Hereward thought of keeping the feast in another place and with a different company, but the eager hospitality of Thurstan was not to be resisted, and so he promised that he would return, if he could do so without detriment to the business he had on hand. But when he spoke of setting forth on the morrow after high mass, not only the Lord Abbat, but every one that heard him, raised his voice against him, and Hereward yielded to the argument that it would be wicked to begin war on Christmas Day, or to do any manner of thing on that day except praying and feasting. Something did Hereward say in praise of Elfric, and of the ability, and courage, and quickness of invention he had displayed while on his mission in foreign parts, and on shipboard.
“Albeit,” said he, “I would not rob my good friends the Abbat of Crowland and the Prior of Spalding of so promising a novice, I needs must think that he would make a much better soldier than monk; nor can I help saying that I would rather have Elfric for my messenger and aid in the field than any Saxon youth I know, whether of low degree or high.”
“My good brother of Crowland and I have been thinking of these things,” said Abbat Thurstan; “and these are surely days when the saints of England require the services of men with steel caps on their heads as much as they require the services of men with shaven crowns. Not but that some of us that wear cowls have not wielded arms and done good battle in our day for the defence of our shrines and houses.”
At this moment the eels and fish of the Christmas-eve supper were all ready, and the best cask of Rhenish which the bark had brought up to my Lord Abbat’s pier was broached.
CHAPTER VIII.
LORD HEREWARD GOES TO GET HIS OWN.
In no time had there been at the house of Ely so great and glorious a festival of the Nativity as that holden in the year of Grace one thousand and seventy, the day after the return of the Saxon commander Hereward, Lord of Brunn. Learned brothers of the house have written upon it, and even to this day the monks of Ely talk about it. On the day next after the feast, several hours before sunrise, the mariners in the unloaded bark were getting all ready to drop down the Ouse to the good town of Lynn, and Lord Hereward was communing with the Abbat Thurstan, the Abbat of Crowland, and the Prior of Spalding, in my Lord Abbat’s bedchamber. The rest of the prelates and lay lords were sleeping soundly in their several apartments, having taken their leave of Hereward in a full carouse the night before. Many things had been settled touching correspondence or communication, and a general co-operation and union of all the Saxons in the Camp of Refuge and all that dwelt in the fen country, whether in the isle of Ely, or in the isle of Thorney, or in Lindsey, or in Holland, or in other parts. Fresh assurances were given that the chiefs and fighting men would all acknowledge Hereward as their supreme commander, undertaking nothing but at his bidding, and looking to none but him for their orders and instructions. Abbat Thurstan agreed to keep the score of men that had been brought up to Ely in the bark, but he demurred about receiving and entertaining, as the commander of these men, the dark stranger with the hooked nose and sharp eye. Hereward said that the stranger was a man remarkably skilled in the science of war, and in the art of defending places. Thurstan asked whether he were sure that he was not a spy of the Normans, or one that would sell himself to the Normans for gold? Then the Lord of Brunn told what he knew, or that which he had been told, concerning the dark stranger. He was from Italie, from a region not very far removed from Rome and the patrimony of Saint Peter; from the name of his town he was hight[[118]] Girolamo of Salerno. His country has been all invaded, and devastated, and conquered by Norman tribes, from the same evil hive which had sent these depredators into merry England to make it a land of woe. Robert Guiscard, one of twelve brothers that were all conquerors and spoilers, had driven Girolamo from his home and had seized upon his houses and lands, and had abused the tombs of his ancestors, even as the followers of William the Bastard were now doing foul things with the graves of our forefathers. After enduring wounds, and bonds, and chains, Girolamo of Salerno had fled from his native land for ever, leaving all that was his in the hands of the Normans, and had gone over into Sicilie to seek a new home and settlement among strangers. But the Normans, who thought they had never robbed enough so long as there were more countries before them which they could rob and conquer, crossed the sea into Sicilie[[119]] under Roger Guiscard, the brother of Robert, and made prey of all that fair island seven years before the son of the harlot of Falaise crossed the Channel and came into England. Now Girolamo of Salerno had vowed upon the relics of all the saints that were in the mother-church of Salerno, that he would never live under the Norman tyranny; and sundry of the Norman