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THE NOVELS 
 AND POEMS OF 
 
 CHARLES KINGSLEY 
 
 CHESTER EDITION 
 
\ 
 
r 
 
The V/ ake Knot and Shield. 
 
Hereward the Wake 
 
 ''Last of the English " 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES KINGSLEY 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION 
 
 BY 
 
 MAURICE KJNGSLEY 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 Volume I. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 J. F. TAYLOR AND COMPANY 
 
 MDCCCC 
 
Copyright, 1898, 
 By J. F. Taylor a^jb Company. 
 
 OHN Wilson and vSon, Cambridge, U.S. 
 
2^3 
 
 J500 
 
 To THOMAS WRIGHT, Esq., F.S.A., etc., etc. 
 
 My dear Wright, — Thus does Hereward, the hero of 
 your youth, reappear at last in a guise fitted for a modern 
 drawing-room. To you is due whatever new renown he 
 may win for himself in that new field. You first disin- 
 terred him, long ago, when scarcely a hand or foot of 
 him was left standing out from beneath the dust of ages. 
 You taught me, since then, how to furbish his rusty 
 harness, botch his bursten saddle, and send him forth 
 once more, upon the ghost of his gallant mare. Truly 
 he should feel obliged to you; and though we cannot 
 believe that the last infirmity of noble minds endures 
 beyond the grave, or that any touch of his old vanity 
 still stains the spirit of the mighty Wake, yet we will 
 please ourselves — why should we not ? — with the fancy 
 chat he is as grateful to you as I am this day. 
 
 Yours faithfully, 
 
 C. KINGSLEY. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 VOLUME I 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 Prelude — Of the Fens i 
 
 I. How Hereward was outlawed, and went 
 
 North to seek his Fortunes 23 
 
 II. How Hereward slew the Bear 69 
 
 III. How Hereward succored a Princess of 
 
 Cornwall 87 
 
 IV. How Hereward took Service with Ranald, 
 
 King of Waterford 112 
 
 V. How Hereward succored the Princess of 
 
 Cornwall a Second Time ....... 129 
 
 VI. How Hereward was wrecked upon the 
 
 Flanders Shore 139 
 
 VII. How Hereward went to the War at 
 
 GuiSNES 159 
 
 VIII. How A Fair Lady exercised the Mechani- 
 cal Art to win Hereward's Love . . . 167 
 IX. How Hereward went to the War in Scald- 
 
 mariland 175 
 
 X. How Hereward won the Magic Armor. . 185 
 XI. How THE Hollanders took Hereward for 
 
 a Magician 202 
 
 XII. How Hereward turned Berserker .... 204 
 
 XIII. How Hereward won Mare Swallow . . . 213 
 
 XIV. How Hereward rode into Bruges like a 
 
 Beggarman 224 
 
X Contents 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XV. How Earl Tosti Godwinsson came to St. 
 
 Omer 232 
 
 XVI. How Hereward was asked to slay an Old 
 
 Comrade 246 
 
 XVII. How Hereward took the News from Stan- 
 
 ford-Brigg and Hastings 257 
 
 XVIII. How Earl Godwin's Widow came to St. Omer 271 
 XIX. How Hereward cleared Bourne of French- 
 men 293 
 
 XX. How Hereward was made a Knight after 
 
 the Fashion of the English 311 
 
List of Illustrations 
 
 VOLUME I 
 
 Wake Knot and Shield (page 328) Frontispiece 
 
 He looked up boldly, and smiled Page 212 
 
 Then came down from the altar Wilton of Ely . . " 327 
 
I 
 
GENERAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 Many editions of Charles Kingsley's works have 
 been published, and single volumes — some with 
 introductions and some without — have been illus- 
 trated ; but the want has long been felt of an illus- 
 trated edition with biographical prefatory memoirs. 
 The number of times this has been brought to the 
 publishers' notice has emboldened them to under- 
 take the publication of such an edition of that 
 author s principal works. In it many errors of the 
 older editions have been corrected, and some new 
 matters of interest added. 
 
 The edition will comprise the following works : 
 
 Alton Locke . . . 
 
 First published in 
 
 1850 
 
 
 (C <( 
 
 1851 
 
 Hypatia . . . • 
 
 
 
 Westward Ho . . 
 
 cc « 
 
 1855 
 
 
 First collected in 
 
 1856 
 
 Two Years Ago . . 
 
 published in 
 
 i3s7 
 
 Hereward the Wake 
 
 
 1866 
 
 Letters and Memories of his Life. Ed- 
 
 
 ited by his wife. 
 
 First published in 
 
 1876 
 
 It is difficult to define Charles Kingsley*s exact 
 position in the field of literature, on account of his 
 versatility; and perhaps Professor Max Muller 
 has best summed up that author's life-work in a 
 
XIV 
 
 General Introduction 
 
 preface written to The Roman and the Teuton, — 
 a series of historical lectures delivered by Kingsley 
 before the undergraduates of Cambridge, — in which 
 he speaks of the young curate and The Saint's 
 Tragedy; the chartist parson and Alton Locke; 
 the happy poet and the Sands of Dee; the bril- 
 liant novel-writer and Hypatia and Westward Ho ; 
 the Rector of Eversley and his Village Sermons ; 
 the beloved professor at Cambridge, the busy 
 canon at Chester, the powerful preacher in West- 
 minster Abbey. One thought of him by the 
 Berkshire chalk-streams and on the Devonshire 
 coast, watching the beauty and wisdom of nature 
 reading her solemn lessons, chuckling too over 
 her inimitable fun. One saw him in town alleys, 
 preaching the gospel of godliness and cleanliness, 
 while smoking his pipe with soldiers and navvies. 
 One heard him in drawing-rooms, listened to with 
 patient silence, till one of his vigorous or quaint 
 speeches bounded forth, never to be forgotten. 
 How children delighted in him ! How young, 
 wild men believed in him, and obeyed him too ! 
 How women were captivated by his chivalry, 
 older men by his genuine humility and sympathy ! 
 ... Of all this the world knew little ; — yet few 
 men excited wider or stronger sympathies." 
 
 Such was Charles Kingsley, born at Holne 
 Vicarage, North Devon, June 12, 1 8 19, and who 
 died at Eversley Rectory, January 23, 1875. 
 
 From both father and mother he inherited liter- 
 ary and artistic instincts, and an intense love for 
 natural history. Indeed, the latter seemed his 
 
General Introduction 
 
 XV 
 
 safety valve. In half a day's fishing or a gallop 
 with the hounds across the moors, he could throw 
 off the weight of care and work and come home 
 rejuvenated. With him it was not a matter of a 
 record of so many fish killed or of miles galloped, 
 but that not a tree, leaf, or stone, bird, insect, or 
 animal, escaped his keen eye. He was essentially 
 the man of Shakespeare, who 
 
 " Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
 Sermons in stones, and good in everything." 
 
 While outranked by many scientific men of his 
 day, he possessed a large fund of varied informa- 
 tion on all scientific subjects, and had the happy 
 faculty of placing things before his readers and 
 hearers in new and striking lights, In all instances 
 we find his science applied to practical uses in the 
 cause of health and education. Cleanliness is 
 next to godliness" was the text from which he 
 preached continually, and few men in England did 
 more for sanitary reform in the large cities or 
 among cottage homes. 
 
 He never aspired to be a great historian, although 
 his lectures while professor of modern history at 
 Cambridge were more largely attended than those 
 of other professors. In his inaugural address may 
 be found these words : These lectures will not 
 be, in the popular sense, history at all. But I beg 
 you to bear in mind that I am not here to teach 
 you history. No man can do that. I am here to 
 teach you how to teach yourselves history.'* From 
 which we see how fully alive he was to his own 
 
xvi General Introduction 
 
 shortcomings, supposed or real ; but we also know 
 how thoroughly he did what he purposed to do 
 and what a great influence for good he exerted in 
 the university. 
 
 His theology was largely his own, as one of 
 the original leaders, with Maurice and Arnold, of 
 what is now known as the Broad Church school. 
 Fifty years ago there was no mean between nar- 
 row Calvinism and the Church of Rome. Every 
 advancing step of science seemed to many a direct 
 blow at the Church ; and every advance towards a 
 liberal interpretation of the ritual roused the cry 
 of No Popery ! '* But Kingsley was able to 
 preach liberalism in theology, and also accept 
 science without inclining to atheism. This was 
 strikingly illustrated in his little book called The 
 Water Babies, written for his youngest son. 
 Speaking about this book to his friend Mr. Mau- 
 rice, Kingsley says : When you read the book, 
 I hope you will see that I have not been idling 
 my time away. I have tried in all sorts of queer 
 ways to make children and grown folks under- 
 stand that there is quite a miraculous and divine 
 element underlying all physical nature ; and that 
 nobody knows anything about anything in the 
 sense in which they may know God in Christ, 
 and right and wrong. And if I have wrapped up 
 my parable in seeming tomfooleries, it is because 
 so only I could get the pill swallowed by a genera- 
 tion who are not believing with anything like their 
 whole heart in the Living God. Meanwhile, re- 
 member that the physical science in the book is 
 
General Introduction xvii 
 
 not nonsense, but accurate earnest, as far as I dare 
 speak yet/' 
 
 The last sentence is very significant, indicative 
 of his belief that science and religion were entirely 
 compatible, and might hereafter be brought to- 
 gether in a universal natural theology. His way 
 of putting it was original; but, as a friend wrote 
 of him a few years after his death, Charles Kings- 
 ley had his own peculiar entity in everything." 
 
 Referring to his place among the poets and nov- 
 elists of the nineteenth century. Chevalier Bunsen, 
 Prussian Ambassador in London for many years, 
 and one of the best literary critics of the day, thus 
 expressed himself : — 
 
 I do not hesitate to call these two works. The 
 Saint's Tragedy and Hypatia, by far the most 
 important and perfect of this genial writer. In 
 these more particularly I find the justification of a 
 hope which I beg to be allowed to express, — that 
 Kingsley might continue Shakespeare's historical 
 plays. I have for several years made no secret of 
 it, that Kingsley seems to me the genius of our 
 century, called to place by the side of that sublime 
 dramatic series from King John to Henry VIII. 
 another series of equal rank, from Edward VI. to 
 the landing of William of Orange. The tragedy 
 of St. Elizabeth shows that Kingsley can grapple, 
 not only with the novel, but with the more severe 
 rules of dramatic art. And Hypatia proves, on the 
 largest scale, that he can discover in the picture of 
 the historical past, the truly human, the deep, the 
 permanent, and that he knows how to represent it.'* 
 
 VOL. I. — d 
 
xviii 
 
 General Introduction 
 
 But the time was lacking, and the questions of 
 the day were to him more important than the poet's 
 crown, so that Bunsen's hope was never reaHzed. 
 
 It is not intended here to give any detailed 
 account of Charles Kingsley's life and works, as 
 this edition will contain the Letters and Memories 
 of his Life, edited by his wife, — a beautiful and 
 noble tribute- from one to whom he wrote the 
 sonnet: — 
 
 ** Oh, thou hadst been a wife for Shakespeare's self ! 
 No head, save some world genius, ought to rest 
 Above the treasures of that perfect breast ; 
 Or nightly draw fresh light from those keen stars 
 Through which thy soul awes ours." . . . 
 
 To quote again from Professor Max Miiller: — 
 " When an author or a poet dies, the better 
 part of him, it is often said, is left in his works. 
 So it is in many cases. But with Kingsley his life 
 and his work were one. All he wrote was meant 
 for the day when he wrote it. That was enough 
 for him. He hardly gave himself time to think of 
 fame and the future. . . . 
 
 However, fame, for which he cared so little, has 
 come to him. His bust stands in Westminster 
 Abbey, in the Chapel of St. John the Baptist, by 
 the side of his friend Frederick Maurice ; and in 
 the Temple of Fame which will be consecrated 
 to the period of Victoria and Albert, there will be 
 a niche for Charles Kingsley, the author of Alton 
 Locke and Hypatia." 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 The West Country has always claimed Charles 
 Kingsley as its own; but the Eastern Countries 
 have really an equal right to the author of Here- 
 ward the Wake — an historical- romance of the 
 eleventh century nearly as strong as is Westward 
 Ho of the sixteenth. They perhaps have more 
 than an equal right when we realize that the moors 
 and trout-streams, the bold headlands and quaint 
 fishing villages of Devon still remain with us ; but 
 the wild, weird beauty of the old fens is no more. 
 
 The dark velvet alder-beds, long lines of reed- 
 rond, emerald in spring and golden under the 
 autumn sun, shining * eas,' or river-reaches ; and 
 broad meres dotted with a million fowl have 
 given place to wide expanses of arable and grass- 
 land bounded by unpoetic straight banks of grass- 
 grown earth. 
 
 Again, the glories of the sixteenth century and 
 the beauties of Devon scenery have been told by 
 generations of writers in prose and verse, while the 
 period of the Norman Conquest — fit subject for 
 a great national epic — is blank but for monks' 
 chronicles and dry-as-dust histories, and only two 
 historical romances. Lord Lytton's Harold and 
 
 b 
 
XX 
 
 Introduction 
 
 Hereward, give us the local coloring of that time. 
 A third work, almost unknown to the present 
 generation — The Camp of Refuge at Ely, by- 
 Charles Macfarlane, published in 1844, and recently 
 repubhshed in G. Laurence Gomme's Library of 
 Historical Novels and Romances — has the Lord 
 of Bourne as the central figure. It is an able 
 book, accurate in the description of the fens and 
 their people ; but as the editor says : It is writ- 
 ten as the simple narrative of a chronicler, and 
 touches one with the charm of early days," and 
 therefore lacks the fire of Harold and the fire and 
 poetry of Hereward. 
 
 It is not strange that Kingsley should have 
 chosen the fens as the scene of an historical novel. 
 Barnack, Northamptonshire, whose quarries fur- 
 nished stone for Ely, Peterborough, Crowland and 
 many a mile of Roman road, was his home from 
 his sixth to his eleventh year, when the old fen still 
 existed near it, and over which he wandered learn- 
 ing its natural history from his father, and drinking 
 in nursery tales of Robin Hood and Little John, 
 who had once ranged the forests on the western 
 sky-line. 
 
 All his spare time for the first two years of his 
 university life at Cambridge was spent with rod, 
 gun and collecting-box among the hard-fisted, 
 hard-drinking fen-men and wild bankers, living 
 their lives and learning their folk-lore. It was also 
 about this time that he became acquainted with 
 Thomas Wright, to whom Hereward is dedicated 
 for being the first to disinter the mighty Wake, 
 
Introduction 
 
 xxi 
 
 ''when scarcely a foot or hand of him was left 
 standing out from beneath the dust of ages." 
 
 All Kingsley's old love for the fens broke out 
 afresh when he went into residence at Cambridge 
 as Professor of Modern History in i860. But 
 thirty and more years of dyking, draining and 
 reclaiming had left scarce a vestige of the old fens ; 
 and had not the impressions received in boyhood 
 remained, some of the choicest pieces of Kingsley's 
 word-painting would have been lost to the world. 
 Strong~as are parts of Westward Ho, the beauty 
 of the introductory chapter to Hereward, " Of the 
 Fens/' surpasses it. 
 
 It was natural that with such surroundings the 
 gallant Wake — the last man of note in England to 
 hold out against the Norman — should be his hero ; 
 for Kingsley was essentially a fighter. In all the 
 religious, scientific, educational and social ques- 
 tions which were the marked features of the Victo- 
 rian epoch between 1840 and 1870, he was to be 
 found in the forefront of the battle against igno- 
 rance and vice, bigotry and oppression, regardless 
 of personal consequences. 
 
 On the fly-leaf of a copy of Frithiof s Saga, in 
 possession of the family, are written the words: 
 
 " To the Viking of the New Age, Charles Kingsley, this 
 story of the Vikings of the Old^ from a daughter of the 
 Vikings, his friendrtfiTlidmirer, 
 
 Fredrika Bremer." 
 
 Yes ; the old Norse fighting blood was strong in 
 him; and the cry of the hounds, the pulse of 
 
xxii Introduction 
 
 horses* gallop in the black nor'easter, or the 
 whitening surges of the long Atlantic swell, stirred 
 it into life, and created in his brain such fighting 
 heroes as Wulf and Smid in Hypatia; Amyas 
 Leigh and Salvation Yeo; Hereward the Wake 
 and Martin Lightfoot. 
 
 M. K. 
 
HEREWARD THE WAKE 
 
 LAST OF THE ENGLISH 
 
 PRELUDE 
 
 OF THE FENS 
 HE heroic deeds of highlanders, both in these 
 
 X islands and elsewhere, have been told in 
 verse and prose, and not more often, nor more 
 loudly, than they deserve. But we must remem- 
 ber, now and then, that there have been heroes 
 likewise in the lowland and in the fen. Why, how- 
 ever, 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 num- 
 ber. 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 adven- 
 ture, 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, 
 
 VOL. I. — I 
 
2 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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, cunning- 
 est, have a chance of living, prospering, and propa- 
 gating their race. In the civilized state, on the 
 contrary, the weakliest and the silliest, protected 
 by law, religion, and humanity, have their chance 
 likewise, and transmit to their offspring their own 
 weakliness or silliness. In these islands, for in- 
 stance, 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 wo- 
 men 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 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 ; and 
 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. For Nature among the 
 
Of the Fens 3 
 
 mountains is too fierce, too strong for man. He 
 cannot conquer her, and she awes him. He can- 
 not dig down the cHffs, or chain the storm-blasts ; 
 and his fear of them takes bodily shape : he be- 
 gins to people the weird places of the earth with 
 weird beings, and sees nixies in the dark linns as he 
 fishes by night, dwarfs in the caves where he digs, 
 half-trembHng, morsels of iron and copper 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 moun- 
 tain 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 Hfe call out in him sympathy 
 and pathos ; and the mountaineer becomes instinc- 
 tively 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, dyking, 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? 
 
4 Hereward the Wake 
 
 Let him use her, and live by her. One cannot 
 blame him. Man was sent into the v/orld (so says 
 the Scripture) to fill and subdue the earth. But 
 he was sent into the world for other purposes also, 
 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 reHgion 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, but alas ! with 
 the intellect of the former and the self-restraint of 
 the latter. 
 
 Nevertheless, there may be a period in the his- 
 tory of a lowland race when they, too, become 
 historic for a while. There was such a period for 
 the men of the Eastern and Central Counties ; for 
 tjbey proved it by their deeds. 
 f When the men of Wessex, the once conquering, 
 knd even to the last the most civilized, race of 
 iBritain, fell at Hastings once and for all, and 
 struck no second blow, then the men of the Dane- 
 lagh 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 
 
Of the Fens 5 
 
 beneath every Norman keep ; their few survivors 
 crawled into monasteries, with eyes picked out, 
 hands and feet cut off; or took to the wild wood 
 as strong outlaws,, like their successors and repre- 
 sentatives, Robin Hood, Scarlet, and Little John ; 
 Adam Bell, and Clym of the Cleugh, and WiUiam 
 of Cloudesl ee. But thej^_jae3^C£.,xeyiy_b their_/ 
 necks to the JNorman yoke ; they kept alive in | 
 their hearts that proud spirit of personal independ- I 
 ence, which they brought with them from the \ 
 moors of Denmark and the dales of Norway; and j 
 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 w^ere 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 North- 
 men 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 that the Saxons and Angles 
 began to find out to their bitter bale v/hat 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 nick- 
 name by entreating his comrades, as they tossed 
 the children on their spear-points, to Na kill the 
 barns." Gradually they had settled dov/n on the 
 land, intermarried with the Angles and Saxons, 
 and colonized all England north and east of Wat- 
 ling Street (a rough Hne from London to Chester), 
 
6 Hereward the Wake 
 
 as far as the Tees.^ Gradually they had deserted 
 Thor and Odin for the White Christ ; had their 
 own priests and bishops, and built their own min- 
 sters. The convents which the fathers had de- 
 stroyed, the sons, or at least the grandsons, rebuilt; 
 and often, casting away sword and axe, they 
 entered them as monks themselves ; and Peter- 
 borough, Ely, and above all Crowland, destroyed 
 by them in Alfred's time with a horrible destruc- 
 tion, had become their holy places, v/here 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 
 
 ^ For the distribution of Danish and Norwegian names in 
 England and the prevalence, north of the Danelagh, from Tees 
 to Forth, of names neither Scandinavian nor Celtic, but purely 
 Anglo-Saxon, consult the Rev. Isaac Taylor's book, Words 
 and Places." Bear in mind, meanwhile, that these names repre- 
 sent for the most part, if not altogether, the Danish and Norse 
 settlement at the end of the ninth century : but that this Scandi- 
 navian element was further strengthened by the free men who 
 conquered England under Sweyn and Canute, at the beginning 
 of the eleventh century. These men seem to have become not 
 so much settlers of great lands as an intrusive military aristocracy, 
 who gave few or no names to estates, but amalgamated them- 
 selves rapidly by marriage with the remnants of that English 
 nobility which was destroyed at the battle of Assingdon. This 
 fact explains the number of purely Anglo-Saxon names to be 
 met with among Hereward's companions. Some of them, like 
 " Goderic of Corby," themselves with English names, held 
 manors with Danish ones, even in that part of Lincolnshire 
 where the Scandinavian element was strongest. In fact, the aris- 
 tocracies and the two races had been thoroughly amalgamated, 
 not merely in the Danelagh, but over the greater part of England, 
 and must be called, as in the case of King Harold Godwinsson, 
 neither Saxons nor Anglo-Saxons, but rather Anglo-Danes. 
 
