The horse was pulled up
short among them, and a lad threw himself off.
"Hereward? Thank God, I am in time!"
The voice was the voice of Torfrida.
"Treason!" she gasped.
"I knew it."
"The French are in the island. They have got Aldreth. The whole army is
marching from Cambridge. The whole fleet is coming up from Southrey. And
you have time--"
"To burn Ely over the monks' heads. Men! Get bogwood out of yon cottage,
make yourselves torches, and onward!"
Then rose a babel of questions, which Torfrida answered as she could. But
she had nothing to tell. "Clerks' cunning," she said bitterly, "was an
overmatch for woman's wit." She had sent out a spy: but he had not
returned till an hour since. Then he came back breathless, with the news
that the French army was on the march from Cambridge, and that, as he came
over the water at Alrech, he found a party of French knights in the fort
on the Ely side, talking peaceably with the monks on guard.
She had run up to the borough hill,--which men call Cherry Hill at this
day,--and one look to the northeast had shown her the river swarming with
ships. She had rushed home, put on men's clothes, hid a few jewels in her
bosom, saddled Swallow, and ridden for her life thither.
"And King Ranald?"
He and his men had gone desperately out towards Haddenham, with what
English they could muster; but all were in confusion.
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