chiefs that went over with Roger Guiscard to Palermo had vowed upon the crosses of their swords that they would hang him as a dangerous man if they could but catch him. So Girolamo shook the dust of Sicilie and Mongibel[[120]] from his feet, and, crossing the seas again, went into Grecia. But go where he would, those incarnate devils the Normans would be after him! He had not long lived in Grecia ere Robert Guiscard came over from Otrantum and Brundisium, to spoil the land and occupy it; therefore Girolamo fled again, cursing the Norman lance. He had wandered long and far in the countries of the Orient: he had visited the land of Egypt, he had been in Palestine, in Jerusalem, in Bethlehem; he had stood and prayed on the spot where our Lord was born, and on the spot where He was crucified; but, wearying of his sojourn among Saracens, he had come back to the Christian west to see if he could find some home where the hated Normans could not penetrate, or where dwelt some brave Christian people that were hopeful of fighting against those oppressors. He was roaming over the earth in quest of enemies to the Normans when Hereward met him, two years ago, in Flanders, and took his hand in his as a sworn foe to all men of that race. Was, then, Girolamo of Salerno a likely man to be a spy or fautor to the Normans in England? Thurstan acknowledged that he was not. “But,” said he, “some men are so prone to suspicion that they suspect everybody and everything that is near to them; and some men, nay, even some monks and brothers of this very house, are so envious of my state and such foes to my peace of mind, that whenever they see me more happy and fuller of hope than common, they vamp me up some story or conjure some spectrum to disquiet me and sadden me! Now, what said our prior and cellarer no later than last night? They said, in the hearing of many of this house, inexpert novices as well as cloister-monks, that the dark stranger must be either an unbelieving Jew or a necromancer; that when, at grand mass, the host was elevated in the church, he shot glances of fire at it from his sharp eyes; and that when the service was over they found him standing behind the high altar muttering what sounded very like an incantation, in a tongue very like unto the Latin.”
Hereward smiled and said, “Assuredly he was but saying a prayer in his own tongue. My Lord Abbat, this Girolamo of Salerno, hath lived constantly with me for the term of two years, and I will warrant him as true a believer as any man in broad England. He is a man of many sorrows, and no doubt of many sins; but as for his faith!—why he is a living and walking history of all the saints and martyrs of the church, and of every miraculous image of Our Ladie that was ever found upon earth. His troubles and his crosses, and his being unable to speak our tongue, or to comprehend what is said around him, may make him look moody and wild, and very strange: and I am told that in the country of his birth most men have coal-black hair and dark flashing eyes; but that in Salerno there be no Israelites allowed, and no necromancers or warlocks or witches whatsoever; albeit, the walnut-tree of Beneventum, where the witches are said to hold their sabbat, be not very many leagues distant. In truth, my good Lord Abbat, it was but to serve you and to serve your friends and retainers, that I proposed he should stay for a season where he is; for I have seen such good proofs of his skill in the stratagems of war, and have been promised by him so much aid and assistance in the enterprises I am going to commence, that I would fain have him with me. I only thought that if he stayed a while here in quiet, he might learn to speak our tongue; and that if during my absence the Normans should make any attempt from the side of Cam-Bridge upon this blessed shrine of Saint Etheldreda, he might, by his surpassing skill and knowledge of arms, be of use to your lordship and the good brothers.”
“These are good motives,” said Thurstan, “and do honour to thee, my son. It is not in my wont to bid any stranger away from the house.... But—but this stranger doth look so very strange and wild, that I would rather he were away. Even our sub-sacrist, who hath not the same nature as the prior and cellarer, saith that all our flaxen-headed novices in the convent are afraid of that thin dark man, and that they say whenever the stranger’s large black eye catches theirs they cannot withdraw their eyes until he turns away from them. I think, my Lord Hereward, the stranger may learn our tongue in thy camp. I believe that the Normans will not try on this side now that the waters are all out, and our rivers and ditches so deep; and if they do we can give a good account of them—and I really do think that thou wilt more need than we this knowing man’s services:—what say ye, my brother of Crowland?”
The Abbat of Crowland was wholly of the opinion of the Abbat of Ely, and so likewise was the Prior of Spalding. It was therefore agreed that Girolamo of Salerno should accompany the young Lord of Brunn.