by law of God or man. + +"And Ranald Sigtrygsson?" + +None knew aught of him. He never got home again to his Irish princess. + +"And the poor women?" asked Torfrida. + +But she received no answer. + +And the men swore a great oath, and kept it, never to give quarter to a +Norman, as long as there was one left on English ground. + +Neither were the monks of Ely in jesting humor, when they came to count +up the price of their own baseness. They had (as was in that day the +cant of all cowardly English churchmen, as well as of the more crafty +Normans) "obeyed the apostolic injunction, to submit to the powers +that be, because they are ordained," &c. But they found the hand of the +powers that be a very heavy one. Forty knights were billeted on them +at free quarters with all their men. Every morning the butler had to +distribute to them food and pay in the great hall; and in vain were +their complaints of bad faith. William meanwhile, who loved money as +well as he "loved the tall deer," had had 1,000 (another says 700) marks +of them as the price of their church's safety, for the payment whereof, +if one authority is to be trusted, they sold "all the furniture of gold +and silver, crosses, altars, coffers, covers, chalices, platters, ewers, +urnets, basons, cups, and saucers." Nay, the idols themselves were not +spared, "for," beside that, "they sold a goodly image of our Lady with +her little Son, in a throne wrought with marvellous workmanship, which +Elsegus the abbot had made. Likewise, they stripped many images of holy +virgins of much furniture of gold and silver." [Footnote: These details +are from a story found in the Isle of Ely, published by Dr. Giles. It +seems a late composition,--probably of the sixteenth century,--and +has manifest errors of fact; but _valeat quantum_.] So that poor St. +Etheldreda had no finery in which to appear on festivals, and went +in russet for many years after. The which money (according to another +[Footnote: Stow's "Annals."]) they took, as they had promised, to Picot +the Viscount at Cambridge. He weighed the money; and finding it an ounce +short, accused them of cheating the King, and sentenced them to pay +300 marks more. After which the royal commissioners came, plundered the +abbey of all that was left, and took away likewise "a great mass of gold +and silver found in Wentworth, wherewith the brethren meant to repair +the altar vessels"; and also a "notable cope which Archbishop Stigand +gave, which the church hath wanted to this day." + +Thurstan, the traitor Abbot, died in a few months. Egelwin, the Bishop +of Durham, was taken in the abbey. He was a bishop, and they dared not +kill him. But he was a patriot, and must have no mercy. They accused him +of stealing the treasures of Durham, which he had brought to Ely for the +service of his country; and shut him up in Abingdon. A few months after, +the brave man was found starved and dead, "whether of his own will or +enforced"; and so ended another patriot prelate. But we do not read +that the Normans gave back the treasure to Durham. And so, yielding +an immense mass of booty, and many a fair woman, as the Norman's prey, +ended the Camp of Refuge, and the glory of the Isle of Ely. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +HOW HEREWARD WENT TO THE GREENWOOD. + + +And now is Hereward to the greenwood gone, to be a bold outlaw; and not +only an outlaw himself, but the father of all outlaws, who held those +forests for two hundred years, from the fens to the Scottish border. +Utlages, forestiers, latrunculi (robberlets), sicarii, cutthroats, +sauvages, who prided themselves upon sleeping on the bare ground; they +were accursed by the conquerors, and beloved by the conquered. The +Norman viscount or sheriff commanded to hunt them from hundred to +hundred, with hue and cry, horse and bloodhound. The English yeoman left +for them a keg of ale, or a basket of loaves, beneath the hollins green, +as sauce for their meal of "nombles of the dere." + + "For hart and hind, and doe and roe, + Were in that forest great plentie," + +and + + "Swannes and fesauntes they had full good + And foules of the rivere. + There fayled never so lytell a byrde, + That ever was bred on brere." + +With the same friendly yeoman "that was a good felawe," they would lodge +by twos and threes during the sharp frosts of midwinter, in the lonely +farm-house which stood in the "field" or forest-clearing; but for the +greater part of the year their "lodging was on the cold ground" in the +holly thickets, or under the hanging rock, or in a lodge of boughs. + +And then, after a while, the life which began in terror, and despair, +and poverty, and loss of land and kin, became not only tolerable, but +pleasant. Bold men and hardy, they cared less and less for + + "The thornie wayes, the deep valleys, + The snowe, the frost, the rayne, + The colde, the hete; for dry or wete + We must lodge on the plaine, + And us above, none other roofe, + But a brake bushe, or twayne." + +And they found fair lasses, too, in time, who, like Torfrida and Maid +Marian, would answer to their warnings against the outlaw life, with the +nut-browne maid, that-- + + "Amonge the wylde dere, such an archere + As men say that ye be, + He may not fayle of good vitayle + Where is so great plente: + And water clere of the rivere, + Shall be full swete to me, + With which in hele, I shall right wele, + Endure, as ye may see." + +Then called they themselves "merry men," and the forest the "merry +greenwood"; and sang, with Robin Hood,-- + + "A merrier man than I, belyye + There lives not in Christentie." + +They were coaxed back, at times, to civilized life; they got their grace +of the king, and entered the king's service; but the craving after the +greenwood was upon them. They dreaded and hated the four stone walls of +a Norman castle, and, like Robin Hood, slipt back to the forest and the +deer. + +Gradually, too, law and order rose among them, lawless as they were; the +instinct of discipline and self-government, side by side with that of +personal independence, which is the peculiar mark and peculiar strength +of the English character. Who knows not how, in the "Lytell Geste of +Robin Hood," they shot at "pluck-buffet," the king among them, disguised +as an abbot; and every man who missed the rose-garland, "his tackle he +should tyne";-- + + "And bere a buffet on his head, + Iwys ryght all bare, + And all that fell on Robyn's lote, + He smote them wonder sair. + + "Till Robyn fayled of the garlonde, + Three fyngers and mair." + +Then good Gilbert bids him in his turn + + "'Stand forth and take his pay.' + + "'If it be so,' sayd Robyn, + 'That may no better be, + Syr Abbot, I delyver thee myn arrowe, + I pray thee, Syr, serve thou me.' + + "'It falleth not for myne order,' saith the kynge, + 'Robyn, by thy leve, + For to smyte no good yeman, + For doute I should hym greve.' + + "'Smyte on boldly,' sayd Robyn, + 'I give thee large leve.' + Anon our kynge, with that word, + He folde up his sleve. + + "And such a buffet he gave Robyn, + To grounde he yode full nere. + 'I make myn avowe,' sayd Robyn, + 'Thou art a stalwarte frere. + + "'There is pyth in thyn arme,' sayd Robyn, + 'I trowe thou canst well shoote.' + Thus our kynge and Hobyn Hode + Together they are met." + +Hard knocks in good humor, strict rules, fair play, and equal justice, +for high and low; this was the old outlaw spirit, which has descended to +their inlawed descendants; and makes, to this day, the life and marrow +of an English public school. + +One fixed idea the outlaw had,--hatred of the invader. If "his herde +were the king's deer," "his treasure was the earl's purse"; and still +oftener the purse of the foreign churchman, Norman or Italian, who had +expelled the outlaw's English cousins from their convents; shamefully +scourged and cruelly imprisoned them, as the blessed Archbishop Lanfranc +did at Canterbury, because they would not own allegiance to a French +abbot; or murdered them at the high altar, as did the new abbot of +Glastonbury, because they would not change their old Gregorian chant for +that of William of Fecamp. [Footnote: See the "Anglo-Saxon Chronicle".] + +On these mitred tyrants the outlaw had no mercy, as far as their purses +were concerned. Their persons, as consecrated, were even to him sacred +and inviolable,--at least, from wounds and death; and one may suppose +Hereward himself to have been the first author of the laws afterward +attributed to Robin Hood. As for "robbing and reving, beting and +bynding," free warren was allowed against the Norman. + + "'Thereof no fors,' said Robyn, + 'We shall do well enow. + But look ye do no housbonde harme, + That tilleth wyth his plough. + + "'No more ye shall no good yeman, + That walketh by grene wood shawe; + Ne no knyght, ne no squyer, + That will be good felawe. + + "'These bysshoppes, and these archbysshoppes, + Ye shall them bete and binde; + The hye sheryff of Nottingham, + Hym holde in your mynde.' + + "Robyn loved our dere Ladye, + For doubt of dedely synne, + Wolde he never do company harme + That any woman was ynne." + +And even so it was with Hereward in the Bruneswald, if the old +chroniclers, Leofric especially, are to be believed. + +And now Torfrida was astonished. She had given way utterly at Ely, from +woman's fear, and woman's disappointment. All was over. All was lost. +What was left, save to die? + +But--and it was a new and unexpected fact to one of her excitable +Southern blood, easily raised, and easily depressed--she discovered that +neither her husband, nor Winter, nor Geri, nor Wenoch, nor Ranald of +Ramsey, nor even the romancing harping Leofric, thought that all +was lost. She argued it with them, not to persuade them into base +submission, but to satisfy her own surprise. + +"But what will you do?" + +"Live in the greenwood." + +"And what then?" + +"Burn every town which a Frenchman holds, and kill every Frenchman we +meet." + +"But what plan have you?" + +"Who wants a plan, as you call it, while he has the green hollies +overhead, the dun deer on the lawn, bow in his hand, and sword by his +side?" + +"But what will be the end of it all?" + +"We shall live till we die." + +"But William is master of all England." + +"What is that to us? He is not our master." + +"But he must be some day. You will grow fewer and fewer. His government +will grow stronger and stronger." + +"What is that to us? When we are dead, there will be brave yeomen in +plenty to take our place. You would not turn traitor?" + +"I? Never! never! I will live and die with you in your greenwood, as you +call it. Only--I did not understand you English." + +Torfrida did not. She was discovering the fact, which her nation have +more than once discovered since, that the stupid valor of the Englishman +never knows when it is beaten; and sometimes, by that self-satisfied +ignorance, succeeds in not being beaten after all. + +So Hereward--if the chronicles speak truth--assembled a formidable +force, well-nigh, at last, four hundred men. Winter, Geri, Wenoch, +Grogan, one of the Azers of Lincoln, were still with him. Ranald +the butler still carried his standard. Of Duti and Outi, the famous +brothers, no more is heard. A valiant Matelgar takes their place; Alfric +and Sexwold and many another gallant fugitive cast up, like scattered +hounds, at the sound of "The Wake's" war-horn. There were those among +them (says Gaimar) who scorned to fight single-handed less than three +Normans. As for Hereward, he would fight seven. + + "Les quatre oscist, les treis fuirent; + Naffrez, sanglant, cil s'en partirent + En plusurs lius issi avint, + K'encontre seit tres bien se tuit + De seit hommes avait vertu, + Un plus hardi ne fu veu." + +They ranged up the Bruneswald, dashing out to the war-cry of "A Wake! a +Wake!" laying all waste with fire and sword, that is, such towns as +were in the hands of Normans. And a noble range they must have had for +gallant sportsmen. Away south, between the Nene and Welland, stretched +from Stamford and Peterborough the still vast forests of Rockingham, +nigh twenty miles in length as the crow flies, down beyond Rockingham +town, and Geddington Chase. To the west, they had the range of the +"hunting counties," dotted still, in the more eastern part, with +innumerable copses and shaughs, the remnants of the great forest, out of +which, as out of Rockinghamshire, have been cut those fair parks and + + "Handsome houses, + Where the wealthy nobles dwell"; + +past which the Lord of Burleigh led his Welsh bride to that Burghley +House by Stamford town, well-nigh the noblest of them all, which was, +in Hereward's time, deep wood, and freestone down. Round Exton, and +Normanton, and that other Burley on the Hill; on through those Morkery +woods, which still retain the name of Hereward's ill-fated nephew; +north by Irnham and Corby; on to Belton and Syston (_par nobile_), and +southwest again to those still wooded heights, whence all-but-royal +Belvoir looks out over the rich green vale below, did Hereward and his +men range far and wide, harrying the Frenchman, and hunting the +dun deer. Stags there were in plenty. There remain to this day, in +Grimsthorpe Park by Bourne, the descendants of the very deer which Earl +Leofric and Earl Algar, and after them Hereward the outlaw, hunted in +the Bruneswald. + +Deep-tangled forest filled the lower claylands, swarming with pheasant, +roe, badger, and more wolves than were needed. Broken, park-like glades +covered the upper freestones, where the red deer came out from harbor +for their evening graze, and the partridges and plovers whirred up, and +the hares and rabbits loped away, innumerable; and where hollies and +ferns always gave dry lying for the night. What did men need more, whose +bodies were as stout as their hearts? + +They were poachers and robbers; and why not? The deer had once been +theirs, the game, the land, the serfs; and if Godric of Corby slew the +Irnham deer, burned Irnham Hall over the head of the new Norman lord, +and thought no harm, he did but what he would with that which had been +once his own. + +Easy it was to dash out by night and make a raid; to harry the places +which they once had owned themselves, in the vale of Belvoir to the +west, or to the east in the strip of fertile land which sloped down into +the fen, and levy black-mail in Rippinghale, or Folkingham, or Aslackby, +or Sleaford, or any other of the "Vills" (now thriving villages) which +still remain in Domesday-book, and written against them the ugly and +significant,-- + +"In Tatenai habuerunt Turgisle et Suen IIII. Carrucas terae," &c. "Hoc +Ivo Taillebosc ibi habet in dominio,"--all, that is, that the wars had +left of them. + +The said Turgisle (Torkill or Turketil misspelt by Frenchmen) and Sweyn, +and many a good man more,--for Ivo's possessions were enormous,--were +thorns in the sides of Ivo and his men which must be extracted, and the +Bruneswald a nest of hornets, which must be smoked out at any cost. + +Wherefore it befell, that once upon a day there came riding to Hereward +in the Bruneswald a horseman all alone. + +And meeting with Hereward and his men he made signs of amity, and bowed +himself low, and pulled out of his purse a letter, protesting that he +was an Englishman and a "good felawe," and that, though he came from +Lincoln town, a friend to the English had sent him. + +That was believable enough, for Hereward had his friends and his spies +far and wide. + +And when he opened the letter, and looked first, like a wary man, at the +signature, a sudden thrill went through him. + +It was Alftruda's. + +If he was interested in her, considering what had passed between them +from her childhood, it was nothing to be ashamed of. And yet somehow he +felt ashamed of that same sudden thrill. + +And Hereward had reason to be ashamed. He had been faithful to +Torfrida,--a virtue most rare in those days. Few were faithful then, +save, it may be, Baldwin of Mons to his tyrant and idol, the sorceress +Richilda; and William of Normandy,--whatever were his other sins,--to +his wise and sweet and beautiful Matilda. The stories of his coldness +and cruelty to her seem to rest on no foundation. One need believe them +as little as one does the myth of one chronicler, that when she tried +to stop him from some expedition, and clung to him as he sat upon his +horse, he smote his spur so deep into her breast that she fell dead. The +man had self-control, and feared God in his own wild way,--therefore it +was, perhaps, that he conquered. + +And Hereward had been faithful likewise to Torfrida, and loved her +with an overwhelming adoration, as all true men love. And for that very +reason he was the more aware that his feeling for Alftruda was strangely +like his feeling for Torfrida, and yet strangely different. + +There was nothing in the letter that he should not have read. She called +him her best and dearest friend, twice the savior of her life. What +could she do in return, but, at any risk to herself, try and save his +life? The French were upon him. The _posse comitatus_ of seven counties +was raising. "Northampton, Cambridge, Lincoln, Holland, Leicester, +Huntingdon, Warwick," were coming to the Bruneswald to root him out. + +"Lincoln?" thought Hereward. "That must be Gilbert of Ghent, and Oger +the Breton. No! Gilbert is not coming, Sir Ascelin is coming for him. +Holland? That is my friend Ivo Taillebois. Well, we shall have the +chance of paying off old scores. Northampton? The earl thereof just now +is the pious and loyal Waltheof, as he is of Huntingdon and Cambridge. +Is he going to join young Fitz-Osbern from Warwick and Leicester, to +root out the last Englishman? Why not? That would be a deed worthy of +the man who married Judith, and believes in the powers that be, and eats +dirt daily at William's table." + +Then he read on. + +Ascelin had been mentioned, he remarked, three or four times in the +letter, which was long, as from one lingering over the paper, wishing to +say more than she dared. At the end was a hint of the reason:-- + +"O, that having saved me twice, you could save me once more. Know you +that Gospatrick has been driven from his earldom on charge of treason, +and that Waltheof has Northumbria in his place, as well as the parts +round you? And that Gospatrick is fled to Scotland again, with his +sons,--my man among them? And now the report comes, that my man is slain +in battle on the Border; and that I am to be given away,--as I have been +given away twice before,--to Ascelin. This I know, as I know all, not +only from him of Ghent, but from him of Peterborough, Ascelin's uncle." + +Hereward laughed a laugh of cynical triumph,--pardonable enough in a +broken man. + +"Gospatrick! the wittol! the woodcock! looking at the springe, and then +coolly putting his head therein. Throwing the hatchet after the helve! +selling his soul and never getting the price of it! I foresaw it, +foretold it, I believe to Alftruda herself,--foretold that he would not +keep his bought earldom three years. What a people we are, we English, +if Gospatrick is,--as he is,--the shrewdest man among us, with a dash +of canny Scots blood too. 'Among the one-eyed, the blind is king,' says +Torfrida, out of her wise ancients, and blind we are, if he is our best. +No. There is one better man left I trust, one that will never be fool +enough to put his head into the wolf's mouth, and trust the Norman, and +that is Hereward the outlaw." + +And Hereward boasted to himself, at Gospatrick's expense, of his own +superior wisdom, till his eye caught a line or two, which finished the +letter. + +"O that you would change your mind, much as I honor you for it. O that +you would come in to the king, who loves and trusts you, having seen +your constancy and faith, proved by so many years of affliction. Great +things are open to you, and great joys;--I dare not tell you what: but +I know them, if you would come in. You, to waste yourself in the forest, +an outlaw and a savage! Opportunity once lost, never returns; time flies +fast, Hereward, my friend, and we shall all grow old,--I think at times +that I shall soon grow old. And the joys of life will be impossible, and +nothing left but vain regrets." + +"Hey?" said Hereward, "a very clerkly letter. I did not think she was so +good a scholar. Almost as good a one as Torfrida." + +That was all he said; and as for thinking, he had the _posse comitatus_ +of seven counties to think of. But what could those great fortunes and +joys be, which Alftruda did not dare to describe? + +She growing old, too? Impossible, that was woman's vanity. It was but +two years since she was as fair as a saint in a window. "She shall not +marry Ascelin. I will cut his head off. She shall have her own choice +for once, poor child." + +And Hereward found himself worked up to a great height of paternal +solicitude for Alftruda, and righteous indignation against Ascelin. He +did not confess to himself that he disliked much, in his selfish vanity, +the notion of Alftruda's marrying any one at all. He did not want to +marry her himself,--of course not. But there is no dog in the manger +so churlish on such points as a vain man. There are those who will not +willingly let their own sisters, their own daughters, their own servants +marry. Why should a woman wish to marry any one but them? + +But Hereward, however vain, was no dreamer or sluggard. He set to work, +joyfully, cheerfully, scenting battle afar off, like Job's war-horse, +and pawing for the battle. He sent back Alftruda's messenger, with this +answer:-- + +"Tell your lady that I kiss her hands and feet. That I cannot write, for +outlaws carry no pen and ink. But that what she has commanded, that will +I perform." + +It is noteworthy, that when Hereward showed Torfrida (which he did +frankly) Alftruda's letter, he did not tell her the exact words of his +answer, and stumbled and varied much, vexing her thereby, when she, +naturally, wished to hear them word for word. + +Then he sent out spies to the four airts of heaven. And his spies, +finding a friend and a meal in every hovel, brought home all the news he +needed. + +He withdrew Torfrida and his men into the heart of the forest,--no hint +of the place is given by the chronicler,--cut down trees, formed an +abattis of trunks and branches, and awaited the enemy. