He had said as little to them as
he could about Alftruda, for very shame; but he was utterly besotted on
her. For her sake, he had determined to run his head blindly into the very
snare of which he had warned others. And he had seared--so he fancied--his
conscience. It was Torfrida's fault now, not his. If she left him,--if she
herself freed him of her own will,--why, he was free, and there was no
more to be said about it.
And Hereward (says the chronicler) took Gwenoch, Geri, and Matelgar, and
rode south to the King.
Where were the two young Siwards? It is not said. Probably they, and a few
desperadoes, followed the fashion of so many English in those sad
days,--when, as sings the Norse scald,
"Cold heart and bloody hand
Now rule English land,"--
and took ship for Constantinople, and enlisted in the Varanger guard, and
died full of years and honors, leaving fair-haired children behind them,
to become Varangers in their turn.
Be that as it may, Hereward rode south. But when he had gotten a long way
upon the road, a fancy (says the chronicler) came over him. He was not
going in pomp and glory enough. It seemed mean for the once great Hereward
to sneak into Winchester with three knights. Perhaps it seemed not over
safe for the once great Hereward to travel with only three knights.
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