And he freed one of those four, and he
again the rest; and then they all set on us, and went to hang us in their
own stead."
"When there were ten of you, I thought?"
"Sir, as we told you, he is no mortal man, but a fiend."
"Beasts, fools! Well, I have hanged this one, at least!" growled Ivo, and
then rode sullenly on.
"Who is this fellow?" cried he to the trembling English.
"Wulfric Raher, Wulfric the Heron, of Wrokesham in Norfolk."
"Aha! And I hold a manor of his," said Ivo to himself. "Look you,
villains, this fellow is in league with you."
A burst of abject denial followed. "Since the French,--since Sir
Frederick, as they call him, drove him out of his Wrokesham lands, he
wanders the country, as you see: to-day here, but Heaven only knows where
he will be to-morrow."
"And finds, of course, a friend everywhere. Now march!" And a string of
threats and curses followed.
It was hard to see why Wulfric should not have found friends; as he was
simply a small holder, or squire, driven out of house and land, and turned
adrift on the wide world, for the offence of having fought in Harold's
army at the battle of Hastings. But to give him food or shelter was, in
Norman eyes, an act of rebellion against the rightful King William; and
Ivo rode on, boiling over with righteous indignation, along the narrow
drove which led toward Deeping.
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