Of the Fens 7 
 
 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 
 exhausted. 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 seized, 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 Ethel- 
 red the Unready, or rather Evil-counsel, advised 
 himself to fulfil his name, and the curse which 
 Dunstan had pronounced against him at the bap- 
 tismal 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, or 
 nearly all, 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 cam- 
 paigns came the great battle of Assingdor^in 
 Essex — where " Canute had the victory ; ^nd all 
 TRFTTnglisir 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 
 
8 Hereward the Wake 
 
 worthy of the name. For the next twenty-five 
 years, Danish kings ruled frojii the Forth to the 
 Land's IBnd: 
 
 A noble figure he was, that great and wise 
 Canute, the friend of the famous Godiva, and Leo- 
 fric, Godiva's husband, and Godwin Ulfnothsson, 
 and Siward Digre ; trying to expiate by justice and 
 mercy the dark deeds of his blood-stained 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 ; bring- 
 ing back in state to Canterbury , the body of Arch- 
 bishop Elphege — not unjustly called by the 
 Saxons martyr and saint — whom Tall ThorkilFs 
 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 them 
 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; while 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. 
 
 r~At his death in 1036, the earldoms of Northum- 
 jDria and East Anglia — the more strictly Danish 
 (parts — were held by a true Danish hero, Siward 
 JBiorn, alias Digre, "the Stout,'' conqueror of 
 
Of the Fens 
 
 9 
 
 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 Enghshman; and married to Canute^s 
 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 thej 
 two great houses of Godwin and Leofric. 
 
 Leofric had the fir st success in king-making. 
 He, though bearing a Saxon ha^^, seems to have 
 been 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 
 
 ^ The Archaeological Journal, in vol. xi. and vol. xii., contains 
 two excellent Articles on the Life and Death of Earl Godwin, from 
 the pen of that able antiquary E. A. Freeman, Esq. By him the 
 facts of Godwin's life have been more carefully investigated, and 
 his character more fully judged, than by any author of whom I am 
 aware; and I am the more bound to draw attention to these 
 articles, because, some years since, I had a little paper controversy 
 with Mr. Freeman on this very subject. I have now the pleasure 
 of saying that he has proved himself to have been in the right, 
 while I was in the wrong. 
 
lo Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 him- 
 self (with a sound patriotic instinct) the champion 
 of the men of Wessex, and the house of Cerdic. 
 He had probably caused, or at least allowed, to 
 be murdered, Alfred, the Etheling, King Ethel- 
 red's son and heir-apparent, when he was support- 
 ing the claims of Hardicanute against Harefoot; 
 he now tried to atone for that crime (if indeed 
 he actually committed it), by placing Alfred's 
 younger brother on the throne, to become at 
 once his king, his son-in-law, and his puppet. 
 
 It had been well, perhaps, for England, had 
 Godwin's power over Edward been even more 
 complete than it actually was. The Confessor" 
 was, if we are to believe the monks, unmixed 
 virtue and piety, meekness and magnanimity; a 
 model ruler of men. No wonder, therefore, that 
 (according to William of Malmesbury) the hap- 
 piness 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 ; for, meditating in King Canute's 
 time on the near extinction of the royal race of 
 the English, he 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 
 
Of the Fens 
 
 II 
 
 when he inquired about his posterity, it was an- 
 swered, ' The kingdom of the English belongs to 
 God. After Edward, He will provide a king 
 according to His pleasure.' " But the conduct 
 which earned him the title of Confessor was the 
 direct cause of the Norman Conquest and the 
 ruin of his people ; while those who will look at 
 facts will see in the holy king's character little 
 but what is pitiable, and in his reign Httle but 
 
 what is tragical. • 
 
 Civil wars, invasions, outlawry of Godwin and 
 his sons by the Danish and French parties ; 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 minis- 
 ter at Gloucester to the glory of God and of 
 St. Peter, and then went to Jerusalem with such 
 splendour 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 chron- 
 icler 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 chroniclers, a holy and a happy one ; because 
 the king refused, whether from spite or supersti- 
 tion, to leave an heir to the house of Cerdic, and 
 spent his time between prayer, hunting, the seeing 
 
12 Hereward the Wake 
 
 of fancied visions, the uttering of fancied prophe- 
 cies, and the performance of fancied miracles. 
 
 But there were excuses for him. An Englishman 
 only in name, a Norman, not only by 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 re- 
 turned as often as they were expelled ; the Norman- 
 French language became fashionable ; Norman 
 customs and manners the signs of civilization ; and 
 thus all was preparing steadily for the great catas- 
 trophe, by which, within a year of Edward's death, 
 the Norman became master of the land. 
 
 We have gained, doubtless, by that calamity. By 
 it England and Scotland, and in due time Ireland, 
 became integral parts of the comity of Christendom, 
 and partakers of that classic civilization and learn- 
 ing, the fount whereof, for good or 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 to say that so it must 
 have been, that by no other method could the 
 result (or some far better result) have been ob- 
 tained, — is it not to say that men's crimes are not 
 merely overruled by, but necessary to the gracious 
 
 ! designs of Providence ; and that — to speak plainly 
 — the Deity has made this world so ill, that He is 
 i forced at times to do ill that good may come? 
 
 Against the new 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 
 
Of the Fens 13 
 
 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 V/ essex 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 discipHne kept 
 together, at least in England, in one compact body 
 of unscrupulous and terrible confederates. 
 
 And theirs was a land worth fighting for — a good 
 land and large : from Humbermouth 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, 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. 
 
 Into those fens, as into a natural fortress, the I 
 Anglo-Danish noblemen crowded down instinc- 
 tively from the inland, to make their last stand ' 
 against the French. Children of the old Vikings, 
 or " Creekers," they took, in their great need, to 
 the seaward and the estuaries, as other conquered 
 races take to the mountains, and died like their 
 forefathers, within scent of the salt sea from whence 
 they came. 
 
 They have a beauty of their own, these great 
 fens, even now when they are dyked and drained, 
 
14 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 stragghng buildings round the holder's house, 
 of stone or mud below, and of wood above; its 
 high dykes 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 and the geese 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 that, dark velvet alder beds, 
 long lines of reed7rond, emerald in spring, and 
 golden under the autumn sun ; shining eas,'* or 
 river-reaches ; broad meres dotted with a million 
 fowl, while the cattle waded along their edges after 
 
Of the Fens 15 
 
 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. In 
 some of them, 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 vast- 
 ness gave, and still gives, such cloudlands, such 
 sunrises, such sunsets, 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. Their 
 priestly teachers, too, had darkened still further 
 their notion of the world around, as accursed by 
 sin, and swarming with evil spirits. The gods and 
 fairies of their old mythology had been trans- 
 formed by the Church into fiends, alluring or 
 loathsome, but all alike destructive to man, against 
 whom the soldier of God, the celibate monk, 
 fought day and night with relics, Agnus Dei, and 
 sign of Holy Cross. 
 
 And therefore the Danelagh men, w^ho feared 
 not mortal sword or axe, feared witches, ghosts, 
 
1 6 Hereward the Wake 
 
 pucks, wills-o'-the-wisp, werwolves, 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 northeast wind, with all its whirling 
 snow-storms. 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 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, to run races, township 
 against township, or visit 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 ; rear- 
 ing 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 
 
Of the Fens 17 
 
 Highlander who may look from the promontory of 
 Peterborough, the golden borough" of old time; 
 or from that Witham.xHLih.e HiU once was 
 
 a farm of Hereward the Wake-'sr -or from the 
 
 tower of Crowland, while he 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 dykes and lodes, the squares of rich corn and 
 verdure, — will confess that the lowlands, as well 
 as the highlands, can at times breed gallant men. 
 
 I^Aost gallant of them all, and their leader in the 
 I fatal struggle against William, was Hereward the 
 I Wake, Lord of Bourne, and ancestor of that family 
 / of Wake, the arms of whom appear in front of this 
 ^^ook. These, of course, are much later than the 
 time of Hereward. Not so, probably, the badge 
 of the Wake Knot," in which (according to tradi- 
 tion) two monks' girdles are worked into the form 
 of the letter W. It and the motto '^Vigila et ora," 
 may well have been used by Hereward himself. I 
 owe them (as I do numberless details and correc- 
 tions) to the exceeding courtesy of that excellent 
 antiquary, the Rev. E. TroUope, of Leasingham, 
 in those parts. 
 
 Hereward's pedigree is a matter of no import- 
 ance, save to a few antiquaries, and possibly to his 
 descendants, the ancient and honorable house of 
 the Wakes. But as I have, in this story, followed 
 facts as strictly as I could, altering none which I 
 found, and inventing little more than was needed 
 to give the story coherence, or to illustrate the 
 manners of the time, I owe it to myself to give my 
 reason for believin^Hereward to have been the son 
 
1 8 Hereward the Wake 
 
 of EarlJL^oW a belief in which I am 
 
 supported, as far as I know, only by Sir Henry 
 Ellis (Introduction to Domesday) and by Mr. 
 Thomas Wright. The reasons against my belief 
 (well known to antiquaries) are these — Richard 
 of Ely calls him simply the son of Leofric, Lord of 
 Brunne, and of yEdiva ; and his MS. is by far the 
 most important document relating to Hereward. 
 But he says that the older MSS. which he con- 
 sulted were so ruined by damp, and torn, that 
 
 vix ex eis principium a genitoribus ejus incep- 
 tum, et pauca interim expressimus, et nomen ; 
 in fact, that he had much difficulty in making out 
 Hereward's pedigree. He says, moreover, as to 
 Leofric the Mass Priesf s Anglo-saxon MSS., In 
 quibus (Anglicse literae) vero non licet non satis 
 periti aut potius exarare deleta incognitarum liter- 
 arum," — which passage (whatever may have been 
 the word now wanting to complete it) certainly con- 
 fesses that he was but a poor adept at deciphering 
 Anglo-Saxon MSS. He need hardly have con- 
 fessed as much; for the misspellings of English 
 names in his work are more gross than even those 
 in Domesday; and it is not improbable that 
 among the rest he may have rendered Godiva, or 
 its English equivalent, by ^Ediva. 
 
 That he should have been ignorant that Leofric 
 was not merely Lord of Bourne, but Earl of Mercia, 
 will not seem surprising to those who know how 
 utterly the English nobility were trampled into the 
 mud. To the Normans they were barbarians 
 without a name or a race. They were dead and 
 gone, too ; and who cared for the pedigree of a 
 dead man whose lands had passed to another? 
 Thus of Marlesweyn nothing is known. Of Edric 
 
Of the Fens 19 
 
 the Wild, a great chieftain in his day, all but 
 nothing. Gospatric's pedigree has been saved, in 
 part, by his relationship to Royalty, both Scotch 
 and EngHsh; and Siward Digre's, like that of 
 Gyda, his kinswoman, by their relationship with 
 the kings of Denmark, and the Fairy Bear. But 
 Gyda's husband, the great Earl Godwin, had be- 
 come within three generations a herdsman's son," 
 and even Mr. Freeman's research and judgment 
 cannot decide his true pedigree. As for Leofric, 
 we know that he was son (according to Florence 
 of Worcester) of Leofwin the Alderman, and had 
 two brothers, one Norman, killed by Canute with 
 Edric Streon 1017 (according to Ingulf); the 
 other Edric Edwin, killed by the Welsh 1039. 
 But we know no more. 
 
 That Ingulf should make him die A. D. 105 7, is 
 not strange, in spite of his many mistakes ; for the 
 Anglo-Saxon Chronicle gives the same date. But 
 the monk, who probably a century or more after 
 Ingulf, interpolated from Richard of Ely the pas- 
 sage beginning, At this time a nobleman, the 
 Lord of Bourne, etc., sub anno 1062, may well 
 have been ignorant that Leofric, Lord of Bourne, 
 was also Earl of Mercia. But what need to argue 
 over any statement of the so-called Ingulf, or 
 rather Ingulfic Cycle"? I shall only add that 
 the passage sub anno 1066, beginning Herward, 
 who has been previously mentioned," seems to be 
 by again a different hand. 
 
 Meanwhile the Excerptum de Familia Here- 
 wardi," calls him plainly the son of Leofric, Earl 
 of Mercia, and the Lady Godiva; giving to her 
 the same genealogy as is given by Richard of Ely 
 to iEdiva. 
 
20 Hereward the Wake 
 
 This account of Hereward's family is taken from 
 a document of no greater antiquity than the 
 fifteenth century, a genealogical roll of the Lords 
 of Bourne and Deeping, who traced their descent 
 and title to the lands from Hereward's daughter: 
 but it was no doubt taken either from previously 
 existing records, or from the old tradition of the 
 family ; and, with no authority for contradicting it, 
 and considering its general agreement with the 
 other evidence, it is plain that Leofric of Bourne 
 was generally understood to be the great Earl of 
 Mercia of that name. 
 
 But the strongest evidence of the identity be- 
 tween Leofric of Bourne, and Leofric, Earl of 
 Mercia, is to be found in Domesday Book. 
 
 The Lord of Bourne at the time of the Con- 
 quest, as is proved by the Clamores de Kest- 
 even,'' was Morcar, Leofric of Mercia's grandson. 
 This one fact is all but conclusive, unless we sup- 
 pose that Leofric of Bourne had been dispossessed 
 of his dominium by Morcar, or by Earl Algar 
 his father, or, again, by Earl Leofric his grand- 
 father. But such an hypothesis accords ill with 
 the amity between Morcar and Hereward ; and it 
 is all but impossible that, if Hereward's family was 
 then dispossessed, the fact should not appear in 
 any of his biographies. 
 
 But Domesday Book gives no hint of any large 
 landholders in or near Bourne, save Morcar, Lord 
 thereof, whose name still lingers in the Morkery 
 Woods,*' a few miles off ; Edwin his brother ; and 
 Algar his father, a son of Earl Leofric and Godiva. 
 The famous Godiva, also, was probably a Lincoln- 
 shire woman, though the manors which she held 
 in her widowhood were principally in Shropshire. 
 
Of the Fens 
 
 21 
 
 The domains of her ancestor, **The magnificent 
 Earl Oslac/' who lived in the days of King Edgar, 
 were Deira, i. e. Danish Northumbria, from Humber 
 to Tees; and he may have sprung from (as his 
 name hints) the ancient kings of Deira. But 
 charters (as far as we can trust them) connect him 
 both with Peterborough and Crowland ; and his 
 descendant was Thorold of Bukenhale near Crow- 
 land, sheriff of Lincoln, from whom the ancient 
 Thorolds of those parts claim descent; and this 
 Thorold appears, in a charter of 1061, attested by 
 Leofric and Godiva, as giving the cell of Spalding 
 to Crowland. The same charter describes the 
 manor of Spalding as belonging to Earl Leofric. 
 His son, Algar, whose name remains in Algarkirk,^ 
 
 1 The first Earl " Algar/* who signs a charter in the days of 
 Beorrhed, king of the Mercians, and who does doughty deeds 
 about A. D. 870, is, to me, as mythical as the first Morcard, 
 Lord of Brune,^' who accompanies him ; the first Thorold of 
 Bukenhale, who gave that place to Crowland about A. d. 806, 
 and the first Leofric, or "Levric/' Earl of Leicester (/. e. Mercia), 
 who helps to found in Crowland, A. d. 716, a "monastery of 
 black Monks!' The monks of Crowland were, perhaps, trying 
 to work on Hugh Evermue, Hereward's son-in-law, or Richard 
 of Rulos, his grandson-in-law, as they were trying to work on 
 the Norman kings, when they invented these charters of the 
 eighth and ninth centuries, with names of Saxon kings, and 
 nobles of Leofric and Godiva's house ; or, again, the land being 
 notoriously given to Crowland by men of certain names, who 
 were then of no authority as rebels and dispossessed, it was 
 necessary to invent men of like names, who were safely en- 
 trenched behind Saxon antiquity with the ancestors of Edward 
 the Confessor. But in their clumsiness they seem to have 
 mingled with them in the said charters and their mythic battles 
 against the Danes, purely Danish names, such as Siward, 
 Asketyl, Azer, Harding, Grimketyl, Wulfketyl, etc., which 
 surely prove the fraud. Meanwhile, the very names of Levric, 
 Algar, Morcar, Thorold, genuine or not, seem to prove that 
 the houses of Leofric and Godiva were ancient rulers in these 
 parts, whose phantoms had to be evoked when needed. 
 
22 Hereward the Wake 
 
 appears as a benefactor to Crowland. And, in 
 fine, the great folk of Bourne, as well as Spalding, 
 were without doubt the family of Leofric, Earl of 
 Mercia and Chester, and of the Lady Godiva ; the 
 parents, as I conceive, of Hereward. He would 
 thus, on the death of Morcar, son of his elder 
 brother Algar, take possession by natural right of 
 the Lordship of Bourne, and keep up a special 
 enmity against Ivo Taillebois, who had taken 
 Spalding from his patrim^ony. 
 
 Lastly, it is difficult to me to suppose that Here- 
 ward would have been allowed to take the undis- 
 puted command of a rebellion so aristocratic as 
 that of the Fens, over the heads of three earls, 
 Morcar among them, had he not possessed some 
 such natural right of birth as an earl's son, and, 
 probably, like most great English Earls' families, 
 of ancient royal, and therefore God-descended, 
 blood. 
 
 On the supposition, too, that he was the last 
 remaining heir of the Earls of Mercia, may be 
 explained William's strong desire to spare his life 
 and receive his homage ; as an atonement for his 
 conduct to Edwin and Morcar, and a last effort to 
 attach to himself the ancient English nobility. 
 But of this enough, and more than enough ; and 
 so to my story. 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 HOW HEREWARD WAS OUTLAWED, AND WENT 
 NORTH TO SEEK HIS FORTUNES 
 
 IN Kesteven of Lincolnshire, between the forest^ 
 and the fen, lies the good market-town of \ 
 Bourne, the birthplace, according to all tradition, 
 of two great Englishmen ; of Cecil Lord Burleigh, 
 justly remembered throughout all time, and of ^ 
 Hereward the Wake, not unjustly, perhaps, long ; 
 forgotten. Two long streets meet opposite the 
 house where Burleigh was born, one from Spal- 
 ding and the eastern fens, the other from the forest, 
 and the line of the old Roman road on the north. 
 From thence the Watergang Street leads, by the 
 side of clear running streams, to the old Priory 
 church, and the great labyrinth of grass-grown 
 banks, which was once the castle of the Wakes. 
 Originally, it may be, those earthworks were a 
 Roman camp, guarding the King Street, or Roman 
 road, which splits off from the Ermine Street 
 near Castor, and runs due north through Bourne 
 to Sleaford. They may have guarded, too, the 
 Car-dyke, or great Catchwater drain, which runs 
 from Peterborough northward into the heart of 
 Lincolnshire, a still-enduring monument of Roman 
 genius. Their site, not on one of the hills behind, 
 but on the dead flat meadow, was determined 
 
24 Hereward the Wake 
 
 doubtless by the noble fountain, bourn, or brunne, 
 which rises among the earthworks, and gives its 
 name to the whole town. In the flat meadow 
 bubbles up still the great pool of limestone water, 
 crystal clear, suddenly and at once; and runs 
 away, winter and summer, a stream large enough 
 to turn many a mill, and spread perpetual verdure 
 through the fat champaign lands. 
 
 The fountain was, doubtless, in the middle age, 
 miraculous and haunted : perhaps in heathen times, 
 divine and consecrate. Even till a late date, the 
 millers of Bourne paid water-dues to those of a 
 village some miles away: on the strength of the 
 undoubted fact, that a duck put into Bourne Pool 
 would pass underground into the millhead of the 
 said village. Doubtless it was a holy well, such 
 as were common in the eastern counties, as they 
 are still in Ireland ; a well where rags, flowers, and 
 other gew-gaws might have been seen hanging, 
 offerings to the spirit of the well, whether one of 
 those nickers/' ''develen,'' or luther-gostes," 
 which St. Botulf met when he founded Boston 
 near by, or one of those fair ladies," elves,'' 
 or water-nymphs, who, exorcised from the North, 
 still linger in the fountains of modern Greece. 
 Exorcised, certainly, the fairy of Bourne was at an 
 early date; for before the Conquest the Peter- 
 borough monks had founded a cell outside the 
 castle ditch, and, calling in the aid of the Chief 
 of the Apostles against those spirits of darkness 
 who peopled, innumerable, earth, air, water, and 
 fen, had rechristened it as Peterspool," which 
 name it bears unto this day. 
 