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +HOW ABBOT THOROLD WAS PUT TO RANSOM. + + +Though Hereward had as yet no feud against "Bysshoppes and +Archbysshoppes," save Egelsin of Selsey, who had excommunicated him, but +who was at the other end of England, he had feud, as may be supposed, +against Thorold, Abbot of Peterborough, and Thorold feud likewise +against him. When Thorold had entered the "Golden Borough," hoping to +fatten himself with all its treasures, he had found it a smoking ruin, +and its treasures gone to Ely to pay Sweyn and his Danes. And such +a "sacrilege," especially when he was the loser thereby, was the +unpardonable sin itself in the eyes of Thorold, as he hoped it might be +in the eyes of St. Peter. Joyfully therefore he joined his friend Ivo +Taillebois; when, "with his usual pompous verbosity," saith Peter of +Blois, writing on this very matter, he asked him to join in destroying +Hereward. + +Nevertheless, with all the Norman chivalry at their back, it behoved +them to move with caution; for (so says the chronicler) "Hereward had in +these days very many foreigners, as well as landsfolk, who had come to +him to practise and learn war, and fled from their masters and friends +when they heard of his fame; and some of them the king's courtiers, who +had come to see whether those things which they heard were true, whom +Hereward nevertheless received cautiously, on plighted troth and oath." + +So Ivo Taillebois summoned all his men, and all other men's men who +would join him, and rode forth through Spalding and Bourne, having +announced to Lucia his bride that he was going to slay her one remaining +relative; and when she wept, cursed and kicked her, as he did once a +week. After which he came to Thorold of Peterborough. + +So on the two worthies rode from Peterborough to Stamford, and from +Stamford into the wilderness, no man knows whither. + + "And far they rode by bush and shaugh, + And far by moss and mire,"-- + +but never found a track of Hereward or his men. And Ivo Taillebois left +off boasting how he would burn Torfrida over a slow fire, and confined +himself to cursing; and Abbot Thorold left off warbling the song of +Roland as if he had been going to a second battle of Hastings, and +wished himself in warm bed at Peterborough. + +But at the last they struck upon a great horse-track, and followed it at +their best pace for several miles, and yet no sign of Hereward. + +"Catch an Englishman," quoth the abbot. + +But that was not so easy. The poor folk had hidden themselves, like +Israel of old, in thickets and dens and caves of rocks, at the far-off +sight of the Norman tyrants, and not a living soul had appeared for +twenty miles. At last they caught a ragged wretch herding swine, and +haled him up to Ivo. + +"Have you seen Hereward, villain?" asked he, through an interpreter. + +"Nay." + +"You lie. These are his fresh horse-tracks, and you must have seen him +pass." + +"Eh?" + +"Thrust out one of his eyes, and he will find his tongue." + +It was done. + +"Will you answer now?" + +The poor wretch only howled. + +"Thrust out the other." + +"No, not that! Mercy: I will tell. He is gone by this four hours. How +have you not met him?" + +"Fool! The hoofs point onward there." + +"Ay,"--and the fellow could hardly hide a grin,--"but he had shod all +his horses backwards." + +A storm of execration followed. They might be thrown twenty miles out of +their right road by the stratagem. + +"So you had seen Hereward, and would not tell. Put out his other eye," +said Taillebois, as a vent to his own feelings. + +And they turned their horses' heads, and rode back, leaving the man +blind in the forest. + +The day was waning now. The fog hung heavy on the treetops, and dripped +upon their heads. The horses were getting tired, and slipped and +stumbled in the deep clay paths. The footmen were more tired still, and, +cold and hungry, straggled more and more. The horse-tracks led over an +open lawn of grass and fern, with here and there an ancient thorn, and +round it on three sides thick wood of oak and beech, with under copse of +holly and hazel. Into that wood the horse-tracks led, by a path on which +there was but room for one horse at a time. + +"Here they are at last!" cried Ivo. "I see the fresh footmarks of men, +as well as horses. Push on, knights and men at-arms." + +The Abbot looked at the dark, dripping wood, and meditated. + +"I think that it will be as well for some of us to remain here; +and, spreading our men along the woodside, prevent the escape of the +villains. _A moi, hommes d'armes!_" + +"As you like. I will go in and bolt the rabbit; and you shall snap him +up as he comes out." + +And Ivo, who was as brave as a bull-dog, thrust his horse into the path, +while the Abbot sat shivering outside. "Certain nobles of higher rank," +says Peter de Blois, "followed his example, not wishing to rust their +armor, or tear their fine clothes, in the dank copse." + +The knights and men-at-arms straggled slowly into the forest, some by +the path, some elsewhere, grumbling audibly at the black work before +them. At last the crashing of the branches died away, and all was still. + +Abbot Thorold sat there upon his shivering horse, shivering himself as +the cold pierced through his wet mail; and as near an hour past, and no +sign of foe or friend appeared, he cursed the hour in which he took +off the beautiful garments of the sanctuary to endure those of the +battle-field. He thought of a warm chamber, warm bath, warm footcloths, +warm pheasant, and warm wine. He kicked his freezing iron feet in the +freezing iron stirrup. He tried to blow his nose with his freezing iron +hand; but dropt his handkerchief into the mud, and his horse trod on it. +He tried to warble the song of Roland; but the words exploded in a cough +and a sneeze. And so dragged on the weary hours, says the chronicler, +nearly all day, till the ninth hour. But never did they see coming out +of the forest the men who had gone in. + +A shout from his nephew, Sir Ascelin, made all turn their heads. Behind +them, on the open lawn, in the throat between the woods by which they +had entered, were some forty knights, galloping toward them. + +"Ivo?" + +"No!" almost shrieked the Abbot. "There is the white-bear banner. It is +Hereward." + +"There is Winter on his left," cried one. "And there, with the standard, +is the accursed monk, Ranald of Ramsey." + +And on they came, having debouched from the wood some two hundred yards +off, behind a roll in the lawn, just far enough off to charge as soon as +they were in line. + +On they came, two deep, with lances high over their shoulders, heads and +heels well down, while the green tufts flew behind them, "_A moi, hommes +d'armes!_" shouted the Abbot. But too late. The French turned right +and left. To form was impossible, ere the human whirlwind would be upon +them. + +Another half-minute and with a shout of "A bear! a bear. The Wake! the +Wake!" they were struck, ridden through, hurled over, and trampled into +the mud. + +"I yield. Grace! I yield!" cried Thorold, struggling from under his +horse; but there was no one to whom to yield. The knights' backs +were fifty yards off, their right arms high in the air, striking and +stabbing. + +The battle was "_a l'outrance_." There was no quarter given that day. + + "And he that came live out thereof + Was he that ran away." + +The Abbot tried to make for the wood, but ere he could gain it, the +knights had turned, and one rode straight at him, throwing away a broken +lance, and drawing his sword. + +Abbot Thorold may not have been the coward which Peter of Blois would +have him, over and above being the bully which all men would have him; +but if so, even a worm will turn; and so did the Abbot: he drew sword +from thigh, got well under his shield, his left foot forward, and struck +one blow for his life, and at the right place,--his foe's bare knee. + +But he had to do with a warier man than himself. There was a quick jerk +of the rein; the horse swerved round, right upon him, and knocked him +head over heels; while his blow went into empty air. + +"Yield or die!" cried the knight, leaping from his horse, and kneeling +on his head. + +"I am a man of God, an abbot, churchman, Thorold." + +"Man of all the devils!" and the knight lugged him up, and bound his +arms behind him with the abbot's own belt. + +"Ahoi! Here! I have caught a fish. I have got the Golden Borough in my +purse!" roared he. "How much has St. Peter gained since we borrowed of +him last, Abbot? He will have to pay out the silver pennies bonnily, if +he wishes to get back thee." + +"Blaspheme not, godless barbarian!" Whereat the knight kicked him. + +"And you have Thorold the scoundrel, Winter?" cried Hereward, galloping +up. "And we have three or four more dainty French knights, and a +viscount of I know not where among them. This is a good day's work. Now +for Ivo and his tail." + +And the Abbot, with four or five more prisoners, were hoisted on to +their own horses, tied firmly, and led away into the forest path. + +"Do not leave a wounded man to die," cried a knight who lay on the lawn. + +"Never we. I will come back and put you out of your pain," quoth some +one. + +"Siward! Siward Le Blanc! Are you in this meinie?" cried the knight in +French. + +"That am I. Who calls?" + +"For God's sake save him!" cried Thorold. "He is my own nephew, and I +will pay--" + +"You will need all your money for yourself," said Siward the White, +riding back. + +"Are you Sir Ascelin of Ghent?" + +"That am I, your host of old." + +"I wish I had met you in better company. But friends we are, and friends +must be." + +And he dismounted, and did his best for the wounded man, promising to +return and fetch him off before night, or send yeomen to do so. + +As he pushed on through the wood, the Abbot began to see signs of +a fight; riderless horses crashing through the copse, wounded men +straggling back, to be cut down without mercy by the English. The war +had been "_a l'outrance_" for a long while. None gave or asked quarter. +The knights might be kept for ransom: they had money. The wretched men +of the lower classes, who had none, were slain: as they would have slain +the English. + +Soon they heard the noise of battle; and saw horsemen and footmen +pell-mell, tangled in an abattis, from behind which archers and +cross-bowmen shot them down in safety. + +Hereward dashed forward, with the shout of Torfrida; and at that the +French, taken in the flank, fled, and were smitten as they fled, hip and +thigh. + +Hereward bade them spare a fugitive, and bring him to him. + +"I give you your life; so run, and carry my message. That is +Taillebois's banner there forward, is it not?" + +"Yes." + +"Then go after him, and tell him,--Hereward has the Abbot of Burgh, and +half a dozen knights, safe by the heels. And unless Ivo clears the wood +of his men by nightfall, I will hang every one of them up for the crows +before morning." + +Ivo got the message, and having had enough fighting for the day, +drew off, says the chronicler, for the sake of the Abbot and his +fellow-captives. + +Two hours after the Abbot and the other prisoners were sitting, unbound, +but unarmed, in the forest encampment, waiting for a right good meal, +with Torfrida bustling about them, after binding up the very few wounded +among their own men. + +Every courtesy was shown them; and their hearts were lifted up, as they +beheld approaching among the trees great caldrons of good soup; forest +salads; red deer and roe roasted on the wood embers; spits of pheasants +and partridges, larks and buntings, thrust off one by one by fair hands +into the burdock leaves which served as platters; and last, but not +least, jacks of ale and wine, appearing mysteriously from a cool old +stone quarry. Abbot Thorold ate to his heart's content, complimented +every one, vowed he would forswear all Norman cooks and take to the +greenwood himself, and was as gracious and courtly as if he had been at +the new palace at Winchester. + +And all the more for this reason,--that he had intended to overawe the +English barbarians by his polished Norman manners. He found those of +Hereward and Torfrida, at least, as polished as his own. + +"I am glad you are content, Lord Abbot," said Torfrida; "I trust you +prefer dining with me to burning me, as you meant to do." + +"I burn such peerless beauty! I injure a form made only for the courts +of kings! Heaven and all saints, knighthood and all chivalry, forbid. +What Taillebois may have said, I know not! I am no more answerable for +his intentions than I am for his parentage,--or his success this day. +Let churls be churls, and wood-cutters wood-cutters. I at least, thanks +to my ancestors, am a gentleman." + +"And, as a gentleman, will of course contribute to the pleasure of your +hosts. It will surely please you to gratify us with one stave at least +of that song, which has made your name famous among all knights," +holding out a harp. + +"I blush; but obey. A harp in the greenwood? A court in the wilderness! +What joy!" + +And the vain Abbot took the harp, and said,--"These, if you will allow +my modesty to choose, are the staves on which I especially pride myself. +The staves which Taillefer--you will pardon my mentioning him--" + +"Why pardon? A noble minstrel he was, and a brave warrior, though our +foe. And often have I longed to hear him, little thinking that I should +hear instead the maker himself." + +So said Hereward; and the Abbot sang--those wondrous staves, where +Roland, left alone of all the Paladins, finds death come on him fast. +And on the Pyrenaean peak, beneath the pine, he lays himself, his "face +toward the ground, and under him his sword and magic horn, that Charles, +his lord, may say, and all his folk, The gentle count, he died a +conqueror"; and then "turns his eyes southward toward Spain, betakes +himself to remember many things; of so many lands which he conquered +valiantly; of pleasant France; of the men of his lineage; of +Charlemagne, his lord, who brought him up. He could not help to weep +and sigh, but yet himself he would not forget. He bewailed his sins, and +prayed God's mercy:--True Father, who ne'er yet didst lie, who raised +St. Lazarus from death, and guarded Daniel from the lions, guard my soul +from all perils, for the sins which in my life I did! His right glove +then he offered to God; St. Gabriel took it from his hand; on his arm +the chief bowed down, with joined hands he went unto his end. God sent +down his angel cherubim, and St. Michael, whom men call 'del peril.' +Together with them, St. Gabriel, he came; the soul of the count they +bore to Paradise." + +And the Abbot ended, sadly and gently, without that wild "Aoi!" the +war-cry with which he usually ends his staves. And the wild men of +the woods were softened and saddened by the melody; and as many as +understood French, said, when he finished, "Amen! so may all good +knights die!" + +"Thou art a great maker, Abbot! They told truths of thee. Sing us more +of thy great courtesy." + +And he sang them the staves of the Olifant, the magic horn,--how Roland +would not sound it in his pride, and sounded it at Turpin's bidding, but +too late; and how his temples burst with that great blast, and Charles +and all his peers heard it through the gorges, leagues away in France. +And then his "Aoi" rang forth so loud and clear, like any trumpet blast, +under the oaken glades, that the wild men leaped to their feet, and +shouted, "Health to the gleeman! Health to the Abbot Thorold!" + +"I have won them," thought the Abbot to himself. Strange mixture that +man must have been, if all which is told of him is true; a very typical +Norman, compact of cunning and ferocity, chivalry and poetry, vanity +and superstition, and yet able enough to help to conquer England for the +Pope. + +Then he pressed Hereward to sing, with many compliments; and Hereward +sang, and sang again, and all his men crowded round him as the outlaws +of Judaea may have crowded round David in Carmel or Hebron, to hear, +like children, old ditties which they loved the better the oftener they +heard them. + +"No wonder that you can keep these knights together, if you can charm +them thus with song. Would that I could hear you singing thus in +William's hall." + +"No more of that, Sir Abbot. The only music which I have for William is +the music of steel on steel." + +Hereward answered sharply, because he was half of Thorold's mind. + +"Now," said Torfrida, as it grew late, "we must ask our noble guest +for what he can give us as easily and well as he can song,--and that is +news. We hear naught here in the greenwood, and must throw oneself on +the kindness of a chance visitor." + +The Abbot leapt at the bait, and told them news, court gossip, bringing +in great folks' names and his own, as often and as familiarly mingled as +he could. + +"What of Richilda?" asked Torfrida. + +"Ever since young Arnoul was killed at Cassel--" + +"Arnoul killed?" shrieked Torfrida. + +"Is it possible that you do not know?" + +"How should I know, shut up in Ely for--years it seems." + +"But they fought at Cassel three months before you went to Ely." + +"Be it so. Only tell me. Arnoul killed!" + +Then the Abbot told, not without feeling, a fearful story. + +Robert the Frison and Richilda had come to open war, and Gerbod the +Fleming, Earl of Clueter, had gone over from England to help Robert. +William had sent Fitz-Osbern, Earl of Hereford, the scourge and tyrant +of the Welsh, to help Richilda. Fitz Osbern had married her, there and +then. She had asked help of her liege lord, the King of France, and he +had sent her troops. Robert and Richilda had fought on St. Peter's day, +1071,--nearly two years before, at Bavinchorum, by Cassel. + +Richilda had played the heroine, and routed Robert's left wing, taken +him prisoner, and sent him off to St. Omer. Men said that she had done +it by her enchantments. But her enchantments betrayed her nevertheless. +Fitz Osbern, her bridegroom, fell dead. Young Arnoul had two horses +killed under him. Then Gerbod smote him to the ground, and Richilda and +her troops fled in horror. Richilda was taken, and exchanged for the +Frison; at which the King of France, being enraged, had come down and +burnt St. Omer. Then Richilda, undaunted, had raised fresh troops to +avenge her son. Then Robert had met them at Broqueroie by Mons, and +smote them with a dreadful slaughter. [Footnote: The place was called +till late, and may be now, "The Hedges of Death."] Then Richilda had +turned and fled wildly into a convent; and, so men said, tortured +herself night and day with fearful penances, if by any means she might +atone for her great sins. + +Torfrida heard, and laid her head upon her knees, and wept so bitterly, +that the Abbot entreated pardon for having pained her so much. + +The news had a deep and lasting effect on her. The thought of Richilda +shivering and starving in the squalid darkness of a convent, abode by +her thenceforth. Should she ever find herself atoning in like wise for +her sorceries,--harmless as they had been; for her ambitions,--just as +they had been; for her crimes? But she had committed none. No, she +had sinned in many things: but she was not as Richilda. And yet in the +loneliness and sadness of the forest, she could not put Richilda from +before the eyes of her mind. + +It saddened Hereward likewise. For Richilda he cared little. But that +boy. How he had loved him! How he had taught him to ride, and sing, and +joust, and handle sword, and all the art of war. How his own rough soul +had been the better for that love. How he had looked forward to the day +when Arnoul should be a great prince, and requite him with love. Now +he was gone. Gone? Who was not gone, or going? He seemed to himself the +last tree in the forest. When should his time come, and the lightning +strike him down to rot beside the rest? But he tost the sad thoughts +aside. He could not afford to nourish them. It was his only chance of +life, to be merry and desperate. + +"Well!" said Hereward, ere they hapt themselves up for the night. "We +owe you thanks, Abbot Thorold, for an evening worthy of a king's court, +rather than a holly-bush." + +"I have won him over," thought the Abbot. + +"So charming a courtier,--so sweet a minstrel,--so agreeable a +newsmonger,--could I keep you in a cage forever, and hang you on a +bough, I were but too happy: but you are too fine a bird to sing in +captivity. So you must go, I fear, and leave us to the nightingales. And +I will take for your ransom--" + +Abbot Thorold's heart beat high. + +"Thirty thousand silver marks." + +"Thirty thousand fiends!" + +"My beau Sire, will you undervalue yourself? Will you degrade yourself? +I took Abbot Thorold, from his talk, to be a man who set even a higher +value on himself than other men set on him. What higher compliment can I +pay to your vast worth, than making your ransom high accordingly, after +the spirit of our ancient English laws? Take it as it is meant, beau +Sire; be proud to pay the money; and we will throw you Sir Ascelin into +the bargain, as he seems a friend of Siward's." + +Thorold hoped that Hereward was drunk, and might forget, or relent; but +he was so sore at heart that he slept not a wink that night. But in +the morning he found, to his sorrow, that Hereward had been as sober as +himself. + +In fine, he had to pay the money; and was a poor man all his days. + +"Aha! Sir Ascelin," said Hereward apart, as he bade them all farewell +with many courtesies. "I think I have put a spoke in your wheel about +the fair Alftruda." + +"Eh? How? Most courteous victor?" + +"Sir Ascelin is not a very wealthy gentleman." + +Ascelin laughed assent. + +"Nudus intravi, nudus exeo--England; and I fear now, this mortal life +likewise." + +"But he looked to his rich uncle the Abbot, to further a certain +marriage-project of his. And, of course, neither my friend Gilbert of +Ghent, nor my enemy William of Normandy, are likely to give away so rich +an heiress without some gratification in return." + +"Sir Hereward knows the world, it seems." + +"So he has been told before. And, therefore, having no intention that +Sir Ascelin, however worthy of any and every fair lady, should marry +this one; he took care to cut off the stream at the fountain-head. If he +hears that the suit is still pushed, he may cut off another head beside +the fountain's." + +"There will be no need," said Ascelin, laughing again. "You have very +sufficiently ruined my uncle, and my hopes." + +"My head?" said he, as soon as Hereward was out of hearing. "If I do not +cut off thy head ere all is over, there is neither luck nor craft left +among Normans. I shall catch the Wake sleeping some day, let him be +never so wakeful." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +HOW ALFTRUDA WROTE TO HEREWARD. + + +The weary months ran on, from summer into winter, and winter into summer +again, for two years and more, and neither Torfrida nor Hereward were +the better for them. Hope deferred maketh the heart sick: and a +sick heart is but too apt to be a peevish one. So there were fits of +despondency, jars, mutual recriminations. "If I had not taken your +advice, I should not have been here." "If I had not loved you so well, +I might have been very differently off,"--and so forth. The words were +wiped away the next hour, perhaps the next minute, by sacred kisses; but +they had been said, and would be recollected, and perhaps said again. + +Then, again, the "merry greenwood" was merry enough in the summer tide, +when shaughs were green, and + + "The woodwele sang, and would not cease, + Sitting upon the spray. + So loud, it wakened Robin Hood + In the greenwood where he lay." + +But it was a sad place enough, when the autumn fog crawled round the +gorse, and dripped off the hollies, and choked alike the breath and +the eyesight; when the air sickened with the graveyard smell of rotting +leaves, and the rain-water stood in the clay holes over the poached and +sloppy lawns. + +It was merry enough, too, when they were in winter quarters in friendly +farm-houses, as long as the bright sharp frosts lasted, and they tracked +the hares and deer merrily over the frozen snows; but it was doleful +enough in those same farm-houses in the howling wet weather, when wind +and rain lashed in through unglazed window, and ill-made roof, and there +were coughs and colds and rheumatisms, and Torfrida ached from head to +foot, and once could not stand upright for a whole month together, and +every cranny was stuffed up with bits of board and rags, keeping out +light and air as well as wind and water; and there was little difference +between the short day and the long night; and the men gambled and +wrangled amid clouds of peat-reek, over draughtboards and chessmen which +they had carved for themselves, and Torfrida sat stitching and sewing, +making and mending, her eyes bleared with peat-smoke, her hands sore +and coarse from continual labor, her cheek bronzed, her face thin and +hollow, and all her beauty worn away for very trouble. Then sometimes +there was not enough to eat, and every one grumbled at her; or some +one's clothes were not mended, and she was grumbled at again. And +sometimes a foraging party brought home liquor, and all who could +got drunk to drive dull care away; and Hereward, forgetful of all her +warnings, got more than was good for him likewise; and at night she +coiled herself up in her furs, cold and contemptuous; and Hereward +coiled himself up, guilty and defiant, and woke her again and again with +startings and wild words in his sleep. And she felt that her beauty +was gone, and that he saw it; and she fancied him (perhaps it was only +fancy) less tender than of yore; and then in very pride disdained to +take any care of her person, and said to herself, though she dare not +say it to him, that if he only loved her for her face, he did not love +her at all. And because she fancied him cold at times, she was cold +likewise, and grew less and less caressing, when for his sake, as well +as her own, she should have grown more so day by day. + +Alas for them! there are many excuses. Sorrow may be a softening +medicine at last, but at first it is apt to be a hardening one; and +that savage outlaw life which they were leading can never have been a +wholesome one for any soul of man, and its graces must have existed +only in the brains of harpers and gleemen. Away from law, from +self-restraint, from refinement, from elegance, from the very sound of a +church-going bell, they were sinking gradually down to the