Hereward, the Last of the English

  CHAPTER XXXVII.

  HOW HEREWARD LOST SWORD BRAIN-BITER.

  "On account of which," says the chronicler, "many troubles came toHereward: because Torfrida was most wise, and of great counsel in need.For afterwards, as he himself confessed, things went not so well withhim as they did in her time."

  And the first thing that went ill was this. He was riding through theBruneswald, and behind him Geri, Wenoch, and Matelgar, these three. Andthere met him in an open glade a knight, the biggest man he had everseen, on the biggest horse, and five knights behind him. He was anEnglishman, and not a Frenchman, by his dress; and Hereward spokecourteously enough to him. But who he was, and what his business was inthe Bruneswald, Hereward thought that he had a right to ask.

  "Tell me who thou art, who askest, before I tell thee who I am who amasked, riding here on common land," quoth the knight, surlily enough.

  "I am Hereward, without whose leave no man has ridden the Bruneswald formany a day."

  "And I am Letwold the Englishman, who rides whither he will in merryEngland, without care for any Frenchman upon earth."

  "Frenchman? Why callest thou me Frenchman, man? I am Hereward."

  "Then thou art, if tales be true, as French as Ivo Taillebois. I hearthat thou hast left thy true lady, like a fool and a churl, and goestto London, or Winchester, or the nether pit,--I care not which,--to makethy peace with the Mamzer."

  The man was a surly brute: but what he said was so true, that Hereward'swrath arose. He had promised Torfrida many a time, never to quarrelwith an Englishman, but to endure all things. Now, out of very spite toTorfrida's counsel, because it was Torfrida's, and he had promised toobey it, he took up the quarrel.

  "If I am a fool and a churl, thou art a greater fool, to provoke thineown death; and a greater--"

  "Spare your breath," said the big man, "and let me try Hereward, as Ihave many another."

  Whereon they dropped their lance-points, and rode at each other like twomad bulls. And, by the contagion of folly common in the middle age, ateach other rode Hereward's three knights and Letwold's five. The twoleaders found themselves both rolling on the ground; jumped up, drewtheir swords, and hewed away at each other. Geri unhorsed his man at thefirst charge, and left him stunned. Then he turned on another, and didthe same by him. Wenoch and Matelgar each upset their man. The fifth ofLetwold's knights threw up his lance-point, not liking his new company.Geri and the other two rode in on the two chiefs, who were fightinghard, each under shield.

  "Stand back!" roared Hereward, "and give the knight fair play! When didany one of us want a man to help him? Kill or die single, has been ourrule, and shall be."

  They threw up their lance-points, and stood round to see that greatfight. Letwold's knight rode in among them, and stood likewise; andfriend and foe looked on, as they might at a pair of game-cocks.

  Hereward had, to his own surprise and that of his fellows, met hismatch. The sparks flew, the iron clanged; but so heavy were thestranger's strokes, that Hereward reeled again and again. So sure wasthe guard of his shield, that Hereward could not wound him, hit where hewould. At last he dealt a furious blow on the stranger's head.

  "If that does not bring your master down!" quoth Geri. "By--,Brain-biter is gone!"

  It was too true. Sword Brain-biter's end was come. The Ogre's magicblade had snapt off short by the handle.

  "Your master is a true Englishman, by the hardness of his brains," quothWenoch, as the stranger, reeling for a moment, lifted up his head, andstared at Hereward in the face, doubtful what to do.

  "Will you yield, or fight on?" cried he.

  "Yield?" shouted Hereward, rushing upon him, as a mastiff might on alion, and striking at his helm, though shorter than him by a headand shoulders, such swift and terrible blows with the broken hilt, asstaggered the tall stranger.

  "What are you at, forgetting what you have at your side?" roared Geri.

  Hereward sprang back. He had, as was his custom, a second sword on hisright thigh.

  "I forget everything now," said he to himself angrily.

  And that was too true. But he drew the second sword, and sprang at hisman once more.

  The stranger tried, according to the chronicler, who probably had itfrom one of the three by-standers, a blow which has cost many a braveman his life. He struck right down on Hereward's head. Hereward raisedhis shield, warding the stroke, and threw in that _coup de jarret_,which there is no guarding, after the downright blow has been given. Thestranger dropped upon his wounded knee.

  "Yield," cried Hereward in his turn.

  "That is not my fashion." And the stranger fought on, upon his stumps,like Witherington in Chevy Chase.

  Hereward, mad with the sight of blood, struck at him four or five times.The stranger's shield was so quick that he could not hit him, even onhis knee. He held his hand, and drew back, looking at his new rival.

  "What the murrain are we two fighting about?" said he at last.

  "I know not; neither care," said the other, with a grim chuckle. "But ifany man will fight me, him I fight, ever since I had beard to my chin."

  "Thou art the best man that ever I faced."

  "That is like enough."

  "What wilt thou take, if I give thee thy life?"

  "My way on which I was going. For I turn back for no man alive on land."

  "Then thou hast not had enough of me?"

  "Not by another hour."

  "Thou must be born of fiend, and not of man."

  "Very like. It is a wise son knows his own father."

  Hereward burst out laughing.

  "Would to heaven I had had thee for my man this three years since."

  "Perhaps I would not have been thy man."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I have been my own man ever since I was born, and am wellcontent with myself for my master."

  "Shall I bind up thy leg?" asked Hereward, having no more to say, andnot wishing to kill the man.

  "No. It will grow again, like a crab's claw."

  "Thou art a fiend." And Hereward turned away, sulky, and half afraid.

  "Very like. No man knows what a devil he is, till he tries."

  "What dost mean?" and Hereward turned angrily back.

  "Fiends we are all, till God's grace comes."

  "Little grace has come to thee yet, by thy ungracious tongue."

  "Rough to men, may be gracious to women."

  "What hast thou to do with women'?" asked Hereward, fiercely.

  "I have a wife, and I love her."

  "Thou art not like to get back to her to-day."

  "I fear not, with this paltry scratch. I had looked for a cut from thee,would have saved me all fighting henceforth."

  "What dost mean?" asked Hereward, with an oath.

  "That my wife is in heaven, and I would needs follow her."

  Hereward got on his horse, and rode away. Never could he find out whothat Sir Letwold was, or how he came into the Bruneswald. All he knewwas, that he never had had such a fight since he wore beard; and that hehad lost sword Brainbiter: from which his evil conscience augured thathis luck had turned, and that he should lose many things beside.