 Military skill has, evidently, utilized the waters 
 of the Peterspool from the earliest times. They 
 
How Hereward was Outlawed 25 
 
 filled, at some remote period, the dykes at a great 
 earthwork to the north, which has been over- 
 looked by antiquaries, because it did not (seem- 
 ingly) form part of the enceinte of the mediaeval 
 castle of the Wakes. It still fills the dykes of that 
 castle, wdiereof nothing remains now save banks of 
 turf, and one great artificial barrow, on which 
 stood the keep, even in Leland's time, it would 
 seem, somewhat dilapidate, ''There appear," he 
 says, '' grete ditches, and the dungeon hill of an 
 ancient castle agayn the west end of the Priory. . . . 
 It longgid to the Lord Wake ; and much service 
 of the Wake fee is done to this Castelle, and every 
 feodary knoweth his station and place of service." 
 
 Of the stonework nothing now remains. The 
 square dungeon, " a fayre and prettie building, 
 with iv. square towers . . . hall, chambers, all 
 manlier of houses and offices for the lord and his 
 train," ^ and so forth, is utterly gone. The gate- 
 house, thirty feet high, with its circular Saxon 
 (probably Norman) arch, has been pulled down 
 by the Lords of Burleigh, to build a farm-house; 
 the fair park is divided into fair meadows ; and a 
 large part of the town of Bourne is, probably, built 
 of the materials of the Wakes' castle, and the 
 Priory, which arose under its protection. Those 
 Priory lands passed into the hands of TroUopes 
 and Pochins, as did the lands of the castle into 
 those of the Cecils ; and of that fee of the Wakes, 
 all, as far as I know, is lost, fors Vhonneur^ which 
 shone out of late in that hero of '' Arrah," w^ho 
 proved, by his valor, pertinacity, and shiftfulness, 
 not unworthy of his great ancestor Hereward. 
 Verily the good old blood of England is not yet 
 worn out 
 
 1 Peak's account of the towns in Kesteven. 
 
26 Hereward the Wake 
 
 A pleasant place, and a rich, is Bourne now; 
 and a pleasant place and rich must it have been 
 in the old Anglo-Danish times, when the hall of 
 Leofric, the great Earl of Mercia, stood where the 
 Wakes' feudal castle stood in after years. To the 
 south and west stretched, as now, the illimitable 
 flat of fen, with the spires of Crowland gleaming 
 bright between high trees upon the southern hori- 
 zon : and to the north, from the very edge of the 
 town fields rose the great Bruneswald, the forest 
 of oak, and ash, and elm, which still covers many 
 miles of Lincolnshire, as Bourne Wood, Grims- 
 thorpe Park, and parks and woodlands without 
 number. To the southwest it joined the great 
 forest of Rockingham, in Northamptonshire. To 
 the west, it all but marched with Charnwood For- 
 est in Leicestershire, and to the northwest, with 
 the great Sherwood, which covered Nottingham- 
 shire, and reached over the borders of York- 
 shire. Mighty fowling and fishing was there in 
 the fen below, and mighty hunting on the weald 
 above, where still haunt, in Grimsthorpe Park, 
 the primeval red-deer, descendants of those who 
 fell by Hereward's bow, ere yet the first Lovell 
 had built his castle on the steep, or the Cistercian 
 monks of Fountains had found out the deep-em- 
 bowered Vale of God, and settled themselves in 
 the glen beneath the castle w^alls. 
 ""n't is of those earlier days that this story tells ; 
 of the latter half of the eleventh century, and the 
 eve of the Norman Conquest, when Leofric the 
 Earl had the dominion in forest and manorial 
 rights, in wood, and town, and fen; and beside 
 him, upon the rich strip of champaign, other free 
 Danish holders, whose names may be still found in 
 
How Hereward was Outlawed 27 
 
 Domesday Book, held small estates; and owed, 
 probably, some military service to the great earl at 
 the hall within the Roman earthwork. 
 
 The house of Bourne, as far as it can be recon- 
 structed by imagination, was altogether unlike one 
 of the tall and gloomy Norman castles which, in 
 the course of the next few generations, must have 
 taken its place. It was much more like a house in 
 a Chinese painting : an irregular group of low build- 
 ings, 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 illumina- 
 tions of the century. In the centre of the building 
 is the hall, with a 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. Behind the hall 
 is a round tower, seemingly the strong place of the 
 whole house. It must have stood at Bourne upon 
 the dungeon hill. On one side of the hall is a 
 chapel ; by it a large room or bower for the ladies ; 
 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 ; 
 beyond, the yard, garth, or garden-fence, high 
 earth-banks with palisades on top, while the waters 
 of the Peterspool wandered around outside all. 
 Such was most probably the villa," ''ton," or 
 
28 Hereward the Wake 
 
 town/' of Earl Leofric, the Lord of Bourne ; such 
 too, probably, the hall at Laughton-en-le-Morthem 
 in Yorkshire, which belonged to his grandson 
 Edwin, and therefore, probably, to him. Leofric's 
 other residence, the Castle of Warwick, was already, 
 it may be, a building of a more solid and Norman 
 type, such as had been built already, here and 
 there, for Edward the Confessor s French courtiers, 
 by the hands of Welisce men," i* e, French-speak- 
 ing foreigners.^ 
 
 Known, I presume, to all is Lady Godiva, mis- 
 tress of Bourne, 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 wher- 
 ever 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 — Leo- 
 minster, 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, besides that most precious jewel of all, the 
 arm of St. Augustine, which not Lady Godiva, but 
 her friend Archbishop Ethelnoth, presented to 
 
 ^ One such had certainly been built in Herefordshire. Lap- 
 penberg attributes it, with great probability, to Raoul, or Ralph 
 the Staller, nephew of Edward the Confessor, and a near relation 
 of Leofric. 
 
How Hereward was Outlawed 29 
 
 Coventry ; having bought it at Pavia for a hundred 
 talents of silver and a talent of gold.^ 
 
 Less known, save to students, is her husband 
 Leofric, whose bones lie by those of Godiva in 
 that same minster of Coventry; how his counsel 
 was as^Tfone 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, as I have said, 
 in Edward the Confessor's court, save his still 
 greater rival. Earl Godwin. 
 
 Less known, again, are the children of that illus- 
 trious 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 after- 
 wards 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 Digre ; 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 last pedigree is 
 little more than a conjecture. 
 
 Be these things as they may, Godiva was the 
 
 ^ William of Malmesbury. 
 
30 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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. But always (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. 
 
 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 this 
 afternoon with Hereward and his crew of house- 
 cretes. 
 
 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, Hereward's 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 al- 
 
How Hereward was Outlawed 31 
 
 ready 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 black- 
 mail 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 steward 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, 
 home towards his abbey from its cell at Bourne — 
 " 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 gra- 
 cious self bestowed on me, alleging that the rules 
 
32 Hereward the Wake 
 
 of my order allowed only one garment, and no 
 furs save catskins and suchlike. 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 pen- 
 nies, which I had collected from our tenants for 
 the use of the monastery, and said blasphemously 
 that I and mine had cheated your ladyship, and 
 therefore him your son, out of many a fat 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 
 swaggered 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 Hmb ; 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 
 
How Hereward was Outlawed 33 
 
 of a Highland chieftain. His wrists and throat 
 were tattooed in 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, 
 
 1 Some antiquaries have denied, on the ground of insufficient 
 evidence, that the English tattooed themselves. Others have 
 referred to some such custom the secret marks by which heroes 
 are so often recognized in old romances, as well as those by 
 which Edith the Swan-neck is said to have recognized Harold's 
 body on the field of Hastings. Hereward is, likewise, recognized 
 by signis satis exquisitis in corpore designantia vulnera tenuis- 
 simorum cicatricum." I am not answerable for the Latin ; but 
 as I understand it, it refers not to war-wounds but to very delicate 
 marks. Moreover, William of Malmesbury, sub anno 1066, seems 
 sufficiently explicit when he says that the English " adorned their 
 skins with punctured designs/' 
 
 May not our sailors' fashion of tattooing their arms and chests 
 with strange devices be a remnant of this very fashion, kept up, if 
 not originated by, the desire that the corpse should be recognized 
 after death ? 
 
 2 Earl Waltheof appears to Ingulf in a dream, a few years 
 after, with a gold tore round his neck. 
 
 VOL. I. — 3 
 
34 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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? 
 
 If a man sin against another," put in the monk 
 from behind the curtain, the judge shall judge 
 him: but if a man sin against the Lord, who shall 
 entreat for him? 
 
 ''Who indeed ?'* cried Lady Godiva. Think, 
 think, hapless boy, what it is to go about the world 
 henceforth with the wrath of Him v/ho made it 
 abiding on you — cut off from the protection of all 
 angels, open to the assaults of all devils ! How 
 will your Hfe be safe a moment, from Hghtning, 
 from flood, from slipping knife, from stumbling 
 horse, from some hidden and hideous death? If 
 the fen-fiends lure you away to drown you in the 
 river, or the wood-fiends leap on you in the thicket 
 to wring your neck, of what use to you then the 
 suffrages of the saints, or the sign of the holy 
 cross? What help, what hope, for you — for me 
 — but that you must perish foully, and, it may be, 
 never find a grave?'' 
 
 Lady Godiva — as the constant associate of 
 clerks and monks — spoke after an artificial and 
 Latinized fashion, at which Hereward was not 
 wont to laugh and jest: but as he beHeved, no 
 less than his pious mother, in innumerable devils 
 and ghosts, and other uncanny creatures, who 
 would surely do him a mischief if they could, 
 he began to feel somewhat frightened; but he 
 answered none the less stoutly : — 
 
 As for devils, and such like, I never saw one 
 yet, by flood or field, night or day. And if one 
 
How Hereward was Outlawed 35 
 
 comes, I must just copy old Baldwin Bras-de-Fer 
 of Flanders, and see whether the devil or I can hit 
 hardest. As for the money — I have no grudge 
 against St. Peter ; and I will warrant myself to rob 
 some one else of sixteen pennies erelong, and pay 
 the saint back every farthing.'' 
 
 The saint takes not the fruits of robbery. He 
 would hurl them far away, by might divine, were 
 they laid upon his altar," quoth the steward. 
 
 I wonder he has not hurled thee away long ago, 
 then, with thy gifts about thine ears ; for thou hast 
 brought many a bag of grist to his mill, ere now, 
 that was as foully earned as aught of mine. I tell 
 thee, man, if thou art wise, thou wilt hold thy 
 tongue, and let me and St. Peter settle this quarrel 
 between us. I have a long score against thee, as 
 thou knowest, which a gentle battery in the green- 
 wood has but half paid off; and I warn thee not 
 to make it longer by thy tongue, lest I shorten the 
 said tongue for thee with cold steel.'' 
 
 ''What does he mean?" asked Godiva, shud- 
 dering. 
 
 " This ! " quoth Hereward, fiercely enough ; 
 '' That this monk forgets that I have been a monk 
 myself, or should have been one by now, if you, 
 my pious mother, had had your will of me, as you 
 may if you like of that baby there at your knee. 
 He forgets why I left Peterborough Abbey, when 
 Winter and I turned all the 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 rang 
 with the fame of my forefathers, before they became 
 the slaves of monks; and how, when Winter and I 
 
36 Hereward the Wake 
 
 got hold of the kitchen spits, and up to the top of 
 the peat-stack by BoUdyke-gate, and held them all 
 at bay there, a whole abbeyful of cowards there 
 against two seven-years' children, — it was that 
 weasel there 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 sprang up, and seizing 
 his arm, laid her hand upon his mouth. 
 
 Hereward looked at her majestic face, once 
 lovely, now stern and 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 out- 
 raged by this 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 
 
How Hereward was Outlawed 37 
 
 went on sternly, that you should have become 
 the bully and the ruffian of all the fens? — that 
 Hereward the leaper, Hereward the wrestler, Here- 
 ward the thrower of the hammer, — sports after all 
 only fit for the sons of slaves, — should be also Here- 
 
 ^'ward the drunkard, Hereward the common fighter, 
 Hereward the breaker of houses, Hereward the 
 leader of mobs of boon companions who 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 
 
 lit 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 base 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, out- 
 raging 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 
 k^ill 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 
 
38 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 deed 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 West- 
 minster. 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 offence against Holy Church? " 
 
 Blame? I shall blame no one. Pass over? I 
 hope he will not pass over it. I only want an ex- 
 cuse like that for turning kempery-man — knight- 
 errant, as those Norman puppies call it — like 
 Regnar Lodbrog, or Frithiof, or Harold Hard- 
 raade ; and try what a man can do for himself in 
 the world with nothing to help him in heaven and 
 earth, with neither saint nor angel, friend nor 
 counsellor, to see to him, save his wits and his 
 
How Hereward was Outlawed 39 
 
 good sword. So send off the messenger, good 
 mother mine ; and I will promise you I will not 
 have him hamstrung on the way, as some of my 
 housecarles would do 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. 
 
 ^ 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 sim- 
 ple fashion of those days. He was a tall, bony 
 
40 Hereward the Wake 
 
 man, as was to be expected from his nickname ; 
 lean as a rake, 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 expres- 
 sion. She knew very little of him, save that her 
 husband had picked him up upon the road as a 
 wanderer some five years since ; 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 breaketh bane, 
 Though she herself hath nane.' '* 
 
 "I shall try you: do you know your way to 
 London? " 
 
 " Yes. Cardyke, King Street, Ermine Street, 
 London town." 
 
 To your lord's lodgings? " 
 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." 
 
How Hereward was Outlawed 41 
 
 ^' And you will go to my lord and deliver this 
 letter safely? " 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And safely bring back an answer? " 
 " Nay, not that'* 
 " Not that?" 
 
 Martin made a doleful face, and drew his hand 
 first across his leg, and then across his throat, as 
 hints of the doom which he expected. 
 
 He — the Lord Hereward — has promised not 
 to let thee be harmed/' 
 
 Martin gave a start, and his dull eyes flashed out 
 a moment ; but the next he answered, as curtly as 
 was his wont, — 
 
 The more fool he. But women s bodkins are 
 sharp, as well as men's knives." 
 
 Bodkins? Whose? What babblest of ? " 
 
 *'Them," said Martin, pointing to the bower 
 maidens, — girls of good family who stood round ; 
 chosen for their beauty, 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 
 knows such as thou what is in this letter? " 
 
 All the town must know," said Martin, sullenly. 
 
 " Best that they should, and know that right is 
 done here," said she, trying to be stern. 
 
 " I will take it," said Martin. He held out his 
 
42 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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, 
 again I ask, to know what is in this letter? " 
 
 *' All the town, I say again, must 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. 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 
 
How Hereward was Outlawed 43 
 
 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, shpped from 
 amongst them like an eel, and darted through 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 
 of law 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 
 sprang upon the Car-dyke bank, and fled straight 
 south into the misty 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 earls' 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 out- 
 lawed too, you will obey orders, and home." 
 
 We will follow you to the world's end," cried 
 some. 
 
44 Hereward the Wake 
 
 " 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 beaten, and deserved it; 
 a few were hidden by their mothers for a week in 
 hay-lofts and hen-roosts, till their fathers* anger 
 had passed away. But only one seems to have 
 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-butt, 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.'' 
 
 Oh, 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 ! " 
 
 **Oh, my lord!" said the porter, as he opened 
 it, if our Lady and St. Peter would but have 
 
How Hereward was Outlawed 45 
 
 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 Hon 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. — To 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 
 
46 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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? Oh, my boy, my darling, my 
 pride ! Get off thy horse, and don't sit up 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 vv^hile 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 Algar 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 ^ out of the Kaiser's treasure, and pay 
 thee back five to one." 
 
 1 See The Heimskringla/' Harold Hardraade's Saga, for the 
 meaning of this word. 
 
How Hereward was Outlawed 47 
 
 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 wolfs 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 run fastest, they or I. 
 You are a gentleman, and a man of honor; so 
 I trust 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. 
 
 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 Heaven forbid ! " 
 
 " Amen. And if he stay here, he may be per- 
 suaded 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 
 
48 Here ward the Wake 
 
 him), if either of you will lend me sixteen pennies, 
 I will pay them 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 uncanoni- 
 cally 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, hke 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." 
 
 Oh, 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. 
 
How Hereward was Outlawed 49 
 
 "Is he? Is he stammered Brand, 
 
 and could not finish his sentence. 
 Martin nodded. 
 
 Hereward laughed — a loud, swaggering, uneasy- 
 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, hinder- 
 ing 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 down- 
 cast, as demure as any cat. And so is fulfilled the 
 
 1 It must be remembered that the house of Godwin is spoken 
 of throughout this book by hereditary enemies. 
 VOL. I. — 4 
 
50 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 (is that speaking 
 evil of dignities?) 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? Oh miserable world! Oh last 
 days drawing nearer and nearer ! Oh 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. 
 
How Hereward was Outlawed 51 
 
 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, too, who all say is so gallant and so fair. 
 Oh persuade him, father — persuade him, Harold 
 my brother — or, if you cannot persuade him, per- 
 suade the king at least, and save this poor youth 
 from exile.' " 
 
 Puss Velvet-paw knew well enough," said Here- 
 ward, 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 head- 
 long 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 
 
52 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 learnedst 
 thou so suddenly the trade of preaching? I 
 thought thou hadst kept thy wind for thy running 
 this two years past. Thou wouldst make as good a 
 talker among the Witan as Godwin himself Thou 
 givest it us, all word for word, and voice and ges- 
 ture withal, as if thou wert 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 Here- 
 ward, 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 en- 
 chanters 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." 
 
How Hereward was Outlawed 53 
 
 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 in- 
 justice, 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 Val- 
 halla, in spite of all priests!) did by Canute him- 
 self 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 have made him forget that he stands 
 before kings and earls.' 
 
 ' By the head of Odin's horse, earl ! ' sa3^s 
 
54 
 
 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 yon- 
 der 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 h^ 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 thou 
 thinkest he was in earnest?** 
 
 As sure as there are holy crows in Crowland. 
 But it was of no use. Your father got a parch- 
 ment, with an outlandish Norman seal hanging to 
 it, and sent me ofif with it that same night to give 
 to the lawman. So wolf's head you are, my lord, 
 and there isj^o use crying over spilt milk.** 
 
 And HaroM spoke for me? Not that I care, 
 
How Hereward was Outlawed 55 
 
 but 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 fear not 
 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 Gilbert 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 that I sent you." 
 
 **You are a good old uncle," said Hereward. 
 Why were you not a soldier?" 
 
c6 1^"^ 'Hereward the Wake 
 
 ^.^•--A- 
 
 ' Brand laughed somewhat sadly. 
 
 If I had been a soldier, lad, where wouldst thou 
 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 
 disHked 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." 
 
How Hereward was Outlawed 57 
 
 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. 
 Oh, 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 
 
58 Hereward the Wake 
 
 Hereward, as he leapt into the saddle next morn- 
 ing. " I had made a vow against you, and came 
 to try you, and see whether you would force me 
 to fulfil it or not. But you have been so kind that 
 I have half repented thereof; 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 Hve long enough." 
 
 ^'What meanest thou, incarnate fiend, only fit 
 to worship Thor and Odin?" asked Brand. 
 
 That I would burn Goldenborough, and Her- 
 luin 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, be- 
 side our French friend Herluin ; and see, too, that 
 there be not a peat stack handy at the Bolldyke 
 gate — a word is enough to wise men like you. 
 Good-bye ! " 
 
 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. 
 
How Here ward was Outlawed 59 
 
 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 He 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 — rare luxury 
 in those penniless though otherwise plentiful days 
 — 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 westward, avoiding, of course, Kesteven and 
 Bourne. Through Milton woods he rode, and 
 lingered but one moment, as he crossed the King 
 Street at Castor Hauglands, to glance up the 
 straight Roman road which led toward his home. 
 That led to the old world. He was going to the 
 new; and he pricked his horse gaily on through 
 Bainton woods, struck the Ermine Street on South- 
 orpe Heath, and so on toward the Welland, little 
 dreaming that on those open wolds a palace 
 would one day arise, beside which King Edward's 
 new Hall at Westminster would show but as a 
 tything-barn ; and that the great patriot who would 
 build that palace would own, as his birthplace, 
 the very home from which Hereward fled that 
 day. 
 
6o Here ward the Wake 
 
 Over the Welland to Brig Casterton, where Dick 
 Turpin crossed in after times, like him avoiding 
 Stamford town; and then up the Ermine Street, 
 through primeval glades of mighty oak and ash, 
 with holly and thorn beneath, 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, round, circumscribed, mapped, botanized, 
 zoologized ; a tiny planet about which everybody 
 knows, or thinks they know, everything; but a 
 world infinite, magical, supernatural — because un- 
 known; 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 
 center, which was to him the Bruneswald, such 
 things as he saw : but beyond, things unspeakable, 
 — dragons, giants, rocs, ores, 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 Broche- 
 liaunde, 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 
 
How Hereward was Outlawed 6i 
 
 the fashion of Sir Gruelan.^ 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 chil- 
 dren round the world, was strong within him. He 
 would go to Ireland, to the Ostmen, or Irish Danes, 
 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; 
 he would sail through witch-whales and icebergs to 
 Iceland and Greenland, and the sunny lands which 
 they said lay even beyond, across the all but un- 
 known ocean. Or 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 Constanti- 
 nople and the great Kaiser of the Greeks, and join 
 
 ^ 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 rev ins ; 
 Folie quis, por fol me tins." , 
 
62 Hereward the Wake 
 
 the Varanger Guard, and perhaps, Hke 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, Etna, and Stromboli ; and 
 the fiends heard within, tormenting, amid fire, and 
 smoke, and clanking chains, the souls of the end- 
 lessly 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 com- 
 ing 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, sus- 
 piciously, and half cross at seeing any visitor from 
 
How Hereward was Outlawed 03 
 
 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, with- 
 out 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 firiends — anything and everything. You are 
 going to see the world. I am going with you." 
 
