Easy it was to dash out by night and make a raid; to harry the places
which they once had owned themselves, in the vale of Belvoir to the west,
or to the east in the strip of fertile land which sloped down into the
fen, and levy black-mail in Rippinghale, or Folkingham, or Aslackby, or
Sleaford, or any other of the "Vills" (now thriving villages) which still
remain in Domesday-book, and written against them the ugly and
significant,--
"In Tatenai habuerunt Turgisle et Suen IIII. Carrucas terae," &c. "Hoc Ivo
Taillebosc ibi habet in dominio,"--all, that is, that the wars had left of
them.
The said Turgisle (Torkill or Turketil misspelt by Frenchmen) and Sweyn,
and many a good man more,--for Ivo's possessions were enormous,--were
thorns in the sides of Ivo and his men which must be extracted, and the
Bruneswald a nest of hornets, which must be smoked out at any cost.
Wherefore it befell, that once upon a day there came riding to Hereward in
the Bruneswald a horseman all alone.
And meeting with Hereward and his men he made signs of amity, and bowed
himself low, and pulled out of his purse a letter, protesting that he was
an Englishman and a "good felawe," and that, though he came from Lincoln
town, a friend to the English had sent him.
That was believable enough, for Hereward had his friends and his spies far
and wide.
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