level of the +coarse men and women whom they saw; the worse and not the better parts +of both their characters were getting the upper hand; and it was but too +possible that after a while the hero might sink into the ruffian, the +lady into a slattern and a shrew. + +But in justice to them be it said, that neither of them had complained +of the other to any living soul. Their love had been as yet too perfect, +too sacred, for them to confess to another (and thereby confess to +themselves) that it could in any wise fail. They had each idolized the +other, and been too proud of their idolatry to allow that their idol +could crumble or decay. + +And yet at last that point, too, was reached. One day they were +wrangling about somewhat, as they too often wrangled, and Hereward in +his temper let fall the words. "As I said to Winter the other day, you +grow harder and harder upon me." + +Torfrida started and fixed on him wide, terrible, scornful eyes "So you +complain of me to your boon companions?" + +And she turned and went away without a word. A gulf had opened between +them. They hardly spoke to each other for a week. + +Hereward complained of Torfrida? What if Torfrida should complain of +Hereward? But to whom? Not to the coarse women round her; her pride +revolted from that thought;--and yet she longed for counsel, for +sympathy,--to open her heart but to one fellow-woman. She would go to +the Lady Godiva at Crowland, and take counsel of her, whether there was +any method (for so she put it to herself) of saving Hereward; for she +saw but too clearly that he was fast forgetting all her teaching, and +falling back to a point lower than that even from which she had raised +him up. + +To go to Crowland was not difficult. It was mid-winter. The dikes were +all frozen. Hereward was out foraging in the Lincolnshire wolds. So +Torfrida, taking advantage of his absence, proposed another foraging +party to Crowland itself. She wanted stuff for clothes, needles, thread, +what not. A dozen stout fellows volunteered at once to take her. The +friendly monks of Crowland would feast them royally, and send them +home heaped with all manner of good things; while as for meeting Ivo +Taillebois's men, if they had but three to one against them, there was +a fair chance of killing a few, and carrying off their clothes and +weapons, which would be useful. So they made a sledge, tied beef-bones +underneath it, put Torfrida thereon, well wrapped in deer and fox and +badger skin, and then putting on their skates, swept her over the fen to +Crowland, singing like larks along the dikes. + +And Torfrida went in to Godiva, and wept upon her knees; and Godiva wept +likewise, and gave her such counsel as she could,--how if the woman will +keep the men heroic, she must keep herself not heroic only, but devout +likewise; how she herself, by that one deed which had rendered her name +famous then, and famous (though she never dreamt thereof) now, and it +may be to the end of time,--had once for all, tamed, chained, and as it +were converted, the heart of her fierce young lord; and enabled her to +train him in good time into the most wise, most just, most pious, of all +King Edward's earls. + +And Torfrida said yes, and yes, and yes, and felt in her heart that she +knew all that already. Had not she, too, taught, entreated, softened, +civilized? Had not she, too, spent her life upon a man, and that man a +wolf's-head and a landless outlaw, more utterly than Godiva could ever +have spent hers on one who lived lapped in luxury and wealth and power? +Torfrida had done her best, and she had failed, or at least fancied in +her haste that she had failed. + +What she wanted was, not counsel, but love. And she clung round the Lady +Godiva, till the broken and ruined widow opened all her heart to her, +and took her in her arms, and fondled her as if she had been a babe. And +the two women spoke few words after that, for indeed there was nothing +to be said. Only at last, "My child, my child," cried Godiva, "better +for thee, body and soul, to be here with me in the house of God, than +there amid evil spirits and deeds of darkness in the wild woods." + +"Not a cloister, not a cloister," cried Torfrida, shuddering, and half +struggling to get away. + +"It is the only place, poor wilful child, the only place this side the +grave, in which, we wretched creatures, who for our sins are women born, +can find aught of rest or peace. By us sin came into the world, and +Eve's curse lies heavy on us to this day, and our desire is to our +lords, and they rule over us; and when the slave can work for her master +no more, what better than to crawl into the house of God, and lay down +our crosses at the foot of His cross and die? You too will come here, +Torfrida, some day, I know it well. You too will come here to rest." + +"Never, never," shrieked Torfrida, "never to these horrid vaults. I will +die in the fresh air! I will be buried under the green hollies; and the +nightingales as they wander up from my own Provence, shall build and +sing over my grave. Never, never!" murmured she to herself all the more +eagerly, because something within her said that it would come to pass. + +The two women went into the church to Matins, and prayed long and +fervently. And at the early daybreak the party went back laden with good +things and hearty blessings, and caught one of Ivo Taillebois's men by +the way, and slew him, and got off him a new suit of clothes in which +the poor fellow was going courting; and so they got home safe into the +Bruneswald. + +But Torfrida had not found rest unto her soul. For the first time in her +life since she became the bride of Hereward, she had had a confidence +concerning him and unknown to him. It was to his own mother,--true. And +yet she felt as if she had betrayed him: but then had he not betrayed +her? And to Winter of all men? + +It might have been two months afterwards that Martin Lightfoot put a +letter into Torfrida's hand. + +The letter was addressed to Hereward; but there was nothing strange in +Martin's bringing it to his mistress. Ever since their marriage, she +had opened and generally answered the very few epistles with which her +husband was troubled. + +She was going to open this one as a matter of course, when glancing at +the superscription she saw, or fancied she saw, that it was in a woman's +hand. She looked at it again. It was sealed plainly with a woman's seal; +and she looked up at Martin Lightfoot. She had remarked as he gave her +the letter a sly significant look in his face. + +"What doest thou know of this letter?" she inquired sharply. + +"That it is from the Countess Alftruda, whomsoever she may be." + +A chill struck through her heart. True, Alftruda had written before, +only to warn Hereward of danger to his life,--and hers. She might be +writing again, only for the same purpose. But still, she did not wish +that either Hereward, or she, should owe Alftruda their lives, or +anything. They had struggled on through weal and woe without her, for +many a year. Let them do so without her still. That Alftruda had once +loved Hereward she knew well. Why should she not? The wonder was to +her that every woman did not love him. But she had long since gauged +Alftruda's character, and seen in it a persistence like her own, yet as +she proudly hoped of a lower temper; the persistence of the base weasel, +not of the noble hound: yet the creeping weasel might endure, and win, +when the hound was tired out by his own gallant pace. And there was a +something in the tone of Alftruda's last letter which seemed to tell her +that the weasel was still upon the scent of its game. But she was too +proud to mistrust Hereward, or rather, to seem to mistrust him. And +yet--how dangerous Alftruda might be as a rival, if rival she choose to +be. She was up in the world now, free, rich, gay, beautiful, a favorite +at Queen Matilda's court, while she-- + +"How came this letter into thy hands?" asked she as carelessly as she +could. + +"I was in Peterborough last night," said Martin, "concerning little +matters of my own, and there came to me in the street a bonny young page +with smart jacket on his back, smart cap on his head, and smiles and +bows, and 'You are one of Hereward's men,' quoth he." + +"'Say that again, young jackanapes,' said I, 'and I'll cut your tongue +out,' whereat he took fright and all but cried. He was very sorry, and +meant no harm, but he had a letter for my master, and he heard I was one +of his men. + +"Who told him that?" + +"Well, one of the monks, he could not justly say which, or wouldn't, +and I, thinking the letter of more importance than my own neck, ask him +quietly into my friend's house. There he pulls out this and five silver +pennies, and I shall have five more if I bring an answer back: but to +none than Hereward must I give it. With that I calling my friend, who is +an honest woman, and nigh as strong in the arms as I am, ask her to clap +her back against the door, and pull out my axe." + +"'Now,' said I, 'I must know a little more about this letter Tell me, +knave, who gave it thee, or I'll split thy skull.' + +"The young man cries and blubbers; and says that it is the Countess +Alftruda, who is staying in the monastery, and that he is her serving +man, and that it is as much as my life is worth to touch a hair of his +head, and so forth,--so far so good. + +"Then I asked him again, who told him I was my master's man?--and he +confessed that it was Herluin the prior,--he that was Lady Godiva's +chaplain of old, whom my master robbed of his money when he had the cell +of Bourne years agone. Very well, quoth I to myself, that's one more +count on our score against Master Herluin. Then I asked him how Herluin +and the Lady Alftruda came to know aught of each other? and he said that +she had been questioning all about the monastery without Abbot Thorold's +knowledge, for one that knew Hereward and favored him well. That was all +I could get from the knave, he cried so for fright. So I took his money +and his letter, warning him that if he betrayed me, there were those +would roast him alive before he was done with me. And so away over the +town wall, and ran here five-and-twenty miles before breakfast, and +thought it better as you see to give the letter to my lady first." + +"You have been officious," said Torfrida, coldly. "'Tis addressed to +your master. Take it to him. Go." + +Martin Lightfoot whistled and obeyed, while Torfrida walked away proudly +and silently with a beating heart. + +Again Godiva's words came over her. Should she end in the convent of +Crowland? And suspecting, fearing, imagining all sorts of baseless +phantoms, she hardened her heart into a great hardness. + +Martin had gone with the letter, and Torfrida never heard any more of +it. + +So Hereward had secrets which he would not tell to her. At last! + +That, at least, was a misery which she would not confide to Lady Godiva, +or to any soul on earth. + +But a misery it was. Such a misery as none can delineate, save those who +have endured it themselves, or had it confided to them by another. And +happy are they to whom neither has befallen. + +She wandered on and into the wild-wood, and sat down by a spring. She +looked in it--her only mirror--at her wan, coarse face, with wild black +elf-locks hanging round it, and wondered whether Alftruda, in her luxury +and prosperity, was still so very beautiful. Ah, that that fountain +were the fountain of Jouvence, the spring of perpetual youth, which all +believed in those days to exist somewhere,--how would she plunge into +it, and be young and fair once more! + +No! she would not! She had lived her life, and lived it well, gallantly, +lovingly, heroically. She had given that man her youth, her beauty, her +wealth, her wit. He should not have them a second time. He had had his +will of her. If he chose to throw her away when he had done with her, to +prove himself base at last, unworthy of all her care, her counsels, her +training,--dreadful thought! To have lived to keep that man for her own, +and just when her work seemed done, to lose him! No, there was worse +than that. To have lived that she might make that man a perfect knight, +and just when her work seemed done, to see him lose himself! + +And she wept till she could weep no more. Then she washed away her tears +in that well. Had it been in Greece of old, that well would have become +a sacred well thenceforth, and Torfrida's tears have changed into +forget-me-nots, and fringed its marge with azure evermore. + +Then she went back, calm, all but cold: but determined not to betray +herself, let him do what he would. Perhaps it was all a mistake, a +fancy. At least she would not degrade him, and herself, by showing +suspicion. It would be dreadful, shameful to herself, wickedly unjust to +him, to accuse him, were he innocent after all. + +Hereward, she remarked, was more kind to her now. But it was a kindness +which she did not like. It was shy, faltering, as of a man guilty and +ashamed; and she repelled it as much as she dared, and then, once or +twice, returned it passionately, madly, in hopes-- + +But he never spoke a word of that letter. + +After a dreadful month, Martin came mysteriously to her again. She +trembled, for she had remarked in him lately a strange change. He had +lost his usual loquacity and quaint humor; and had fallen back into that +sullen taciturnity, which, so she heard, he had kept up in his youth. +He, too, must know evil which he dared not tell. + +"There is another letter come. It came last night," said he. + +"What is that to thee or me? My lord has his state secrets. Is it for us +to pry into them? Go!" + +"I thought--I thought--" + +"Go, I say!" + +"That your ladyship might wish for a guide to Crowland." + +"Crowland?" almost shrieked Torfrida, for the thought of Crowland +had risen in her own wretched mind instantly and involuntarily. "Go, +madman!" + +Martin went. Torfrida paced madly up and down the farmhouse. Then she +settled herself into fierce despair. + +There was a noise of trampling horses outside. The men were arming and +saddling, seemingly for a raid. + +Hereward hurried in for his armor. When he saw Torfrida, he blushed +scarlet. + +"You want your arms," said she, quietly; "let me fetch them." + +"No, never mind. I can harness myself; I am going southwest, to pay +Taillebois a visit. I am in a great hurry, I shall be back in three +days. Then--good-by." + +He snatched his arms off a perch, and hurried out again, dragging them +on. As he passed her, he offered to kiss her; she put him back, and +helped him on with his armor, while he thanked her confusedly. + +"He was as glad not to kiss me, after all!" + +She looked after him as he stood, his hand on his horse's withers. How +noble he looked! And a great yearning came over her. To throw her arms +round his neck once, and then to stab herself, and set him free, dying, +as she had lived, for him. + +Two bonny boys were wrestling on the lawn, young outlaws who had grown +up in the forest with ruddy cheeks and iron limbs. + +"Ah, Winter!" she heard him say, "had I had such a boy as that!--" + +She heard no more. She turned away, her heart dead within her. She knew +all that these words implied, in days when the possession of land was +everything to the free man; and the possession of a son necessary, to +pass that land on in the ancestral line. Only to have a son; only to +prevent the old estate passing, with an heiress, into the hands of +strangers, what crimes did not men commit in those days, and find +themselves excused for them by public opinion. And now,--her other +children (if she ever had any) had died in childhood; the little +Torfrida, named after herself, was all that she had brought to Hereward; +and he was the last of his house. In him the race of Leofric, of Godiva, +of Earl Oslac, would become extinct; and that girl would marry--whom? +Whom but some French conqueror,--or at best some English outlaw. In +either case Hereward would have no descendants for whom it was worth his +while to labor or to fight. What wonder if he longed for a son,--and +not a son of hers, the barren tree,--to pass his name down to future +generations? It might be worth while, for that, to come in to the king, +to recover his lands, to----She saw it all now, and her heart was dead +within her. + +She spent that evening neither eating nor drinking, but sitting over the +log embers, her head upon her hands, and thinking over all her past life +and love, since she saw him, from the gable window, ride the first time +into St. Omer. She went through it all, with a certain stern delight in +the self-torture, deliberately day by day, year by year,--all its lofty +aspirations, all its blissful passages, all its deep disappointments, +and found in it--so she chose to fancy in the wilfulness of her +misery--nothing but cause for remorse. Self in all, vanity, and vexation +of spirit; for herself she had loved him; for herself she had tried to +raise him; for herself she had set her heart on man, and not on God. She +had sown the wind: and behold, she had reaped the whirlwind. She could +not repent; she could not pray. But oh! that she could die. + +She was unjust to herself, in her great nobleness. It was not true, not +half, not a tenth part true. But perhaps it was good for her that it +should seem true, for that moment; that she should be emptied of all +earthly things for once, if so she might be filled from above. + +At last she went into the inner room to lie down and try to sleep. At +her feet, under the perch where Hereward's armor had hung, lay an open +letter. + +She picked it up, surprised at seeing such a thing there, and kneeling +down, held it eagerly to the wax candle which was on a spike at the +bed's head. + +She knew the handwriting in a moment. It was Alftruda's. + +This, then, was why Hereward had been so strangely hurried. He must have +had that letter, and dropped it. + +Her eye and mind took it all in, in one instant, as the lightning flash +reveals a whole landscape. And then her mind became as dark as that +landscape, when the flash is past. + +It congratulated Hereward on having shaken himself free from the +fascination of that sorceress. It said that all was settled with King +William. Hereward was to come to Winchester. She had the King's writ +for his safety ready to send to him. The King would receive him as his +liegeman. Alftruda would receive him as her husband. Archbishop Lanfranc +had made difficulties about the dissolution of the marriage with +Torfrida: but gold would do all things at Rome; and Lanfranc was her +very good friend, and a reasonable man,--and so forth. + +Men, and beasts likewise, when stricken with a mortal wound, will run, +and run on, blindly, aimless, impelled by the mere instinct of escape +from intolerable agony. And so did Torfrida. Half undrest as she was, +she fled forth into the forest, she knew not whither, running as one +does wrapt in fire: but the fire was not without her, but within. + +She cast a passing glance at the girl who lay by her, sleeping a pure +and gentle sleep-- + +"O that thou hadst but been a boy!" Then she thought no more of her, not +even of Hereward: but all of which she was conscious was a breast and +brain bursting; an intolerable choking, from which she must escape. + +She ran, and ran on, for miles. She knew not whether the night was light +or dark, warm or cold. Her tender feet might have been ankle deep in +snow. The branches over her head might have been howling in the tempest, +or dripping with rain. She knew not, and heeded not. The owls hooted to +each other under the staring moon, but she heard them not. The wolves +glared at her from the brakes, and slunk off appalled at the white +ghostly figure: but she saw them not. The deer stood at gaze in the +glades till she was close upon them, and then bounded into the wood. She +ran right at them, past them, heedless. She had but one thought. To flee +from the agony of a soul alone in the universe with its own misery. + +At last she was aware of a man close beside her. He had been following +her a long way, she recollected now; but she had not feared him, even +heeded him. But when he laid his hand upon her arm, she turned fiercely, +but without dread. + +She looked to see if it was Hereward. To meet him would be death. If +it were not he, she cared not who it was. It was not Hereward; and she +cried angrily, "Off! off!" and hurried on. + +"But you are going the wrong way! The wrong way!" said the voice of +Martin Lightfoot. + +"The wrong way! Fool, which is the right way for me, save the path which +leads to a land where all is forgotten?" + +"To Crowland! To Crowland! To the minster! To the monks! That is the +only right way for poor wretches in a world like this. The Lady Godiva +told you you must go to Crowland. And now you are going. I too, I ran +away from a monastery when I was young; and now I am going back. Come +along!" + +"You are right! Crowland, Crowland; and a nun's cell till death. Which +is the way, Martin?" + +"O, a wise lady! A reasonable lady! But you will be cold before you get +thither. There will be a frost ere morn. So, when I saw you run out, I +caught up something to put over you." + +Torfrida shuddered, as Martin wrapped her in the white bearskin. + +"No! Not that! Anything but that!" and she struggled to shake it off. + +"Then you will be dead ere dawn. Folks that run wild in the forest thus, +for but one night, die!" + +"Would God I could die!" + +"That shall be as He wills; you do not die while Martin can keep you +alive. Why, you are staggering already." + +Martin caught her up in his arms, threw her over his shoulder as if she +had been a child, and hurried on, in the strength of madness. + +At last he stopped at a cottage door, set her down upon the turf, and +knocked loudly. + +"Grimkel Tolison! Grimkel, I say!" + +And Martin burst the door open with his foot. + +"Give me a horse, on your life," said he to the man inside. "I am +Martin, Hereward's man, upon my master's business." + +"What is mine is Hereward's, God bless him," said the man, struggling +into a garment, and hurrying out to the shed. + +"There is a ghost against the gate!" cried he, recoiling. + +"That is my matter, not yours. Get me a horse to put the ghost upon." + +Torfrida lay against the gate-post, exhausted now; but quite unable to +think. Martin lifted her on to the beast, and led her onward, holding +her up again and again. + +"You are tired. You had run four miles before I could make you hear me." + +"Would I had run four thousand." And she relapsed into stupor. + +They passed out of the forest, across open wolds, and at last down to +the river. Martin knew of a boat there. He lifted her from the horse, +turned him loose, put Torfrida into the boat, and took the oars. + +She looked up, and saw the roofs of Bourne shining white in the +moonlight. + +And then she lifted up her voice, and shrieked three times: + + "Lost! Lost! Lost!" + +with such a dreadful cry, that the starlings whirred up from the reeds, +and the wild-fowl rose clanging off the meres, and the watch-dogs in +Bourne and Mainthorpe barked and howled, and folk told fearfully next +morning how a white ghost had gone down from the forest to the fen, and +wakened them with its unearthly cry. + +The sun was high when they came to Crowland minster. Torfrida had +neither spoken nor stirred; and Martin, who in the midst of his madness +kept a strange courtesy and delicacy, had never disturbed her, save to +wrap the bear-skin more closely over her. + +When they came to the bank, she rose, stepped out without his help, +and drawing the bear-skin closely round her, and over her head, walked +straight up to the gate of the house of nuns. + +All men wondered at the white ghost; but Martin walked behind her, his +left finger on his lips, his right hand grasping his little axe, with +such a stern and serious face, and so fierce an eye, that all drew back +in silence, and let her pass. + +The portress looked through the wicket. + +"I am Torfrida," said a voice of terrible calm. "I am come to see the +Lady Godiva. Let me in." + +The portress opened, utterly astounded. + +"Madam?" said Martin eagerly, as Torfrida entered. + +"What? What?" She seemed to waken from a dream. "God bless thee, thou +good and faithful servant"; and she turned again. + +"Madam? Say!" + +"What?" + +"Shall I go back and kill him?" And he held out the little axe. + +Torfrida