"
Hereward was silenced. His men shrunk back from him. He felt as if God,
and the Mother of God, and St. Guthlac, and all the host of heaven, were
shrinking back from him likewise. He turned to supplications,
compromises,--what else was left?
"At least you will let me have speech of her, or of my mother?"
"They must answer that, not I."
Hereward sent in, entreating to see one, or both.
"Tell him," said Lady Godiva, "who calls himself my son, that my sons were
men of honor, and that he must have been changed at nurse."
"Tell him," said Torfrida, "that I have lived my life, and am dead. Dead.
If he would see me, he will only see my corpse."
"You would not slay yourself?"
"What is there that I dare not do? You do not know Torfrida. He does."
And Hereward did; and went back again like a man stunned.
After a while there came by boat to Crowland all Torfrida's wealth:
clothes, jewels: not a shred had Hereward kept. The magic armor came with
them.
Torfrida gave all to the abbey, there and then. Only the armor she wrapped
up in the white bear's skin, and sent it back to Hereward, with her
blessing, and entreaty not to refuse that, her last bequest.
Hereward did not refuse, for very shame. But for very shame he never wore
that armor more. For very shame he never slept again upon the white bear's
skin, on which he and his true love had lain so many a year.
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