 *'Thou canst be my servant? A right sHppery 
 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 man can always know his master's secrets if he 
 likes. But that is no reason a master should know 
 his man's." 
 
 Thou shalt tell me thine, man, or I shall ride 
 off and leave thee." 
 
64 Hereward the Wake 
 
 "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 French, 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 — 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 ballads 
 and hearing stories of ghosts and enchanters, such 
 as I used to tell you. I '11 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 
 
 1 I adopt William of Malmesbury's old story, though there is no 
 good authority for it. Even if a calumny, it fits the mouth of an 
 adherent of the house of Leofric; and an English slave-trade cer- 
 tainly was carried on in those days. 
 
How Hereward was Outlawed 65 
 
 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 lands 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 well-nigh dead. They put me in 
 prison for a month ; and between bread-and-water 
 and darkness I went nigh fooHsh. 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 thy parables and dark say- 
 ings, but speak out like a man. What canst see 
 in me that thou shouldst 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 
 
 VOL. I. — 5 
 
66 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 
 kemperyman, 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. I never loved you as I do now. You let 
 me take that letter safe, like a true hero. You let 
 yourself be outlawed, like a true hero. You made 
 up your mind to see the world, like a true hero. 
 You are the master for me, and 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 hold- 
 ing 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 
 
How Hereward was Outlawed 67 
 
 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 whale- 
 bone, curiously bound with silver, and butted with 
 narwhal ivory. This handle was evidently the 
 work of some cunning Norseman of old. But 
 who had been 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 in 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 corselet 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/' 
 
68 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 yet have sound reasons 
 at home for running away." 
 
 And so those two went northward through the 
 green Bruneswald, and northward 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 Hkely have 
 joined Siward in the Scotch war. He may have 
 looked, wondering, for the first time in his Hfe, 
 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 Gospatrics and Dolfins, 
 and the rest of the kindred of Crinan, and of 
 Siward, of the murdered Duncan, and the out- 
 
 1 This story of the bear is likely not to be a myth, but among the 
 most authentic of Hereward's famous deeds. So likewise is the 
 story of the Cornish princess, and of his deeds in Flanders. For 
 Richard of Ely, if I understand him rightly, says that he got his 
 information from the actual MSS. of Leofric of Bourne, Here- 
 ward's mass-priest, "up to the place where he came home 
 again; and more wise than the average of monk writers, kept to 
 " the crude matter, too little composite and ornate by the care of 
 any trained intellect, or by dialectic and rhetoric enigmas." For 
 " always he was deluded by vain hope, or from the beginning, by 
 folks saying that in this place and that is a great book about the 
 same man's deeds," which book never appearing, he seems to 
 have finished his work from popular tradition, leaving, to do him 
 justice, the dialectic and rhetorical enigmas to be added by the 
 author of the Liber Eliensis ; but, like him, wandering sadly in his 
 chronology. I have retained every detail, I believe, which he 
 gives in the early part of his story, as valuable and all but unique 
 sketches of the manners of the eleventh century. 
 
JO Hereward the Wake 
 
 raged Sibylla. 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,^ 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 
 Gilbert of Ghent. ' "^""^ * - 
 
 Gisebeirt, Gislebert, Gilbert, Guibert, Goisbricht, 
 of Ghent,^ who afterwards owned, by chance of 
 war, many a fair manor in Lincolnshire and else- 
 where, was one of those valiant Flemings who 
 settled along the east and northeast coast of Scot- 
 land in the eleventh century. They fought with 
 the Celtic Maolmors, 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 intel- 
 
 1 Shakespeare calls his son " young Siward." He, too, was slain 
 in the battle ; but he was old Siward's nephew. 
 
 2 Our English genealogists make him son of Baldwin of Mons 
 and Richilda of Hainault, which is a manifest error. Mr. For- 
 ester, in his learned notes to Ordericus Vital is, says that he was 
 son of Ralf, the Lord of Alost ; and confirms the story that his 
 eldest son died prematurely. He may have been nevertheless a 
 near relation of the Marquis Baldwin. 
 
How Hereward Slew the Bear 71 
 
 lectually, in the world. They had their connec- 
 tions, 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, 
 with the instinct of true Flemings, civilizers, and 
 cultivators, and traders, as well as conquerors; 
 they were in those very days bringing to order 
 and tillage the rich lands of the northeast, from 
 the Firth 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 inscrip- 
 tion: Terre inculte et sativage, habitue par les 
 HiglandersT 
 
 Wherever Gilbert lived, however, he heard that 
 
t 
 
 72 Hereward the Wake 
 
 Hereward was outlawed, and sent for him, says the 
 story,^ having, it would seem, some connection 
 with his father. And there he lived, doubtless 
 happily enough, fighting Celts 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 ad- 
 venture worthy of a man ; and he looked curiously 
 and longingly at the menagerie of wild beasts en- 
 closed in strong wooden cages, which Gilbert kept 
 in one corner of the great courtyard, not for any 
 scientific purposes, but to try with them, at Christ- 
 mas, 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 Picfs 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 a son of the Fairy Bear, near kinsman, if not 
 brother, uncle, or cousin, of Siward Digre himself 
 
 1 Richard of Ely gives as the reason — "pro illo misit: filiolus 
 enim erat divitis illius." " Filiolus " may be presumed to mean 
 godson in the vocabulary of that good monk : but it is not clear 
 of whom he speaks as " dives ille." Possibly Gilbert of Ghent was 
 godson of Hereward's father. 
 
How Hereward Slew the Bear 73 
 
 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 overhear- 
 ing and avenging the insult. He has twelve men's 
 strength, and eleven men's wit," sang the Norse- 
 man, 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 Here- 
 ward 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 
 
74 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 
 only to one — a little girl of ten years old. Alftruda 
 was her name. He liked to amuse himself with this 
 child, without, as he fancied, any danger of faUing 
 in love ; for already his dreams of love were of the 
 highest and most fantastic ; and an Emir's daugh- 
 ter, or a Princess of Constantinople, was the very 
 lowest game at which he meant to fly. Alftruda 
 was beautiful, fo9, 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. She, 
 as all know, married Uchtred, prince of Northum- 
 berland, the 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 v/eeks 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, v/ith Martin Lightfoot 
 trotting behind, crane and heron, duck and hare, 
 slung over his shoulder, on reaching the courtyard 
 gates, he was aware of screams and shouts within, 
 tumult and terror among man and beast. Here- 
 ward tried to force his horse in at the gate. The 
 
 1 See note at end of chapter. 
 
How Hereward Slew the Bear 75 
 
 beast stopped and turned, snorting with fear; and 
 no wonder ; for in the midst of the courtyard 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 wreathing 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 
 (Hke too many of his human kindred in those 
 days) Berserker.'* The courtyard 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 Here- 
 ward, and lifted the iron talons high in air. Here- 
 ward 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 
 
jb Hereward the Wake 
 
 sword jammed tight. He shut his eyes for an in- 
 stant, 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 mo- 
 ment would find him crushed to earth, blinded and 
 stunned. Something tugged at his sword. He 
 I opened his eyes, and saw the huge carcase bend, 
 reel, roll slowly over to one side, dead, tearing out 
 of his hand the sword which was firmly fixed in 
 the skull. 
 
 Hereward stood awhile staring at the beast like 
 a man astonied 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.'* 
 i There he stood, staring, and dreaming over re- 
 ^ nown 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 Lightfoofs 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?*' 
 
How Hereward Slew the Bear 77 
 
 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 Hft the huge 
 carcase : 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 bean they overwhelmed Hereward 
 
78 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 know- 
 ing that envy and hatred, like all other vices in 
 those rough-hewn times, were apt to take very 
 startling and unmistakable 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 gentle- 
 men followed. 
 
 " How loud the young cockerel crows after his 
 first scuffle ! " 
 
 Hark to him ! What will he do next? Eat a 
 dragon? Fly to the moon? Marry the Sophy jof 
 Egypt's daughter?" 
 
 This last touched Hereward to the quick, for it 
 was just what he thought of doing; and his blood. 
 
How Hereward Slew the Bear 79 
 
 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 deserved knighthood, what must 
 we have deserved, who have not killed him ? You 
 understand his meaning, gentlemen — do not for- 
 get 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 w^ords 
 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 taxmg 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 
 
8o Hereward the Wake 
 
 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, giv- 
 ing 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 blade- 
 bone 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 
 
How Hereward Slew the Bear 8i 
 
 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 Siegfried 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 can- 
 not 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 humihation of defeat; and find 
 out that if a man once fall, or seem to fall, a hun- 
 dred curs spring up to bark at him, who dared not 
 open their mouths while he was on his legs. 
 
 VOL. 1.-6 
 
82 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 
 packhorses' feet, and what with the wear and tear 
 of five hundred years* rainfall, was a rut three feet 
 deep and two feet broad, in which no horse could 
 turn. Any other day Hereward would have can- 
 tered down it with merely a tightened rein. To- 
 day he turned to Martin, and said, — 
 
 *'A very fit and proper place for this same 
 treason : unless thou hast 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 griped 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. 
 
How Hereward Slew the Bear 83 
 
 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 corselet, 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 driv- 
 ing in the spurs once more, he met them in full 
 shock. With his left hand he thrust 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. 
 
 So much for lances in front. But the knight be- 
 hind ? 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 al- 
 ready pinned the 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 fin- 
 ished 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. 
 
84 Hereward the Wake 
 
 *'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 wounded man, 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 ; 
 and began to win for himself the famous sobri- 
 quet of Wake ; " the Watcher, whom no man ever 
 took unawares. Judicial, even private, inquiry into 
 the matter there was none. That gentlemen should 
 meet in the forest, try to commit murder on each 
 other's bodies, was rather too common a mishap to 
 stir up more than an extra gossiping among the 
 women, and an extra cursing among the men ; and 
 as the former were all on Hereward's side, his plain 
 story was taken as it stood. 
 
 "And now, fair lady," said Hereward to his 
 hostess, I must thank you for your hospitality, 
 and bid you farewell for ever 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 
 
How Hereward Slew the Bear 85 
 
 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. 
 
 I insert on the following page the pedigree of Gospatric 
 and the Dunbars, with many thanks to the gallant Dunbar 
 to whom I owe the greater part thereof. It illustrates that 
 connection between the royal houses of Scotland and of 
 England which influenced so much the course of the Nor- 
 man Conquest. The singular name Gospatric, or Gospatric, 
 is, it should be remembered, remarkable, as perhaps the 
 earliest instance of an hereditary name. I am sorry to say 
 that Scottish antiquaries can as yet throw no light on its 
 etymology. 
 
 NOTE 
 
86 
 
 Hereward the 
 
 Wake 
 
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 g O >, G «0 
 
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 81 
 
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 If 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 HOW HEREWARD SUCCORED A PRINCESS OF 
 CORNWALL 
 
 THE next place in which Hereward appeared 
 was far away on the southwest, upon the Cor: 
 riish fihp re. 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, living at Gweek, 
 up the Helford River, 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 Summerleding e. piracy 
 between seed-time and harvest) in company with 
 his Danish brothers-in-law from Dublin and Water- 
 ford ; and Hereward, who believed with most Eng- 
 lishmen 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, 
 
 1 Probably a corruption of the Norse name Olaf . There is 
 mucb Norse blood in the seaports of Cornwall and Devon, as 
 the surnames testify. 
 
 M \ \ 
 
88 Hereward the Wake 
 
 between jagged points of black rock, and up a 
 tide river which wandered and branched away inland 
 like a landlocked lake, between high green walls 
 of oak and ash, till they saw at the head of the 
 tide Alefs town, nestling in a glen which sloped 
 towards the southern sun. They discovered, be- 
 sides, 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 dykes 
 and muddy leats, where Alefs slaves were stream- 
 ing the gravel for tin ore; through rich alluvial 
 pastures spotted with red cattle; and up to Alefs 
 town. Earthworks and stockades surrounded a 
 little church of ancient stone, and a cluster of gran- 
 ite cabins thatched with turf, in which the slaves 
 abode. In the centre of all a vast stone barn, with 
 low walls and high sloping roof, contained Alefs 
 family, treasures, housecarles, horses, cattle, and 
 pigs. They entered at one end between the 
 pigsties, passed on through the cow-stalls, then 
 through the stables ; till they saw before them, 
 dim through the reek of 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 Alefs following of fight- 
 ing 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, 
 
How Hereward Succored a Princess 89 
 
 with great gold tores 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 
 tit-bits 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 mer- 
 chant 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 effemi- 
 nate 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." 
 
90 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 noth- 
 ing 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 under- 
 stood 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 determina- 
 tion to defy and fight every man and beast who 
 was wiUing 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 
 
 1 " Ulcus Ferreus,*' says Richard of Ely ; surely a misreading 
 for **uncus.'' The hook was a not uncommon weapon among 
 seamen. 
 
How Hereward Succored a Princess 91 
 
 beseeching him to be patient and silent in the 
 name of the heavenly powers. 
 
 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 
 duresse 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 swallow^ed 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 com- 
 pany at home, as I should surely do in your 
 place.'' 
 
 The princess shuddered and turned pale ; then 
 looked at Hereward and smiled her thanks. Iron- 
 hook laughed a savage laugh. 
 
 Hereward's jest being translated into Cornish 
 for the benefit of the company, was highly ap- 
 proved 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,^ among the rushes on the 
 
 ^ Cornwall was not then considered part of England. 
 
92 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 didst thou 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. 
 He is a No-man's son, a Pict from Galloway, who 
 came down with a pirate crew, and has made him- 
 self the master of this drunken old prince, and the 
 darhng 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 
 blessed me for a right good fellow. And then I 
 fell to praising up Ironhook to the women." 
 
 " Praising him up, man? " 
 
 "Ay, just because I suspected him; for the 
 
How Hereward Succored a Princess 93 
 
 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 Here- 
 ward, 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 Here- 
 ward. 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 Here- 
 ward; 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." 
 
94 Hereward the Wake 
 
 '*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 ex- 
 pected, 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 therefor by the 
 Ironhook, retaliated by observations about his 
 
How Hereward Succored a Princess 95 
 
 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 bought and broached, 
 and then went out into the courtyard, where in the 
 midst of his admiring fellow ruffians he enacted a 
 scene as ludicrous as it was pitiable. All the child- 
 ish 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 Here- 
 ward, 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. 
 
 *'0f 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." 
 
96 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 courtyard 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 an one as a convict would now 
 disdain to inhabit. A low lean-to roof ; the slates 
 and rafters unceiled ; the stone walls and floor un- 
 plastered ; ill lighted by a hand-broad window, un- 
 glazed, 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 thiry years' standing. 
 
How Hereward Succored a Princess 97 
 
 ''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 BeHal? 
 Cannot he entreat him; can he not make peace, 
 and save his young life? He is but a stripling, and 
 that man, Hke 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, ris- 
 ing 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. 
 
 VOL. I. — 7 
 
98 Hereward the Wake 
 
 '*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 lie 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. 
 Oh ! my son, my son, where hast thou found 
 time to lay all these burdens on thy young soul? " 
 
How Here ward Succored a Princess 99 
 
 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 pil- 
 grimage to Jerusalem than to battle." 
 
 " He has no time," quoth Martin, for bishops 
 or Jerusalem." 
 
 Tell him," said Hereward, that in this purse 
 is all I have, that in it he will find sixty silver pen- 
 nies, 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 pay- 
 ing 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." 
 
 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 
 
loo Hereward the Wake 
 
 with innocent blood — him of whom it is written, 
 * They stretch forth their mouth unto the heaven, 
 and their tongue goeth through the world. There- 
 fore 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 trembhng, 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. 
 
 will, I will," quoth he, and kneeling down 
 began to chant that noble 73d Psalm, Quam 
 bonus Israel," which he had just so fitly quoted. 
 
 Thou gavest him the bag, Martin ? " said Here- 
 ward, 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 slander- 
 ously, 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 
 
How Hereward Succored a Princess loi 
 
 hanging about. Fair play I 'II see, and fair play 
 I '11 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 
 may n'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 
 73d Psalm, and had betaken himself in his spiritual 
 warfare, as it was then called, to the equally appo- 
 site 52d, 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, rising from his 
 knees. 
 
 His sword — the ogre's — his magic sword, 
 which kills whomsoever it strikes. I coaxed him 
 to let me have it last night when he was tipsy, for 
 
I02 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 ex- 
 plained 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. 
 
Mow Hereward Succored a Princess 103 
 
 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, seized 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 scorn- 
 ful 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 Hereward with his long iron grapple. 
 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, stum- 
 bled forward. Hereward leaped aside, and spying 
 an unguarded spot below the corselet, 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 " Sor- 
 cery ! and " Treason ! 
 
 Hereward stood over Ironhook as he lay writh- 
 ing and foaming on the ground. 
 
 " Killed by a boy at last ! groaned he. " If I 
 
104 Hereward the Wake 
 
 had but had my 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. He, therefore, 
 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 
 
How Hereward Succored a Princess 105 
 
 stories, that the Picts had feet so large that they 
 used to lie upon their backs and hold up their legs 
 to shelter themselves 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, with a true Viking 
 chant, — 
 
 " Look at me, dread me ! 
 I am the Hereward,^ 
 The watcher, the champion, 
 The Berserker, the Viking, 
 The land-thief, the sea-thief. 
 Young summer pirate. 
 Famous land- waster, 
 Slayer of witch-bears, 
 Queller of ogres, 
 Fatten er of ravens. 
 Darling of gray wolves. 
 Wild widow-maker. 
 Touch me — to wolf and 
 Raven I give you. 
 Ship with me boldly, 
 Follow me gayly, 
 Over the swanks road, 
 Over the whalers bath. 
 Far to the southward. 
 Where sun and sea meet ; 
 Where from the palm-boughs 
 Apples of gold hang ; 
 And freight there our long snake 
 With sendal and orfray, 
 Dark Moorish maidens, 
 And gold of Algier.'' 
 
 1 " Guardian of the Army.^* 
 
io6 Hereward the Wake 
 
 " 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 cour- 
 age 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 
 corselet, 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 holloa 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. " Thou saw'st 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 ugher 
 
How Hereward Succored a Princess 1 07 
 
 than seven Ironhooks. Still, just because women 
 are strange things, have patience, say I." 
 
 The lock creaked, and the old priest came in. 
 Martin leaped 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 GoHath 
 like young David, and then set food and drink 
 before the two ; but he answered Martin's ques- 
 tions 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 
 hoursrlistening 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," answered 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 
 
io8 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 
 do not 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 his rough followers 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 
 
How Hereward Succored a Princess 1 09 
 
 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 
 dare,Jii 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 
 
no Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 him- 
 self, 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 He here and pray?*' 
 
 The old priest, who was plainly in the plot, sub- 
 mitted 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 Light- 
 foot, to keep your curses till you had seen the 
 end of this adventure?'* 
 
 Hereward was silent. His brain was still whirl- 
 ing from the adventures of the day, and his heart 
 was very deeply touched. His shrift of the morn- 
 ing, hurried and formal as it had been, had soft- 
 ened 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 vain- 
 glorious 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 suc- 
 coring the weak and the oppressed, of keeping 
 faith and honor not merely towards men who 
 could avenge themselves, but towards women who 
 
How Hereward Succored a Princess 1 1 1 
 
 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 ad- 
 venture with the fair Cornish girl. The seed was 
 sown. Would it be 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 board 
 without ceremony, at the risk of being taken and 
 killed as robbers, and told their case. The mer- 
 chants 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 VVaterford, 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 trem- 
 bling, 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 
 
 HE coasts of Ireland were in a state of com- 
 
 JL parative 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 Dubhgall from Denmark 
 proper, no longer burned convents, tortured monks 
 for their gold, or (as at Clonmacnoise) set a 
 heathen princess, Oda, wife of Thorkill, son of 
 Harold Haarfagre, 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 and north 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. 
 
