A FIRE AND A RESCUE.
It was dark night before the Lord of Brunn and his party got near unto
the river Welland and Spalding, and great had been their speed to get
thither so soon.[249] As they halted near the river-bank, under cover
of some willows, they saw boats filled with Normans passing and
repassing, and heard them hailing one another. In remarking upon this
to his lord, the sword-bearer said, “Our barks on these waters have
been overpowered! The Normans have been trying to encompass us by water
as well as by land. No marvel were it to me to find them on every river
between this and Trent or Humber; but it is not they that will stop
good fenmen like us.”
“Yet we be come hither in good time, for they may be preparing to lay
siege to my ladie in the moated manor house. I would wager my best
trained hawk against a kestrel that Ivo Taille-Bois is come hitherward
from Stamford to recover what he calls his own!” So said Lord Hereward.
Quoth Elfric: “An Ivo be here, we will beat him and catch him again!
And when we catch him, we will not let him go, as we did, my lord, on
the happy day of thy marriage.”
While they were thus discoursing with low voices among the
willow-trees, a great and bright light was suddenly seen in the
direction of Spalding, from which they were still distant some three
old English miles. A first they thought it was but a beacon-fire
lighted by the Normans, or perhaps by the Saxons; but the light grew
and spread very fast, and showed itself as a portentous blaze, and
sparks were seen flying upwards into the murky night-air, and then a
great body of smoke came rolling before the night-wind, which was
blowing freshly down the river. Hereward uttered the name of his wife
the Ladie Alftrude,[250] Elfric uttered the name of Mildred, and both
said a hurried prayer, for each believed that the Normans had set fire
to the manor-house. In an instant the whole band was again in motion,
rushing rapidly but silently along the willow-fringed bank of the
Welland; but when they got nearer and came to a turn of the river, they
made out that the fire was not on this, but on the other side of the
river, and that, instead of the manor house, it must be either the
succursal cell or the poor little township of Spalding that was in a
blaze. And when they got nearer still, they saw that it was the little
town; but they also saw that the cell was beleagured, and that many
armed men, carrying torches in their hands, were crossing the river and
running towards the manor-house.
“Unto the blessed saints be the praise,” said Lord Hereward, “but we be
come just in time! My Saxons true, leave here among the willows the
wine and stores, and let us forward to the rescue of the Ladie Alftrude
and mine infant son.[251] Be quiet till you reach the end of the
causey, on which they are gathering their force, and then shout and
fall on!”
Away went the Saxons among the willows and tall rushes, until they came
close to the causey which led from the bank of the river to the moated
manor-house, and which was hard and dry now, although in the winter
season it was for the most part under water. The Normans, who were
making an exceeding great noise themselves, heard not the little
unavoidable noise made by Lord Hereward’s people; and notwithstanding
the light thrown up by the burning town, the Frenchmen saw not more of
the Saxons than they heard of them, until they set up their shouts of
“Hereward for England! The Saxons to the rescue!” And scarcely had the
first of these shouts ceased to be echoed ere Hereward and his true men
were upon the causey and hewing down the astounded enemy, of whom not a
few were without their arms, for they had been bringing across the
river great beams and planks wherewith to cross the moat of the
manor-house. The Normans that were still on the opposite side of the
river, beleaguering the succursal cell, came down to their boats and
attempted to cross over to succour their countrymen on the causey; but
Lord Hereward posted fifty good archers among the willows at the very
edge of the water, and, taking good aim in the red fire-light, these
good bowmen sent such fatal flights of arrows into the boats that the
Normans put back in dismay: and the boats which had been going up and
down the river, full of armed men, took all to flight upon hearing the
shouts of “Hereward for England,” and never stopped until they got out
of the Welland into the broad Wash, where the Conqueror, by the advice
of the false Danes, had collected a fleet of ships. At these good signs
some of the town folk of Spalding, who had fled into the fens to escape
the Norman fury, returned towards their burning town and threatened the
rear of their foe; and some other of the town folk, who had thrown
themselves into the Cell to assist the true monks who had driven out
the false ones, now joined in shouting “Hereward for England;” and
getting to the house-top, assailed their beleaguerers with arrows and
javelins, and whatsoever else they could get to hurl at them. Thus
stood the Norman host, part on one side of the river and part on the
other, and no communication between them. Yet when those on the causey
were joined by a great band that had been up to the manor-house, they
were far more numerous than the Saxon party. With the band that came
down from the manor-house was Ivo Taille-Bois himself; and his people
shouted as he came upon the ground where battle had been joined, “A
Taille-Bois! a Taille-Bois!”
The Lord of Brunn, who had made a good free space with his own single
battle-axe, now cried out in his loudest and cheeriest voice, “Welcome,
oh Ivo Taille-Bois! I as good as told thee on my wedding-day at Ey that
we should meet again! Ivo, all that I ask of thee now is that thou wilt
not turn from me! Ivo Taille-Bois, this is a fair field! Here is good
hard ground, and no fen-pool; so, Sir Ivo, stand forward, and let thee
and me prove which is the better man and the better knight!”
