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, lives 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 Hereward the outlaw, and
his friends Hereward the master of knights."
She started, and threw her veil hack, looking intently at him. He, for his
part, gave but one glance, and then cried,--
"Mother of Heaven! You are the great Countess!"
"Yes, I was that woman once, if all be not a dream. I am now I know not
what, seeking hospitality--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.
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