He paid his lodging, put the panniers on the mare, and went on crying pots.
When he came to the outer gateway of the court he tied up the mare, and carried the crockery in on his own back boldly. The scullions saw him, and called him into the kitchen to see his crockery, without the least intention of paying for what they took.
A man of rank belonging to the court came in, and stared fixedly at Hereward.
“You are mightily like that villain Hereward, man,” quoth he.
“Anon?” asked Hereward, looking as stupid as he could.
“If it were not for his brown face and short hair, he is as like the fellow as a churl can be to a knight.”
“Bring him into the hall,” quoth another, “and let us see if any man knows him.”
Into the great hall he was brought, and stared at by knights and squires. He bent his knees, rounded his shoulders, and made himself look as mean as he could.
Ivo Taillebois and Earl Warrenne came down and had a look at him.
“Hereward!” said Ivo. “I will warrant that little slouching cur is not he. Hereward must be half as big again, if it be true that he can kill a man with one blow of his fist.”