He is a lucky man who never
meets his match, Dirk. I shall give your love to the Enchanted Prince, my
faithful serving-man, whom they call Martin Lightfoot."
Dirk cursed the day he was born. Instead of the mare and colt, he had got
the two wretched garrons which the stranger had left, and a face which
made him so tender of his own teeth, that he never again offered to try a
buffet with a stranger.
CHAPTER XIV.
HOW HEREWARD RODE INTO BRUGES LIKE A BEGGARMAN.
The spring and summer had passed, and the autumn was almost over, when
great news came to the Court of Bruges, where Torfrida was now a
bower-maiden.
The Hollanders had been beaten till they submitted; at least for the
present. There was peace, at least for the present, through all the isles
of Scheldt; and more than all, the lovely Countess Gertrude had resolved
to reward her champion by giving him her hand, and the guardianship of her
lands and the infant son.
And Hereward?
From him, or of him, there was no word. That he was alive and fighting,
was all the messenger could say.
Then Robert came back to Bruges, with a gallant retinue, leading home his
bride. And there met him his father and mother, and his brother of Mons,
and Richilda the beautiful and terrible sorceress,--who had not yet
stained her soul with those fearful crimes which she had expiated by
fearful penances in after years, when young Arnoul, the son for whom she
had sold her soul, lay dead through the very crimes by which she had meant
to make him a mighty prince.
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