"Among whom came Hereward in his
boat, with head and beard shaven lest he should be known, and worked
diligently among the rest. But the sun did not set that day without
mischief; for before Hereward went off, he finished his work by setting
the whole on fire, so that it was all burnt, and some of the French killed
and drowned."
And so he went on, with stratagems and ambushes, till "after seven days'
continual fighting, they had hardly done one day's work; save four
'globos' of wood, in which they intended to put their artillery. But on
the eighth day they determined to attack the isle, putting in the midst of
them that pythoness woman on a high place, where she might be safe freely
to exercise her art."
It was not Hereward alone who had entreated Torfrida to exercise her magic
art in their behalf. But she steadily refused, and made good Abbot
Thurstan support her refusal by a strict declaration, that he would have
no fiends' games played in Ely, as long as he was abbot alive on land.
Torfrida, meanwhile, grew utterly wild. Her conscience smote her, in spite
of her belief that St. Etheldreda had inspired her, at the terrible
resource which she had hinted to her husband, and which she knew well he
would carry out with terrible success. Pictures of agony and death floated
before her eyes, and kept her awake at night.
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