Hereward, the Last of the English

  CHAPTER XXX.

  HOW HEREWARD PLAYED THE POTTER; AND HOW HE CHEATED THE KING.

  They of Ely were now much straitened, being shut in both by land andwater; and what was to be done, either by themselves or by the king,they knew not. Would William simply starve them; or at least inflict onthem so perpetual a Lent,--for of fish there could be no lack, even ifthey ate or drove away all the fowl,--as would tame down their proudspirits; which a diet of fish and vegetables, from some ludicrous theoryof monastic physicians, was supposed to do? [Footnote: The Cornish--thestoutest, tallest, and most prolific race of the South--live on hardlyanything else but fish and vegetables.] Or was he gathering vast armies,from they knew not whence, to try, once and for all, another assault onthe island,--it might be from several points at once?

  They must send out a spy, and find out news from the outer world, ifnews were to be gotten. But who would go?

  So asked the bishop, and the abbot, and the earls, in council in theabbot's lodging.

  Torfrida was among them. She was always among them now. She was theirAlruna-wife, their Vala, their wise woman, whose counsels all receivedas more than human.

  "I will go," said she, rising up like a goddess on Olympus. "I willcut off my hair, and put on boy's clothes, and smirch myself brown withwalnut leaves; and I will go. I can talk their French tongue. I knowtheir French ways; and as for a story to cover my journey and my doings,trust a woman's wit to invent that."

  They looked at her, with delight in her courage, but with doubt.

  "If William's French grooms got hold of you, Torfrida, it would not bea little walnut brown which would hide you," said Hereward. "It is likeyou to offer,--worthy of you, who have no peer."

  "That she has not," quoth churchmen and soldiers alike.

  "But--to send you would be to send Hereward's wrong half. The right halfof Hereward is going; and that is, himself."

  "Uncle, uncle!" said the young earls, "send Winter, Geri, Leofwin Prat,any of your fellows: but not yourself. If we lose you, we lose our headand our king."

  And all prayed Hereward to let any man go, rather than himself.

  "I am going, lords and knights; and what Hereward says he does. It isone day to Brandon. It may be two days back; for if I miscarry,--as Imost likely shall,--I must come home round about. On the fourth day, youshall hear of me or from me. Come with me, Torfrida."

  And he strode out.

  He cropped his golden locks, he cropped his golden beard; and Torfridacried, as she cropped them, half with fear for him, half for sorrow overhis shorn glories.

  "I am no Samson, my lady; my strength lieth not in my locks. Now forsome rascal's clothes,--as little dirty as you can get me, for fear ofcompany."

  And Hereward put on filthy garments, and taking mare Swallow with him,got into a barge and went across the river to Soham.

  He could not go down the Great Ouse, and up the Little Ouse, which washis easiest way, for the French held all the river below the isle; and,beside, to have come straight from Ely might cause suspicion. So he wentdown to Fordham, and crossed the Lark at Mildenhall; and just before hegot to Mildenhall, he met a potter carrying pots upon a pony.

  "Halt, my stout fellow," quoth he, "and put thy pots on my mare's back."

  "The man who wants them must fight for them," quoth that stout churl,raising a heavy staff.

  "Then here is he that will," quoth Hereward; and, jumping off his mare,he twisted the staff out of the potter's hands, and knocked him downtherewith.

  "That will teach thee to know an Englishman when thou seest him."

  "I have met my master," quoth the churl, rubbing his head. "But dog doesnot eat dog; and it is hard to be robbed by an Englishman, after beingrobbed a dozen times by the French."

  "I will not rob thee. There is a silver penny for thy pots and thycoat,--for that I must have likewise. And if thou tellest to mortal manaught about this, I will find those who will cut thee to ribbons; andif not, then turn thy horse's head and ride back to Ely, if thou canstcross the water, and say what has befallen thee; and thou wilt findthere an abbot who will give thee another penny for thy news."

  So Hereward took the pots, and the potter's clay-greased coat, and wenton through Mildenhall, "crying," saith the chronicler, "after the mannerof potters, in the English tongue, 'Pots! pots! good pots and pans!'"