How Hereward Served Ranald 1 1 3 
 
 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 corselet, 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, Moray, and Suther- 
 land, 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 ex- 
 istence 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 Strong- 
 bow. 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 stepson — 
 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 start- 
 lingly within the prohibited degrees of consan- 
 
 VOL. I. — 8 
 
114 Hereward the Wake 
 
 guinity. 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 wiUingly 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 
 
How Hereward Served Ranald 115 
 
 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 DubHn (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 thriv- 
 ing 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^lead hanging, upon the wall, the huge double- 
 edged axe with which, so his flatterers had whis- 
 pered, 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 in- 
 stead of cutting off Teague's head, gave him a cup 
 of goodly wine, made him his own harper thence- 
 forth, and bade him send for his wife and children, 
 
1 1 6 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 his- 
 tory 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, drink- 
 ing 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 hole in the roof 
 On one side was a long bench, and in the middle 
 of it the king's high armchair; right and left of 
 him sat his kinsmen and the ladies, and his sea-cap- 
 tains 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 be- 
 hind 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 
 
How Hereward Served Ranald 1 1 7 
 
 agreed that he must be an earl's son ; for he had a 
 great gold tore 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 
 marten's fur ; and a short blue silk cloak over all, 
 trimmed with marten'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 
 at all hours." 
 
 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. 
 
Ii8 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 Feargus, 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, Mac- 
 carthy 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 crossed 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 learned 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 Uhxes, king, nor of 
 
How Hereward Served Ranald 119 
 
 this Feargus 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 be- 
 tween 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, 
 
I20 Hereward the Wake 
 
 ' 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 him- 
 self." 
 
 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 Feargus, 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 unim- 
 portant 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 trans- 
 action, Ranald had this salve for his conscience, 
 that as he intended to do to Feargus, so would 
 Feargus have gladly done to him, had he been 
 living peaceably in Norway, and been strong 
 enough to invade and rob him. Indeed, so had 
 Feargus 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 burned, many a fair 
 woman carried off a slave, after that inveterate 
 fashion of lawless feuds which makes the history 
 of Celtic Ireland from the earhest times one dull 
 and aimless catalogue of murder and devastation, 
 followed by famine and disease; and now, as he 
 had done to others, so was it 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 
 
How Here ward Served Ranald 121 
 
 name and your business. As for the name, how- 
 ever, 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 Mac- 
 Murrough standing close to him, harp in hand. 
 He took it from him courteously enough; put a 
 silverjpenny 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 and warden 
 Find ever watchful. 
 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 musi- 
 cal 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 de- 
 tails, 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. 
 
122 Hereward the Wake 
 
 The young man grew uneasy, red, almost an- 
 gry ; till at last Hereward sung — 
 
 " 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 sis- 
 ter, Siward the White and Siward the Red, the 
 orphans of Asbiorn Siwardsson, who fell at Dun- 
 sinane." 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." 
 
How Hereward Served Ranald 123 
 
 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 maintainM. 
 Dead is he, a bed-death, 
 A leech-death, a priest-death, 
 A straw-death, a cow's-death. 
 Such doom suits not me. 
 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 worldHng, 
 that it seemed reasonable enough for either party 
 to have their ow^n heaven and their own hell. 
 After all, Hereward was not original in his wish. 
 He had but copied the death-song which Siward 
 Digre had sung for himself some three years 
 before. 
 
 All praised his poetry, and especially the quick- 
 
124 Hereward the Wake 
 
 ness 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 leaped 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, dropped the prin- 
 cess'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 felled by my faulchion 
 False Feargus lies gory. 
 While over the wolf's meal 
 Wild 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 hero. 
 
 That night, when the warriors were asleep, Sig- 
 tryg 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 
 
How Hereward Served Ranald 125 
 
 would carry ofT 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. 
 
 '*Ahd 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 ; as they 
 will hate you in your turn." 
 
 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 burned 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 priests : but they were only honest canons 
 
126 Hereward the Wake 
 
 with wives at home, and not shavehng 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 sup- 
 pose 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 Httle 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 West- 
 minster 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, 
 
How Hereward Served Ranald 127 
 
 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 
 corner^ 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 Ulfsson, 
 his own cousin." 
 
 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 this Feargus; 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 in 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 Feargus. Then help me 
 to another little adventure which I have on hand — 
 as prett}^ a one as ever you heard a minstrel sing — 
 and then we will fit out a large ship 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 " 
 
128 Hereward the Wake 
 
 Algar will protect us/' said one. 
 ** I tell you> Algar is no match for the God- 
 winssons. If the monk-king died to-morrow, 
 neither his earldom nor his life would be safe. 
 When I saw your father Asbiorn Bulax 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 
 forefather, 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, 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 cormo- 
 rant, which diffused both through the pie and 
 through the ambient air a delicate odor of min- 
 gled_ guan^o 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 morn- 
 ing the church was to hallow the union, and after 
 that Hannibal Grylls was to lead home his bride, 
 among a gallant company. 
 VOL. I. — 9 
 
130 Hereward the Wake 
 
 And as they ate and drank, and harped and 
 piped, there came into that hall four shabbily- 
 dressed 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 ? 
 
 Oh — 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. 
 
 '*Oh, — 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 
 
How he Succored the Princess again i 3 1 
 
 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 gripe, 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." 
 
132 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 be- 
 fore 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 straight- 
 way; 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 
 
How he Succored the Princess again 133 
 
 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 triplici- 
 ter canentes" joined their voices in a Penmen's 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. 
 
134 Here ward the Wake 
 
 The hot old Punic ^ 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 Hannibal 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 per- 
 formed ; 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 coun- 
 try 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; 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 ferryboats waist-deep in mud ; 
 and going down the steep hillside, through oak, 
 and ash, and hazel-copse, they entered, as many 
 
 1 Hannibal, still a common name in Cornwall, is held — and 
 not unlikely — to have been introduced there by ancient Phoeni- 
 cian colouists. 
 
How he Succored the Princess again 135 
 
 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 spearmen and axemen, 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 griped 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 com- 
 mon 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 
 
136 Here ward the Wake 
 
 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 out- 
 rages at the hands of those who should have been 
 their protectors. 
 
 But the words had hardly passed the lips of 
 Hannibal, ere he reeled in the saddle, and fell to 
 the ground with 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 un- 
 bound the Dane, and bade him catch up a weapon 
 and fight for his life. 
 
 A second pair were despatched, 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 ! — The Wake in- 
 deed ! " 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 
 
How he Succored the Princess again 137 
 
 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 him- 
 self?" 
 
 " 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, like a Wake as I am." 
 
 " 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 
 
138 Hereward the Wake 
 
 enough to gather honey, like the bees, for other 
 folks to eat. What if I kept you myself, now I 
 have got you?" 
 " Hereward?" 
 
 " Oh, there is no fear, pretty lady. I have other 
 things to wake over than making love to you — 
 aiid one is, how we are to get to our ships, and, 
 moreover, past Marazion town." 
 
 And hard work they had to get thither. The 
 county 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 with them), that they made their ap- 
 pearance 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 (the outlines of it at least) by Richard of 
 Ely, after Leofric the mass-priest's manuscript. 
 
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 Feargus till (as King Ranald had threat- 
 ened) 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 chron- 
 icler) through the Irish camp with a chosen band 
 of Berserkers, slain Feargus 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 wakeful 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 boy- 
 hood. He would see his widowed mother. Per- 
 haps 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 the Wake's 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 
 
140 Hereward the Wake 
 
 he had the opportunity, the prowess of 
 Hardra ade hims elf. Yes, he would go and 
 see his STotKeF 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, but he is not on the Irish shores. Some say 
 he is gone to the Orkneys, some to Denmark. 
 Nev er mind; I shall find him before I die." 
 " And for whom art looking? " 
 " For one Thord Gunlaugsson, my father." 
 ** And what wantest thou 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 
 
 rival, if 
 Harold 
 
How Hereward was Wrecked 141 
 
 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. .^....^-^ 
 
 ^"TJne he christened the Garpike, from her nar- 
 row 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 
 aside 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 gunnel, 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 
 
142 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 earls thereof: 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 Firth, and the 
 poor Garpike went on shore on Hoy, and was left 
 there for ever 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 with Earl Bruce in Kirkwall, 
 and sailed 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 Firth 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, 
 
How Hereward was Wrecked 143 
 
 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 -^gir 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 JEgir, brine-thirsty, 
 His throat he can slake ? 
 Though salt spray, shrill-sounding, 
 Sweep round in swan's-flights, 
 True hearts, troth-plighted, 
 Together we '11 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 
 
144 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 — 
 
 " Cheerily, my sea-cocks, 
 Crow for the day-dawn. 
 Weary and wet are we, 
 Water beladen. 
 Wetter our comrades. 
 Whelmed by the witch-whales. 
 Us JEgir 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 ; dis- 
 closing 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 
 
How Hereward was Wrecked 145 
 
 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 out- 
 right; but if we fall among the Frenchmen we 
 shall be clapped 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 wTecked 
 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 Ponthieu would have done (so at 
 least William, Duke of Normandy hinted) by 
 Harold Godwinsson, had not WiUiam, 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 jetsam 
 and lagend, and crowded to meet the richer prize 
 which was coming in flotsam, to become jetsam in 
 its turn. 
 
 Axemen and bowmen, put on your harness, 
 and be ready; but neither strike nor shoot till I 
 
 VOL. I. — 10 
 
146 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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. The Otter 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 snapped right and left, 
 and the men tumbled over each other in heaps. 
 
 The peasants swarmed down like flies to a car- 
 case: 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 sand-hills : 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. 
 
How Hereward was Wrecked 147 
 
 "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 stream- 
 ing in the wind, his face full of courage and com- 
 mand, 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 Arnoul,^ grand- 
 son 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?" 
 
 ^ The French language was at this epoch taking the place of 
 the Teutonic in Southern Flanders : and the boy would call him- 
 self Arnoul, while old men would persist in calling him Arnulf, 
 after the fashion of that Count of Guisnes, who, when upon his 
 death-bed, heard his nephew speak to him in French, and told 
 him that he had no more time for trifles and jests, — *^Nugis et 
 jocis se non posse vacare. Lamb. Ard. in Kervyn de Lettenhoven 
 Hist, de Flandre." 
 
148 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 Harald 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 sword. 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, mis- 
 taking his intent, had to be repressed 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 grand- 
 father. 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, and 
 talked and gesticulated eagerly. 
 
 Then the clerk rode down, and talked with 
 Hereward. 
 
How Hereward was Wrecked 149 
 
 ''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, 
 furry 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, beside 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 Hsten 
 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 
 
150 Hereward the Wake 
 
 companions, turned and galloped away through 
 the sand-hills. 
 
 " He has 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 unspoiled 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 knights and men-at-arms. 
 He announced himself as the 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 forfend ! " murmured the abbot. 
 
 "They will be safe, at least, within your ram- 
 parts," whispered the chatelain. 
 
 " And they shall tell me about the sea. Have I 
 not told you how I longed for Vikings ; how I will 
 have Vikings of my own, and sail the seas with 
 
 1 The chronicler says, Manasar Count of that land." But 
 I can find no such person in history. There was a Manasses, 
 Count of Guisnes, about that time ; but, as will be seen, it could 
 not have been he who received Hereward. I have supposed, 
 therefore, as most probable, that the act was that of the Chatelain 
 of St. Omer. One Waleric held that post in 1072. 
 
How Hereward was Wrecked 151 
 
 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 Here- 
 ward, come on shore, and he that touches you or 
 your ship touches me ! " 
 
 *^ Sir chatelain and my lord abbot," said Here- 
 ward, you see that. Viking though I be, I am no 
 barbarous heathen, but a French-speaking gentle- 
 man Hke 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 at first sight, 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 condi- 
 tion 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 Here- 
 ward 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. 
 
152 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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, if you be wise ; and take this young 
 lord's hand, and serve him in the wars ; as I shall 
 do." 
 
 One by one the men came down ; and each took 
 Arnoul'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 double axes; their 
 short sea-bows of horn and deer-sinew ; their red 
 Danish coats; their black 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 
 Prison in Spain and Greece. I trust that your 
 noble uncle," he asked, 'Ss well? He was one of 
 us poor sea-cocks, and sailed the swan's path gal- 
 lantly, till he became a mighty prince. Here 
 
How Hereward was Wrecked 153 
 
 is a man here who was with your noble uncle in 
 Spain/' 
 
 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 
 
154 Hereward the Wake 
 
 up in the clouds there overhead ; and he rode on 
 by Arnoul's side, as the lad questioned him about 
 the sea, and nothing else. 
 
 Ah, my fair 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 cornland 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 mak- 
 ing 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 him- 
 self." 
 
 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 there ; 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 
 
How Hereward was Wrecked 155 
 
 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, Sieur Heraud," 
 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 Arnoul, wish- 
 ing to be buried by the side of her husband, had 
 to remove his corpse from St. Bertin to the Abbey 
 of Blandigny, 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 and St. Omerwere left to defend themselves 
 and their monks 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 invad- 
 ing Northmen, had joined their suffrages and 
 merits to those of St. Bertin and his whilom ser- 
 vants, with such success that the abbey had never 
 been defiled by the foot of the heathen. But alas ! 
 
156 Hereward the Wake 
 
 the saints (that is, their bodies) after a while became 
 home-sick; 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, ^nd Count Arnulf had to send home the 
 holy corpses with all humility, and leave St. Bertin 
 and St. Omer to themselves. 
 
 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.*' ^ 
 
 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-bHnd four soldiers 
 of the Emperor Henry's, who had dared, after 
 warning, to plunder the altar Let them remem- 
 ber, too, the fate of their own forefathers, the 
 heathens of the North, and the check which, one 
 
 1 Histoire des Comtes de Flandre, par E. le Glay. E gestis 
 SS. Richarii et Walerici. 
 
 2 Histoire des Comtes de Flandre, par. E le Glay. 
 
How Hereward was Wrecked 157 
 
 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 burned 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. ^ 
 
 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 suff'rages 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 mi- 
 raculously escaped, from the accident of the tide 
 being high, they knew full well; and that St. 
 Bertin should have done them the service was 
 1 This gallant feat was performed in a. d. 891. 
 
158 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 Cairn- 
 gorm 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 cer- 
 tain monk, and told him that if Hereward would 
 continue duly to honor him, the blessed St. 
 Bertin, and his monks of that place, he would, in 
 his turn, ensure him victory in all his battles by 
 land and sea. 
 
 After which Hereward stayed quietly in the 
 abbey certain days ; and young Arnoul, 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 Constanti- 
 nople, 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 Charle- 
 magne himself Married up to Ethelwulf of Eng- 
 land, and thus stepmother of Alfred the Great — 
 after her husband's 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. 
 
i6o Hereward the Wake 
 
 Charles, very wroth 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, ful- 
 minated 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, senti- 
 mental, and politic, with its usual ingrained element 
 of what we now call (from the old monkish word 
 **cantare*') cant. Of Baldwin's horrible wicked- 
 ness 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 Nor- 
 mans, 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," etc. 
 etc., 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 in peace with Judith, 
 the wicked and the fair. 
 
How Hereward Went to the War i6i 
 
 This all happened about A. D. 863. Two hun- 
 dred 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 Em- 
 peror 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 de- 
 served them likewise. He had cut the Foss6 
 Neuf, or new dyke, 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 Hain- 
 hault, wherefore the bridegroom was named Bald- 
 win of Mons. He had married one of his daughters, 
 Matilda, to William of Normandy, afterwards the 
 Conqueror; and another, Judith, to Tosti Godwins- 
 son, 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 
 
 VOL. I. — II 
 
1 62 Hereward the Wake 
 
 other despots after him shared with him, and had 
 even worse success in extracting ; — 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 (seemingly, that 
 Manasses whom Richard of Ely confounds with 
 the chatelain, or other lawful commander, of St. 
 Omer), 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 Nae- 
 mansson, 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 Arnoul cantering alongside in high glee ; for 
 it was the first war 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, mean- 
 while, amused themselves by shooting at the castle 
 
How Hereward Went to the War 163 
 
 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 chate- 
 lain,'* asked Hereward, who felt the lust of battle 
 tingling in him from head to heel ; and try if I 
 cannot do somewhat toward 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 Arnoul. Let me 
 see him fight ! as if he had been a pet game-cock 
 or bull-dog. 
 
 "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 
 Wake ! A Wake ! " 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. At them he rode, 
 and slew them every one; and mounted the 
 wounded Fleming on his own horse and led him 
 
164 Hereward the Wake 
 
 across the field, though the archers shot sore at 
 him from the wall. And when the press 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 Wake ! A Wake ! and 
 turned the lances' points with their targets, and 
 hewed off the horses* heads, and would have hewed 
 off the riders' likewise, had not Hereward bid- 
 den them give quarter, according to the civiHzed 
 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 pris- 
 oners, and him whom Hereward had rescued. 
 
 At which Httle Arnoul was as proud as if he had 
 done it himself; and the chatelain sent word to 
 Baldwin that the newcomer 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 villainous 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 
 
How Hereward Went to the War 165 
 
 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 see- 
 ing that Hereward was by no means a large or a 
 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; 
 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 towards his men. 
 
 Bear and bullock ! " shouted they in dehght, 
 laughing at the Hkeness between Hereward's atti- 
 tude, and that of a bear waddhng off on his hind 
 legs with his prey in his arms. 
 
1 66 Hereward the Wake 
 
 1 
 
 He should have killed his bullock outright 
 before he went to carry him. Look there ! * * 
 
 And the knight, awakening from his swoon, 
 struggled violently (says the chronicler) 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 tow^ards him. 
 
 A Wake ! A Wake ! To me. Vikings all ! " 
 shouted Hereward. And the Danes leaped up, and 
 ran towards him, axe in hand. 
 
 The chatelaines 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 
 
 IN an upper room of her mother s house in St. 
 Omer, sat the fair Torfrida, alternately look- / 
 
 ing out of the window and at a book of mechanics. 
 In the garden outside, the wryneck (as it is his 
 fashion in May) was calling Pi-pi-pi among the 
 gooseberry bushes, till the cob-walls 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. Mechan- 
 ics, it must be understood, in those days were con- 
 sidered 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. Dun- 
 stan's party, riding down to Corfe through the 
 forest, saw the wicked queen-mother Elfrida (her 
 who had St. Edward stabbed at Corfe Gate) exer- 
 cising 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 
 
1 68 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 learn- 
 ing 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 Proven^ale, one of those Arlesiennes 
 whose dark Greek beauty still shines, like dia- 
 monds 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, leav- 
 ing her daughter to do and learn what she would. 
 Torfrida's 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 forbid- 
 den lore. 
 
The Art to Win Hereward's Love 169 
 
 Forbidden, indeed, was magic by the Church; 
 but as a reaHty, not as an imposture. Those 
 whose consciences were tough and their faith weak, 
 had Httle scruple in applying to a witch, and ask- 
 ing 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 continu- 
 ally powers over crops and cattle, mines and wells, 
 storms and lightning, health and disease. Riches, 
 honors, and royalties, too, were under the com- 
 mand of the powers of darkness. For that genera- 
 tion, 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 
 
170 Hereward the Wake 
 
 questions which exercised the minds of men, and 
 produced a voluminous Hterature for several centu- 
 ries; 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 hesi- 
 tate to keep in his private Hbrary more than one 
 volume which he would not have willingly lent to 
 the simple monks under his charge ; nor to Tor- 
 frida 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 sing- 
 ing 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 arith- 
 metic and astronomy, music and geometry ; " how 
 he acquired from the Saracens the abacus (a count- 
 ing table) ; how he escaped from the Moslem magi- 
 cian, 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 Kaiser Otto 
 III., surnamed *^The wonder of the world; " how 
 he made an hydraulic organ which played tunes 
 by steam, standing even then in the Cathedral of 
 Rheims ; how he discovered in the Campus Mar- 
 tins at Rome wondrous treasures, and a golden 
 king and queen, golden courtiers and guards, all 
 
The Art to Win Hereward's Love 171 
 
 lighted by a single carbuncle, and guarded by a 
 boy with a bent bow; who, when Gerbert's ser- 
 vant 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 him- 
 self 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 
 dykes, by a whole dream-world of fantastic imagi- 
 nations, 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 ; 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 Tor- 
 frida had as yet managed both the abbot and the 
 marquis successfully. Lances had been splin- 
 
172 Hereward the Wake 
 
 tered, 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 encourage- 
 ment to one Ascelin, a tall knight of St. Valeri, 
 the most renowned and courtly bully of those 
 parts, by bestowing on him a scrap of ribbon, and 
 bidding him keep it against all comers. By this 
 means she ensured the personal chastisement of 
 all other youths who dared to lift their eyes to her, 
 while she by no means bound herself to her spa- 
 dassin of St. Valeri. The method was rough; 
 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 
 the dykes 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 Arnoul with him all day? Madder still, in 
 taking him out to battle against the Count of 
 Guisnes? He might be a spy, the avant-courier 
 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 him- 
 
The Art to Win Hereward's Love 173 
 
 self in disguise ? And so forth. All which Tor- 
 frida 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 fight- 
 ing, 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 mar- 
 quis at the head of them all, with Robert le Prison 
 on one side of him, and on the other Hereward, as 
 fresh as flowers in May, Torfrida 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 Broche- 
 liaunde, 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 to win his 
 love. But neither saw the other for a while ; and 
 
174 Hereward the Wake 
 
 it might have been better for one of them had 
 they never seen each 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 Here- 
 ward. But far sharper thorns in his side, which 
 had troubled many a count before, and were des- 
 tined to trouble others afterward, were those 
 unruly Zeelanders, or Frisians, who dwelt in Scald- 
 mariland, 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 and savage; living mostly, as 
 in Caesar's time, in huts raised above the sea, on 
 piles or mounds of earth ; often without cattle or 
 seed-field; 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 mon- 
 grel 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, 
 
176 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 
 their first struggle — that between Civilis and the 
 Romans, to their last — 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 for what generally ac- 
 companies 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 true, 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 wdnd blows out of the clouds and the 
 world stands.*' The feudal system never took 
 root in their soil.^ If a Frank Count was to gov- 
 ern 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 
 1 Motley. " Rise of the Dutch Republic.*' 
 
How Hereward Went to the War 177 
 
 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, burned them at his wicked 
 will, extirpating it may be heresy, but not the 
 spirit of the race. That spirit, crushed down and 
 seemingly enslaved during the middle age, under 
 Count Dirk and his descendants, still lived ; des- 
 tined 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," 
 
 js_ 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 
 
178 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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, 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 trouble- 
 some Hollanders to his younger son Robert, the 
 Viking whom little Arnoul 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. Robert 
 
How Hereward Went to the War 179 
 
 had 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. He then, 
 it would seem, started in palmer^s guise, nomi- 
 nally for Jerusalem, but really for Byzant. For, 
 according to Lambert of Aschaffenbourg, certain 
 Norman Vikings had offered to make him Kaiser of 
 Greece, and more than rival of Robert Guiscard in 
 his new Italian kingdom. But the existing Greek 
 Kaiser, hearing of the plot, commanded him to be 
 slain as soon as he set foot on shore. To avoid 
 which end the disappointed palmer wended home- 
 ward once more, and resolved to change thence- 
 forth the salt water for the fresh, and leave the 
 swan's-path for that of the humble ducks and 
 geese of Holland. 
 