But Ivo, remembering still the battle of Hastings and the weight of
Lord Hereward’s battle-axe—albeit it was but a stripling’s arm then
wielded it—would not stand forward; and he only cried from among his
men-at-arms and the knights that were with him, “This is no fair field,
and I have no horse, and a knight should engage in single combat only
on horseback; and thou art no true knight, but only a priest-made
knight, and a rebel and traitor!”
“For the last thou liest in thy throat,” quoth the Lord of Brunn. “I am
a free and true Saxon fighting for his country against invaders and
robbers! Thou art but a beast to make thy valour depend upon a
four-legged creature! But since thou wilt not stand forth and try thy
strength and skill with me here in this good space between our two
hosts, I will come and seek thee in the midst of thy people. So, Ivo,
look to thyself!”
And having thus spoken, the Lord of Brunn waved his battle-axe over his
head and sprang forward, and Elfric went close by his side, and the
boldest of his Saxons followed him, shouting again “Hereward for
England! Saxons to the rescue of the Ladie Alftrude!” And so loud were
these shouts that they were heard afar off on either side of the river,
and were given back not only by the true men in the succursal cell and
by the returning townsfolk of Spalding, but also by the stanch little
garrison which had been left with the Ladie Alftrude in the moated
manor-house. The torches which the Normans had been carrying were all
extinguished and thrown away, and moon or star was none, but the ruddy
flames from the burning town still gave light enough for the good
aiming of sword, pike, and battle-axe. For a time the Normans stood
their ground on the causey, and did manfully enough; but when Ivo
Taille-Bois saw the carnage the Lord of Brunn was making, and saw that
his battle-axe was opening a path through his dense phalanx to the spot
where he stood, he bade his trumpet sound a retreat. Ivo could not have
done a worse thing, for so soon as his men began to retreat they got
into a panic; and while some ran along the causey, others quitted that
road and ran into the fens. Nay, Ivo himself was swept from the road,
and compelled to run for it across a broad marsh where there was at
this season little water, but much mud. Lord Hereward, who saw him go,
said to his sword-bearer, “That big bully of Angevin is not worth my
following: go, Elfric, and bring him hither; you will find him
somewhere there among the bulrushes. He will surrender; so slay him
not, but bring him here alive, and we will keep him and teach him to
lead a fen life.”
And while Elfric went in pursuit of Sir Ivo, other Saxons followed the
Normans that were running along the causey and throwing away their arms
to run the lighter, until they saw them a good way beyond the
manor-house; and other Saxons going into the fens slew many of the
unskilled Normans who had fled thitherward and stuck in the mud. On the
opposite side of the river the Norman force which had been assaulting
the cell was now in full flight for Stamford: in all its parts the army
of the vicomte was discomfited and shamefully routed. Deep in the mud
and among the bulrushes, and helpless as he was when with his brother
Geoffroy he lay floundering in the fen pool near Ey, Elfric and the
score of merry men he took with him found the great Ivo Taille-Bois
with two Norman knights as helpless as himself: and upon being summoned
by the sword-bearer and threatened by the Saxon soldiers, Ivo and the
two knights crawled out of the mud upon their hands and knees, and gave
themselves up as prisoners to Hereward the _Knight_ and Lord of Brunn,
for Ivo could call him knight now, aye, knight and lord!
When the great vicomte and so-called nephew of the Conqueror was
brought into the presence of Hereward, that merry Saxon lord could not
but laugh at the woeful figure he made: and he said, smiling all the
while, “Oh, Sir Ivo, this is the second time we meet, and each time
thou comest before me in very dirty plight! But, Ivo, the mud and slime
of our fens are not so foul as the work thou hast each time had in
hand! At Ey thou thoughtest to have surprised a defenceless maiden, and
here hast thou been coming against a young matron, my right noble wife,
and a poor defenceless little township and a handful of monks. Ivo,
thou art a big man and hast a big voice, yet art thou but a braggart
and coward! ’Tis well thou hast not had time to do mischief at the
manor-house, for hadst thou done any, I would have hacked thee to
pieces! As it stands thou art my prisoner, nor will I ever hear of
ransom.”
The Taille-Bois hung down his head, and said no word, except that he
hoped the Lord of Brunn would yet remember that by marriage they were
as good as cousins.
The townfolk of Spalding and the true and now relieved monks came
across the river in the boats which the Normans had left behind them,
and saluted and did honour to Hereward; nor did they forget Elfric, who
had lived so long among them; and as they as yet knew nought of what
had befallen the Saxons that morning in the Camp of Refuge, these poor
men were all jubilant beyond measure.
It was not an hour since Hereward first fell upon the Normans on the
causey, and everything that he could do for this night was already
done. He bade Elfric count the prisoners and the number of the slain.