  But when he got through Mildenhall, and well into the rabbit-warrens,he gave mare Swallow a kick, and went over the heath so fast northward,that his pots danced such a dance as broke half of them before he got toBrandon.

  "Never mind," quoth he, "they will think that I have sold them." Andwhen he neared Brandon he pulled up, sorted his pots, kept the wholeones, threw the sherds at the rabbits, and walked on into Brandonsolemnly, leading the mare, and crying "Pots!"

  So "semper marcida et deformis aspectu"--lean and ill-looking--was thatfamous mare, says the chronicler, that no one would suspect her splendidpowers, or take her for anything but a potter's nag, when she wascaparisoned in proper character. Hereward felt thoroughly at home inhis part; as able to play the Englishman which he was by rearing, as theFrenchman which he was by education. He was full of heart, and happy. Heenjoyed the keen fresh air of the warrens; he enjoyed the ramble out ofthe isle, in which he had been cooped up so long; he enjoyed the funof the thing,--disguise, stratagem, adventure, danger. And so did theEnglish, who adored him. None of Hereward's deeds is told so carefullyand lovingly; and none, doubt it not, was so often sung in after yearsby farm-house hearths, or in the outlaws' lodge, as this. Robin Hoodhimself may have trolled out many a time, in doggrel strain, howHereward played the potter.

  And he came to Brandon, to the "king's court,"--probably Weeting Hall,or castle, from which William could command the streams of Wissey andLittle Ouse, with all their fens,--and cast about for a night's lodging,for it was dark.

  Outside the town was a wretched cabin of mud and turf,--such a one asIrish folk live in to this day; and Hereward said to himself, "This isbad enough to be good enough for me."

  So he knocked at the door, and knocked till it was opened, and a hideousold crone put out her head.

  "Who wants to see me at this time of night?"

  "Any one would, who had heard how beautiful you are. Do you want anypots?"

  "Pots! What have I to do with pots, thou saucy fellow? I thought it wassome one wanting a charm." And she shut the door.

  "A charm?" thought Hereward. "Maybe she can tell me news, if she be awitch. They are shrewd souls, these witches, and know more than theytell. But if I can get any news, I care not if Satan brings it inperson."

  So he knocked again, till the old woman looked out once more, and badehim angrily be off.

  "But I am belated here, good dame, and afraid of the French.And I will give thee the best bit of clay on my mare'sback,--pot,--pan,--pansion,--crock,--jug, or what thou wilt, for anight's lodging."

  "Have you any little jars,--jars no longer than my hand?" asked she; forshe used them in her trade, and had broken one of late: but to pay forone, she had neither money nor mind. So she agreed to let Hereward sleepthere, for the value of two jars. "But what of that ugly brute of ahorse of thine?"

  "She will do well enough in the turf-shed."

  "Then thou must pay with a pannikin."

  "Ugh!" groaned Hereward; "thou drivest a hard bargain, for anEnglishwoman, with a poor Englishman."

  "How knowest thou that I am English?"

  "So much the better if thou art not," thought Hereward; and bargainedwith her for a pannikin against a lodging for the horse in theturf-house, and a bottle of bad hay.

  Then he went in, bringing his panniers with him with ostentatious care.

  "Thou canst sleep there on the rushes. I have naught to give thee toeat."

  "Naught needs naught," said Hereward; threw himself down on a bundle ofrush, and in a few minutes snored loudly.

  But he was never less asleep. He looked round the whole cabin; and helistened to every word.

  T
he Devil, as usual, was a bad paymaster; for the witch's cabin seemedonly somewhat more miserable than that of other old women. The floor wasmud, the rafters unceiled; the stars shone through the turf roof. Theonly hint of her trade was a hanging shelf, on which stood five or sixlittle earthen jars, and a few packets of leaves. A parchment, scrawledwith characters which the owner herself probably did not understand,hung against the cob wall; and a human skull--probably used only tofrighten her patients--dangled from the roof-tree.