snatched it from his grasp with a shriek, and cast it inside +the convent door. + +"Mother Mary and all saints!" cried the portress, "your garments are in +rags, madam!" + +"Never mind. Bring me garments of yours. I shall need none other till I +die!" and she walked in and on. + +"She is come to be a nun!" whispered the portress to the next sister, +and she again to the next; and they all gabbled, and lifted up their +hands and eyes, and thanked all the saints of the calendar, over the +blessed and miraculous conversion of the Lady Torfrida, and the wealth +which she would probably bring to the convent. + +Torfrida went straight on, speaking to no one, not even to the prioress; +and into Lady Godiva's chamber. + +There she dropped at the countess's feet, and laid her head upon her +knees. + +"I am come, as you always told me I should do. But it has been a long +way hither, and I am very tired." + +"My child! What is this? What brings you here?" + +"I am doing penance for my sins." + +"And your feet all cut and bleeding." + +"Are they?" said Torfrida, vacantly. "I will tell you all about it when +I wake." + +And she fell fast asleep, with her head in Godiva's lap. + +The countess did not speak or stir. She beckoned the good prioress, who +had followed Torfrida in, to go away. She saw that something dreadful +had happened; and prayed as she awaited the news. + +Torfrida slept for a full hour. Then she woke with a start. + +"Where am I? Hereward!" + +Then followed a dreadful shriek, which made every nun in that quiet +house shudder, and thank God that she knew nothing of those agonies of +soul, which were the lot of the foolish virgins who married and were +given in marriage themselves, instead of waiting with oil in their lamps +for the true Bridegroom. + +"I recollect all now," said Torfrida. "Listen!" And she told the +countess all, with speech so calm and clear, that Godiva was awed by the +power and spirit of that marvellous woman. + +But she groaned in bitterness of soul. "Anything but this. Rather death +from him than treachery. This last, worst woe had God kept in his quiver +for me most miserable of women. And now his bolt has fallen! Hereward! +Hereward! That thy mother should wish her last child laid in his grave!" + +"Not so," said Torfrida, "it is well as it is. How better? It is his +only chance for comfort, for honor, for life itself. He would have grown +a--I was growing bad and foul myself in that ugly wilderness. Now he +will be a knight once more among knights, and win himself fresh honor in +fresh fields. Let him marry her. Why not? He can get a dispensation from +the Pope, and then there will be no sin in it, you know. If the Holy +Father cannot make wrong right, who can? Yes. It is very well as it is. +And I am very well where I am. Women! bring me scissors, and one of your +nun's dresses. I am come to be a nun like you." + +Godiva would have stopped her. But Torfrida rose upon her knees, and +calmly made a solemn vow, which, though canonically void without her +husband's consent, would, she well knew, never be disputed by any there; +and as for him,--"He has lost me; and forever. Torfrida never gives +herself away twice." + +"There's carnal pride in those words, my poor child," said Godiva. + +"Cruel!" said she, proudly. "When I am sacrificing myself utterly for +him." + +"And thy poor girl?" + +"He will let her come hither," said Torfrida with forced calm. "He will +see that it is not fit that she should grow up with--yes, he will send +her to me--to us. And I shall live for her--and for you. If you will let +me be your bower woman, dress you, serve you, read to you. You know that +I am a pretty scholar. You will let me, mother? I may call you mother, +may I not?" And Torfrida fondled the old woman's thin hands, "For I do +want so much something to love." + +"Love thy heavenly bridegroom, the only love worthy of woman!" said +Godiva, as her tears fell fast on Torfrida's head. + +She gave a half-impatient toss. + +"That may come, in good time. As yet it is enough to do, if I can keep +down this devil here in my throat. Women, bring me the scissors." + +And Torfrida cut off her raven locks, now streaked with gray, and put on +the nun's dress, and became a nun thenceforth. + +On the second day there came to Crowland Leofric the priest, and with +him the poor child. + +She had woke in the morning and found no mother. Leofric and the other +men searched the woods round, far and wide. The girl mounted her horse, +and would go with them. Then they took a bloodhound, and he led them +to Grimkel's hut. There they heard of Martin. The ghost must have been +Torfrida. Then the hound brought them to the river. And they divined at +once that she was gone to Crowland, to Godiva; but why, they could not +guess. + +Then the girl insisted, prayed, at last commanded them to take her to +Crowland. And to Crowland they came. + +Leofric left the girl at the nun's house door, and went into the +monastery, where he had friends enow, runaway and renegade as he was. As +he came into the great court, whom should he meet but Martin Lightfoot, +in a lay brother's frock. + +"Aha? And are you come home likewise? Have you renounced the Devil and +this last work of his?" + +"What work? What devil?" asked Leofric, who saw method in Martin's +madness. "And what do you here, in a long frock?" + +"Devil? Hereward the devil. I would have killed him with my axe; but she +got it from me, and threw it in among the holy sisters, and I had work +to get it again. Shame on her, to spoil my chance of heaven! For I +should have surely won heaven, you know, if I had killed the devil." + +After much beating, about, Leofric got from Martin the whole tragedy. + +And when he heard it, he burst out weeping. + +"O Hereward, Hereward! O knightly honor! O faith and troth and +gratitude, and love in return for such love as might have tamed lions, +and made tyrants mild! Are they all carnal vanities, works of the weak +flesh, bruised reeds which break when they are leaned upon? If so, you +are right, Martin, and there is naught left, but to flee from a world in +which all men are liars." + +And Leofric, in the midst of Crowland Yard, tore off his belt and trusty +sword, his hauberk and helm also, and letting down his monk's frock, +which he wore trussed to the mid-knee, he went to the Abbot's lodgings, +and asked to see old Ulfketyl. + +"Bring him up," said the good abbot, "for he is a valiant man and true, +in spite of all his vanities; and may be he brings news of Hereward, +whom God forgive." + +And when Leofric came in, he fell upon his knees, bewailing and +confessing his sinful life; and begged the abbot to take him back again +into Crowland minster, and lay upon him what penance he thought fit, and +put him in the lowest office, because he was a man of blood; if only he +might stay there, and have a sight at times of his dear Lady Torfrida, +without whom he should surely die. + +So Leofric was received back, in full chapter, by abbot and prior +and all the monks. But when he asked them to lay a penance upon him, +Ulfketyl arose from his high chair and spoke. + +"Shall we, who have sat here at ease, lay a penance on this man, who has +shed his blood in fifty valiant fights for us, and for St. Guthlac, and +for this English land? Look at yon scars upon his head and arms. He has +had sharper discipline from cold steel than we could give him here with +rod; and has fasted in the wilderness more sorely, many a time, than we +have fasted here." + +And all the monks agreed, that no penance should be laid on Leofric. +Only that he should abstain from singing vain and carnal ballads, which +turned the heads of the young brothers, and made them dream of naught +but battles, and giants, and enchanters, and ladies' love. + +Hereward came back on the third day, and found his wife and daughter +gone. His guilty conscience told him in the first instant why. For he +went into the chamber, and there, upon the floor, lay the letter which +he had looked for in vain. + +No one had touched it where it lay. Perhaps no one had dared to enter +the chamber. If they had, they would not have dared to meddle with +writing, which they could not read, and which might contain some magic +spell. Letters were very safe in those old days. + +There are moods of man which no one will dare to describe, unless, like +Shakespeare, he is Shakespeare, and like Shakespeare knows it not. + +Therefore what Hereward thought and felt will not be told. What he +did was this. He raged and blustered. He must hide his shame. He must +justify himself to his knights; and much more to himself; or if not +justify himself, must shift some of the blame over to the opposite side. +So he raged and blustered. He had been robbed of his wife and daughter. +They had been cajoled away by the monks of Crowland. What villains were +those, to rob an honest man of his family while he was fighting for his +country? + +So he rode down to the river, and there took two great barges, and rowed +away to Crowland, with forty men-at-arms. + +And all the while he thought of Alftruda, as he had seen her at +Peterborough. + +And of no one else? + +Not so. For all the while he felt that he loved Torfrida's little finger +better than Alftruda's whole body, and soul into the bargain. + +What a long way it was to Crowland. How wearying were the hours through +mere and sea. How wearying the monotonous pulse of the oars. If tobacco +had been known then, Hereward would have smoked all the way, and been +none the wiser, though the happier, for it; for the herb that drives +away the evil spirits of anxiety, drives away also the good, though +stern, spirits of remorse. + +But in those days a man could only escape facts by drinking; and +Hereward was too much afraid of what he should meet in Crowland, to go +thither drunk. + +Sometimes he hoped that Torfrida might hold her purpose, and set him +free to follow his wicked will. All the lower nature in him, so long +crushed under, leapt up chuckling and grinning and tumbling head over +heels, and cried,--Now I shall have a holiday! + +Sometimes he hoped that Torfrida might come out to the shore, and settle +the matter in one moment, by a glance of her great hawk's eyes. If she +would but quell him by one look; leap on board, seize the helm, and +assume without a word the command of his men and him; steer them back to +Bourne, and sit down beside him with a kiss, as if nothing had happened. +If she would but do that, and ignore the past, would he not ignore it? +Would he not forget Alftruda, and King William, and all the world, and +go up with her into Sherwood, and then north to Scotland and Gospatrick, +and be a man once more? + +No. He would go with her to the Baltic or the Mediterranean. +Constantinople and the Varangers would be the place and the men. Ay, +there to escape out of that charmed ring into a new life! + +No. He did not deserve such luck; and he would not get it. + +She would talk it all out. She must, for she was a woman. + +She would blame, argue, say dreadful words,--dreadful, because true and +deserved. Then she would grow angry, as women do when they are most in +the right, and say too much,--dreadful words, which would be untrue and +undeserved. Then he should resist, recriminate. He would not stand it. +He could not stand it. No. He could never face her again. + +And yet if he had seen a man insult her,--if he had seen her at that +moment in peril of the slightest danger, the slightest bruise, he +would have rushed forward like a madman, and died, saving her from that +bruise. And he knew that: and with the strange self-contradiction of +human nature, he soothed his own conscience by the thought that he loved +her still; and that, therefore--somehow or other, he cared not to make +out how--he had done her no wrong. Then he blustered again, for the +benefit of his men. He would teach these monks of Crowland a lesson. He +would burn the minster over their heads. + +"That would be pity, seeing they are the only Englishmen left in +England," said Siward the White, his nephew, very simply. + +"What is that to thee? Thou hast helped to burn Peterborough at my +bidding; and thou shalt help to burn Crowland." + +"I am a free gentleman of England; and what I choose, I do. I and my +brother are going to Constantinople to join the Varanger guard, and +shall not burn Crowland, or let any man burn it." + +"Shall not let?" + +"No," said the young man, so quietly, that Hereward was cowed. + +"I--I only meant--if they did not do right by me." + +"Do right thyself," said Siward. + +Hereward swore awfully, and laid his hand on his sword-hilt. But he did +not draw it; for he thought he saw overhead a cloud which was very like +the figure of St. Guthlac in Crowland window, and an awe fell upon him +from above. + +So they came to Crowland; and Hereward landed and beat upon the gates, +and spoke high words. But the monks did not open the gates for a while. +At last the gates creaked, and opened; and in the gateway stood Abbot +Ulfketyl in his robes of state, and behind him Prior, and all the +officers, and all the monks of the house. + +"Comes Hereward in peace or in war?" + +"In war!" said Hereward. + +Then that true and trusty old man, who sealed his patriotism, if +not with his blood,--for the very Normans had not the heart to take +that,--still with long and bitter sorrows, lifted up his head, and said, +like a valiant Dane, as his name bespoke him: "Against the traitor and +the adulterer--" + +"I am neither," roared Hereward. + +"Thou wouldst be, if thou couldst. Whoso looketh upon a woman to--" + +"Preach me no sermons, man! Let me in to seek my wife." + +"Over my body," said Ulfketyl, and laid himself down across the +threshold. + +Hereward recoiled. If he had dared to step over that sacred body, there +was not a blood-stained ruffian in his crew who dared to follow him. + +"Rise, rise! for God's sake, Lord Abbot," said he. "Whatever I am, I +need not that you should disgrace me thus. Only let me see her,--reason +with her." + +"She has vowed herself to God, and is none of thine hence forth." + +"It is against the canons. A wrong and a robbery." + +Ulfketyl rose, grand as ever. + +"Hereward Leofricsson, our joy and our glory once. Hearken to the old +man who will soon go whither thine Uncle Brand is gone, and be free of +Frenchmen, and of all this wicked world. When the walls of Crowland +dare not shelter the wronged woman, fleeing from man's treason to God's +faithfulness, then let the roofs of Crowland burn till the flame reaches +heaven, for a sign that the children of God are as false as the children +of this world, and break their faith like any belted knight." + +Hereward was silenced. His men shrunk back from him. He felt as if God, +and the Mother of God, and St. Guthlac, and all the host of heaven, +were shrinking back from him likewise. He turned to supplications, +compromises,--what else was left? + +"At least you will let me have speech of her, or of my mother?" + +"They must answer that, not I." + +Hereward sent in, entreating to see one, or both. + +"Tell him," said Lady Godiva, "who calls himself my son, that my sons +were men of honor, and that he must have been changed at nurse." + +"Tell him," said Torfrida, "that I have lived my life, and am dead. +Dead. If he would see me, he will only see my corpse." + +"You would not slay yourself?" + +"What is there that I dare not do? You do not know Torfrida. He does." + +And Hereward did; and went back again like a man stunned. + +After a while there came by boat to Crowland all Torfrida's wealth: +clothes, jewels: not a shred had Hereward kept. The magic armor came +with them. + +Torfrida gave all to the abbey, there and then. Only the armor she +wrapped up in the white bear's skin, and sent it back to Hereward, with +her blessing, and entreaty not to refuse that, her last bequest. + +Hereward did not refuse, for very shame. But for very shame he never +wore that armor more. For very shame he never slept again upon the white +bear's skin, on which he and his true love had lain so many a year. + +And Torfrida turned herself utterly to serve the Lady Godiva, and to +teach and train her child as she had never done before, while she had to +love Hereward, and to work day and night, with her own fingers, for all +his men. All pride, all fierceness, all care of self, had passed away +from her. In penitence, humility, obedience, and gentleness, she went +on; never smiling; but never weeping. Her heart was broken; and she felt +it good for herself to let it break. + +And Leofric the priest, and mad Martin Lightfoot, watched like two +dogs for her going out and coming in; and when she went among the poor +corrodiers, and nursed the sick, and taught the children, and went to +and fro upon her holy errands, blessing and blessed, the two wild men +had a word from her mouth, or a kiss of her hand, and were happy all the +day after. For they loved her with a love mightier than ever Hereward +had heaped upon her; for she had given him all: but she had given those +two wild men naught but the beatific vision of a noble woman. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +HOW HEREWARD LOST SWORD BRAIN-BITER. + + +"On account of which," says the chronicler, "many troubles came to +Hereward: because Torfrida was most wise, and of great counsel in need. +For afterwards, as he himself confessed, things went not so well with +him as they did in her time." + +And the first thing that went ill was this. He was riding through the +Bruneswald, and behind him Geri, Wenoch, and Matelgar, these three. And +there met him in an open glade a knight, the biggest man he had ever +seen, on the biggest horse, and five knights behind him. He was an +Englishman, and not a Frenchman, by his dress; and Hereward spoke +courteously enough to him. But who he was, and what his business was in +the Bruneswald, Hereward thought that he had a right to ask. + +"Tell me who thou art, who askest, before I tell thee who I am who am +asked, riding here on common land," quoth the knight, surlily enough. + +"I am Hereward, without whose leave no man has ridden the Bruneswald for +many a day." + +"And I am Letwold the Englishman, who rides whither he will in merry +England, without care for any Frenchman upon earth." + +"Frenchman? Why callest thou me Frenchman, man? I am Hereward." + +"Then thou art, if tales be true, as French as Ivo Taillebois. I hear +that thou hast left thy true lady, like a fool and a churl, and goest +to London, or Winchester, or the nether pit,--I care not which,--to make +thy peace with the Mamzer." + +The man was a surly brute: but what he said was so true, that Hereward's +wrath arose. He had promised Torfrida many a time, never to quarrel +with an Englishman, but to endure all things. Now, out of very spite to +Torfrida's counsel, because it was Torfrida's, and he had promised to +obey it, he took up the quarrel. + +"If I am a fool and a churl, thou art a greater fool, to provoke thine +own death; and a greater--" + +"Spare your breath," said the big man, "and let me try Hereward, as I +have many another." + +Whereon they dropped their lance-points, and rode at each other like two +mad bulls. And, by the contagion of folly common in the middle age, at +each other rode Hereward's three knights and Letwold's five. The two +leaders found themselves both rolling on the ground; jumped up, drew +their swords, and hewed away at each other. Geri unhorsed his man at the +first charge, and left him stunned. Then he turned on another, and did +the same by him. Wenoch and Matelgar each upset their man. The fifth of +Letwold's knights threw up his lance-point, not liking his new company. +Geri and the other two rode in on the two chiefs, who were fighting +hard, each under shield. + +"Stand back!" roared Hereward, "and give the knight fair play! When did +any one of us want a man to help him? Kill or die single, has been our +rule, and shall be." + +They threw up their lance-points, and stood round to see that great +fight. Letwold's knight rode in among them, and stood likewise; and +friend and foe looked on, as they might at a pair of game-cocks. + +Hereward had, to his own surprise and that of his fellows, met his +match. The sparks flew, the iron clanged; but so heavy were the +stranger's strokes, that Hereward reeled again and again. So sure was +the guard of his shield, that Hereward could not wound him, hit where he +would. At last he dealt a furious blow on the stranger's head. + +"If that does not bring your master down!" quoth Geri. "By--, +Brain-biter is gone!" + +It was too true. Sword Brain-biter's end was come. The Ogre's magic +blade had snapt off short by the handle. + +"Your master is a true Englishman, by the hardness of his brains," quoth +Wenoch, as the stranger, reeling for a moment, lifted up his head, and +stared at Hereward in the face, doubtful what to do. + +"Will you yield, or fight on?" cried he. + +"Yield?" shouted Hereward, rushing upon him, as a mastiff might on a +lion, and striking at his helm, though shorter than him by a head +and shoulders, such swift and terrible blows with the broken hilt, as +staggered the tall stranger. + +"What are you at, forgetting what you have at your side?" roared Geri. + +Hereward sprang back. He had, as was his custom, a second sword on his +right thigh. + +"I forget everything now," said he to himself angrily. + +And that was too true. But he drew the second sword, and sprang at his +man once more. + +The stranger tried, according to the chronicler, who probably had it +from one of the three by-standers, a blow which has cost many a brave +man his life. He struck right down on Hereward's head. Hereward raised +his shield, warding the stroke, and threw in that _coup de jarret_, +which there is no guarding, after the downright blow has been given. The +stranger dropped upon his wounded knee. + +"Yield," cried Hereward in his turn. + +"That is not my fashion." And the stranger fought on, upon his stumps, +like Witherington in Chevy Chase. + +Hereward, mad with the sight of blood, struck at him four or five times. +The stranger's shield was so quick that he could not hit him, even on +his knee. He held his hand, and drew back, looking at his new rival. + +"What the murrain are we two fighting about?" said he at last. + +"I know not; neither care," said the other, with a grim chuckle. "But if +any man will fight me, him I fight, ever since I had beard to my chin." + +"Thou art the best man that ever I faced." + +"That is like enough." + +"What wilt thou take, if I give thee thy life?" + +"My way on which I was going. For I turn back for no man alive on land." + +"Then thou hast not had enough of me?" + +"Not by another hour." + +"Thou must be born of fiend, and not of man." + +"Very like. It is a wise son knows his own father." + +Hereward burst out laughing. + +"Would to heaven I had had thee for my man this three years since." + +"Perhaps I would not have been thy man." + +"Why not?" + +"Because I have been my own man ever since I was born, and am well +content with myself for my master." + +"Shall I bind up thy leg?" asked Hereward, having no more to say, and +not wishing to kill the man. + +"No. It will grow again, like a crab's claw." + +"Thou art a fiend." And Hereward turned away, sulky, and half afraid. + +"Very like. No man knows what a devil he is, till he tries." + +"What dost mean?" and Hereward turned angrily back. + +"Fiends we are all, till God's grace comes." + +"Little grace has come to thee yet, by thy ungracious tongue." + +"Rough to men, may be gracious to women." + +"What hast thou to do with women'?" asked Hereward, fiercely. + +"I have a wife, and I love her." + +"Thou art not like to get back to her to-day." + +"I fear not, with this paltry scratch. I had looked for a cut from thee, +would have saved me all fighting henceforth." + +"What dost mean?" asked Hereward, with an oath. + +"That my wife is in heaven, and I would needs follow her." + +Hereward got on his horse, and rode away. Never could he find out who +that Sir Letwold was, or how he came into the Bruneswald. All he knew +was, that he never had had such a fight since he wore beard; and that he +had lost sword Brainbiter: from which his evil conscience augured that +his luck had turned, and that he should lose many things beside. