"
Hereward had heard enough. He slipped down from the window to Martin, and
led him round the house.
"Now then, down with the ladder quick, and dash in the door. I go in; stay
thou outside. If any man passes me, see that he pass not thee."
Martin chuckled a ghostly laugh as he helped the ladder down. In another
moment the door was burst in, and Hereward stood upon the threshold. He
gave one war-shout,--his own terrible name,--and then rushed forward. As
he passed the gleeman, he gave him one stroke across the loins; the wretch
fell shrieking.
And then began a murder, grim and great. They fought with ale-cups, with
knives, with benches: but, drunken and unarmed, they were hewn down like
sheep. Fourteen Normans, says the chronicler, were in the hall when
Hereward burst in. When the sun rose there were fourteen heads upon the
gable. Escape had been impossible. Martin had laid the ladder across the
door; and the few who escaped the master's terrible sword, stumbled over
it, to be brained by the man's not less terrible axe.
Then Hereward took up his brother's head, and went in to his mother.
The women in the bower opened to him. They had seen all that passed from
the gallery above, which, as usual, hidden by a curtain, enabled the women
to watch unseen what passed in the hall below.
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