  But in a corner, stuck against the wall, was something which chilledHereward's blood a little. A dried human hand, which he knew must havebeen stolen off the gallows, gripping in its fleshless fingers a candle,which he knew was made of human fat. That candle, he knew, duly lightedand carried, would enable the witch to walk unseen into any house onearth, yea, through the court of King William himself, while it drownedall men in preternatural slumber.

  Hereward was very much frightened. He believed as devoutly in the powersof a witch as did then--and does now, for aught Italian literature, _epermissu superiorum_, shows--the Pope of Rome.

  So he trembled on his rushes, and wished himself safe through thatadventure, without being turned into a hare or a wolf.

  "I would sooner be a wolf than a hare, of course, killing being more inmy trade than being killed; but--who comes here?"

  And to the first old crone, who sat winking her bleared eyes, andwarming her bleared hands over a little heap of peat in the middle ofthe cabin, entered another crone, if possible uglier.

  "Two of them! If I am not roasted and eaten this night, I am a luckyman."

  And Hereward crossed himself devoutly, and invoked St. Ethelfridaof Ely, St. Guthlac of Crowland, St. Felix of Ramsey,--to whom, herecollected, he had been somewhat remiss; but, above all, St. Peter ofPeterborough, whose treasures he had given to the Danes. And he arguedstoutly with St. Peter and with his own conscience, that the meanssanctify the end, and that he had done it all for the best.

  "If thou wilt help me out of this strait, and the rest, blessed Apostle,I will give thee--I will go to Constantinople but what I will win it--agolden table twice as fine as those villains carried off, and one of theBourne manors--Witham--or Toft--or Mainthorpe--whichever pleases theebest, in full fee; and a--and a--"

  But while Hereward was casting in his mind what gewgaw further mightsuffice to appease the Apostle, he was recalled to business andcommon-sense by hearing the two old hags talk to each other in French.

  His heart leapt for joy, and he forgot St. Peter utterly.

  "Well, how have you sped? Have you seen the king?"

  "No; but Ivo Taillebois. Eh! Who the foul fiend have you lying there?"

  "Only an English brute. He cannot understand us. Talk on: only don'twake the hog. Have you got the gold?"

  "Never mind."

  Then there was a grumbling and a quarrelling, from which Herewardunderstood that the gold was to be shared between them.

  "But it is a bit of chain. To cut it will spoil it."

  The other insisted; and he heard them chop the gold chain in two.

  "And is this all?"

  "I had work enough to get that. He said, No play no pay; and he wouldgive it me after the isle was taken. But I told him my spirit was aJewish spirit, that used to serve Solomon the Wise; and he would notserve me, much less come over the sea from Normandy, unless he smeltgold; for he loved it like any Jew."

  "And what did you tell him then?"

  "That the king must go back to Aldreth again; for only from thence hewould take the isle; for--and that was true enough--I dreamt I saw allthe water of Aldreth full of wolves, clambering over into the island oneach other's backs."

  "That means that some of them will be drowned."

  "Let them drown. I left him to find out that part of the dream forhimself. Then I told him how he must make another causeway, bigger andstronger than the last, and a tower on which I could stand and curse theEnglish. And I promised him to bring a storm right in the faces of theEnglish, so that they could neither fight nor see."

  "But if the storm does not come?"

  "It will come. I know the signs of the sky,--who better?--and theweather will break up in a week. Therefore I told him he must begin hisworks at once, before the rain came on; and that we would go and ask thespirit of the well to tell us the fortunate day for attacking."

  "That is my business," said the other; "and my spirit likes the smell ofgold as well as yours. Little you would have got from me, if you had notgiven me half the chain."

  Then the two rose.

  "Let us see whether the English hog is asleep."

  One of them came and listened to Hereward's breathing, and put her handupon his chest. His hair stood on end; a cold sweat came over him. Buthe snored more loudly than ever.

  The two old crones went out satisfied. Then Hereward rose, and glidedafter them.

  They went down a meadow to a little well, which Hereward had marked ashe rode thither, hung round with bits of rag and flowers, as similar"holy wells" are decorated in Ireland to this day.

  He hid behind a hedge, and watched them stooping over the well, mumblinghe knew not what of cantrips.

  Then there was silence, and a tinkling sound as of water.

