Osbiorn himself
could not refuse so rational a proposal. All the earls and bishops
approved loudly; and away Hereward went to the Wash, his heart well-nigh
broken, foreseeing nothing but evil.
CHAPTER XXIII.
HOW HEREWARD GATHERED AN ARMY.
The voyage round the Norfolk coast was rough and wild. Torfrida was ill,
the little girl was ill; the poor old mother was so ill that she could not
even say her prayers. Packed uncomfortably under the awning on the poop,
Torfrida looked on from beneath it upon the rolling water-waste, with a
heart full of gloomy forebodings, and a brain whirling with wild fancies.
The wreaths of cloud were gray witches, hurrying on with the ship to work
her woe; the low red storm-dawn was streaked with blood; the water which
gurgled all night under the lee was alive with hoarse voices; and again
and again she started from fitful slumber to clasp the child closer to
her, or look up for comfort to the sturdy figure of her husband, as he
stood, like a tower of strength, steering and commanding, the long night
through.
Yes; on him she could depend. On his courage, on his skill. And as for his
love, had she not that utterly? And what more did woman need?
But she was going, she scarce knew whither; and she scarce knew for what.
At least, on a fearful adventure, which might have a fearful end.
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