 So he rushed to avenge the wrongs of the 
 Countess Gertrude; and his father, whose 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. 
 
 Then 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. And 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 Nae- 
 mansson, as it pleases you to be called,'' said Bald- 
 win, 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." 
 
i8o Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 Arnoul. 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 com- 
 mon sense had their way. 
 
 No sacred or divine right was held to be con- 
 ferred by the fact of a man's being the first-born 
 son. As among the Jews of old, the Lord's 
 anointed " was usually rather a younger son of 
 
How Hereward Went to the War 1 8 1 
 
 talent and virtue ; one born, not according to the 
 flesh, but according to the spirit, Hke David and 
 Solomon. And so it was in other realms besides 
 Flanders during the middle age. The father 
 handed on the work — for ruHng was hard work 
 in those days — to the son most able to do it. 
 Therefore we can believe Lambert of Aschaffen- 
 bourg when he says, that in Count Baldwin's fam- 
 ily for many ages the son 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, fratricidal 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 royal 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 nothing, 
 and his brother all in all — 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 prom- 
 ised him the succession, — which indeed he had 
 worthily deserved, according to the laws of Mam- 
 mon 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 
 
i82 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 fratrici- 
 dal day of February 22, 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 hon- 
 ored, 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 ! 
 
 He turned to young Arnoul — 
 
 *' Give me your man, boy ! 
 
 Arnoul pouted. He wanted to keep his Viking 
 for himself, and said so. 
 
 He is to teach me to go leding, as the Norse- 
 men 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 Zeeland 
 frogs for me ; and then, if you will 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 ! " quoth the marquis, " I 
 
How Hereward Went to the War 183 
 
 cannot have you poked through with a Zeeland 
 pike, or rotted with a Zeeland ague/' 
 Arnoul pouted still. 
 
 "Abbot, what hast thou been at with the boy? 
 He thinks of naught but blood and wounds, in- 
 stead of books and prayers. He is gone mad after 
 this — this knight." 
 
 The abbot," said Hereward, knows by hear- 
 ing of his ears, that I bid him bide at home, and try 
 to govern lands in peace, like his father and you, 
 lord marquis." 
 
 *'Eh?" 
 
 The abbot told honestly what had passed be- 
 tween Hereward and the lad, as they rode to St. 
 Bertin. 
 
 Baldwin was silent, thinking, and smiling joUily, 
 as was the wont of the Debonair. 
 
 You are a man of sense, beausire. Come with 
 me," said he at last. 
 
 And Baldwin, 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 corners 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 mer- 
 chants, and wandering knights, and pirate rascals 
 — like yourself." 
 
184 Hereward the Wake 
 
 "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 
 of Outlaws ' 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. 
 
 So Hereward went off to exterminate the wicked 
 Hollanders, and avenge the wrongs of the Countess 
 Gertrude. 
 
 1 Eltgiva Emma, between Ethelred*s ruin and her marriage 
 with Canute ; Sweyn Godwinsson when outlawed by Edward the 
 Confessor, and after them, as will be seen, every one who, how- 
 ever fallen, seemed strong enough to rise again some day, took 
 refuge one after another with Baldwin. See, for the history of 
 him and his times, Kervyn de Lettenhoven. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 HOW HEREWARD WON THE MAGIC ARMOR 
 
 ORFRIDA had special opportunities of hear- 
 
 X ing about Hereward ; for young Arnoul 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, Here- 
 ward'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 Here^ 
 ward was bound to no lady-love, and owned (so 
 he had told Arnoul) no mistress save the sword on 
 his thigh. 
 
 Whereby there had grown up in the hearts of 
 both of them a mutual interest, which easily 
 became the parent of love. 
 
 When Baldwin the great marquis came to St. 
 Omer, to receive the homage of Eustace of Guisnes, 
 young Arnoul ran into Torfrida's chamber in great 
 
1 86 Hereward the Wake 
 
 anxiety. Would his grandfather approve of what 
 he had done ? Would he allow his new friendship 
 with the unknown? 
 
 '^What care 1?^' said Torfrida. "But if your 
 friend wishes to have the marquises 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, Arnoul, to talk of ladies 
 to men whom they do not know." 
 
 Arnoul 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. Every- 
 thing he says and does — every look — shows his 
 birth." 
 
 "You are young — as you have shown by talk- 
 ing of me to him. But I have given you my 
 advice;" and she moved listlessly 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 droppe^d her 
 comb. 
 
 " Pick up that comb, girl. You need not go 
 away. I have no secrets with young gentlemen." 
 
How Hereward Won the Armor 187 
 
 I thought you would be glad to hear," said 
 Arnoul. 
 
 " 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 
 Zeelanders." 
 
 *'And if he be an earFs 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 more." 
 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." 
 " I shall laugh 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." 
 
1 88 Hereward the Wake 
 
 "Beneath his beard?'' 
 
 " Some scar, I suppose, or secret mark. I must 
 know. You will find out for your Torfrida, will 
 you not, nurse ? " 
 
 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 roar- 
 ing 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 
 
How Hereward Won the Armor 189 
 
 fairy beast; 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 com- 
 fort : 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 be- 
 cause 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 
 
190 Hereward the Wake 
 
 lives, not to step across the threshold, or they 
 would be swallowed (as Martin, who was the mad- 
 dest 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 deterrpined to believe their own eyes, 
 and after a while fell asleep in heaps in the road- 
 side, 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 Light- 
 foot, who had drunk most of the poison, and had 
 always been dreamy and uncanny, in spite of his 
 shrewdness and humor, had, from that day for- 
 ward, 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 
 tournaments at Pons and Poitiers,^ where all the 
 noblest knights of France would assemble, to win 
 their honor and ladies' love by hewing at each 
 other's sinful bodies. Thither, too, over three 
 hundred and fifty miles of bad road, 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 
 1 " Apud Pontes et Pictaviam " — Pons in Xaintonge. 
 
How Hereward Won the Armor 191 
 
 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 Poitiers, a right gallant 
 meinie : while Torfrida watched them go from the 
 lattice window. 
 
 And when they had passed down the street, 
 tramping and jingling and caracoHng, young 
 Arnoul 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 ox ? 
 
 Afraid? Who said I was afraid? Sir Ascelin 
 is no ox, either, but a courteous and gallant 
 knight/' 
 
 ** You are as pale as death ; and Sir " 
 
 Never mind what I am," said she, putting her 
 hands over the boy's 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 a fair right to say so. 
 
192 Hereward the Wake 
 
 At last news came. 
 
 Torfrida 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. He said his name 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 more beauti- 
 ful than ever ; her color heightened by the quick 
 beating of her heart; her dark hair, worn loose 
 and long, after the fashion of those days, stream- 
 ing around her and behind her. 
 
 A handsome young man stood in the doorway, 
 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 — alive? " 
 Alive and gay, and all the more gay at being 
 able to send to the Lady Torfrida by me some- 
 thing 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 French friends 
 
How Hereward Won the Armor 193 
 
 attacked us in force ; and we Flemings, with Here- 
 ward at our head, beat them off; and overthrew 
 so many, that we are almost all horsed at the 
 Frenchmen'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 AsceHn." 
 Only bruised : but he shall be killed, if you 
 will." 
 
 '' God forbid ! " 
 
 Then," said the knight, 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 
 
 VOL. I. — 13 
 
194 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 Here- 
 ward. Now I am thankful enough that I am only 
 Siward; and not Hereward, who wins for himself 
 contempt by overthrowing a knight more fortu- 
 nate 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 Paladin ! How I have longed 
 for this moment ! How I have toiled for it, and 
 not in vain! Alas, alas! — what am I saying?** 
 And she tried, in her turn, to escape from Here- 
 ward'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 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, 
 
How Hereward Won the Armor 195 
 
 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 hunters 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 her- 
 self 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 find her alone in the 
 forest, show themselves as very ruffians as if they 
 were Paynim Moors. We are rough, lady, we Eng' 
 lish ; but those who trust us find us true." 
 
196 Hereward the Wake 
 
 ''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 weaF'Before*!!!! tKe 
 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, served as a com- 
 mon seat for 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. 
 
How Hereward Won the Armor 197 
 
 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 at once, or trust never," 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 mis- 
 tress, and mistress of the wealth which her fore- 
 fathers 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 Hd 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 ! 
 
198 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 deli- 
 cacy and slightness of the mail-rings, and the rich- 
 ness 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.'* 
 
 Sun in heaven ! 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 con- 
 founded 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. 
 
How Hereward Won the Armor 199 
 
 *'They were in the amphitheatre at Aries, the 
 Saracens, where the blessed martyr St. Trophi- 
 mus had died in torments ; they had set up their 
 idol of Mahound, and turned the place into a for- 
 tress. Charles burned 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 
 Montmajour, 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 with- 
 out a wound, while every stroke of his scimitar 
 shore off a head of horse or man. Charles him- 
 self 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, 
 
 1 I have followed the old legends, as Torfrida would have 
 heard them ; and they are not altogether to be disbelieved. The 
 Church of the Holy Cross, perhaps the most beautiful Roman- 
 esque building in Europe, is said to date not from the year 739, 
 but from 1019, and from Pons de Marignan, Bishop of Aries. 
 But the rock graves round — some of them very old, though not 
 those of "primitive Christians" — indicate a religio loci, which 
 must have been the cause, not the consequence, of the church. 
 Probably an older building had existed on the site. And, cer- 
 tainly, if the monks of Montmajour had invented both legend 
 and place, they would have rather chosen for the latter St. 
 Trophimus' cave in the hill above, which is, surely, deducting the 
 Romanesque additions, one of the earliest of Christian monu- 
 ments. Moreover, the very name Montmajour, the " Mayor's 
 Mount," points to Charles Martel as the hero of the isolated hill 
 forming so strong a military position in the wide plain. 
 
200 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 burned him: and how 
 can he help us ? A tough arm is worth a score 
 of martyrs here.* 
 
 " And he rode at that Emir, and gripped 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 Montmajour; 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 my 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 ? " 
 
How Hereward Won the Armor 201 
 
 "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 su- 
 perstition 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. 
 
 Torfrida 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 ! " ^ 
 
 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." 
 
 1 " Volo enim in meo tale quid nunc perpeti corpore semel, 
 quicquid eas ferrei vel e metallo excederet." 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 HOW THE HOLLANDERS TOOK HEREWARD FOR 
 A MAGICIAN 
 
 V_>/ self 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, and well 
 furnished with ships and military engines, against 
 poor simple folk in coats stiffened with tar and 
 rosin, or in very short jackets of hide " (says the 
 chronicler), who fought by threes, two with a 
 hooked 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 wag- 
 ons, 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 Here- 
 ward, whom they esteemed a magician on account 
 of his craft and his invulnerable armor. 
 
 Holland war which dragged it 
 
How Fie was Taken for a Magician 203 
 
 So at least says Richard of Ely, who tells long 
 confused stories of battles and campaigns, some 
 of them without due regard to chronology ; for it 
 is certain that the brave Zeelanders could not 
 on Robertas first landing have feared lest they 
 should be conquered by foreigners, as they had 
 heard the English were by the French,*' inasmuch 
 as that event had not then happened. 
 
 And thus much of the war among the Meres of 
 Scheldt. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 HOW HEREWARD TURNED BERSERKER 
 
 TORFRIDA^S heart misgave her that first 
 night as to the effects of her exceeding 
 frankness. Her pride, in the first place, was some- 
 what 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 remem- 
 ber 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 ; 
 
How Hereward Turned Berserker 205 
 
 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 her- 
 self 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 bar- 
 barians 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 western races. 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 
 culture had given a charm to their manners, a 
 wideness of range to their thoughts, which Here- 
 ward had not. 
 
 Especially when he had taken too much to 
 drink — which he did, after the Danish fashion, far 
 oftener than the rest of Robert'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 
 
2o6 Hereward the Wake 
 
 sport, and outvied each other in impossible fan- 
 faronades, 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 announce 
 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 men- 
 tioned ; 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 was it to hear Hereward angrily 
 dispute the story, unaware (at least at first) that he 
 was being laughed at. 
 
 Then she grew sometimes cold, sometimes con- 
 temptuous, sometimes altogether fierce ; and shed 
 bitter tears in secret when she was complimented 
 on the modesty of her young savage. 
 
 But Torfrida 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 
 
How Hereward Turned Berserker 207 
 
 world of higher and purer morality, which was 
 opened for the first time to the wandering Viking. 
 
 He, for his part, drank it all in. Taught by a 
 woman who loved him, he could listen to humiliat- 
 ing 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 — afar 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. 
 
 Nevertheless there were relapses, as was natural. 
 The wine at Robert the Prison'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, out of which 
 arose a strange adventure. 
 
 It befell that 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 ofd 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 with them ; and they feasted, and harped, 
 and sang ; and the saying was fulfilled — 
 
 " 'T is merry in the hall. 
 When beards wag all." 
 
 But the only beard which wagged in that hall was 
 Hereward's ; for the Flemings, Hke the Normans, 
 
2o8 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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. 
 
 After a while Hereward's beard began to wag 
 somewhat too fast, as he sat by Torfrida's side. 
 For 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; and insinuated, 
 moreover, that Hereward might as well have 
 brought that mare home with him as a trophy. 
 
 To which 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, never- 
 theless.'* 
 
 ''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 no man that has 
 taken a blow as yet, has ever 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.'' 
 
How Hereward Turned Berserker 209 
 
 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 Ber- 
 serker at last, Hke 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^urprise, 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. 
 
 VOL. I. — 14 
 
2IO 
 
 Here ward the Wake 
 
 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 
 fooHsh 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 mail, which he flung at her feet some- 
 what unceremoniously. 
 
How Hereward Turned Berserker 211 
 
 "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 w^hen they are well off, they will go 
 farther and fare worse," says Martin Lightfoot. 
 And he slipped 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, tried to harden her heart again, and went 
 to bed, but not to sleep. 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 dressed herself quickly, but never more 
 carefully or gayly. She heard the tramp of horse- 
 hoofs. He was moving a-field early, indeed. 
 
212 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 Httle window in the gable. There rode down 
 the street Robert le Prison in full armor, and behind 
 him, knight after knight, a wall of shining steel. 
 But by his side rode one bareheaded, 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 appear- 
 ances. 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. 
 
looked tip boldly, and smiled. 
 
\ 
 
^,ON;nn" ALisa3MNn 
 mi -10 
 
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, grind- 
 ing and chatting at the handquern ; from without, 
 the pleasant noise of geese and fowls without num- 
 ber. 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 Count- 
 ess Gertrude, Robert the Prison and his Christian 
 Franks had not yet 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 had plainly no busi- 
 ness there. Whereon he took up a mighty staff, 
 and strode over the fen to see. 
 
 He found neither wolf nor badger : but to his ex- 
 ceeding 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 
 
214 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 its hind legs in his face, and then springing 
 on to the said hind legs ran away with extraordi- 
 nary swiftness some fifty yards ; after which it went 
 down on all fours and began grazing again. 
 
 '^Beest thou man or devil?" cried Dirk, some- 
 what 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 be- 
 gan 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 seven years of woful wandering?" 
 
 I have no man's sister here. At least, my 
 wife's brother was killed " 
 
 I speak not of a sister in woman's shape. 
 Mine, alas ! — O woful prince, O more woful prin- 
 cess — 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 
 
How Hereward Won Mare Swallow 215 
 
 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 con- 
 sidered 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 enchant- 
 ments 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. 
 
21 6 Here ward the Wake 
 
 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." 
 
 '*Afoal?" 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 enchanters 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, per- 
 
How Hereward Won Mare Swallow 217 
 
 haps, that foul enchanter visits in your fen, per- 
 haps in your very stable, his wretched bride 
 restored (alas, only for an hour !) into her human 
 shape/* 
 
 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 St. Vitus* dance, your wife 
 the creeping palsy, and yourself the chalk-stones 
 in all your fingers.'* 
 
 All saints 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 
 preferrest to be his, and scornest thine own salva- 
 tion, 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 
 
21 8 Here ward the Wake 
 
 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 vile 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 '11 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 ; whereby thou wilt both 
 lose thy money, and get her curse. Farewell, and 
 my mahson 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 like- 
 wise. No one, that evening, dare go down into 
 
How Hereward Won Mare Swallow 219 
 
 the fen to drive the horses up ; while Dirk got 
 very drunk, went to bed, and trembled there all 
 night (as did the rest of the household), expect- 
 ing 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 $ave from 
 
220 Here ward the Wake 
 
 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, that a child might ride 
 
 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 trouble- 
 some, 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, thank- 
 ing 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 
 hindquarters, and began to see the great length 
 of those same quarters, the thighs let down into 
 
How Hereward Won Mare Swallow 221 
 
 the hocks, the compact 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 croup, it is so ill set 
 on." 
 
 " 111 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 prin- 
 cess ; 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, gal- 
 loped 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 
 
222 Hereward the Wake 
 
 ugly brute she is, nevertheless, and such an 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. 
 
 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 in vain for help, he 
 leaped on Swallow, and rode off shouting — 
 
How Hereward Won Mare Swallow 223 
 
 " 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 must be a 
 luckier man than you, who catches the Wake 
 asleep. 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 Zeelanders had been beaten till they sub- 
 mitted ; 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 her 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 gal- 
 lant retinue, leading home his bride. And there 
 met him his father and mother, and his brother of 
 Mons, and Richilda the beautiful and terrible sor- 
 ceress — who had not yet stained her soul with 
 those crimes which she expiated by fearful pen- 
 ances in after years, when young Arnoul, the son 
 for whom she had sold her soul, lay dead upon the 
 
How Hereward Rode into Bruges 225 
 
 battlefield which was to have made him a mighty- 
 prince. And Torfrida went out with the nobles 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. Never- 
 theless 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 cham- 
 ber ; 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 
 VOL. I. — 15 
 
226 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 pray- 
 ing 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." 
 
How Hereward Rode into Bruges 227 
 
 "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, and 
 thought no harm. 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." 
 
 did not. He angered me — He " and 
 
 Torfrida found herself in the act of accusing 
 Hereward. 
 
 She stopped instantly. 
 
 "What more, your highness? If this be true, 
 what more may not be true of such an 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 
 
228 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 livid that Adela 
 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 Highness, here is the 
 strangest adventure. There is ridden into the 
 castle-yard a beggarman 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 has 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?" 
 
How Hereward Rode into Bruges 229 
 
 That it is a fair challenge and a good adven- 
 ture; and that fight he shall, if any man will 
 answer his defiance." 
 
 And I say, tell my lord 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 be- 
 ^ ing 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 con- 
 fessed 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 Montmajour. 
 
 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 acci- 
 dents, and when cruelty and wrong went for noth- 
 ing, 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 wsharp," 
 
 and considered that the beggarman could wear no 
 armor, and that she wore none either. For if she 
 succeeded in slaying that beggarman, she might 
 need to slay herself after, to avoid being — accord- 
 ing to the fashion of those days — burned alive. 
 
230 Hereward the Wake 
 
 So when the arras was drawn back, and that beg- 
 garman came into the room, instead of shrieking, 
 fainting, hiding, or turning, she made three steps 
 straight toward him, looking him in the face Hke a 
 wildcat 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 were 
 all in elf-locks ; and one heavy cut across the head 
 had shorn not only hair, but brain-pan, very close. 
 