  "Once--twice--thrice," counted the witches. Nine times he counted thetinkling sound.

  "The ninth day,--the ninth day, and the king shall take Ely," said onein a cracked scream, rising, and shaking her fist toward the isle.

  Hereward was more than half-minded to have put his dagger--the onlyweapon which he had--into the two old beldames on the spot. But the fearof an outcry kept him still. He had found out already so much, thathe was determined to find out more. So to-morrow he would go up to thecourt itself, and take what luck sent.

  He slipt back to the cabin and lay down again; and as soon as he hadseen the two old crones safe asleep, fell asleep himself, and was sotired that he lay till the sun was high.

  "Get up!" screamed the old dame at last, kicking him, "or I shall makeyou give me another crock for a double night's rest."

  He paid his lodging, put the panniers on the mare, and went on cryingpots.

  When he came to the outer gateway of the court he tied up the mare, andcarried the crockery in on his own back boldly. The scullions saw him,and called him into the kitchen to see his crockery, without the leastintention of paying for what they took.

  A man of rank belonging to the court came in, and stared fixedly atHereward.

  "You are mightily like that villain Hereward, man," quoth he.

  "Anon?" asked Hereward, looking as stupid as he could.

  "If it were not for his brown face and short hair, he is as like thefellow as a churl can be to a knight."

  "Bring him into the hall," quoth another, "and let us see if any manknows him."

  Into the great hall he was brought, and stared at by knights andsquires. He bent his knees, rounded his shoulders, and made himself lookas mean as he could.

  Ivo Taillebois and Earl Warrenne came down and had a look at him.

  "Hereward!" said Ivo. "I will warrant that little slouching cur is nothe. Hereward must be half as big again, if it be true that he can kill aman with one blow of his fist."

  "You may try the truth of that for yourself some day," thought Hereward.

  "Does any one here talk English? Let us question the fellow," said EarlWarrenne.

  "Hereward? Hereward? Who wants to know about that villain?" answeredthe potter, as soon as he was asked in English. "Would to Heaven he werehere, and I could see some of you noble knights and earls paying him forme; for I owe him more than ever I shall pay myself."

  "What does he mean?"

  "He came out of the isle ten days ago, nigh on to evening, and drove offa cow of mine and four sheep, which was all my living, noble knights,save these pots."

  "And where is he since?"

  "In the isle, my lords, wellnigh starved, and his folk falling away fromhim daily from hunger and ague-fits. I doubt if there be
a hundred soundmen left in Ely."

  "Have you been in thither, then, villain?"

  "Heaven forbid! I in Ely? I in the wolf's den? If I went in with naughtbut my skin, they would have it off me before I got out again. If yourlordships would but come down, and make an end of him once for all; forhe is a great tyrant and terrible, and devours us poor folk like so manymites in cheese."

  "Take this babbler into the kitchen, and feed him," quoth Earl Warrenne;and so the colloquy ended.

  Into the kitchen again the potter went. The king's luncheon waspreparing; and he listened to their chatter, and picked up this atleast, which was valuable to him,--that the witches' story was true;that a great attack would be made from Aldreth; that boats had beenordered up the river to Cotinglade, and pioneers and entrenching toolswere to be sent on that day to the site of the old causeway.

  But soon he had to take care of himself. Earl Warrenne's commands tofeed him were construed by the cook-boys and scullions into a command tomake him drunk likewise. To make a laughing-stock of an Englishman wastoo tempting a jest to be resisted; and Hereward was drenched (says thechronicler) with wine and beer, and sorely baited and badgered. At lastone rascal hit upon a notable plan.

  "Pluck out the English hog's hair and beard, and put him blindfold inthe midst of his pots, and see what a smash we shall have."

  Hereward pretended not to understand the words, which were spoken inFrench; but when they were interpreted to him, he grew somewhat redabout the ears.

  Submit he would not. But if he defended himself, and made an uproar inthe king's Court, he might very likely find himself riding Odin's horsebefore the hour was out. However, happily for him, the wine and beer hadmade him stout of heart, and when one fellow laid hold of his beard, heresisted sturdily.