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +HOW HEREWARD CAME IN TO THE KING. + + +After these things Hereward summoned all his men, and set before them +the hopelessness of any further resistance, and the promises of amnesty, +lands, and honors which William had offered him, and persuaded them--and +indeed he had good arguments enough and to spare--that they should go +and make their peace with the King. + +They were so accustomed to look up to his determination, that when it +gave way theirs gave way likewise. They were so accustomed to trust his +wisdom, that most of them yielded at once to his arguments. That the +band should break up, all agreed. A few of the more suspicious, or more +desperate, said that they could never trust the Norman; that Hereward +himself had warned them again and again of his treachery. That he was +now going to do himself what he had laughed at Gospatrick and the rest +for doing; what had brought ruin on Edwin and Morcar; what he had again +and again prophesied would bring ruin on Waltheof himself ere all was +over. + +But Hereward was deaf to their arguments. He had said as little to them +as he could about Alftruda, for very shame; but he was utterly besotted +on her. For her sake, he had determined to run his head blindly into +the very snare of which he had warned others. And he had seared--so he +fancied--his conscience. It was Torfrida's fault now, not his. If she +left him,--if she herself freed him of her own will,--why, he was free, +and there was no more to be said about it. + +And Hereward (says the chronicler) took Gwenoch, Geri, and Matelgar, and +rode south to the King. + +Where were the two young Siwards? It is not said. Probably they, and a +few desperadoes, followed the fashion of so many English in those sad +days,--when, as sings the Norse scald, + + "Cold heart and bloody hand + Now rule English land,"-- + +and took ship for Constantinople, and enlisted in the Varanger guard, +and died full of years and honors, leaving fair-haired children behind +them, to become Varangers in their turn. + +Be that as it may, Hereward rode south. But when he had gotten a long +way upon the road, a fancy (says the chronicler) came over him. He was +not going in pomp and glory enough. It seemed mean for the once great +Hereward to sneak into Winchester with three knights. Perhaps it seemed +not over safe for the once great Hereward to travel with only three +knights. So he went back all the way to camp, and took (says the +chronicler) "forty most famous knights, all big and tall of stature, +and splendid,--if from nothing else, from their looks and their harness +alone." + +So Hereward and those forty knights rode down from Peterborough, along +the Roman road. For the Roman roads were then, and for centuries after, +the only roads in this land; and our forefathers looked on them as the +work of gods and giants, and called them after the names of their old +gods and heroes,--Irmen Street, Watling Street, and so forth. + +And then, like true Englishmen, our own forefathers showed their respect +for the said divine works, not by copying them, but by picking them to +pieces to pave every man his own court-yard. Be it so. The neglect +of new roads, the destruction of the old ones, was a natural evil +consequence of local self-government. A cheap price, perhaps, after all, +to pay for that power of local self-government which has kept England +free unto this day. + +Be that as it may, down the Roman road Hereward went; past Alconbury +Hill, of the old posting days; past Wimpole Park, then deep forest; past +Hatfield, then deep forest likewise; and so to St. Alban's. And there +they lodged in the minster; for the monks thereof were good English, +and sang masses daily for King Harold's soul. And the next day they went +south, by ways which are not so clear. + +Just outside St. Alban's--Verulamium of the Romans (the ruins whereof +were believed to be full of ghosts, demons, and magic treasures)--they +turned, at St. Stephen's, to the left, off the Roman road to London; and +by another Roman road struck into the vast forest which ringed London +round from northeast to southwest. Following the upper waters of the +Colne, which ran through the woods on their left, they came to Watford, +and then turned probably to Rickmansworth. No longer on the Roman +paved ways, they followed horse-tracks, between the forest and the rich +marsh-meadows of the Colne, as far as Denham, and then struck into a +Roman road again at the north end of Langley Park. From thence, over +heathy commons,--for that western part of Buckinghamshire, its soil +being light and some gravel, was little cultivated then, and hardly all +cultivated now,--they held on straight by Langley town into the Vale of +Thames. + +Little they dreamed, as they rode down by Ditton Green, off the heathy +commons, past the poor, scattered farms, on to the vast rushy meadows, +while upon them was the dull weight of disappointment, shame, all but +despair; their race enslaved, their country a prey to strangers, and all +its future, like their own, a lurid blank,--little they dreamed of what +that vale would be within eight hundred years,--the eye of England, and +it may be of the world; a spot which owns more wealth and peace, more +art and civilization, more beauty and more virtue, it may be, than any +of God's gardens which make fair this earth. Windsor, on its crowned +steep, was to them but a new hunting palace of the old miracle-monger +Edward, who had just ruined England. Runnymede, a mile below them down +the broad stream, was but a horse-fen fringed with water-lilies, where +the men of Wessex had met of old to counsel, and to bring the country to +this pass. And as they crossed, by ford or ferry-boat, the shallows of +old Windsor, whither they had been tending all along, and struck into +the moorlands of Wessex itself, they were as men going into an unknown +wilderness: behind them ruin, and before them unknown danger. + +On through Windsor Forest, Edward the Saint's old hunting-ground; its +bottoms choked with beech and oak, and birch and alder scrub; its upper +lands vast flats of level heath; along the great trackway which runs +along the lower side of Chobham Camp, some quarter of a mile broad, +every rut and trackway as fresh at this day as when the ancient Briton, +finding that his neighbor's essedum--chariot, or rather cart--had worn +the ruts too deep, struck out a fresh wandering line for himself across +the dreary heath. + +Over the Blackwater by Sandhurst, and along the flats of Hartford +Bridge, where the old furze-grown ruts show the track-way to this day. +Down into the clayland forests of the Andredsweald, and up out of them +again at Basing, on to the clean crisp chalk turf; to strike at Popham +Lane the Roman road from Silchester, and hold it over the high downs, +till they saw far below them the royal city of Winchester. + +Itchen, silver as they looked on her from above, but when they came down +to her, so clear that none could see where water ended and where air +began, hurried through the city in many a stream. Beyond it rose the +"White Camp,"' the "Venta Belgarum," the circular earthwork of white +chalk on the high down. Within the city rose the ancient minster church, +built by Ethelwold,--ancient even then,--where slept the ancient kings; +Kennulf, Egbert, and Ethelwulf the Saxons; and by them the Danes, +Canute the Great, and Hardicanute his son, and Norman Emma his wife, and +Ethelred's before him; and the great Earl Godwin, who seemed to Hereward +to have died, not twenty, but two hundred years ago;--and it may be an +old Saxon hall upon the little isle whither Edgar had bidden bring the +heads of all the wolves in Wessex, where afterwards the bishops built +Wolvesey Palace. But nearer to them, on the down which sloped up to +the west, stood an uglier thing, which they saw with curses deep and +loud,--the keep of the new Norman castle by the west gate. + +Hereward halted his knights upon the down outside the northern gate. +Then he rode forward himself. The gate was open wide; but he did not +care to go in. + +So he rode into the gateway, and smote upon that gate with his +lance-but. But the porter saw the knights upon the down, and was afraid +to come out; for he feared treason. + +Then Hereward smote a second time; but the porter did not come out. + +Then he took the lance by the shaft, and smote a third time. And he +smote so hard, that the lance-but flew to flinders against Winchester +Gate. + +And at that started out two knights, who had come down from the castle, +seeing the meinie on the down, and asked,-- + +"Who art thou who knockest here so bold?" + +"Who I am any man can see by those splinters, if he knows what men are +left in England this day." + +The knights looked at the broken wood, and then at each other. Who could +the man be who could beat an ash stave to flinders at a single blow? + +"You are young, and do not know me; and no shame to you. Go and tell +William the King, that Hereward is come to put his hands between the +King's, and be the King's man henceforth." + +"You are Hereward?" asked one, half awed, half disbelieving at +Hereward's short stature. + +"You are--I know not who. Pick up those splinters, and take them to King +William; and say, 'The man who broke that lance against the gate is here +to make his peace with thee,' and he will know who I am." + +And so cowed were these two knights with Hereward's royal voice, and +royal eye, and royal strength, that they went simply, and did what he +bade them. + +And when King William saw the splinters, he was as joyful as man could +be, and said,-- + +"Send him to me, and tell him, Bright shines the sun to me that lights +Hereward into Winchester." + +"But, Lord King, he has with him a meinie of full forty knights." + +"So much the better. I shall have the more valiant Englishmen to help my +valiant French." + +So Hereward rode round, outside the walls, to William's new entrenched +palace, outside the west gate, by the castle. + +And then Hereward went in, and knelt before the Norman, and put his +hands between William's hands, and swore to be his man. + +"I have kept my word," said he, "which I sent to thee at Rouen seven +years agone. Thou art King of all England; and I am the last man to say +so." + +"And since thou hast said it, I am King indeed. Come with me, and dine; +and to-morrow I will see thy knights." + +And William walked out of the hall leaning on Hereward's shoulder, at +which all the Normans gnashed their teeth with envy. + +"And for my knights, Lord King? Thine and mine will mix, for a while +yet, like oil and water; and I fear lest there be murder done between +them." + +"Likely enough." + +So the knights were bestowed in a "vill" near by; "and the next day the +venerable king himself went forth to see those knights, and caused them +to stand, and march before him, both with arms, and without. With whom +being much delighted, he praised them, congratulating them on their +beauty and stature, and saying that they must all be knights of fame +in war." After which Hereward sent them all home except two; and waited +till he should marry Alftruda, and get back his heritage. + +"And when that happens," said William, "why should we not have two +weddings, beausire, as well as one? I hear that you have in Crowland a +fair daughter, and marriageable." + +Hereward bowed. + +"And I have found a husband for her suitable to her years, and who may +conduce to your peace and serenity." + +Hereward bit his lip. To refuse was impossible in those days. But-- + +"I trust that your Grace has found a knight of higher lineage than him, +whom, after so many honors, you honored with the hand of my niece." + +William laughed. It was not his interest to quarrel with Hereward. "Aha! +Ivo, the wood-cutter's son. I ask your pardon for that, Sir Hereward. +Had you been my man then, as you are now, it might have been different." + +"If a king ask my pardon, I can only ask his in return." + +"You must be friends with Taillebois. He is a brave knight, and a wise +warrior." + +"None ever doubted that." + +"And to cover any little blots in his escutcheon, I have made him an +earl, as I may make you some day." + +"Your Majesty, like a true king, knows how to reward. Who is this knight +whom you have chosen for my lass?" + +"Sir Hugh of Evermue, a neighbor of yours, and a man of blood and +breeding." + +"I know him, and his lineage; and it is very well. I humbly thank your +Majesty." + +"Can I be the same man?" said Hereward to himself, bitterly. + +And he was not the same man. He was besotted on Alftruda, and humbled +himself accordingly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +HOW TORFRIDA CONFESSED THAT SHE HAD BEEN INSPIRED BY THE DEVIL. + + +After a few days, there came down a priest to Crowland, and talked with +Torfrida, in Archbishop Lanfranc's name. + +Whether Lanfranc sent him, or merely (as is probable) Alftruda, he could +not have come in a more fit name. Torfrida knew (with all the world) how +Lanfranc had arranged William the Norman's uncanonical marriage, with +the Pope, by help of Archdeacon Hildebrand (afterwards Pope himself); +and had changed his mind deftly to William's side when he saw that +William might be useful to Holy Church, and could enslave, if duly +managed, not only the nation of England to himself, but the clergy of +England to Rome. All this Torfrida, and the world, knew. And therefore +she answered:-- + +"Lanfranc? I can hardly credit you: for I hear that he is a good man, +though hard. But he has settled a queen's marriage suit; so he may very +well settle mine." + +After which they talked together; and she answered him, the priest said, +so wisely and well, that he never had met with a woman of so clear a +brain, or of so stout a heart. + +At last, being puzzled to get that which he wanted, he touched on the +matter of her marriage with Hereward. + +She wished it, he said, dissolved. She wished herself to enter religion. + +Archbishop Lanfranc would be most happy to sanction so holy a desire, +but there were objections. She was a married woman; and her husband had +not given his consent. + +"Let him give it, then." + +"There were still objections. He had nothing to bring against her, which +could justify the dissolution of the holy bond: unless--" + +"Unless I bring some myself?" + +"There have been rumors--I say not how true--of magic and sorcery!--" + +Torfrida leaped up from her seat, and laughed such a laugh, that the +priest said in after years, it rung through his head as if it had arisen +out of the pit of the lost. + +"So that is what you want, Churchman! Then you shall have it. Bring me +pen and ink. I need not to confess to you. You shall read my confession +when it is done. I am a better scribe, mind you, than any clerk between +here and Paris." + +She seized the pen and ink, and wrote; not fiercely, as the priest +expected, but slowly and carefully. Then she gave it the priest to read. + +"Will that do, Churchman? Will that free my soul, and that of your +French Archbishop?" + +And the priest read to himself. + +How Torfrida of St. Omer, born at Aries in Provence, confest that from +her youth up she had been given to the practice of diabolic arts, +and had at divers times and places used the same, both alone and with +Richilda, late Countess of Hainault. How, wickedly, wantonly, and +instinct with a malignant spirit, she had compassed, by charms and +spells, to win the love of Hereward. How she had ever since kept in +bondage him, and others whom she had not loved with the same carnal +love, but only desired to make them useful to her own desire of power +and glory, by the same magical arts; for which she now humbly begged +pardon of Holy Church, and of all Christian folk; and, penetrated with +compunction, desired only that she might retire into the convent +of Crowland. She asserted the marriage which she had so unlawfully +compassed to be null and void; and prayed to be released therefrom, as a +burden to her conscience and soul, that she might spend the rest of her +life in penitence for her many enormous sins. She submitted herself to +the judgment of Holy Church, only begging that this her free confession +might be counted in her favor and that she might not be put to death, +as she deserved, nor sent into perpetual imprisonment; because her +mother-in-law according to the flesh, the Countess Godiva, being old and +infirm, had daily need of her; and she wished to serve her menially +as long as she lived. After which, she put herself utterly upon the +judgment of the Church. And meanwhile, she desired and prayed that she +might be allowed to remain at large in the said monastery of Crowland, +not leaving the precincts thereof, without special leave given by the +Abbot and prioress in one case between her and them reserved; to wear +garments of hair-cloth; to fast all the year on bread and water; and +to be disciplined with rods or otherwise, at such times as the prioress +should command, and to such degree as her body, softened with carnal +luxury, could reasonably endure. And beyond--that, being dead to the +world, God might have mercy on her soul. + +And she meant what she said. The madness of remorse and disappointment, +so common in the wild middle age, had come over her; and with it the +twin madness of self-torture. + +The priest read, and trembled; not for Torfrida: but for himself, lest +she should enchant him after all. + +"She must have been an awful sinner," said he to the monks when he got +safe out of the room; "comparable only to the witch of Endor, or the +woman Jezebel, of whom St. John writes in the Revelations." + +"I do not know how you Frenchmen measure folks, when you see them; but +to our mind she is,--for goodness, humility, and patience comparable +only to an angel of God," said Abbot Ulfketyl. + +"You Englishmen will have to change your minds on many points, if you +mean to stay here." + +"We shall not change them, and we shall stay here," quoth the Abbot. + +"How? You will not get Sweyn and his Danes to help you a second time." + +"No, we shall all die, and give you your wills, and you will not have +the heart to cast our bones into the fens?" + +"Not unless you intend to work miracles, and set up for saints, like +your Alphege Edmund." + +"Heaven forbid that we should compare ourselves with them! Only let us +alone till we die." + +"If you let us alone, and do not turn traitor meanwhile." + +Abbot Ulfketyl bit his lip, and kept down the rising fiend. + +"And now," said the priest, "deliver me over Torfrida the younger, +daughter of Hereward and this woman, that I may take her to the King, +who has found a fit husband for her." + +"You will hardly get her." + +"Not get her?" + +"Not without her mother's consent. The lass cares for naught but her." + +"Pish! that sorceress? Send for the girl." + +Abbot Ulfketyl, forced in his own abbey, great and august lord though he +was, to obey any upstart of a Norman priest who came backed by the King +and Lanfranc, sent for the lass. + +The young outlaw came in,--hawk on fist, and its hood off, for it was a +pet,--short, sturdy, upright, brown-haired, blue-eyed, ill-dressed, with +hard hands and sun-burnt face, but with the hawk-eye of her father +and her mother, and the hawks among which she was bred. She looked the +priest over from head to foot, till he was abashed. + +"A Frenchman!" said she, and she said no more. + +The priest looked at her eyes, and then at the hawk's eyes. They were +disagreeably like each other. He told his errand as courteously as he +could, for he was not a bad-hearted man for a Norman priest. + +The lass laughed him to scorn. The King's commands? She never saw a king +in the greenwood, and cared for none. There was no king in England now, +since Sweyn Ulfsson sailed back to Denmark. Who was this Norman William, +to sell a free English lass like a colt or a cow? The priest might go +back to the slaves of Wessex, and command them if he could; but in the +fens, men were free, and lasses too. + +The priest was piously shocked and indignant; and began to argue. + +She played with her hawk, instead of listening, and then was marching +out of the room. + +"Your mother," said he, "is a sorceress." + +"You are a knave, or set on by knaves. You lie, and you know you lie." +And she turned away again. + +"She has confessed it." + +"You have driven her mad between you, till she will confess anything. I +presume you threatened to burn her, as some of you did awhile back." And +the young lady made use of words equally strong and true. + +The priest was not accustomed to the direct language of the greenwood, +and indignant on his own account, threatened, and finally offered to +use, force. Whereon there looked up into his face such a demon (so he +said) as he never had seen or dreamed of, and said: + +"If you lay a finger on me, I will brittle you like any deer." And +therewith pulled out a saying-knife, about half as long again as the +said priest's hand, being very sharp, so he deposed, down the whole +length of one edge, and likewise down his little finger's length of the +other. + +Not being versed in the terms of English venery, he asked Abbot Ulfketyl +what brittling of a deer might mean; and being informed that it was +that operation on the carcass of a stag which his countrymen called +_eventrer_, and Highland gillies now "gralloching," he subsided, and +thought it best to go and consult the young lady's mother. + +She, to his astonishment, submitted at once and utterly. The King, and +he whom she had called her husband, were very gracious. It was all +well. She would have preferred, and the Lady Godiva too, after their +experience of the world and the flesh, to have devoted her daughter to +Heaven in the minster there. But she was unworthy. Who was she, to train +a bride for Him who died on Cross? She accepted this as part of her +penance, with thankfulness and humility. She had heard that Sir Hugh +of Evermue was a gentleman of ancient birth and good prowess, and she +thanked the King for his choice. Let the priest tell her daughter that +she commanded her to go with him to Winchester. She did not wish to see +her. She was stained with many crimes, and unworthy to approach a pure +maiden. Besides, it would only cause misery and tears. She was trying +to die to the world and to the flesh; and she did not wish to reawaken +their power within her. Yes. It was very well. "Let the lass go with +him." + +"Thou art indeed a true penitent," said the priest, his human heart +softening him. + +"Thou art very much mistaken," said she, and turned away. + +The girl, when she heard her mother's command, wept, shrieked, and went. +At least she was going to her father. And from wholesome fear of +that same saying-knife, the priest left her in peace all the way to +Winchester. + +After which, Abbot Ulfketyl went into his lodgings, and burst, like a +noble old nobleman as he was, into bitter tears of rage and shame. + +But Torfrida's eyes were as dry as her own sackcloth. + +The priest took the letter back to Winchester, and showed it--it may be +to Archbishop Lanfranc. But what he said, this chronicler would not dare +to say. For he was a very wise man, and a very stanch and strong pillar +of the Holy Roman Church. Meanwhile, he was man enough not to require +that anything should be added to Torfrida's penance; and that was enough +to prove him a man in those days,--at least for a churchman,--as it +proved Archbishop or St. Ailred to be, a few years after, in the case of +the nun of Watton, to be read in Gale's "Scriptores Anglicaniae." Then +he showed the letter to Alftruda. + +And she laughed one of her laughs, and said, "I have her at last!" + +Then, as it befell, he was forced to shew the letter to Queen Matilda; +and she wept over it human tears, such as she, the noble heart, had +been forced to keep many a time before, and said, "The poor soul!