Long before midnight Hereward was on his way; but he travelled with much more ease than he had done in coming to Brunn, for his foster-brother and two other trusty men carried him in a boat the greater part of the way.
Being again at Spalding, the approaches to which had been curiously strengthened, during his short absence, by Girolamo of Salerno, Hereward sent off one of the barks for Ely to convey the news of his first success and the prisoners he had made to the Lord Abbat, and to bring back the good prior of Spalding to his own cell; he left one bark moored below Spalding to watch the lower part of the river, and prevent any but friendly boats from ascending (there was little danger of any Norman coming this way; but a good commander like the Lord of Brunn leaves nothing to chance, and neglects no precaution); and with the three other barks and Girolamo and twenty of his armed men he began to move up the river on the following morning. Ten men were left to hold the succursal cell, and protect the township of Spalding; and all such war-stores as were not immediately required were left in the convent. The three barks were to be moored near to the point of debarkation, so as to prevent any communication between Crowland and Spalding, it being very expedient to keep the intrusive monks at Crowland ignorant of what had passed and what was passing. True, these unholy Norman friars were feasting and keeping their Christmas, and were little likely to move out at such a season, or to take heed of anything that was happening beyond the walls of their own house: but Hereward, as we have said, neglected no precaution; and therefore it was that the Lord of Brunn was ever successful in war. When he and his troops landed at the bend of the river that was nearest to Brunn, it was made visible to all, and not without manifest astonishment, that Girolamo of Salerno could do many wondrous things. Under his direction light and shallow skerries, and boats made of wicker-work, and lined with skins, had been prepared; and while these were capable of carrying men and stores across the deeper streams that lay between the bend of the Welland and the town of Brunn, they were so light that they could easily be carried on the men’s shoulders. A catapult and another engine which Hereward had purchased in Flanders were taken to pieces in order to be carried in these boats and skerries; the more precious parts of the munition of war which Girolamo had made with his own hands before embarking for England were most carefully wrapped up in many cloths and skins, so that even in that wettest of countries they could not be wetted. There was one small package, a very small package was it, of which the dark stranger took especial care, carrying it himself, and telling Hereward that with its contents he could open the gates of the strongest of houses.
Notwithstanding the weight of their arms, and of the other burdens they had to bear from one stream or mere to another, the whole party pushed steadily forward across the more than half-inundated fens; and although some of the men, not being native fen-men, were not practised in such travelling, and although some of them could not swim, they all reached in safety a broad dry dyke[[127]] near to the back of the township of Brunn a good hour before the full moon began to rise over Elsey-Wood. Having seen everything safely landed, Hereward walked alone into the town, going straight to the house of his foster-brother. But before he got into the rambling street he was accosted by three tall Saxons, who said, “Is it our Lord Hereward?”
“Yea; and are ye ready to be stirring? Have ye collected a few true men that will strike a blow for the houseless Lord of Brunn?”
“Thou shalt see, my Lord,” said one of the three, who was no less a man than John of the Bogs, and clapping his hands thrice, three score and more Saxons armed with bows and bills, and some of them with swords and battle-axes, started forth from behind so many alders and willow-trees; and at that moment the broad full moon showed her bright, full face over the bare trees of Elsey-Wood. The men had been well taught, and so they did not rend the air with a shout which might have startled the Normans in the manor-house; but every man of them, whether freeman or serf, knelt at Lord Hereward’s feet, and kissed his hand.
The score of armed men and all that had been brought with them from Spalding were soon carried into town. A supper was all ready, and smoking on the table of Lord Hereward’s foster-brother. Every man was welcomed as one amongst brethren, albeit these simple-minded men of Brunn started and looked askance when they saw the dark stranger with the hooked nose and fiery eyes; and much they marvelled all when they heard the young Lord of Brunn talking with this stranger in an unknown tongue.
“Wouldst thou have possession of thine house to-night or to-morrow morning?” said Girolamo. “At the hazard of burning a part of it I could gain thee admittance in less then half an hour by means of my Greek fire.”
“I would not have a plank of the dear old place burned,” said Hereward. “I would rather delay my entrance till the morning.”
“Then this must be a busy night,” replied the dark man.
And a busy night it was; for lo! in the morning, when Raoul the Norman knight awoke from the deep sleep which had followed his heavy overnight’s carouse, and looked forth from his chamber in the tower over the gateway of the manor-house, he saw what seemed another and a taller tower on the opposite side of the moat; and what seemed a bridge of boats laid across the moat; and in the tower were archers with their bows bent, and men-at-arms with swords and battle-axes. Raoul rubbed his eyes, and still seeing the same sight, thought it all magic or a dream. But there was more magic than this, for when he called up his sleepy household, and his careless and over-confident men-at-arms, and went round the house, he saw another bridge of boats leading to the postern-gate at the back of the house, and beyond that bridge he saw a catapult with a score of armed men standing by it. But look where he would, there were armed men; the manor-house was surrounded, and surrounded in such fashion that there could be no egress from it, and small hope of defending it. The despairing Norman knight, therefore, went back to his tower over the gateway, and called a parley.