 But Hereward it was ; and regardless of all be- 
 holders, she lay upon his neck, and never stirred 
 nor spoke. 
 
 call you to witness, ladies," cried the queen- 
 countess, that I am guiltless. She has given her- 
 self to this beggarman 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-coun- 
 tess, 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 Ger- 
 trude, 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." 
 
How Hereward Rode into Bruges 231 
 
 " 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 
 bedfellows. 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?" 
 
 " Oh ! 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 
 
 HE winter passed in sweet madness ; and for 
 
 X the first time in her Hfe, 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 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 her- 
 self was rich, and seems to have had the disposal 
 of her own property ; for her mother is not men- 
 tioned 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 Prison, 
 the rents whereof were not paid as regularly as might 
 be. Moreover, as " Magister Milititm^' 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 
 
How Godwinsson Came to St. Omer 233 
 
 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, ac- 
 cording to a rough list which he furnished — bid- 
 ding 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, espe- 
 cially, 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 cam- 
 paign, had all vowed him the most gallant of 
 warriors, and since his accession of wealth, the 
 most courteous of gentlemen ; and all went mer- 
 rily, 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 V- 
 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 boards and trestles, and 
 stoops and mugs thereon ; cooking of victuals, 
 
2 34 Here ward the Wake 
 
 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 war. 
 
 And by mid-day 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 Here- 
 ward, 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 ! " 
 
How Godwinsson Came to St. Omer 235 
 
 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 m.yself." 
 
 '* 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 Hsten. 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 
 
236 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 wolfs head, and a 
 landless man? 
 
 Oh, 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 wolfs 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 Httle 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 Ulfs father and the Gospatrics?" 
 
 They were I knov/ not where. But old 
 Gospatric came down to Westminster, to demand 
 law for his grandnephew's blood." 
 
 " A silly thing of the old Thane, to walk into 
 the wolfs den." 
 
 And so he found. He was stabbed there, 
 three days after Christmastide, and men say that 
 Queen Edith did it, for love of Tosti, her brother. 
 Then Dolphin and the Gospatrics took to the sea, 
 
How Godwinsson Came to St. Omer 237 
 
 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 ser- 
 vant 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 your nephew 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 
 
238 Here ward the Wake 
 
 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 play 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 cour- 
 tesies concerning you, as made my 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 thaneship 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 in 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." 
 
How Godwinsson Came to St. Omer 239 
 
 " 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 Ethehng 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 Here- 
 ward 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, maybe — maybe, I thought at whiles, a 
 king. But it could not be. It did not stand wuth 
 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 jt 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?" 
 
240 Hereward the Wake 
 
 " It was not so said to me that I could answer. 
 I had it by a side wind, through the Countess 
 Judith." 1 
 
 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 Here- 
 ward. " 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 — promis- 
 ing lands, rank, money, what not. Tosti is re- 
 cruiting 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 
 
 1 Tosti's wife, Earl Baldwin's daughter, sister of Matilda, 
 William the Conqueror's wife. 
 
How Godwinsson Came to St. Omer 241 
 
 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 bless- 
 ing, and the Pope's banner — Dare we resist 
 
 the Holy Father?" 
 
 Holy stepfather, you mean ; for a stepfather 
 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 Norse- 
 men, 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. 
 
 VOL. I. — 16 
 
242 Here ward the Wake 
 
 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 min- 
 sters, and his men are sober, and wise, and learned 
 like clerks 
 
 And false like clerks, as he is himself. School- 
 craft and honesty never went yet together, Tor- 
 
 frida- " 
 
 '^Not in me?" 
 
 " You are not a clerk : you are a woman, and 
 more than woman; 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 hireHngs 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 darhngs, his housecarles, his hawks to sit on 
 his fist and fly at his game; and EngHsh 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 
 
How Godwinsson Came to St. Omer 243 
 
 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 WilHam's darling, and the great- 
 est 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 de- 
 serves? 
 
 Because my art, and my heart too, tells me that 
 your fortunes and his are Hnked 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, 
 Gratis ? 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 
 Alengon, 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. I know him : but he must go far and 
 thrive well ere I give him a chance of doing that 
 by the Wake." 
 
 " Hereward, Hereward, my own ! Boast not, 
 
244 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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, hand- 
 less " 
 
 " 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 Here- 
 ward, trying to laugh away her fears — and per- 
 haps his own, that while he has the Holy Father 
 on his side, he can need no help from a poor sin- 
 ful 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 Wil- 
 liam 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. 
 
How Godwinsson Came to St. Omer 245 
 
 Robert the Prison heard of it, and tried to per- 
 suade 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 Gos- 
 patric, 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 d Voutrance^ with any weapons he might 
 choose.*' 
 
 Heaven protect him in that case/' quoth 
 Robert the Prison. 
 
 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. 
 Suddenly he turned traitor (no man knows why) 
 to his good brother-in-law and new ally, William 
 of Normandy; and 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, clapped 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 distinc- 
 tion less common now than then, when a man's 
 honor, as well as his safety, depended on his striking ^ 
 again, when he was struck. 
 
Asked to Slay an Old Comrade 247 
 
 "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 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 a princess into my house ! " and Gilbert 
 swore a great deal. 
 
 How was she a princess? I forget,'' said Here- 
 ward, 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 '11 tell you. She was Gospatric'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." 
 
 ''Gospatric, that fought at Dunsinane?" 
 
 "Yes; not the old Thane, his uncle, whom Tosti 
 has murdered: but Gospatric, 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 
 
248 Hereward the Wake 
 
 his sons. I took her: but 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 Hved. 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 spring- 
 aid as you were then.'* 
 
 " You were very kind. But how is she a prin- 
 cess?" 
 
 Princess ? Twice over. Her father was of high 
 blood among the Saxons; and if not, are not all 
 the Gospatrics Ethelings? Their grandmother^ 
 Uchtred's wife, was Ethelred Evil-Counsel's daugh- 
 ter; and I have heard that this girl's grandfather 
 was his son — but died young — or was killed. 
 Who cares?" 
 
 " Not I," quoth Hereward. 
 
 " Well — Gospatric wants to marry her to Dolfin, 
 his eldest son." 
 
 " Why, Dolfin had a wife when I was at Dun- 
 sinane." 
 
 " But she is dead since, and young Ulf, her son, 
 was murdered by Tosti last winter." 
 " I know." 
 
 "Whereon Gospatric 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 
 
Asked to Slay an Old Comrade 249 
 
 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 rogue 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 a ravisher, and 
 offered 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 who 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 nowadays, 
 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 campionem — 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 
 
250 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 Gospatric, I have a hornet's nest about 
 my ears. Not only he and his sons — who are 
 masters of Scotch Northumberland ^ — 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 princess, 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 
 
 1 Between Tweed and Forth. 
 
Asked to Slay an Old Comrade 251 
 
 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 Gospatrics." 
 ^^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, laugh- 
 ing; " 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 Here- 
 
252 Hereward the Wake 
 
 ward. Come along. But could we not poison 
 this Dolfin, after all?** 
 
 To which proposal Hereward gave no encour- 
 agement. 
 
 And now, my tres beau sire, 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 be- 
 lieve 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 learned clerk you are yourself! 
 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 Sun- 
 day 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 ser- 
 
Asked to Slay an Old Comrade 253 
 
 mon 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 
 of 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 had, 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 minds, 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, 
 
254 Hereward the Wake 
 
 and so has Edith his sister, and what of them, Sieur 
 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. Un- 
 justly 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- 
 bye. 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 Dol- 
 fin ; and when the magnificent young Scot sprang 
 to him, embraced him, bewailed his murdered boy, 
 talked over old passages, compHmented 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 ad- 
 joining 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 
 
Asked to Slay an Old Comrade 255 
 
 truth. So beautiful a damsel 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 recog- 
 nition, 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. 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 twanged a harp, and Dolfin's min- 
 strel 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 lady, my lord marquis, and knights all. 
 
256 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 fair lady had never 
 known the whole fervency of your love ; nor these 
 noble knights and yourself the whole evenness of 
 Count Baldwin's justice." 
 
 Alftruda turned her head away half contempt- 
 uously ; 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 Here- 
 ward himself ? 
 
 However, he said to himself that it was no con- 
 cern 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 Alf- 
 truda, 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 true, news half true, news false. 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 w^ith 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 ; that he had 
 enough to hold his own against the Norsemen, 
 and could not afford to throw for such high stakes 
 as his mighty uncle. 
 
 Then news how Tosti had been to Norway, to 
 Harold Hardraade, and asked him why he had been 
 VOL. I. — 17 
 
258 Here ward the Wake 
 
 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 Here- 
 ward, 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 lands- 
 folk to give him money and food. 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 Lin- 
 colnshire, out of brute spite to the Danes who 
 had expelled him. 
 
 Then came news how he had got into the Hum- 
 ber ; how Morcar and Edwin with the Northum- 
 brians had driven him out; and how he had gone 
 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 
 
How Hereward Took the News 259 
 
 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 delib- 
 erate 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 — that 
 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 them- 
 selves. Would that neither might win ! Would 
 that they would destroy and devour, till there was 
 none left of Frenchmen or of Norwegians ! 
 
 So sung Hereward, after his heathen fashion: 
 and his housecarles applauded the song. But Tor- 
 frida 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? 
 
26 o Hereward the Wake 
 
 That of Harold Godwinsson, the usurper? That 
 of the tanners 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 Dane- 
 lagh. And bitterly he cursed his youthful sins, as 
 he rode to and fro almost daily to the port, 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 Chan- 
 nel, 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 suUenness ; 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 up the estuary. 
 A man just landed stood on the beach, gesticulat- 
 ing, and calling in an unknown tongue to the by- 
 
How Hereward Took the News 261 
 
 standers, who laughed at him, and seemed incHned 
 to misuse him. 
 
 Hereward galloped down the beach. 
 Out of the way, villains ! Why, man, you are 
 a Norseman ! 
 
 Norseman am I, jarl ; 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 Hard- 
 raade, 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." ^ 
 
 1 For the details of this battle, see Snorro Sturleson ; or the 
 admirable description in Bulwer's "Harold." 
 
262 Hereward the Wake 
 
 How earnest 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 babbhng at? 
 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. 
 
How Hereward Took the News 263 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 Enghsh land, and fight; and I saw the banners 
 floating. And before the English army was 
 a great witch-wife, 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." ^ 
 
 "What the devil is that to thee if I be?" 
 
 "Naught. But be comforted. I am a necro- 
 mancer; 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 
 witch-wife 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 witch- 
 wife sing an evil song."^ 
 
 ^ Prophesying his own death ; literally, "fated." 
 2 For these two dreams, see Snorro Sturleson. 
 
264 Here ward the Wake 
 
 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, though not without growling and motions as 
 of getting their weapons. 
 
 come in peace, my men, I come in peace: 
 this is no time for brawls. Where is the steward, 
 or one of the countess' 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, jarl and ladies," and he drew from 
 his bosom a reliquary. Ulf the marshal took this 
 off the jarl's neck, and bade me give it to none but 
 his lady. Therefore, with your pardon, sir jarl, I 
 did not tell you that I had it, not knowing whether 
 you were an honest man." 
 
How Hereward Took the News 265 
 
 Thou hast done well ; and an honest man 
 thou shalt find me, though no jarl as yet. 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 L" 
 
 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 terri- 
 ble 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." ^ 
 
 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." 
 
 1 There was a general rumor abroad that the end of the world 
 was at hand ; for the " one thousand years " of prophecy had 
 expired. 
 
266 Here ward the Wake 
 
 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 Englishman to deal 
 with." 
 
 Hereward, Hereward, do not be unjust to the 
 dead. Men say — the Normans say — that they 
 fought Hke 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 them- 
 selves all England." 
 
 Torfrida shook her head. To her, as to most 
 foreigners, Wessex and the southeast counties were 
 England ; the most civihzed ; the most French ; 
 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 French civiliza- 
 tion, it was the very part where the Frenchman 
 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. 
 
How Here ward Took the News 267 
 
 and walked to and fro. If all the Godwinssons 
 be dead, there are Leofricssons left, I trust, and 
 Siward's kin, and the Gospatrics in Northumbriae 
 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 traitor 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 God- 
 winssons themselves, by fair means or foul, and 
 send their heads to WiUiam.'* 
 
 " 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 — Oh, that I had but been there, what things 
 
268 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 Here- 
 ward laughed bitterly. I suppose one will mur- 
 der 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 Gospatric, 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 red- 
 dened, and his eyes kindled. And when she told 
 of the last struggle round the Dragon^ standard; 
 of Harold's mighty figure in the front of all, hew- 
 ing with his great double-headed axe, and then 
 rolling in gore and agony, an arrow in his eyeball ; 
 of the last rally of the men of Kent ; of Gurth, the 
 
 1 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. 
 
How Hereward Took the News 269 
 
 last defender of the standard, falling by William's 
 sword ; of 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 Godwins- 
 sons ! 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 j 
 her tyrants, and win yourself immortal fame." | 
 
 " Fool that I am, I verily beHeve 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 a 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 ; 
 
270 Hereward the Wake 
 
 and the kitchen to which we shall be sent down to 
 turn our own spits, unless we mend our manners 
 mightily." 
 
 Hereward looked at the man. Madness glared 
 unmistakably in his eyes. 
 
 " You have killed him ! " 
 And buried him, cheating the priests." 
 
 " Traitor ! 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 aUve. 
 
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 conversations 
 which ensued thereon between Baldwin and his 
 courtiers, and between 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 neighbor- 
 ing 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. 
 Edwin called himself Earl of Mercia, and held the 
 
272 Hereward the Wake 
 
 Danish burghs. On the extreme northwest, the 
 Roman city of Chester was his; while on the 
 extreme southeast (as Domesday Book testifies), 
 Morcar still held large lands round Bourne, and 
 throughout the South of Lincolnshire, besides call- 
 ing himself the Earl of Northumbria. The young 
 men seemed the darlings of the half-Danish North- 
 men. 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, putting Morcar in his place. Morcar, in- 
 stead of residing in his earldom of Northumbria, 
 had made one Oswulf his deputy: but he had 
 rivals enough. There was Gospatric, claiming 
 through his grandfather Uchtred, and strong in 
 the protection of his cousin Malcolm, King of 
 Scotland ; there was young Waltheof, " the forest 
 thief," — or rather, perhaps, the thief of slaugh- 
 ter," 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 
 
Godwin's Widow Came to St. Omer 273 
 
 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 Eng- 
 land. 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 Con- 
 stance, 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,^ or Elfgiva, widow 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 Hun- 
 garian, widow of Edmund the outlaw, dwelt at 
 
 ^ See her history, told, as none other can tell it, in Bulwer's 
 "Harold." 
 
 VOL. I. — l8 
 
274 Hereward the Wake 
 
 Romsey in Hampshire, under William^s care. Her 
 son Edgar 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 immured 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 
 Vikings 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 Fdcamp, 
 displaying to Franks, Flemings, and Bretons, as 
 well as to his own Normans, the treasures of 
 Edward's palace at Westminster, and more Eng- 
 lish 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 hav- 
 ing 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 
 
Godwin's Widow Came to St. Omer 275 
 
 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 Eng- 
 land. Little do they seem to have cared for Wil- 
 liam's promise to the EngHsh 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 Eng- 
 Hshman 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,^ 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 
 
 1 The late Sir F. Palgrave. 
 
276 Hereward the Wake 
 
 to their father's cousin, Ulfsson of Denmark, 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 Gospatric 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 suc- 
 cess showed, a man of ability and courage, he 
 determined on a stroke of policy, which had incal- 
 culable after-effects on the history of Scotland. 
 He persuaded Agatha the Hungarian, Margaret 
 and Christina her daughters, and Edgar the Ethel- 
 ing 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, him- 
 self a Norman, rebelled at the head of the down- 
 trodden men of Kent; and the Welshmen were 
 
Godwin's Widow Came to St. Omer 277 
 
 harrying Herefordshire with fire and sword, in 
 revenge for Norman ravages. 
 
 But as yet the storm did not burst. WiUiam 
 returned, and with him something Hke 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 West- 
 minster in wrath. Waltheof followed them, 
 having discovered — what he was weak enough 
 continually to forget again — the treachery of the 
 
278 Hereward the Wake 
 
 Norman. The young earls went off — one mid- 
 landward, 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, burning, some- 
 times, whole towns, massacring or mutilating young 
 and old, and leaving, as he went on, a new portent, 
 a Norman donjon — till then all but unseen in Eng- 
 land — 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 
 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 Gospatric, 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, 
 
Godwin's Widow Came to St. Omer 279 
 
 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 am- 
 bassadors to William, and took (at least for his 
 Cumbrian lands on this side the border) that oath 
 of fealty to the Basileus of Britain,'' which more 
 than one Scottish king and kinglet had taken be- 
 fore — with the secret proviso (which, during the 
 middle ages, seems to have been thoroughly un- 
 derstood 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 his- 
 tory of Hereward — Oger the Briton got many of 
 Morcar's manors round Bourne, and Gilbert of 
 Ghent many belonging to Marlesweyn about Lin- 
 coln 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 must have heard not 
 from flying rumors ; but from one who had seen, 
 and known, and judged of all.^ 
 
 ^ For Gyda's coming to St. Omer that year, see Ordericus 
 Vitalis. 
 
28 o Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 that 
 two of them were women of rank, to judge from 
 the rich materials of their travel-stained and tat- 
 tered 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, is 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 
 
Godwin's Widow Came to St. Omer 281 
 
 Hereward the outlaw; and his friends, Hereward 
 the master of knights.'* 
 
 She started, and threw her veil back, looking 
 intently at him. He, for his part, gave but one 
 glance and then cried — 
 
 " Mother of heaven ! You are the great count- 
 ess ! '' 
 
 " Yes, I was that woman once if all be not a 
 dream. I am now I know not what, seeking hos- 
 pitality — 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 Hke 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?" 
 
 * See note at end of this chapter. 
 
282 Hereward the Wake 
 
 " 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 Count- 
 ess Gyda, with all her train, was coming to be her 
 guest. And when they entered the court, Tor- 
 frida 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, display- 
 ing 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 Holm there, in the Severn 
 sea. I have become as foul as my own fortunes ; 
 
Godwin's Widow Came to St. Omer 283 
 
 and why not? It is all of a piece. Why should 
 not beggars go unwashed?'' 
 
 But when Torfrida offered Gunhilda the bath, 
 she declined. 
 
 I have done, lady, with such carnal vanities. 
 What use in cleaning the body which is itself 
 unclean, and whitening the outside of this sepul- 
 chre? 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 ? 
 
284 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 Hved for me. Better to have been his but for 
 one day, than never to have been his at all. 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. Savior's in Bruges city were put- 
 ting 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, 
 
Godwin's Widow Came to St. Omer 285 
 
 that an English princess is a princess still in the 
 eyes of one more noble 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 elo- 
 quently 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.^ How they had 
 wandered up through Devon, found fishers* boats 
 at VVatchet in Somersetshire, and gone off to the 
 little desert island of the Flat Holm, 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 
 Debonair, 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 Holm, feeding on shell-fish, listening to 
 the wail of the sea-fowl, looking outside across the 
 
 1 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. 
 
286 Hereward the Wake 
 
 wan water for the sails which never came, my heart 
 broke down a moment. And I heard a voice cry- 
 ing, ' 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 bat- 
 tle, 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 Here- 
 ward, what do you do here? Do you not know 
 that your nephews' lands are parted between 
 grooms from Angers, and sculHons from Nor- 
 mandy? " 
 
 " 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 des- 
 perate 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 nor 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 
 
Godwin's Widow Came to St Omer 287 
 
 Scotland, to Gospatric 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 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 Ulfsson my nephew, or Asbiorn 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 
 
288 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 him- 
 self 
 
 However, some plan to join the families more 
 closely together might be thought on. One of 
 the young earls might marry Judith here. Wal- 
 theof 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/' 
 '*And Gospatric?" 
 
 " Gospatric," 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 
 more English than Dane : he will keep those 
 northern EngHsh more true to us." 
 
 **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 sufifice, what higher honor for 
 me, or for my daughter the queen, than to devote 
 our lands to the heroes who have won them back 
 for us?'' 
 
 Hereward hoped inwardly that Gyda would be 
 
Godwin's Widow Came to St. Omer 289 
 
 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, Eng- 
 land 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, por- 
 tioning 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 daugh- 
 ter, 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 
 VOL. I. — 19 
 
290 Hereward the Wake 
 
 which he was, the ablest English 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 — or 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 fjpr 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 under- 
 stand. 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?" 
 
 " Oh, heavens ! when am I not afraid for you? " 
 
Godwin's Widow Came to St. Omer 291 
 
 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 the Aa, 
 and sailed away north. 
 
292 Genealogy 
 
 Note. — I give so much of the pedigree of the Countess Gyda 
 as may serve to explain her connection with the Royal House of 
 Denmark. 
 
 King HARALD Bluetooth. 
 