--You, +Alftruda, woman! does Hereward know of this?" + +"No, madam," said Alftruda, not adding that she had taken good care that +he should not know. + +"It is the best thing which I have heard of him. I should tell him, were +it not that I must not meddle with my lord's plans. God grant him a good +delivery, as they say of the poor souls in jail. Well, madam, you have +your will at last. God give you grace thereof, for you have not given +Him much chance as yet." + +"Your majesty will honor us by coming to the wedding?" asked Alftruda, +utterly unabashed. + +Matilda the good looked at her with a face of such calm, childlike +astonishment, that Alftruda dropped her "fairy neck" at last, and slunk +out of the presence like a beaten cur. + +William went to the wedding; and swore horrible oaths that they were the +handsomest pair he had ever seen. And so Hereward married Alftruda. How +Holy Church settled the matter is not said. But that Hereward married +Alftruda, under these very circumstances, may be considered a "historic +fact," being vouched for by Gaimar, and by the Peterborough Chronicler. +And doubtless Holy Church contrived that it should happen without sin, +if it conduced to her own interest. + +And little Torfrida--then, it seems, some sixteen years of age--was +married to Hugh of Evermue. She wept and struggled as she was dragged +into the church. + +"But I do not want to be married. I want to go back to my mother." + +"The diabolic instinct may have descended to her," said the priests, +"and attracts her to the sorceress. We had best sprinkle her with holy +water." + +So they sprinkled her with holy water, and used exorcisms. Indeed, the +case being an important one, the personages of rank, they brought out +from their treasures the apron of a certain virgin saint, and put it +round her neck, in hopes of driving out the hereditary fiend. + +"If I am led with a halter, I must needs go," said she, with one of her +mother's own flashes of wit, and went. "But Lady Alftruda," whispered +she, half-way up the church, "I never loved him." + +"Behave yourself before the King, or I will whip you till the blood +runs." + +And so she would, and no one would have wondered in those days. + +"I will murder you if you do. But I never even saw him." + +"Little fool! And what are you going through, but what I went through +before you?" + +"You to say that?" gnashed the girl, as another spark of her mother's +came out. "And you gaining what--" + +"What I waited for for fifteen years," said Alftruda, coolly. "If you +have courage and cunning, like me, to wait for fifteen years, you too +may have your will likewise." + +The pure child shuddered, and was married to Hugh of Evermue, who is not +said to have kicked her; and was, according to them of Crowland, a good +friend to their monastery, and therefore, doubtless, a good man. Once, +says wicked report, he offered to strike her, as was the fashion in +those chivalrous days. Whereon she turned upon him like a tigress, and +bidding him remember that she was the daughter of Hereward and Torfrida, +gave him such a beating that he, not wishing to draw sword upon her, +surrendered at discretion; and they lived all their lives afterwards as +happily as most other married people in those times. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + +HOW HEREWARD BEGAN TO GET HIS SOUL'S PRICE. + + +And now behold Hereward at home again, fat with the wages of sin, and +not knowing that they are death. + +He is once more "Dominus de Brunune cum Marisco," (Lord of Bourne with +the fen), "with all returns and liberties and all other things adjacent +to the same vill which are now held as a barony from the Lord King of +England." He has a fair young wife, and with her farms and manors, even +richer than his own. He is still young, hearty, wise by experience, high +in the king's favor, and deservedly so. + +Why should he not begin life again? + +Why not? Unless it be true that the wages of sin are, not a new life, +but death. + +And yet he has his troubles. Hardly a Norman knight or baron round but +has a blood-feud against him, for a kinsman slain. Sir Aswart, Thorold +the abbot's man, was not likely to forgive him for turning him out of +the three Mainthorpe manors, which he had comfortably held for two +years past, and sending him back to lounge in the abbot's hall at +Peterborough, without a yard of land he could call his own. Sir Ascelin +was not likely to forgive him for marrying Alftruda, whom he had +intended to marry himself. Ivo Taillebois was not likely to forgive him +for existing within a hundred miles of Spalding, any more than the wolf +would forgive the lamb for fouling the water below him. Beside, had he +(Ivo) not married Hereward's niece? and what more grievous offence could +Hereward commit, than to be her uncle, reminding Ivo of his own low +birth by his nobility, and too likely to take Lucia's part, whenever +it should please Ivo to beat or kick her? Only "Gilbert of Ghent," +the pious and illustrious earl, sent messages of congratulation and +friendship to Hereward, it being his custom to sail with the wind, and +worship the rising sun--till it should decline again. + +But more: hardly one of the Normans round, but, in the conceit of their +skin-deep yesterday's civilization, look on Hereward as a barbarian +Englishman, who has his throat tattooed, and wears a short coat, and +prefers--the churl--to talk English in his own hall, though he can +talk as good French as they when he is with them, beside three or four +barbarian tongues if he has need. + +But more still: if they are not likely to bestow their love on Hereward, +Hereward is not likely to win love from them of his own will. He is +peevish, and wrathful, often insolent and quarrelsome; and small blame +to him. The Normans are invaders and tyrants, who have no business +there, and should not be there, if he had his way. And they and he can +no more amalgamate than fire and water. Moreover, he is a very great +man, or has been such once, and he thinks himself one still. He has been +accustomed to command men, whole armies; and he will no more treat +these Normans as his equals, than they will treat him as such. His own +son-in-law, Hugh of Evermue, has to take hard words,--thoroughly well +deserved, it may be; but all the more unpleasant for that reason. + +The truth was, that Hereward's heart was gnawed with shame and remorse; +and therefore he fancied, and not without reason, that all men pointed +at him the finger of scorn. + +He had done a bad, base, accursed deed. And he knew it. Once in his +life--for his other sins were but the sins of his age--the Father of men +seems (if the chroniclers say truth) to have put before this splendid +barbarian good and evil, saying, Choose! And he knew that the evil was +evil, and chose it nevertheless. + +Eight hundred years after, a still greater genius and general had the +same choice--as far as human cases of conscience can be alike--put +before him. And he chose as Hereward chose. + +But as with Napoleon and Josephine, so it was with Hereward and +Torfrida. Neither throve after. + +It was not punished by miracle. What sin is? It worked out its own +punishment; that which it merited, deserved, or earned, by its own +labor. No man could commit such a sin without shaking his whole +character to the root. Hereward tried to persuade himself that his was +not shaken; that he was the same Hereward as ever. But he could not +deceive himself long. His conscience was evil. He was discontented with +all mankind, and with himself most of all. He tried to be good,--as good +as he chose to be. If he had done wrong in one thing, he might make up +for it in others; but he could not. + +All his higher instincts fell from him one by one. He did not like to +think of good and noble things; he dared not think of them. He felt, not +at first, but as the months rolled on, that he was a changed man; that +God had left him. His old bad habits began to return to him. Gradually +he sank back into the very vices from which Torfrida had raised him +sixteen years before. He took to drinking again, to dull the malady of +thought; he excused himself to himself; he wished to forget his defeats, +his disappointment, the ruin of his country, the splendid past which lay +behind him like a dream. True: but he wished to forget likewise Torfrida +fasting and weeping in Crowland. He could not bear the sight of Crowland +tower on the far green horizon, the sound of Crowland bells booming over +the flat on the south-wind. He never rode down into the fens; he never +went to see his daughter at Deeping, because Crowland lay that way. He +went up into the old Bruneswald, hunted all day long through the glades +where he and his merry men had done their doughty deeds, and came home +in the evening to get drunk. + +Then he lost his sleep. He sent down to Crowland, to Leofric the priest, +that he might come to him, and sing his sagas of the old heroes, that he +might get rest. But Leofric sent back for answer that he would not come. + +That night Alftruda heard him by her side in the still hours, weeping +silently to himself. She caressed him: but he gave no heed to her. + +"I believe," said she bitterly at last, "that you love Torfrida still +better than you do me." + +And Hereward answered, like Mahomet in like case, "That do I, by heaven. +She believed in me when no one else in the world did." + +And the vain, hard Alftruda answered angrily; and there was many a +fierce quarrel between them after that. + +With his love of drinking, his love of boasting came back. Because he +could do no more great deeds--or rather had not the spirit left in him +to do more--he must needs, like a worn-out old man, babble of the great +deeds which he had done; insult and defy his Norman neighbors; often +talk what might be easily caricatured into treason against King William +himself. + +There were great excuses for his follies, as there are for those of +every beaten man; but Hereward was spent. He had lived his life, and had +no more life which he could live; for every man, it would seem, brings +into the world with him a certain capacity, a certain amount of vital +force, in body and in soul; and when that is used up, the man must sink +down into some sort of second childhood, and end, like Hereward, very +much where he began; unless the grace of God shall lift him up above the +capacity of the mere flesh, into a life literally new, ever-renewing, +ever-expanding, and eternal. + +But the grace of God had gone away from Hereward, as it goes away from +all men who are unfaithful to their wives. + +It was very pitiable. Let no man judge him. Life, to most, is very hard +work. There are those who endure to the end, and are saved; there are +those, again, who do not endure: upon whose souls may God have mercy. + +So Hereward soon became as intolerable to his Norman neighbors as they +were intolerable to him. + +Whereon, according to the simple fashion of those primitive times, they +sought about for some one who would pick a quarrel with Hereward, and +slay him in fair fight. But an Archibald Bell-the-Cat was not to be +found on every hedge. + +But it befell that Oger the Breton, he who had Morcar's lands round +Bourne, came up to see after his lands, and to visit his friend and +fellow-robber, Ivo Taillebois. + +Ivo thought the hot-headed Breton, who had already insulted Hereward +with impunity at Winchester, the fittest man for his purpose; and asked +him, over his cups, whether he had settled with that English ruffian +about the Docton land? + +Now, King William had judged that Hereward and Oger should hold that +land between them, as he and Toli had done. But when "two dogs," as Ivo +said, "have hold of the same bone, it is hard if they cannot get a snap +at each other's noses." + +Oger agreed to that opinion; and riding into Bourne, made inquisition +into the doings at Docton. And--scandalous injustice!--he found that an +old woman had sent six hens to Hereward, whereof she should have kept +three for him. + +So he sent to demand formally of Hereward those three hens; and was +unpleasantly disappointed when Hereward, instead of offering to fight +him, sent him them in an hour, and a lusty young cock into the bargain, +with this message,--That he hoped they might increase and multiply; for +it was a shame of an honest Englishman if he did not help a poor Breton +churl to eat roast fowls for the first time in his life, after feeding +on nothing better than furze-toppings, like his own ponies. + +To which Oger, who, like a true Breton, believed himself descended from +King Arthur, Sir Tristram, and half the knights of the Round Table, +replied that his blood was to that of Hereward as wine to peat-water; +and that Bretons used furze-toppings only to scourge the backs of +insolent barbarians. + +To which Hereward replied, that there were gnats enough pestering him in +the fens already, and that one more was of no consequence. + +Wherefrom the Breton judged, as at Winchester, that Hereward had no lust +to fight. + +The next day he met Hereward going out to hunt, and was confirmed in +his opinion when Hereward lifted his cap to him most courteously, saying +that he was not aware before that his neighbor was a gentleman of such +high blood. + +"Blood? Better at least than thine, thou bare-legged Saxon, who has +dared to call me churl. So you must needs have your throat cut? I took +you for a wiser man." + +"Many have taken me for that which I am not. If you will harness +yourself, I will do the same; and we will ride up into the Bruneswald, +and settle this matter in peace." + +"Three men on each side to see fair play," said the Breton. + +And up into the Bruneswald they rode; and fought long without advantage +on either side. + +Hereward was not the man which he had been. His nerve was gone, as well +as his conscience; and all the dash and fury of his old onslaughts gone +therewith. + +He grew tired of the fight, not in body, but in mind; and more than once +drew back. + +"Let us stop this child's play," said he, according to the chronicler; +"what need have we to fight here all day about nothing?" + +Whereat the Breton fancied him already more than half-beaten, and +attacked more furiously than ever. He would be the first man on earth +who ever had had the better of the great outlaw. He would win himself +eternal glory, as the champion of all England. + +But he had mistaken his man, and his indomitable English pluck. "It was +Hereward's fashion, in fight and war," says the chronicler, "always to +ply the man most at the last." And so found the Breton; for Hereward +suddenly lost patience, and rushing on him with one of his old shouts, +hewed at him again and again, as if his arm would never tire. + +Oger gave back, would he or not. In a few moments his sword-arm dropt to +his side, cut half through. + +"Have you had enough, Sir Tristram the younger?" quoth Hereward, wiping +his sword, and walking moodily away. + +Oger went out of Bourne with his arm in a sling, and took counsel with +Ivo Taillebois. Whereon they two mounted, and rode to Lincoln, and took +counsel with Gilbert of Ghent. + +The fruit of which was this. That a fortnight after Gilbert rode into +Bourne with a great meinie, full a hundred strong, and with him the +sheriff and the king's writ, and arrested Hereward on a charge of +speaking evil of the king, breaking his peace, compassing the death +of his faithful lieges, and various other wicked, traitorous, and +diabolical acts. + +Hereward was minded at first to fight and die. But Gilbert, who--to do +him justice--wished no harm to his ancient squire, reasoned with him. +Why should he destroy not only himself, but perhaps his people likewise? +Why should he throw away his last chance? The king was not so angry as +he seemed; and if Hereward would but be reasonable, the matter might be +arranged. As it was, he was not to be put to strong prison. He was to be +in the custody of Robert of Herepol, Chatelain of Bedford, who, Hereward +knew, was a reasonable and courteous man. The king had asked him, +Gilbert, to take charge of Hereward. + +"And what said you?" + +"That I had rather have in my pocket the seven devils that came out of +St. Mary Magdalene; and that I would not have thee within ten miles of +Lincoln town, to be Earl of all the Danelagh. So I begged him to send +thee to Sir Robert, just because I knew him to be a mild and gracious +man." + +A year before, Hereward would have scorned the proposal; and probably, +by one of his famous stratagems, escaped there and then out of the midst +of all Gilbert's men. But his spirit was broken; indeed, so was the +spirit of every Englishman; and he mounted his horse sullenly, and rode +alongside of Gilbert, unarmed for the first time for many a year. + +"You had better have taken me," said Sir Ascelin aside to the weeping +Alftruda. + +"I? helpless wretch that I am! What shall I do for my own safety, now he +is gone?" + +"Let me come and provide for it." + +"Out! wretch! traitor!" cried she. + +"There is nothing very traitorous in succoring distressed ladies," said +Ascelin. "If I can be of the least service to Alftruda the peerless, let +her but send, and I fly to do her bidding." + +So they rode off. + +Hereward went through Cambridge and Potton like a man stunned, and spoke +never a word. He could not even think, till he heard the key turned on +him in a room--not a small or doleful one--in Bedford keep, and found an +iron shackle on his leg, fastened to the stone bench on which he sat. + +Robert of Herepol had meant to leave his prisoner loose. But there were +those in Gilbert's train who told him, and with truth, that if he did +so, no man's life would be safe. That to brain the jailer with his own +keys, and then twist out of his bowels a line wherewith to let himself +down from the top of the castle, would be not only easy, but amusing, to +the famous "Wake." + +So Robert consented to fetter him so far, but no further; and begged his +pardon again and again as he did it, pleading the painful necessities of +his office. + +But Hereward heard him not. He sat in stupefied despair. A great black +cloud had covered all heaven and earth, and entered into his brain +through every sense, till his mind, as he said afterwards, was like +hell, with the fire gone out. + +A jailer came in, he knew not how long after, bringing a good meal, and +wine. He came cautiously toward the prisoner, and when still beyond the +length of his chain, set the food down, and thrust it toward him with a +stick, lest Hereward should leap on him and wring his neck. + +But Hereward never even saw him or the food. He sat there all day, all +night, and nearly all the next day, and hardly moved hand or foot. The +jailer told Sir Robert in the evening that he thought the man was mad, +and would die. + +So good Sir Robert went up to him, and spoke kindly and hopefully. +But all Hereward answered was, that he was very well. That he wanted +nothing. That he had always heard well of Sir Robert. That he should +like to get a little sleep: but that sleep would not come. + +The next day Sir Robert came again early, and found him sitting in the +same place. + +"He was very well," he said. "How could he be otherwise? He was just +where he ought to be. A man could not be better than in his right +place." + +Whereon Sir Robert gave him up for mad. + +Then he bethought of sending him a harp, knowing the fame of Hereward's +music and singing. "And when he saw the harp," the jailer said, "he +wept; but bade take the thing away. And so sat still where he was." + +In this state of dull despair he remained for many weeks. At last he +woke up. + +There passed through and by Bedford large bodies of troops, going as it +were to and from battle. The clank of arms stirred Hereward's heart as +of old, and he sent to Sir Robert to ask what was toward. + +Sir Robert, "the venerable man," came to him joyfully and at once, glad +to speak to an illustrious captive, whom he looked on as an injured man; +and told him news enough. + +Taillebois's warning about Ralph Guader and Waltheof had not been +needless. Ralph, as the most influential of the Bretons, was on no +good terms with the Normans, save with one, and that one of the most +powerful,--Fitz-Osbern, Earl of Hereford. His sister Ralph was to have +married; but William, for reasons unknown, forbade the match. The +two great earls celebrated the wedding in spite of William, and asked +Waltheof as a guest. And at Exning, between the fen and Newmarket +Heath,-- + + "Was that bride-ale + Which was man's bale." + +For there was matured the plot which Ivo and others had long seen +brewing. William had made himself hateful to all men by his cruelties +and tyrannies; and indeed his government was growing more unrighteous +day by day. Let them drive him out of England, and part the land between +them. Two should be dukes, the third king paramount. + +"Waltheof, I presume, plotted drunk, and repented sober, when too late. +The wittol! He should have been a monk." + +"Repented he has, if ever he was guilty. For he fled to Archbishop +Lanfranc, and confessed to him so much, that Lanfranc declares him +innocent, and has sent him on to William in Normandy." + +"O kind priest! true priest! To send his sheep into the wolf's mouth." + +"You forget, dear sire, that William is our king." + +"I can hardly forget that, with this pretty ring upon my ankle. But +after my experience of how he has kept faith with me, what can I expect +for Waltheof the wittol, save that which I have foretold many a time?" + +"As for you, dear sire, the king has been misinformed concerning you. I +have sent messengers to reason with him again and again; but as long as +Taillebois, Warrenne, and Robert Malet had his ear, of what use were my +poor words?" + +"And what said they?" + +"That there would be no peace in England if you were loose." + +"They lied. I am no boy, like Waltheof. I know when the game is played +out. And it is played out now. The Frenchman is master, and I know it +well. Were I loose to-morrow, and as great a fool as Waltheof, +what could I do, with, it may be, some forty knights and a hundred +men-at-arms, against all William's armies? But how goes on this fool's +rebellion? If I had been loose I might have helped to crush it in the +bud." + +"And you would have done that against Waltheof?" + +"Why not against him? He is but bringing more misery on England. Tell +that to William. Tell him that if he sets me free, I will be the first +to attack Waltheof, or whom he will. There are no English left to fight +against," said he, bitterly, "for Waltheof is none now." + +"He shall know your words when he returns to England." + +"What, is he abroad, and all this evil going on?" + +"In Normandy. But the English have risen for the King in Herefordshire, +and beaten Earl Roger; and Odo of Bayeux and Bishop Mowbray are on their +way to Cambridge, where they hope to give a good account of Earl Ralph; +and that the English may help them there." + +"And they shall! They hate Ralph Guader as much as I do. Can you send a +message for me?" + +"Whither?" + +"To Bourne in the Bruneswald; and say to Hereward's men, wherever +they are, Let them rise and arm, if they love Hereward, and down to +Cambridge, to be the foremost at Bishop Odo's side against Ralph Guader, +or Waltheof himself. Send! send! O that I were free!" + +"Would to Heaven thou wert free, my gallant sir!" said the good man. + +From that day Hereward woke up somewhat. He was still a broken man, +querulous, peevish; but the hope of freedom and the hope of battle woke +him up. If he could but get to his men! But his melancholy returned. His +men--some of them at least--went down to Odo at Cambridge, and did good +service. Guader was utterly routed, and escaped to Norwich, and thence +to Brittany,--his home. The bishops punished their prisoners, the rebel +Normans, with horrible mutilations. + +"The wolves are beginning to eat each other," said Hereward to himself. +But it was a sickening thought to him, that his men had been fighting +and he not at their head. + +After a while there came to Bedford Castle two witty knaves. One was a +cook, who "came to buy milk," says the chronicler; the other seemingly +a gleeman. They told stories, jested, harped, sang, drank, and pleased +much the garrison and Sir Robert, who let them hang about the place. + +They asked next, whether it were true that the famous Hereward was +there? If so, might a man have a look at him? + +The jailer said that many men might have gone to see him, so easy was +Sir Robert to him. But he would have no man; and none dare enter save +Sir Robert and he, for fear of their lives. But he would ask him of +Herepol. + +The good knight of Herepol said, "Let the rogues go in; they may amuse +the poor man." + +So they went in, and as soon as they went, he knew them. One was Martin +Lightfoot, the other Leofric the Unlucky. + +"Who sent you?" asked he surlily, turning his face away. + +"She." + +"Who?" + +"We know but one she, and she is at Crowland." + +"She sent you? and wherefore?" + +"That we might sing to you, and make you merry." + +Hereward