“They be but two witnesses the more,” said bold Hereward. “We will tell thee at the feast how proper it is that they should be here; but now, good priest, go on with that which their arrival interrupted. Elfric, make space here near the altar for our two unbidden guests. Dames, come not too near them, for they be very cold strangers!”
The marriage ceremony then went on to its happy completion, Ivo Taille-Bois and his brother Geoffroy grinding their teeth and groaning inwardly all the while: and even thus was it made to come to pass that those who would have carried off the Ladie Alftrude were forced to be witnesses to her union with her old and true love. It was a tale for a menestrel; and a pretty tale Elfric made of it, at a later date, to sing to his four-stringed Saxon lyre.
“And now,” shouted the bountiful Lord of Brunn, as they all quitted the church, “now for the wassail-bowl and the feast in hall! Ivo Taille-Bois, and thou, Geoffroy, much as thou wouldst have wronged us, we bid thee to the feast—the Ladie Alftrude and I bid thee to our marriage feast!”
“Throw me rather into thy dungeon,” said Geoffroy.
“Enough of this farcing,” said Ivo. “Hereward the Saxon, name the terms of the ransom, and let us be gone from thy presence. Ladie Alftrude, remember that I am thy cousin by marriage.”
“Methinks,” replied Alftrude, “that thou oughtest to have remembered that same fact before coming with thy men-at-arms against me.”
But, after saying these words, the gentle and kind-hearted Saxon bride, stepping aside from the throng, spoke for a while in Lord Hereward’s ear; and after that the Lord of Brunn, who was radiant with joy as ever was knight that sat with King Arthur at the Round Table, turned to Ivo and Geoffroy, and said, “Unwilling guests mar a feast. Since ye will not come willingly, ye need not come at all. A Saxon manor-house hath no dungeon in it or near it, and at present I have no wish to keep ye in duresse. Saxon chiefs were ever generous on their happy days, and when shall I find a day so happy as this? I will ask no ransom, for thou, Sir Geoffroy, art but a pauper; and thou, oh Ivo, albeit thou callest thyself Vicomte of Spalding, thou wilt soon find thyself as moneyless and as landless as thy brother! I will ask for no vows or promises, for well I ween ye would break them all. I will only ask of thee, oh Ivo, that if we twain meet on some field of battle, thou wilt not turn from me! Thy half score men-at-arms we will send to the Camp of Refuge, that they may be exchanged for a like number of Saxon prisoners; but for thyself, and for thy brother, I say get ye gone, and tell your Normans in Stamford town, aye, and in London city, all that you have seen and heard this day, and all that they may expect if they come to make war in the fen country.”
“How can we get gone? The bridge is broken, and we cannot cross that cursed river,” said Ivo.
“Thy Saxon boors will murder us on the road,” said Geoffroy.
“Not on our lands; not within the bounds of Ladie Alftrude’s domains. Elfric, Girolamo, conduct these Norman knights across the river, and send a few good men to escort them to the edge of the fen country. Let not a drop of blood be spilt, nor so much as a hair of their head be injured. It were of ill omen that blood should be shed on this day. There will be a time for that hereafter. Come, make good speed, for the feast will be but dull until Elfric returns.”