  The man struck him, and that hard. Hereward, hot of temper, and carelessof life, struck him again, right under the ear.

  The fellow dropped for dead.

  Up leapt cook-boys, scullions, _lecheurs_ (who hung about the kitchento _lecher,_ lick the platters), and all the foul-mouthed rascality ofa great mediaeval household; and attacked Hereward _cum fureis ettridentibus,_ with forks and flesh-hooks.

  Then was Hereward aware of a great broach, or spit, before the fire; andrecollecting how he had used such a one as a boy against the monks ofPeterborough, was minded to use it against the cooks of Brandon; whichhe did so heartily, that in a few moments he had killed one, and driventhe others backward in a heap.

  But his case was hopeless. He was soon overpowered by numbers fromoutside, and dragged into the hall, to receive judgment for the mortalcrime of slaying a man within the precincts of the Court.

  He kept up heart. He knew that the king was there; he knew that heshould most likely get justice from the king. If not, he could butdiscover himself, and so save his life: for that the king would kill himknowingly, he did not believe.

  So he went in boldly and willingly, and up the hall, where, on the dais,stood William the Norman.

  William had finished his luncheon, and was standing at the board side.A page held water in a silver basin, in which he was washing his hands.Two more knelt, and laced his long boots, for he was, as always, goinga-hunting.

  Then Hereward looked at the face of the great man, and felt at once thatit was the face of the greatest man whom he had ever met.

  "I am not that man's match," said he to himself. "Perhaps it will allend in being his man, and he my master."

  "Silence, knaves!" said William, "and speak one of you at a time. Howcame this?"

  "A likely story, forsooth!" said he, when he had heard. "A poor Englishpotter comes into my court, and murders my men under my very eyes formere sport. I do not believe you, rascals! You, churl," and he spokethrough an English interpreter, "tell me your tale, and justice youshall have or take, as you deserve. I am the King of England, man, and Iknow your tongue, though I speak it not yet, more pity."

  Hereward fell on his knees.

  "If you are indeed my Lord the King, then I am safe; for there isjustice in you, at least so all men say." And he told his tale,manfully.

  "Splendeur Dex! but this is a far likelier story, and I believe it.Hark you, you ruffians! Here am I, trying to conciliate these English byjustice and mercy whenever they will let me, and here are you outragingthem, and driving them mad and desperate, just that you may get a handleagainst them, and thus rob the poor wretches and drive them into theforest. From the lowest to the highest,--from Ivo Taillebois there downto you cook-boys,--you are all at the same game. And I will stop it!The next time I hear of outrage to unarmed man or harmless woman, I willhang that culprit, were he Odo my brother himself."

  This excellent speech was enforced with oaths so strange and terrible,that Ivo Taillebois shook in his boots; and the chaplain prayedfervently that the roof might not fall in on their heads.

  "Thou smilest, man?" said William, quickly, to the kneeling Hereward."So thou understandest French?"

  "A few words only, most gracious King, which we potters pick up,wandering everywhere with our wares," said Hereward, speaking in French;for so keen was William's eye, that he thought it safer to play notricks with him.

  Nevertheless, he made his French so execrable, that the very scullionsgrinned, in spite of their fear.

  "Look you," said William, "you are no common churl; you have fought toowell for that. Let me see your arm."

  Hereward drew up his sleeve.

  "Potters do not carry sword-scars like those; neither are they tattooedlike English thanes. Hold up thy head, man, and let us see thy throat."

  Hereward, who had carefully hung down his head to prevent histhroat-patterns being seen, was forced to lift it up.

  "Aha! So I expected. More fair ladies' work there. Is not this he whowas said to be so like Hereward? Very good. Put him in ward till Icome back from hunting. But do him no harm. For"--and William fixedon Hereward eyes of the most intense intelligence--"were he Herewardhimself, I should be right glad to see Hereward safe and sound; my manat last, and earl of all between Humber and the Fens."

  But Hereward did not rise at the bait. With a face of stupid andludicrous terror, he made reply in broken French.