 King SWEYN Forkbeard. 
 
 Thyra, m. Styrbiorn. 
 Thorkill Sprakaleg. 
 
 CANUTE the Great, 
 etc. 
 
 Estrid — Earl Ulf. 
 I 
 
 Gyda — Earl Godwin. 
 
 K. SWEYN. BioRN, Asbiorn, 
 
 murdered bv sacked 
 SwEYN Godwinsson, his Cousin. Peterborough. 
 
 I I 
 
 SwBYN HAROLD, Eadgitha, 
 (Outlawed), m. Algitha, tn. Edward 
 d. of Algar. the Confessor 
 
 Gyda, 
 m. WALDEMAR, 
 k. of Russia 
 (from whom derive, by 
 the Mother's side), 
 WALDEMAR I., 
 King of Denmark. 
 
 K. ERIC Clipping. 
 
 The House of Oldenburg. 
 
 I \ 
 Leofwin. Gyrth. 
 
 (Killed ai Hastings.) 
 
 Gunhilda. 
 (A Nun.) 
 
 Tostig, 
 m. Judith 
 of Flanders. 
 
 Sculo, 
 from whom derive 
 HAKON the Old, 
 
 etc. 
 
 Kings of Norway. 
 
 Katil Krok, 
 founded a noble 
 family in 
 Halogaland. 
 
 The House of Glucksburg. 
 ALEXANDRA, PRINCESS OF WALES. 
 
 Langebek (in his Scriptores Rerum Danicarum) tries ingeniously 
 enough to rationalize the mythic pedigree of Earl Siward Digre, 
 by making the Fairy Bear identical with Styrbiorn, Spratling 
 his son with Thorkill Sprakaleg, and Biorn Bearsson, father of 
 Siward, a brother of Earl Ulf and Countess Gyda. But if so, 
 Ulf and Gyda would have been notoriously of the House of the 
 Bear, and famous, like Siward, for their pointed ears. Beside, 
 Siward would thus have been the nephew of Countess Gyda and 
 Earl Godwin, a fact which is mentioned by no chronicler, and 
 which is inadmissible on account of Siward's age. His pedigree 
 is altogether mythical, and best left in the fairy-land whence it 
 sprang. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 HOW HEREWARD CLEARED BOURNE OF 
 FRENCHMEN 
 
 !T may have been well a week after, that Here- 
 ward came 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 southern and eastern 
 counties, still to be distinguished, by their huge 
 banks and dykes full of hedgerow timber, from the 
 more modern corn-lands outside, which were in 
 Hereward's time mostly common pasture-land, or 
 rough fen. 
 
 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 Frenchmen. 
 A pleasant and peaceable country we have come 
 back to." 
 
294 Hereward the Wake 
 
 " And a very strong fortress are they holding/* 
 said Hereward, against either French horsemen 
 or French 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 strategic 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 little 
 Hereward the wolfs-head?" 
 
 " Hereward ! shrieked the doughty little man. 
 " I took you for an accursed Norman in those out- 
 landish 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 w^as clapped on the 
 back, turned round and round, admired from head 
 to foot, shouted at by old companions of his boy- 
 hood, 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, 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 
 
He Cleared Bourne of Frenchmen 295 
 
 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 Frenchman has given it to a man of Gil- 
 bert 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. She fled to Bourne awhile ago out of Shrop- 
 shire. All her lands in those parts are given away 
 to Frenchmen. Even Coventry Minster was not 
 safe for her ; so hither she came : but even here 
 the French villains have found her out. 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 the Wake, as hun- 
 
296 Hereward the Wake 
 
 dreds 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. ^'Sad- 
 dle, 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 some- 
 what cleaned it out." 
 
 He rode slowly into the long street between the 
 overhanging gables, past the cross-ways, and along 
 the water-gang, and the high earth-banks of his 
 ancient home. Above them he could see the 
 great hall, its narrow windows all ablaze with 
 light. With a bitter growl he turned back, trying 
 to recollect a house where he could safely lodge. 
 Martin pointed one out. 
 
He Cleared Bourne of Frenchmen 297 
 
 Old Viking Surturbrand, the housecarle, did 
 live there ; and maybe lives there still.** 
 
 *'We will try;** and Martin knocked at the 
 doon 
 
 The wicket was opened, but not the door ; and 
 through the wicket window a surly voice asked 
 who was there. 
 
 "Who lives here?** 
 
 " Pery, 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 thy money ; ** and the wicket 
 was shut. 
 
 Martin pulled out his axe, and drove the panel 
 
 in. 
 
 ''What art doing? We shall rouse the town,*' 
 said Hereward. 
 
 ''Let be: these are no French, but honest 
 English, who 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 saints, or murdered we shall 
 be ere morning light.** 
 
 "Thou hast no call to stay in the town, man, 
 unless thou like.'* 
 
298 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 
 thou be a Christian man, thou wilt 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 Pery appeared, his 
 double axe over his shoulder. 
 
 If thou be from Flanders, come in in God's 
 name: but be quick, ere those Frenchmen get 
 wind of thee." 
 
 Hereward went in. Five or six men were stand- 
 ing 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 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?" 
 
He Cleared Bourne of Frenchmen 299 
 
 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 Pery. 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 declined ; he had a vow, he said, not 
 to eat or drink but once a day, till he had fulfilled 
 a quest whereon he was bound. His hosts eyed 
 him, not without some Hngering suspicion, but 
 still with admiration and respect. His splendid 
 armor and weapons, as well as the golden locks 
 w^hich fell far below his shoulders, and conven- 
 iently hid a face which he did not wish yet to have 
 recognized, showed him to be a man of the high- 
 est 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 Light- 
 foot had assumed prevented the honest English- 
 men 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 Pery, that 
 
300 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 Pery, 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', 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 the rogues 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 Cov- 
 entry. 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 some 
 one. 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." 
 
He Cleared Bourne of Frenchmen 301 
 
 Once again the old man wailed out of the chim- 
 ney-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 behove 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 '11 
 warrant him," spoke another. 
 
 " He does," said Pery, shaking his head : never- 
 theless, 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 
 may guess, who seem to have known war as well 
 as I, 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 
 to have all Bourne burned over their heads ere 
 morning by the ruffian Frenchmen? No; his 
 mother's quarrel was his own private quarrel. He 
 
302 Hereward the Wake 
 
 would go alone and see the strength of the enemy ; 
 and after that, maybe, he would raise the country 
 on them : or — and half-a-dozen plans suggested 
 themselves to his craftj/ 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 Pery, bitterly, are those French- 
 men, 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 Here- 
 ward the wolfs head, Hereward the outlaw, 
 Hereward the Wake, 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 Zeeland 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. 
 
He Cleared Bourne of Frenchmen 303 
 
 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 gen- 
 tleman 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. The men went out 
 and brought in bundles of sweet sedge, spread 
 them against the wall, and prepared to lie down, 
 each with his weapon by his side. But when they 
 were lain down, Hereward beckoned to him Pery 
 and Martin Lightfoot, and went out into the back 
 yard, under the pretence of seeing to his horse. 
 
 Pery Surturbrandsson," said he, thou seemest 
 to be an honest man, as we in foreign parts hold 
 all the Danelagh folk to be. Now it is fixed in my 
 mind to go up, and my servant with me, to yon 
 hall, and see what those French upstarts are about. 
 Wilt thou trust me to go, without my fleeing back 
 here if I am found out, or in any way bringing 
 thee to harm by mixing thee up in my private 
 matters? And wilt thou, if I do not come back, 
 keep for thine own the horse which is in thy stable, 
 and give moreover this purse and this ring to thy 
 lady, if thou canst 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 Marquis of Flanders ; and 
 
304 Here ward the Wake 
 
 that if he be dead (as he is Hke 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 Pery, 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 
 double-ganger. You speak like Hereward, you 
 look like Flereward. Just what Hereward would 
 be now, you are. You are, my lord, whom men 
 call Wake ; and you cannot deny it.'' 
 
 Pery, if thou knowest me, speak of me to no 
 living soul, save to thy lady my mother ; and let 
 me and my serving man go free out of thy yard- 
 gate. If I ask thee before morning to open it again 
 to me, thou wilt know that there is not a French- 
 man left in the Hall of Bourne." 
 
 Pery threw his arms round him, and embraced 
 him silently. 
 
 " Get me only," said Hereward, some long 
 woman's gear and black mantle, if thou canst, to 
 cover this bright armor of mine." 
 
 Pery went off in silence as one stunned ; brought 
 the mantle; and let them out of the yard-gate. 
 In ten minutes more, the two had waded the 
 water-gang, scrambled the dyke and its palisade, 
 and 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, Hstening in fear to the revelry of their 
 new tyrants. The night was dark; but not so 
 
He Cleared Bourne of Frenchmen 305 
 
 dark but that Hereward could see between him and 
 the sky his brother's long locks floating in the breeze. 
 
 That I must have down, at least," said he, in 
 a low voice. 
 
 Then here is wherewithal," said Martin Light- 
 foot, as he stumbled over something. The 
 drunken villains have left the ladder in the yard." 
 
 Hereward raised the ladder, took down the head, 
 and wrapped it in the cloak ; and ere he did so, he 
 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 can- 
 dles 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, were 
 almost as drunk as their masters ; and at the table- 
 head, m.ost 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 
 wrath still more. 
 
 VOL. I. — 20 
 
306 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 short coats — a continual source of 
 insult among the long-robed French — and shuf- 
 fling 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 
 rtiorning 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 w^ords," 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 you 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 
 
He Cleared Bourne of Frenchmen 307 
 
 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 of — A Wake ! 
 A Wake ! 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. Fifteen Normans, says the chronicler 
 (who gives minute details of the whole scene), 
 were in the hall when Hereward burst in. When 
 the sun rose there were fifteen 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. 
 
308 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 to 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 — I know not what 
 — I know not what — unless it be that poor Algar 
 held some Church lands ; I forget where they are, 
 now, though I warned him often of them. My 
 brains are broken, good saints. I forget— would 
 
He Cleared Bourne of Frenchmen 309 
 
 that I could forget more — and poor Morcar held 
 them till this ruin. Is it that, Hereward? The 
 father takes God's lands ; the son will not restore 
 them: a dark crime — who shall atone for that? 
 — though it is but a few acres — a few acres — 
 
 after all 
 
 And so she sobbed on, like any child. 
 
 We will make them up, mother, we will make 
 them up twice over. But never say that God has 
 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." 
 
 Forever, mother.*' 
 " You will not leave me ? " 
 
 If I do, I come back, to finish what I have 
 begun.'' 
 
 More blood? Oh God ! Hereward, not that ! 
 Let us return good for evil. Let us take up our 
 crosses. Let us bear our sin. Let us humble our- 
 selves under God's hand, and flee into some con- 
 vent, and there die praying for our country and 
 our kin." 
 
 Men must watch 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." 
 
 ''Brand is dying: dying of a broken heart, like 
 
3IO Hereward the Wake 
 
 me. The Frenchman has given his abbey to one 
 Thorold, the tyrant of Malmesbury — a French- 
 man 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 EngHshwoman 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 mighti- 
 nesses. I fear that, 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 HERE WARD 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 v/oman, were 
 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 
 and 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 Hum- 
 ber. 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 Pery. ''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 wolfs 
 head." 
 
 We will put you back into your law, — we will 
 give you your lands in full husting." 
 
312 Hereward the Wake 
 
 Never mind a busting on my behalf. Let us 
 have a husting, if we have one, for a better end and 
 a bigger 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 out- 
 side 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 villainous 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 
 masters son in his arms. Ahoi ! he is wet with 
 blood ! Ahoi ! he smells of blood ! Ahoi ! 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. 
 
 " Ahoi ! come wolf! Ahoi ! come kite ! Ahoi ! 
 come erne from off the fen ! You followed us, and 
 
How Hereward was Made a Knight 3 1 3 
 
 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. Ahoi ! 
 Swend's men ! Ahoi ! 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. 
 He well knew that there were those in the crowd, 
 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, to 
 blame 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 
 
314 Hereward the Wake 
 
 of compromise, pacifying half-measure, or other 
 weak plan for escaping present danger by future 
 destruction. But three out of four there were good 
 men and true. The savage chant of the old bar- 
 barian might have startled them somewhat, for 
 they were tolerably orthodox Christian folk. But 
 there was sense, as well as spirit, in his savageness ; 
 and they growled applause as he ceased. Here- 
 ward 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. Pery, son of Surturbrand, you 
 are the lawman, put it to the vote ! 
 
 Send round the war-arrow,'' shouted Pery 
 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, The Wake is come again ; 
 till, before midday, there were fifty well-armed men 
 in the old camping-field outside the town, and 
 Hereward haranguing them in words of fire. 
 
How Hereward was Made a Knight 315 
 
 A chill came over them, nevertheless, when he 
 told them that he must at once return 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 Den- 
 mark. Only let them hold their own till the Danes 
 should come, and all would be well. So would 
 they show that they were free Englishmen, able 
 to hold England against Frenchmen and all stran- 
 gers. And whenever he came back he would set 
 a light to Toft, Manthorpe, and Witham-on-the- 
 hill. They were his own farms, or should have 
 been ; and better they should burn than French- 
 men hold them. They could be seen far and wide 
 over the Bruneswold and over all the fen ; and 
 then all men might know for sure that the Wake 
 was come again. 
 
 And nine-and-forty of them," says the chron- 
 icler, 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. 
 His own lands, of Witham, Toft, and Manthorpe, 
 Gery his cousin should hold till his return; and 
 they should send what they could off them to Lady 
 Godiva 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 
 
3i6 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 notes of all the birds around; and 
 then out into the broad lagoons, where hung mo- 
 tionless, high overhead, hawk beyond hawk, buz- 
 zard beyond buzzard» kite beyond kite, as far as 
 eye could see. Into the air, as they rowed on, 
 whirred up great skeins of wild fowl innumerable, 
 with a cry as of all the bells of Crowland, or all 
 the hounds of the Bruneswold ; while clear above 
 all their noise sounded the wild whistle of the cur- 
 lews, 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. Oh, 
 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 inheri- 
 tance 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 
 
How Hereward was Made a Knight 317 
 
 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 w^hich worked with net 
 or line the criminal who had saved his life by flee- 
 ing to St Guthlac, and becoming his man forth- 
 with ; 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 
 Frenchmen, w^ho would have done to him as he 
 had done to others. But there all old grudges 
 were put away. 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 alder 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 ; infirm- 
 ary, refectory, dormitory, library, abbot's lodgings, 
 cloisters; with the great minster towering up, a 
 steep pile, half wood, half stone, with narrow 
 
Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 
 Ingulph. who saw them a few years after pouring 
 dow^n on his own head in streams of melted metal. 
 Outside the minster walls were the cottages of the 
 corrodiers, or folk who, for a corrody, or life pit- 
 tance from the abbey, had given away their lands ;^ 
 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. 
 
 1 This fashion of Corrody was one which brought much land 
 to monks, and grudging to heirs-at-law. As an instance — 
 Geoffrey de Brachecourt and his wife, a few years after, gave 
 (with consent of Alan de Morton, his nephew and heir, and 
 Gilbert of Ghent, his feudal lord) his township of Brachecourt or 
 Brathwaite to the Cistercian Monks of Vauldey, now Grimsthorpe 
 Park, on the following conditions : That his wife should have 
 clothing of bluet and lambs' skins ; and he of grising or hal- 
 bergit and lambs' skins; and that their food should be such as 
 the monks had. Their two servants were to fare the same 
 as those of the brotherhood. The opinion of Alan de Morton 
 concerning such a bargain may be guessed, at least by those 
 who are aware that it was made for the purpose of escaping 
 certain years of purgatory ; e. of burning alive in the next world. 
 
 When we talk of the piety of our ancestors in giving lands 
 to the church, we should always remember that this was what 
 their piety too often signified. When we complain of the 
 squires, in Edward the Sixth's time, for taking back the 
 treasures and lands of the monasteries, we should remember 
 that they had been got from those squires' forefathers, on such 
 grounds as these, and no other. 
 
How Hereward was Made a Knight 319 
 
 They went into the great courtyard. All men 
 were quiet, yet all men were busy; baking and 
 brewing, carpentering and tailoring, in the work- 
 shops ; reading and writing in the cloister ; praying 
 and singing in the church ; and teaching the chil- 
 dren in the schoolhouse. Only the ancient sem- 
 pects — some near upon a hundred and fifty years 
 old — wandered where they would, or basked 
 against a sunny wall, like autumn flies ; each with 
 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 pres- 
 ence. No person shall presume in any way to 
 offend them : but with the greatest peace and tran- 
 quiUity 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 bid- 
 ding; 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. 
 
320 Hereward the Wake 
 
 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 re- 
 mains, 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 con- 
 fessor, 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 pell-mell 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 Ouse 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 God- 
 win, 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 Ulf ketyl heard his vow, and 
 
How Hereward was Made a Knight 321 
 
 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 Gre- 
 gorian 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 nor free, but all are alike in the eyes 
 of Him who made them.'* 
 
 But when he saw Hereward come in, he cast 
 the mufflers ofif 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. 
 VOL. I. — 21 
 
322 Hereward the Wake 
 
 Then Brand held him at arm's 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 hov/, 
 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 sin- 
 ners ; 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 saint 
 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 doubt- 
 less 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." 
 
How Here ward was Made a Knight 323 
 
 **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 Roland, — 
 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 thy monks before 
 I go. And unless you obey the same, my dream 
 will be fulfilled ; and you will see Goldenborough 
 in a light low, and yourselves burning 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 Enghshman 
 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." 
 
324 Hereward the Wake 
 
 ''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 suc- 
 cored 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 Her- 
 luin. 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 towards the 
 Lord." 
 
 " He has not angered me. The man is right 
 
How Hereward was Made a Knight 325 
 
 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 be- 
 cause of any personal hatred, but because he fore- 
 saw 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 spuri- 
 ous 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; for the fittest man to conse- 
 
326 Hereward the Wake 
 
 crate the soldier of an earthly king is the soldier 
 of Christ the King of kings." ^ 
 
 He speaks well/' said Herluin. Abbot, 
 grant him his boon.'' 
 
 Who celebrates high mass to-morrow?" 
 Wilton, the priest, the monk of Ely," said Her- 
 luin, aloud. And a very dangerous and stubborn 
 Enghshman," 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 rode 
 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 Deep- 
 ing 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 
 1 Almost word for word from the Life of Hereward." 
 
Then came down from the altar IVilton of Ely. 
 
How Hereward was Made a Knight 327 
 
 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; while 
 the monks 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 there- 
 on 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 
 
328 Hereward the Wake 
 
 belt and sword once more. And after mass was 
 sung, they rose, each feehng 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. There- 
 fore he would have, in after years, almost all his 
 companions knighted by the monks; and he 
 brought into Ely with him that same good cus- 
 tom which he had learned at Peterborough, and 
 kept it up as long as he held the isle. 
 
 Then he said, — 
 Have your monks a limner here, who can 
 paint for me? 
 
 " That can 1,^' said Wilton of Ely. 
 Then take my shield, and raze from it this 
 bear which I carry." 
 
 Wilton brought pencil and paint, and did so. 
 
 "Now, paint me in a W, that shall stand for 
 Wake ; and make it — make it out of the knots of 
 a monk's girdle, for a sign that I am a monk's 
 knight, and not a king's ; and that I am the cham- 
 pion of the monks of England against the monks 
 of France, from this time forth for evermore." 
 
 Wilton did it; and made out of two monks' 
 girdles none other than the after-famous Wake 
 knot. 
 
 Now do the same by Winter and Gwenoch's 
 shields. Monks' knights are we; and monks' 
 battles we will fight." 
 
 You must have a motto to match withal, my 
 good lord," said Wilton, throwing his English 
 heart into the work. 
 
 ''What better than my own name — Wake? 
 
How Hereward was Made a Knight 329 
 
 These are times in which good EngHshmen must 
 not sleep — and sleep I will not, trust me; nor 
 mine, either.'* 
 
 Vigila, that will be in Latin/' 
 
 Ay — let us have Latin ; and show these 
 Frenchmen that we are clerks and gentlemen, as 
 well as they." 
 
 Vigila . . . et Ora," said the monk, solemnly. 
 Watch and pray, lest thou enter into temptation.'* 
 
 Watch — and pray. Thou speakest like a man 
 of God," said Hereward, half sadly. Thou hast 
 said : so be it. God knows, I have need of that 
 too, if only I knew how. But I will watch, and my 
 wife shall pray ; and so will the work be well parted 
 between us." 
 
 And so w^as born the Wake motto, and the Wake 
 knot. 
 
 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 sw^orn 
 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.*' 
 
'"^33^ Hereward the Wake 
 
 A week after a boatman brought news to Crow- 
 land how Sir Frederick was sitting in his inn at 
 Lynn, when there came in one with a sword, and 
 said, I am Hereward the Wake. 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, kiUing 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 " The Wake is come 
 again.'' 
 
 And after that the fen-men said to each other, 
 that all the birds upon the meres cried nothing 
 save "The Wake is come 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. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
/4