Without counting those who had perished in the fens, more than two
score Normans lay stark dead on the causey. More were wounded, but not
half a score of Saxons were slain. The exceeding great light which had
come from the burning town was now dying away, for the flames had
consumed everything that was consumable in Spalding. But many torches
were soon lighted, and by their light the Lord of Brunn and his
faithful sword-bearer marched hastily towards the manor-house, over
which their hearts had long been hovering; and they were followed
thitherward by Ivo Taille-Bois and the rest of the prisoners, and by a
part of the Saxon force, the rest of those three hundred true men being
left to guard the river and the succursal cell.
At the sound of his horn the drawbridge was lowered and the gates of
the manor-house were thrown open to the Lord of Brunn; and then was
there happy meeting in the hall with the Ladie Alftrude and the maid
Mildred—so happy that Hereward and Elfric forgot for the time the
shame and woe of that bloody morning, and the young dame and the maiden
forgot their own late agony and danger: nor was it when the lady
brought her first-born son, rosy from his sleep, and put him in the
arms of his glad sire, and when maid Mildred hung upon the arm of the
sword-bearer and called him her deliverer, and said that she would
never more leave him, but go whithersoever he might go, that these sad
things could be brought back to the mind, or that either Hereward or
Elfric could recollect that henceforward they and those who were
dearest unto them must lead a wandering life in the wilds and the fens.
Nay, when a cheerful fire was lit in the great hall, and the tables
were well spread, and the drinking-horns well filled, every good Saxon
present seemed to think that this joy must last.
Yet if, in the morning after this happy meeting, there came sad
thoughts and many and much sadder recollections, there was no craven
panic, nor so much as any visible perturbation or confusion. _Vir
serenissimus_, a most serene and imperturbable man, was the Lord of
Brunn: and to this high quality of his nature was mainly owing all that
he had done and all that he lived to do afterwards. The Ladie Alftrude
was worthy to mate with such a lord; and their serenity made serene and
confident all those that were about them. And therefore was it that
when the foul treason at Ely was made known to all of them, and when
much more bad news was brought in, as that the Normans had stormed and
taken the lady’s manor-house at Ey and the lord’s manor-house at Brunn,
and had been admitted again into Crowland Abbey, these good Saxons lost
not heart and abated not of hope, but vowed that they would fight to
the last for Lord Hereward, and be true to him in every extremity.
All things were got ready for a retreat into the farthest parts of
Lincolnshire, or into the impenetrable country upon the Wash, as
expediency might dictate; for it was thought that the Normans, being so
near, would not delay in bringing a great army against Spalding
manor-house, and in making the most desperate efforts to seize the last
great Saxon lord that was now in arms against them. But the autumn
season was now at hand, and it was so ordained that the heavy rains set
in earlier than usual, and fell more heavily and lasted longer than
common, in such sort that the fens were laid under water and the roads
made impassable. And although many boats of all sorts and sizes were
collected, they could not be used, for a fresh gathering on the
Scottish border[252] constrained Duke William to turn his attention
thitherward and to dispatch to the river Tyne and to the river Tweed
many of the warriors and shipmen that had been collected to complete
the subjugation of the fen country. When these Normans were gone, Lord
Hereward drove their monks once more from Crowland Abbey, and got
possession of his house at Brunn and of the stores which had been there
deposited; and after making many good forays into the upland country,
he brought his brave fenners back to Spalding, together with a good
number of Norman prisoners, of whom some were of high degree. The poor
unhoused townfolk of Spalding found shelter for the winter in the large
manor-house and in the succursal cell, or in Crowland Abbey, keeping
themselves ready to move in the spring with the Lord of Brunn and his
warlike band. There was abundance of wine and corn, and meat and fish,
and all good things in this new Camp of Refuge; and the winter passed
merrily away, with all due observation made of saints’ days and of all
the feast days the Saxon church had appointed. But one feast there was
which was more joyous than all the rest; and that was given by the Lord
of Brunn, ever free of hand and large of soul, a short time before the
quinzaine of the Nativity, when Elfric and Mildred were made man and
wife. Their hands were joined by the same Alefricus Diaconus who had
been Lord Hereward’s mass-priest at Brunn, and who had performed the
marriage-rites for his lord and the Ladie Alftrude at Ey. But the
true-hearted monks of Spalding, and the monks that had fled from Ely,
took part in the ceremony in the chapel, as afterwards in the feast in
the hall; for notwithstanding all the mischief that the monks of Ely
had done him, Hereward was still _homo monachorum_, or a lover of
monks—provided only they were true Saxon monks, and had no dealings
with the Normans. But all true Saxons and bold fenners for many miles
round feasted at Spalding on Elfric’s wedding day; the freed-men being
entertained according to their degree, and the churls and serfs
according to their degrees. Alefric, the deacon, put these things into
a book, but the pages[253] are now missing.