  "Have mercy, mercy, Lord King! Make not that fiend earl over us. EvenIvo Taillebois there would be better than he. Send him to be earl overthe imps in hell, or over the wild Welsh who are worse still: but notover us, good Lord King, whom he hath polled and peeled till we are--"

  "Silence!" said William, laughing, as did all round him, "Thou arta cunning rogue enough, whoever thou art. Go into limbo, and behavethyself till I come back."

  "All saints send your grace good sport, and thereby me a gooddeliverance," quoth Hereward, who knew that his fate might depend on thetemper in which William returned. So he was thrust into an outhouse, andthere locked up.

  He sat on an empty barrel, meditating on the chances of his submittingto the king after all, when the door opened, and in strode one with adrawn sword in one hand, and a pair of leg-shackles in the other.

  "Hold out thy shins, fellow! Thou art not going to sit at thine easethere like an abbot, after killing one of us grooms, and bringing therest of us into disgrace. Hold out thy legs, I say!"

  "Nothing easier," quoth Hereward, cheerfully, and held out a leg. Butwhen the man stooped to put on the fetters, he received a kick whichsent him staggering.

  After which he recollected very little, at least in this world. ForHereward cut off his head with his own sword.

  After which (says the chronicler) he broke away out of the house, andover garden walls and palings, hiding and running, till he got to thefront gate, and leaped upon mare Swallow.

  And none saw him, save one unlucky groom-boy, who stood yelling andcursing in front of the mare's head, and went to seize the bridle.

  Whereon, between the imminent danger and the bad language, Hereward'sblood rose, and he smote that unlucky groom-boy; but whether he slew himor not, the chronicler had rather not say.

  Then he shook up
mare Swallow, and rode for his life, with knights andsquires (for the hue and cry was raised) galloping at her heels.

  Who then were astonished but those knights, as they saw the uglypotter's garron gaining on them length after length, till she and herrider had left them far behind?

  Who then was proud but Hereward, as the mare tucked her great thighsunder her, and swept on over heath and rabbit burrow, over rush and fen,sound ground and rotten all alike to that enormous stride, to that keenbright eye which foresaw every footfall, to that raking shoulder whichpicked her up again at every stagger?

  Hereward laid the bridle on her neck, and let her go. Fall she couldnot, and tire she could not; and he half wished she might go on forever.Where could a man be better than on a good horse, with all the caresof this life blown away out of his brains by the keen air which rushedaround his temples? And he galloped on, as cheery as a boy, shouting atthe rabbits as they scuttled from under his feet, and laughing at thedottrel as they postured and anticked on the mole-hills.

  But think he must, at last, of how to get home. For to go throughMildenhall again would not be safe, and he turned over the moors toIcklingham; and where he went after, no man can tell.

  Certainly not the chronicler; for he tells how Hereward got back bythe Isle of Somersham. Which is all but impossible, for Somersham is inHuntingdonshire, many a mile on the opposite side of Ely Isle.

  And of all those knights that followed him, none ever saw or heard signof him save one; and his horse came to a standstill in "the aforesaidwood," which the chronicler says was Somersham; and he rolled offhis horse, and lay breathless under a tree, looking up at his horse'sheaving flanks and wagging tail, and wondering how he should get out ofthat place before the English found him and made an end of him.

  Then there came up to him a ragged churl, and asked him who he was, andoffered to help him.

  "For the sake of God and courtesy," quoth he,--his Norman pride beingwellnigh beat out of him,--"if thou hast seen or heard anything ofHereward, good fellow, tell me, and I will repay thee well."

  "As thou hast asked me for the sake of God and of courtesy, Sir Knight,I will tell thee. I am Hereward. And in token thereof, thou shalt giveme up thy lance and sword, and take instead this sword which I carriedoff from the king's court; and promise me, on the faith of a knight, tobear it back to King William; and tell him that Hereward and he havemet at last, and that he had best beware of the day when they shall meetagain."

  So that knight, not having recovered his wind, was fain to submit,and go home a sadder and a wiser man. And King William laughed a royallaugh, and commanded his knights that they should in no wise harmHereward, but take him alive, and bring him in, and they should havegreat rewards.

  Which seemed to them more easily said than done.