answered them with a terrible word, and turned his face to the +wall, groaning, and then bade them sternly to go. + +So they went, for the time. + +The jailer told this to Sir Robert, who saw all, being a kind-hearted +man. + +"From his poor first wife, eh? Well, there can be no harm in that. Nor +if they came from this Lady Alftruda either, for that matter; let them +go in and out when they will." + +"But they may be spies and traitors." + +"Then we can but hang them." + +Robert of Herepol, it would appear from the chronicle, did not much care +whether they were spies or not. + +So the men went to and fro, and often sat with Hereward. But he forbade +them sternly to mention Torfrida's name. + +Alftruda sent to him meanwhile, again and again, messages of passionate +love and sorrow, and he listened to them as sullenly as he did to his +two servants, and sent no answer back. And so sat more weary months, in +the very prison, it may be in the very room, in which John Bunyan sat +nigh six hundred years after: but in a very different frame of mind. + +One day Sir Robert was going up the stairs with another knight, and +met the two coming down. He was talking to that knight earnestly, +indignantly: and somehow, as he passed Leofric and Martin he thought fit +to raise his voice, as if in a great wrath. + +"Shame to all honor and chivalry! good saints in heaven, what a thing is +human fortune! That this man, who had once a gallant army at his +back, should be at this moment going like a sheep to the slaughter, to +Buckingham Castle, at the mercy of his worst enemy, Ivo Taillebois, of +all men in the world. If there were a dozen knights left of all those +whom he used to heap with wealth and honor, worthy the name of knights, +they would catch us between here and Stratford, and make a free man of +their lord." + +So spake--or words to that effect, according to the Latin chronicler, +who must have got them from Leofric himself--the good knight of Herepol. + +"Hillo, knaves!" said he, seeing the two, "are you here eavesdropping? +out of the castle this instant, on your lives." + +Which hint those two witty knaves took on the spot. + +A few days after, Hereward was travelling toward Buckingham, chained +upon a horse, with Sir Robert and his men, and a goodly company of +knights belonging to Ivo. Ivo, as the story runs, seems to have arranged +with Ralph Pagnel at Buckingham to put him into the keeping of a +creature of his own. And how easy it was to put out a man's eyes, or +starve him to death, in a Norman keep, none knew better than Hereward. + +But he was past fear or sorrow. A dull heavy cloud of despair had +settled down upon his soul. Black with sin, his heart could not pray. He +had hardened himself against all heaven and earth, and thought, when he +thought at all, only of his wrongs: but never of his sins. + +They passed through a forest, seemingly somewhere near what is Newport +Pagnel, named after Ralph, his would-be jailer. + +Suddenly from the trees dashed out a body of knights, and at their head +the white-bear banner, in Ranald of Ramsey's hand. + +"Halt!" shouted Sir Robert; "we are past the half-way stone. Earl Ivo's +and Earl Ralph's men are answerable now for the prisoner." + +"Treason!" shouted Ivo's men, and one would have struck Hereward through +with his lance; but Winter was too quick for him, and bore him from his +saddle; and then dragged Hereward out of the fight. + +The Normans, surprised while their helmets were hanging at their +saddles, and their arms not ready for battle, were scattered at once. +But they returned to the attack, confident in their own numbers. + +They were over confident. Hereward's fetters were knocked off; and he +was horsed and armed, and, mad with freedom and battle, fighting like +himself once more. + +Only as he rode to and fro, thrusting and hewing, he shouted to his men +to spare Sir Robert, and all his meinie, crying that he was the savior +of his life; and when the fight was over, and all Ivo's and Ralph's men +who were not slain had ridden for their lives into Stratford, he shook +hands with that venerable knight, giving him innumerable thanks and +courtesies for his honorable keeping; and begged him to speak well of +him to the king. + +And so these two parted in peace, and Hereward was a free man. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + +HOW EARL WALTHEOF WAS MADE A SAINT. + + +A few months after, there sat in Abbot Thorold's lodgings in +Peterborough a select company of Normans, talking over affairs of state +after their supper. + +"Well, earls and gentlemen," said the Abbot, as he sipped his wine, "the +cause of our good king, which is happily the cause of Holy Church, goes +well, I think. We have much to be thankful for when we review the events +of the past year. We have finished the rebels; Roger de Breteuil is +safe in prison, Ralph Guader unsafe in Brittany, and Waltheof more than +unsafe in--the place to which traitors descend. We have not a manor left +which is not in loyal Norman hands; we have not an English monk left who +has not been scourged and starved into holy obedience; not an English +saint for whom any man cares a jot, since Guerin de Lire preached down +St. Adhelm, the admirable primate disposed of St. Alphege's martyrdom, +and some other wise man--I am ashamed to say that I forget who--proved +that St. Edmund of Suffolk was merely a barbarian knight, who was killed +fighting with Danes only a little more heathen than himself. We have had +great labors and great sufferings since we landed in this barbarous +isle upon our holy errand ten years since; but, under the shadow of +the gonfalon of St. Peter, we have conquered, and may sing 'Dominus +illuminatio mea' with humble and thankful hearts." + +"I don't know that," said Ascelin, "my Lord Uncle; I shall never sing +'Dominus Illuminatio' till I see your coffers illuminated once more by +those thirty thousand marks." + +"Or I," said Oger le Breton, "till I see myself safe in that bit of land +which Hereward holds wrongfully of me in Locton." + +"Or I," said Ivo Taillebois, "till I see Hereward's head on Bourne +gable, where he stuck up those Norman's heads seven years ago. But what +the Lord Abbot means by saying that we have done with English saints I +do not see, for the villains of Crowland have just made a new one for +themselves." + +"A new one?" + +"I tell you truth and fact; I will tell you all, Lord Abbot; and you +shall judge whether it is not enough to drive an honest man mad to see +such things going on under his nose. Men say of me that I am rough, and +swear and blaspheme. I put it to you, Lord Abbot, if Job would not have +cursed if he had been Lord of Spalding? You know that the king let these +Crowland monks have Waltheof's body?" + +"Yes, I thought it an unwise act of grace. It would have been wiser to +leave him, as he desired, out on the down, in ground unconsecrate." + +"Of course, of course; for what has happened?" + +"That old traitor, Ulfketyl, and his monks bring the body to Crowland, +and bury it as if it had been the Pope's. In a week they begin to +spread their lies,--that Waltheof was innocent; that Archbishop Lanfranc +himself said so." + +"That was the only act of human weakness which I have ever known the +venerable prelate commit," said Thorold. + +"That these Normans at Winchester were so in the traitor's favor, that +the king had to have him out and cut off his head in the gray of the +morning, ere folks were up and about; that the fellow was so holy that +he passed all his time in prison in weeping and praying, and said over the +whole Psalter every day, because his mother had taught it him,--I wish +she had taught him to be an honest man;--and that when his head was +on the block he said all the Paternoster, as far as 'Lead us not into +temptation,' and then off went his head; whereon, his head being off, +finished the prayer with--you know best what comes next, Abbot?" + +"Deliver us from evil, Amen! What a manifest lie! The traitor was not +permitted, it is plain, to ask for that which could never be granted to +him; but his soul, unworthy to be delivered from evil, entered instead +into evil, and howls forever in the pit." + +"But all the rest may be true," said Oger; "and yet that be no reason +why these monks should say it." + +"So I told them, and threatened them too; for, not content with making +him a martyr, they are making him a saint." + +"Impious! Who can do that, save the Holy Father?" said Thorold. + +"You had best get your bishop to look to them, then, for they are +carrying blind beggars and mad girls by the dozen to be cured at the +man's tomb, that is all. Their fellows in the cell at Spalding went +about to take a girl that had fits off one of my manors, to cure her; +but that I stopped with a good horse-whip." + +"And rightly." + +"And gave the monks a piece of my mind, and drove them clean out of +their cell home to Crowland." + +What a piece of Ivo's mind on this occasion might be, let Ingulf +describe. + +"Against our monastery and all the people of Crowland he was, by the +instigation of the Devil, raised to such an extreme pitch of fury, that +he would follow their animals in the marshes with his dogs, drive them +to a great distance down in the lakes, mutilate some in the tails, +others in the ears, while often, by breaking the backs and legs of the +beasts of burden, he rendered them utterly useless. Against our cell +also (at Spalding) and our brethren, his neighbors, the prior and monks, +who dwelt all day within his presence, he rages with tyrannical and +frantic fury, lamed their oxen and horses, daily impounded their sheep +and poultry, striking down, killing, and slaying their swine and pigs; +while at the same time the servants of the prior were oppressed in the +Earl's court with insupportable exactions, were often assaulted in the +highways with swords and staves, and sometimes killed." + +"Well," went on the injured Earl, "this Hereward gets news of me,--and +news too, I don't know whence, but true enough it is,--that I had sworn +to drive Ulfketyl out of Crowland by writ from king and bishop, and lock +him up as a minister at the other end of England." + +"You will do but right. I will send a knight off to the king this day, +telling him all, and begging him to send us up a trusty Norman as abbot +of Crowland, that we may have one more gentleman in the land fit for our +company." + +"You must kill Hereward first. For, as I was going to say, he sent word +to me 'that the monks of Crowland were as the apple of his eye, and +Abbot Ulfketyl to him as more than a father; and that if I dared to lay +a finger on them or their property, he would cut my head off.'" + +"He has promised to cut my head off likewise," said Ascelin. "Earl, +knights, and gentlemen, do you not think it wiser that we should lay our +wits together once and for all, and cut off his." + +"But who will catch the Wake sleeping?" said Ivo, laughing. + +"That will I. I have my plans, and my intelligencers." + +And so those wicked men took counsel together to slay Hereward. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + +HOW HEREWARD GOT THE BEST OF HIS SOUL'S PRICE. + + +In those days a messenger came riding post to Bourne. The Countess +Judith wished to visit the tomb of her late husband, Earl Waltheof; and +asked hospitality on her road of Hereward and Alftruda. + +Of course she would come with a great train, and the trouble and expense +would be great. But the hospitality of those days, when money was +scarce, and wine scarcer still, was unbounded, and a matter of course; +and Alftruda was overjoyed. No doubt, Judith was the most unpopular +person in England at that moment; called by all a traitress and a fiend. +But she was an old acquaintance of Alftruda's; she was the king's niece; +she was immensely rich, not only in manors of her own, but in manors, +as Domesday-book testifies, about Lincolnshire and the counties round, +which had belonged to her murdered husband,--which she had too probably +received as the price of her treason. So Alftruda looked to her visit as +to an honor which would enable her to hold her head high among the proud +Norman dames, who despised her as the wife of an Englishman. + +Hereward looked on the visit in a different light. He called Judith ugly +names, not undeserved; and vowed that if she entered his house by the +front door he would go out at the back. "Torfrida prophesied," he said, +"that she would betray her husband, and she had done it." + +"Torfrida prophesied? Did she prophesy that I should betray you +likewise?" asked Alftruda, in a tone of bitter scorn. + +"No, you handsome fiend: will you do it?" + +"Yes; I am a handsome fiend, am I not?" and she bridled up her +magnificent beauty, and stood over him as a snake stands over a mouse. + +"Yes; you are handsome,--beautiful: I adore you." + +"And yet you will not do what I wish?" + +"What you wish? What would I not do for you? what have I not done for +you?" + +"Then receive Judith. And now, go hunting, and bring me in game. I +want deer, roe, fowls; anything and everything from the greatest to the +smallest. Go and hunt." + +And Hereward trembled, and went. + +There are flowers whose scent is so luscious that silly children will +plunge their heads among them, drinking in their odor, to the exclusion +of all fresh air. On a sudden sometimes comes a revulsion of the nerves. +The sweet odor changes in a moment to a horrible one; and the child +cannot bear for years after the scent which has once disgusted it by +over-sweetness. + +And so had it happened to Hereward. He did not love Alftruda now: he +loathed, hated, dreaded her. And yet he could not take his eyes for a +moment off her beauty. He watched every movement of her hand, to press +it, obey it. He would have preferred instead of hunting, simply to sit +and watch her go about the house at her work. He was spell-bound to a +thing which he regarded with horror. + +But he was told to go and hunt; and he went, with all his men, and sent +home large supplies for the larder. And as he hunted, the free, fresh +air of the forest comforted him, the free forest life came back to him, +and he longed to be an outlaw once more, and hunt on forever. He would +not go back yet, at least to face that Judith. So he sent back the +greater part of his men with a story. He was ill; he was laid up at a +farm-house far away in the forest, and begged the countess to excuse his +absence. He had sent fresh supplies of game, and a goodly company of his +men, knights and housecarles, who would escort her royally to Crowland. + +Judith cared little for his absence; he was but an English barbarian. +Alftruda was half glad to have him out of the way, lest his now sullen +and uncertain temper should break out; and bowed herself to the earth +before Judith, who patronized her to her heart's content, and offered +her slyly insolent condolences on being married to a barbarian. She +herself could sympathize,--who more? + +Alftruda might have answered with scorn that she was an Adeliza, and of +better English blood than Judith's Norman blood; but she had her ends to +gain, and gained them. + +For Judith was pleased to be so delighted with her that she kissed her +lovingly, and said with much emotion that she required a friend who +would support her through her coming trial; and who better than one who +herself had suffered so much? Would she accompany her to Crowland? + +Alftruda was overjoyed, and away they went. + +And to Crowland they came; and to the tomb in the minster, whereof men +said already that the sacred corpse within worked miracles of healing. + +And Judith, habited in widow's weeds, approached the tomb, and laid on +it, as a peace-offering to the manes of the dead, a splendid pall of +silk and gold. + +A fierce blast came howling off the fen, screeched through the minster +towers, swept along the dark aisles; and then, so say the chroniclers, +caught up the pall from off the tomb, and hurled it far away into a +corner. + +"A miracle!" cried all the monks at once; and honestly enough, like true +Englishmen as they were. + +"The Holy heart refuses the gift, Countess," said old Ulfketyl in a +voice of awe. + +Judith covered her face with her hands, and turned away trembling, and +walked out, while all looked upon her as a thing accursed. + +Of her subsequent life, her folly, her wantonness, her disgrace, her +poverty, her wanderings, her wretched death, let others tell. + +But these Normans believed that the curse of Heaven was upon her from +that day. And the best of them believed likewise that Waltheof's murder +was the reason that William, her uncle, prospered no more in life. + +"Ah, saucy sir," said Alftruda to Ulfketyl, as she went out, "there is +one waiting at Peterborough now who will teach thee manners,--Ingulf of +Fontenelle, Abbot, in thy room." + +"Does Hereward know that?" asked Ulfketyl, looking keenly at her. + +"What is that to thee?" said she, fiercely, and flung out of the +minster. But Hereward did not know. There were many things abroad of +which she told him nothing. + +They went back and were landed at Deeping town, and making their way +along the King Street, or old Roman road, to Bourne. Thereon a man met +them, running. They had best stay where they were. The Frenchmen were +out, and there was fighting up in Bourne. + +Alftruda's knights wanted to push on, to see after the Bourne folk; +Judith's knights wanted to push on to help the French; and the two +parties were ready to fight each other. There was a great tumult. The +ladies had much ado to still it. + +Alftruda said that it might be but a countryman's rumor; that, at least, +it was shame to quarrel with their guests. At last it was agreed that +two knights should gallop on into Bourne, and bring back news. + +But those knights never came back. So the whole body moved on Bourne, +and there they found out the news for themselves. + +Hereward had gone home as soon as they had departed, and sat down to eat +and drink. His manner was sad and strange. He drank much at the midday +meal, and then lay down to sleep, setting guards as usual. + +After a while he leapt up with a shriek and a shudder. + +They ran to him, asking whether he was ill. + +"Ill? No. Yes. Ill at heart. I have had a dream,--an ugly dream. I +thought that all the men I ever slew on earth came to me with their +wounds all gaping, and cried at me, 'Our luck then, thy luck now.' +Chaplain! is there not a verse somewhere,--Uncle Brand said it to me on +his deathbed,--'Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be +shed'?" + +"Surely the master is fey," whispered Gwenoch in fear to the chaplain. +"Answer him out of Scripture." + +"Text? None such that I know of," quoth Priest Ailward, a graceless +fellow who had taken Leofric's place. "If that were the law, it would be +but few honest men that would die in their beds. Let us drink, and drive +girls' fancies out of our heads." + +So they drank again; and Hereward fell asleep once more. + +"It is thy turn to watch, Priest," said Gwenoch to Ailward. "So keep the +door well, for I am worn out with hunting," and so fell asleep. + +Ailward shuffled into his harness, and went to the door. The wine was +heady; the sun was hot. In a few minutes he was asleep likewise. + +Hereward slept, who can tell how long? But at last there was a bustle, a +heavy fall; and waking with a start, he sprang up. He saw Ailward lying +dead across the gate, and above him a crowd of fierce faces, some of +which he knew too well. He saw Ivo Taillebois; he saw Oger; he saw his +fellow-Breton, Sir Raoul de Dol; he saw Sir Ascelin; he saw Sir Aswa, +Thorold's man; he saw Sir Hugh of Evermue, his own son-in-law; and with +them he saw, or seemed to see, the Ogre of Cornwall, and O'Brodar of +Ivark, and Dirk Hammerhand of Walcheren, and many another old foe long +underground; and in his ear rang the text,--"Whoso sheddeth man's blood, +by man shall his blood be shed." And Hereward knew that his end was +come. + +There was no time to put on mail or helmet. He saw the old sword and +shield hang on a perch, and tore them down. As he girded the sword on +Winter sprang to his side. + +"I have three lances,--two for me and one for you, and we can hold the +door against twenty." + +"Till they fire the house over our heads. Shall Hereward die like a wolf +in a cave? Forward, all Hereward's men!" + +And he rushed out upon his fate. No man followed him, save Winter. The +rest, disperst, unarmed, were running hither and thither helplessly. + +"Brothers in arms, and brothers in Valhalla!" shouted Winter as he +rushed after him. + +A knight was running to and fro in the Court, shouting Hereward's name. +"Where is the villain? Wake! We have caught thee asleep at last." + +"I am out," quoth Hereward, as the man almost stumbled against him; "and +this is in." + +And through shield, hauberk, and body, as says Gaima, went Hereward's +javelin, while all drew back, confounded for the moment at that mighty +stroke. + +"Felons!" shouted Hereward, "your king has given me his truce; and do +you dare break my house, and kill my folk? Is that your Norman law? And +is this your Norman honor?--To take a man unawares over his meat? Come +on, traitors all, and get what you can of a naked man; [Footnote: i. e. +without armor.] you will buy it dear--Guard my back, Winter!" + +And he ran right at the press of knights; and the fight began. + + "He gored them like a wood-wild boar, + As long as that lance might endure," + +says Gaimar. + + "And when that lance did break in hand, + Full fell enough he smote with brand." + +And as he hewed on silently, with grinding teeth and hard, glittering +eyes, of whom did he think? Of Alftruda? + +Not so. But of that pale ghost, with great black hollow eyes, who sat +in Crowland, with thin bare feet, and sackcloth on her tender limbs, +watching, praying, longing, loving, uncomplaining. That ghost had been +for many a month the background of all his thoughts and dreams. It +was so clear before his mind's eye now, that, unawares to himself, he +shouted "Torfrida!" as he struck, and struck the harder at the sound of +his old battle-cry. + +And now he is all wounded and be-bled; and Winter, who has fought back +to back with him, has fallen on his face; and Hereward stands alone, +turning from side to side, as he sweeps his sword right and left till +the forest rings with the blows, but staggering as he turns. Within a +ring of eleven corpses he stands. Who will go in and make the twelfth? + +A knight rushes in, to fall headlong down, cloven through the helm: but +Hereward's blade snaps short, and he hurls it away as his foes rush in +with a shout of joy. He tears his shield from his left arm, and with it, +says Gaimar, brains two more. + +But the end is come. Taillebois and Evermue are behind him now; four +lances are through his back, and bear him down to his knees. + +"Cut off his head, Breton!" shouted Ivo. Raoul de Dol rushed forward, +sword in hand. At that cry Hereward lifted up his dying head. One stroke +more ere it was all done forever. + +And with a shout of "Torfrida!" which made the Bruneswald ring, he +hurled the shield full in the Breton's face, and fell forward dead. + +The knights drew their lances from that terrible corpse slowly and with +caution, as men who have felled a bear, yet dare not step within reach +of the seemingly lifeless paw. + +"The dog died hard," said Ivo. "Lucky for us that Sir Ascelin had news +of his knights being gone to Crowland. If he had had them to back him, +we had not done this deed to-day." + +"I will make sure," said Ascelin, as he struck off the once fair and +golden head. + +"Ho, Breton," cried Ivo, "the villain is dead. Get up, man, and see for +yourself. What ails him?" + +But when they lifted up Raoul de Dol his brains were running down his +face; and all men stood astonished at that last mighty stroke. + +"That blow," said Ascelin, "will be sung hereafter by minstrel and +maiden as the last blow of the last Englishman. Knights, we have slain +a better knight than ourselves. If there had been three more such men in +this realm, they would have driven us and King William back again into +the sea." + +So said Ascelin; those words of his, too, were sung by many a jongleur, +Norman as well as English, in the times that were to come. + +"Likely enough," said Ivo; "but that is the more reason why we should +set that head of his up over the hall-door, as a warning to these +English churls that their last man is dead, and their last stake thrown +and lost." + +So perished "the last of the English." + +It was the third day. The Normans were drinking in the hall of Bourne, +casting lots among themselves who should espouse the fair Alftruda, who +sat weeping within over the headless corpse; when in the afternoon a +servant came in, and told them how a barge full of monks had come to the +shore, and that they seemed to be monks from Crowland. Ivo Taillebois +bade drive them back again into the barge with whips. But Hugh of +Evermue spoke up. + +"I am lord and master in Bourne this day, and if Ivo have a quarrel +against St. Guthlac, I have none. This Ingulf of Fontenelle, the new +abbot who has come thither since old Ulfketyl was sent to prison, is +a loyal man, and a friend of King William's, and my friend he shall be +till he behaves himself as my foe. Let them come up in peace." + +Taillebois growled and cursed: but the monks came up, and into the hall; +and at their head Ingulf himself, to receive whom all men rose, save +Taillebois. + +"I come," said Ingulf, in most courtly French, "noble knights, to ask +a boon and in the name of the Most Merciful, on behalf of a noble and +unhappy lady. Let it be enough to have avenged yourself on the living. +Gentlemen and Christians war not against the dead." + +"No, no, Master Abbot!" shouted Taillebois; "Waltheof is enough to keep +Crowland in miracles for the present. You shall not make a martyr of +another Saxon churl. He wants the barbarian's body, knights, and you +will be fools if you let him have it." + +"Churl? barbarian?" said a haughty voice; and a nun stepped forward who +had stood just behind Ingulf. She was clothed entirely in black. Her +bare feet were bleeding from the stones; her hand, as she lifted it, was +as thin as a skeleton's. + +She threw back her veil, and showed to the knights what had been once +the famous beauty of Torfrida. + +But the beauty was long past away. Her hair was white as snow; her +cheeks were fallen in. Her hawk-like features were all sharp and hard. +Only in their hollow sockets burned still the great black eyes, so +fiercely that all men turned uneasily from her gaze. + +"Churl? barbarian?" she said, slowly and quietly, but with an intensity +which was more terrible than rage. "Who gives such names to one who was +as much better born and better bred than those who now sit here, as he +was braver and more terrible than they? The base wood-cutter's son? The +upstart who would have been honored had he taken service as yon dead +man's groom?" + +"Talk to me so, and my stirrup leathers shall make acquaintance with +your sides," said Taillebois. + +"Keep them for your wife. Churl? Barbarian? There is not a man within +this hall who is not a barbarian compared with him. Which of you touched +the harp like him? Which of you, like him, could move all hearts with +song? Which of you knows all tongues from Lapland to Provence? Which +of you has been the joy of ladies' bowers, the counsellor of earls and +heroes, the rival of a mighty king? Which of you will compare yourself +with him,--whom you dared not even strike, you and your robber crew, +fairly in front, but, skulked round him till he fell pecked to death +by you, as Lapland Skratlings peck to death the bear. Ten years ago +he swept this hall of such as you, and hung their heads upon yon gable +outside; and were he alive but one five minutes again, this hall would +be right cleanly swept again! Give me his body,--or bear forever the +name of cowards, and Torfrida's curse." + +And she fixed her terrible eyes first on one, and then on another, +calling them by name. + +"Ivo Taillebois,--basest of all--" + +"Take the witch's accursed eyes off me!" and he covered his face with +his hands. "I shall be overlooked,--planet struck. Hew the witch down! +Take her away!" + +"Hugh of Evermue,--the dead man's daughter is yours, and the dead man's +lands. Are not these remembrances enough of him? Are you so fond of his +memory that you need his corpse likewise?" + +"Give it her! Give it her!" said he, hanging down his head like a rated +cur. + +"Ascelin of Lincoln, once Ascelin of Ghent,--there was a time when +you would have done--what would you not?--for one glance of Torfrida's +eyes.--Stay. Do not deceive yourself, fair sir, Torfrida means to ask no +favor of you, or of living man. But she commands you. Do the thing she +bids, or with one glance of her eye she sends you childless to your +grave." + +"Madam! Lady Torfrida! What is there I would not do for you? What have I +done now, save avenge your great wrong?" + +Torfrida made no answer, but fixed steadily on him eyes which widened +every moment. + +"But, madam,"--and he turned shrinking from the fancied spell,--"what +would you have? The--the corpse? It is in the keeping of--of another +lady." + +"So?" said Torfrida, quietly. "Leave her to me"; and she swept past them +all, and flung open the bower door at their backs, discovering Alftruda +sitting by the dead. + +The ruffians were so utterly appalled, not only by the false powers of +magic, but by veritable powers of majesty and eloquence, that they let +her do what she would. + +"Out!" cried she, using a short and terrible epithet. "Out, siren, with +fairy's face and tail of fiend, and leave the husband with his wife!" + +Alftruda looked up, shrieked; and then, with the sudden passion of a +weak nature, drew a little knife, and sprang up. + +Ivo made a coarse jest. The Abbot sprang in: "For the sake of all holy +things, let there be no more murder here!" + +Torfrida smiled, and fixed her snake's eye upon her wretched rival. + +"Out! woman, and choose thee a new husband among these French gallants, +ere I blast thee from head to foot with the leprosy of Naaman the +Syrian." + +Alftruda shuddered, and fled shrieking into an inner room. + +"Now, knights, give me--that which hangs outside." + +Ascelin hurried out, glad to escape. In a minute he returned. + +The head was already taken down. A tall lay brother, the moment he +had seen it, had climbed the gable, snatched it away, and now sat in a +corner of the yard, holding it on his knees, talking to it, chiding it, +as if it had been alive. When men had offered to take it, he had drawn a +battle-axe from under his frock, and threatened to brain all comers. And +the monks had warned off Ascelin, saying that the man was mad, and had +Berserk fits of superhuman strength and rage. + +"He will give it me!" said Torfrida, and went out. + +"Look at that gable, foolish head," said the madman. "Ten years agone, +you and I took down from thence another head. O foolish head, to get +yourself at last up into that same place! Why would you not be ruled by +her, you foolish golden head?" + +"Martin!" said Torfrida. + +"Take it and comb it, mistress, as you used to do. Comb out the golden +locks again, fit to shine across the battle-field. She has let them get +all tangled into elf-knots, that lazy slut within." + +Torfrida took it from his hands, dry-eyed, and went in. + +Then the monks silently took up the bier, and all went forth, and down +the hill toward the fen. They laid the corpse within the barge, and +slowly rowed away. + + And on by Porsad and by Asendyke, + By winding reaches on, and shining meres + Between gray reed-ronds and green alder-beds, + A dirge of monks and wail of women rose + In vain to Heaven for the last Englishman; + Then died far off within the boundless mist, + And left the Norman master of the land. + +So Torfrida took the corpse home to Crowland, and buried it in the +choir, near the blessed martyr St. Waltheof; after which she did not +die, but lived on many years, [Footnote: If Ingulf can be trusted, +Torfrida died about A.D. 1085.] spending all day in nursing and feeding +the Countess Godiva, and lying all night on Hereward's tomb, and praying +that he might find grace and mercy in that day. + +And at last Godiva died; and they took her away and buried her with +great pomp in her own minster church of Coventry. + +And after that Torfrida died likewise; because she had nothing left for +which to live. And they laid her in Hereward's grave, and their dust is +mingled to this day. + +And Leofric the priest lived on to a good old age, and above all things +he remembered the deeds and the sins of his master, and wrote them in a +book, and this is what remains thereof. + +But when Martin Lightfoot died, no man has said; for no man in those +days took account of such poor churls and running serving-men. + +And Hereward's comrades were all scattered abroad, some maimed, some +blinded, some with tongues cut out, to beg by the wayside, or crawl into +convents, and then die; while their sisters and daughters, ladies born +and bred, were the slaves of grooms and scullions from beyond the sea. + +And so, as sang Thorkel Skallason,-- + + "Cold heart and bloody hand + Now rule English land." [Footnote: Laing's Heimskringla.] + +And after that things waxed even worse and worse, for sixty years +and more; all through the reigns of the two Williams, and of Henry +Beauclerc, and of Stephen; till men saw visions and portents, and +thought that the foul fiend was broken loose on earth. And they +whispered oftener and oftener that the soul of Hereward haunted the +Bruneswald, where he loved to hunt the dun deer and the roe. And in the +Bruneswald, when Henry of Poitou was made abbot, [Footnote: Anglo-Saxon +Chronicle, A.D. 1127.] men saw--let no man think lightly of the +marvel which we are about to relate, for it was well known all over the +country--upon the Sunday, when men sing, "Exsurge quare, O Domine," many +hunters hunting, black, and tall, and loathly, and their hounds were +black and ugly with wide eyes, and they rode on black horses and +black bucks. And they saw them in the very deer-park of the town of +Peterborough, and in all the woods to Stamford; and the monks heard +the blasts of the horns which they blew in the night. Men of truth +kept watch upon them, and said that there might be well about twenty or +thirty horn-blowers. This was seen and heard all that Lent until Easter, +and the Norman monks of Peterborough said how it was Hereward, doomed to +wander forever with Apollyon and all his crew, because he had stolen the +riches of the Golden Borough: but the poor folk knew better, and said +that the mighty outlaw was rejoicing in the chase, blowing his horn for +Englishmen to rise against the French; and therefore it was that he was +seen first on "Arise, O Lord" Sunday. + +But they were so sore trodden down that they could never rise; for the +French [Footnote: Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, A.D. 1137.] had filled the +land full of castles. They greatly oppressed the wretched people by +making them work at these castles; and when the castles were finished, +they filled them with devils and evil men. They took those whom they +suspected of having any goods, both men and women, and they put them +in prison for their gold and silver, and tortured them with pains +unspeakable, for never were any martyrs tormented as these were. They +hung some by their feet, and smoked them with foul smoke; some by the +thumbs, or by the head, and put burning things on their feet. They put +a knotted string round their heads, and twisted it till it went into the +brain. They put them in dungeons wherein were adders, and snakes, and +toads, and thus wore them out. Some they put into a crucet-house,--that +is, into a chest that was short and narrow, and they put sharp stones +therein, and crushed the man so that they broke all his bones. There +were hateful and grim things called Sachenteges in many of the castles, +which two or three men had enough to do to carry. This Sachentege was +made thus: It was fastened to a beam, having a sharp iron to go round a +man's throat and neck, so that he might no ways sit, nor lie, nor +sleep, but he must bear all the iron. Many thousands they wore out with +hunger.... They were continually levying a tax from the towns, which +they called truserie, and when the wretched townsfolk had no more to +give, then burnt they all the towns, so that well mightest thou walk a +whole day's journey or ever thou shouldest see a man settled in a town, +or its lands tilled.... + +"Then was corn dear, and flesh, and cheese, and butter, for there was +none in the land. Wretched men starved with hunger. Some lived on alms +who had been once rich. Some fled the country. Never was there more +misery, and never heathens acted worse than these." + +For now the sons of the Church's darlings, of the Crusaders whom +the Pope had sent, beneath a gonfalon blessed by him, to destroy the +liberties of England, turned, by a just retribution, upon that very +Norman clergy who had abetted all their iniquities in the name of +Rome. "They spared neither church nor churchyard, but took all that was +valuable therein, and then burned the church and all together. Neither +did they spare the lands of bishops, nor of abbots, nor of priests; but +they robbed the monks and clergy, and every man plundered his neighbor +as much as he could. If two or three men came riding to a town, all +the townsfolk fled before them, and thought that they were robbers. +The bishops and clergy were forever cursing them; but this to them was +nothing, for they were all accursed and forsworn and reprobate. The +earth bare no corn: you might as well have tilled the sea, for all the +land was ruined by such deeds, and it was said openly that Christ and +his saints slept." + +And so was avenged the blood of Harold and his brothers, of Edwin and +Morcar, of Waltheof and Hereward. + +And those who had the spirit of Hereward in them fled to the merry +greenwood, and became bold outlaws, with Robin Hood, Scarlet, and +John, Adam Bell, and Clym of the Cleugh, and William of Cloudeslee; and +watched with sullen joy the Norman robbers tearing in pieces each other, +and the Church who had blest their crime. + +And they talked and sung of Hereward, and all his doughty deeds, over +the hearth in lone farm-houses, or in the outlaw's lodge beneath the +hollins green; and all the burden of their song was, "Ah that +Hereward were alive again!" for they knew not that Hereward was alive +forevermore; that only his husk and shell lay mouldering there in +Crowland choir; that above them, and around them, and in them, destined +to raise them out of that bitter bondage, and mould them into a great +nation, and the parents of still greater nations in lands as yet +unknown, brooded the immortal spirit of Hereward, now purged from all +earthly dross, even the spirit of Freedom, which can never die. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + +HOW DEEPING FEN WAS DRAINED. + + +But war and disorder, ruin and death, cannot last forever. They are by +their own nature exceptional and suicidal, and spend themselves with +what they feed on. And then the true laws of God's universe, peace and +order, usefulness and life, will reassert themselves, as they have been +waiting all along to do, hid in God's presence from the strife of men. + +And even so it was with Bourne. + +Nearly eighty years after, in the year of Grace 1155, there might have +been seen sitting, side by side and hand in hand, upon a sunny bench on +the Bruneswald slope, in the low December sun, an old knight and an old +lady, the master and mistress of Bourne. + +Much had changed since Hereward's days. The house below had been raised +a whole story. There were fresh herbs and flowers in the garden, unknown +at the time of the Conquest. But the great change was in the fen, +especially away toward Deeping on the southern horizon. + +Where had been lonely meres, foul watercourses, stagnant slime, there +were now great dikes, rich and fair corn and grass lands, rows of +pure white cottages. The newly-drained land swarmed with stocks of +new breeds: horses and sheep from Flanders, cattle from Normandy; for +Richard de Rulos was the first--as far as history tells--of that noble +class of agricultural squires, who are England's blessing and England's +pride. + +"For this Richard de Rulos," says Ingulf, or whoever wrote in his name, +"who had married the daughter and heiress of Hugh of Evermue, Lord of +Bourne and Deeping, being a man of agricultural pursuits, got permission +from the monks of Crowland, for twenty marks of silver, to enclose as +much as he would of the common marshes. So he shut out the Welland by a +strong embankment, and building thereon numerous tenements and cottages, +in a short time he formed a large 'vill,' marked out gardens, and +cultivated fields; while, by shutting out the river, he found in the +meadow land, which had been lately deep lakes and impassable marshes +(wherefore the place was called Deeping, the deep meadow), most fertile +fields and desirable lands, and out of sloughs and bogs accursed made +quiet a garden of pleasaunce." + +So there the good man, the beginner of the good work of centuries, sat +looking out over the fen, and listening to the music which came on +the southern breeze--above the low of the kine, and the clang of the +wild-fowl settling down to rest--from the bells of Crowland minster far +away. + +They were not the same bells which tolled for Hereward and Torfrida. +Those had run down in molten streams upon that fatal night when Abbot +Ingulf leaped out of bed to see the vast wooden sanctuary wrapt in one +sheet of roaring flame, from the carelessness of a plumber who had +raked the ashes over his fire in the bell-tower, and left it to smoulder +through the night. + +Then perished all the riches of Crowland; its library too, of more +than seven hundred volumes, with that famous Nadir, or Orrery, the +like whereof was not in all England, wherein the seven planets were +represented, each in their proper metals. And even worse, all the +charters of the monastery perished, a loss which involved the monks +thereof in centuries of lawsuits, and compelled them to become as +industrious and skilful forgers of documents as were to be found in the +minsters of the middle age. + +But Crowland minster had been rebuilt in greater glory than ever, by +the help of the Norman gentry round. Abbot Ingulf, finding that St. +Guthlac's plain inability to take care of himself had discredited him +much in the fen-men's eyes, fell back, Norman as he was, on the +virtues of the holy martyr, St. Waltheof, whose tomb he opened with due +reverence, and found the body as whole and uncorrupted as on the day +on which it was buried: and the head united to the body, while a +fine crimson line around the neck was the only sign remaining of his +decollation. + +On seeing which Ingulf "could not contain himself for joy: and +interrupting the response which the brethren were singing, with a loud +voice began the hymn 'Te Deum Laudamus,' on which the chanter, taking +it up, enjoined the rest of the brethren to sing it." After which +Ingulf--who had never seen Waltheof in life, discovered that it was none +other than he whom he had seen in a vision at Fontenelle, as an earl +most gorgeously arrayed, with a torc of gold about his neck, and with +him an abbot, two bishops, and two saints, the two former being Usfran +and Ausbert, the abbots, St. Wandresigil of Fontenelle, and the two +saints, of course St. Guthlac and St. Neot. + +Whereon, crawling on his hands and knees, he kissed the face of the holy +martyr, and "perceived such a sweet odor proceeding from the holy body, +as he never remembered to have smelt, either in the palace of the king, +or in Syria with all its aromatic herbs." + +_Quid plura?_ What more was needed for a convent of burnt-out monks? +St. Waltheof was translated in state to the side of St. Guthlac; and the +news of this translation of the holy martyr being spread throughout +the country, multitudes of the faithful flocked daily to the tomb, and +offering up their vows there, tended in a great degree "to resuscitate +our monastery." + +But more. The virtues of St. Waltheof were too great not to turn +themselves, or be turned, to some practical use. So if not in the days +of Ingulf, at least in those of Abbot Joffrid who came after him, St. +Waltheof began, says Peter of Blois, to work wonderful deeds. "The blind +received their sight, the deaf their hearing, the lame their power +of walking, and the dumb their power of speech; while each day troops +innumerable of other sick persons were arriving by every road, as to the +very fountain of their safety, ... and by the offerings of the pilgrims +who came flocking in from every part, the revenues of the monastery were +increased in no small degree." + +Only one wicked Norman monk of St. Alban's, Audwin by name, dared to +dispute the sanctity of the martyr, calling him a wicked traitor who had +met with his deserts. In vain did Abbot Joffrid, himself a Norman from +St. Evroult, expostulate with the inconvenient blasphemer. He launched +out into invective beyond measure; till on the spot, in presence of the +said father, he was seized with such a stomach-ache, that he went home +to St. Alban's, and died in a few days; after which all went well with +Crowland, and the Norman monks who worked the English martyr to get +money out of the English whom they had enslaved. + +And yet,--so strangely mingled for good and evil are the works of +men,--that lying brotherhood of Crowland set up, in those very days, +for pure love of learning and of teaching learning, a little school of +letters in a poor town hard by, which became, under their auspices, the +University of Cambridge. + +So the bells of Crowland were restored, more melodious than ever; and +Richard of Rulos doubtless had his share in their restoration. And that +day they were ringing with a will, and for a good reason; for that day +had come the news, that Henry Plantagenet was crowned king of England. + +"'Lord,'" said the good old knight, "'now lettest thou thy servant +depart in peace.' This day, at last, he sees an English king head the +English people." + +"God grant," said the old lady, "that he may be such a lord to England +as thou hast been to Bourne." + +"If he will be,--and better far will he be, by God's grace, from what I +hear of him, than ever I have been,--he must learn that which I learnt +from thee,--to understand these Englishmen, and know what stout and +trusty prudhommes they are all, down to the meanest serf, when once one +can humor their sturdy independent tempers." + +"And he must learn, too, the lesson which thou didst teach me, when I +would have had thee, in the pride of youth, put on the magic armor of my +ancestors, and win me fame in every tournament and battle-field. Blessed +be the day when Richard of Rulos said to me, 'If others dare to be men +of war, I dare more; for I dare to be a man of peace. Have patience with +me, and I will win for thee and for myself a renown more lasting, before +God and man, than ever was won with lance!' Do you remember those words, +Richard mine?" + +The old man leant his head upon his hands. "It may be that not those +words, but the deeds which God has caused to follow them, may, by +Christ's merits, bring us a short purgatory and a long heaven." + +"Amen. Only whatever grief we may endure in the next life for our sins, +may we endure it as we have the griefs of this life, hand in hand." + +"Amen, Torfrida. There is one thing more to do before we die. The tomb +in Crowland. Ever since the fire blackened it, it has seemed to me too +poor and mean to cover the dust which once held two such noble souls. +Let us send over to Normandy for fair white stone of Caen, and let carve +a tomb worthy of thy grandparents." + +"And what shall we write thereon?" + +"What but that which is there already? 'Here lies the last of the +English.'" + +"Not so. We will write,--'Here lies the last of the old English.' +But upon thy tomb, when thy time comes, the monks of Crowland shall +write,--'Here lies the first of the new English; who, by the inspiration +of God, began to drain the Fens.'" + +EXPLICIT. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hereward, The Last of the English, by +Charles Kingsley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HEREWARD, THE LAST OF THE ENGLISH *** + +***** This file should be named 7815.txt or 7815.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/8/1/7815/ + +Produced by Anne Soulard, Charles Aldarondo, Tiffany Vergon, +S.R.Ellison and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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