But Ivo, remembering still the battle of Hastings and the weight of Lord Hereward’s battle-axe—albeit it was but a stripling’s arm then wielded it—would not stand forward; and he only cried from among his men-at-arms and the knights that were with him, “This is no fair field, and I have no horse, and a knight should engage in single combat only on horseback; and thou art no true knight, but only a priest-made knight, and a rebel and traitor!”
“For the last thou liest in thy throat,” quoth the Lord of Brunn. “I am a free and true Saxon fighting for his country against invaders and robbers! Thou art but a beast to make thy valour depend upon a four-legged creature! But since thou wilt not stand forth and try thy strength and skill with me here in this good space between our two hosts, I will come and seek thee in the midst of thy people. So, Ivo, look to thyself!”
And having thus spoken, the Lord of Brunn waved his battle-axe over his head and sprang forward, and Elfric went close by his side, and the boldest of his Saxons followed him, shouting again “Hereward for England! Saxons to the rescue of the Ladie Alftrude!” And so loud were these shouts that they were heard afar off on either side of the river, and were given back not only by the true men in the succursal cell and by the returning townsfolk of Spalding, but also by the stanch little garrison which had been left with the Ladie Alftrude in the moated manor-house. The torches which the Normans had been carrying were all extinguished and thrown away, and moon or star was none, but the ruddy flames from the burning town still gave light enough for the good aiming of sword, pike, and battle-axe. For a time the Normans stood their ground on the causey, and did manfully enough; but when Ivo Taille-Bois saw the carnage the Lord of Brunn was making, and saw that his battle-axe was opening a path through his dense phalanx to the spot where he stood, he bade his trumpet sound a retreat. Ivo could not have done a worse thing, for so soon as his men began to retreat they got into a panic; and while some ran along the causey, others quitted that road and ran into the fens. Nay, Ivo himself was swept from the road, and compelled to run for it across a broad marsh where there was at this season little water, but much mud. Lord Hereward, who saw him go, said to his sword-bearer, “That big bully of Angevin is not worth my following: go, Elfric, and bring him hither; you will find him somewhere there among the bulrushes. He will surrender; so slay him not, but bring him here alive, and we will keep him and teach him to lead a fen life.”
And while Elfric went in pursuit of Sir Ivo, other Saxons followed the Normans that were running along the causey and throwing away their arms to run the lighter, until they saw them a good way beyond the manor-house; and other Saxons going into the fens slew many of the unskilled Normans who had fled thitherward and stuck in the mud. On the opposite side of the river the Norman force which had been assaulting the cell was now in full flight for Stamford: in all its parts the army of the vicomte was discomfited and shamefully routed. Deep in the mud and among the bulrushes, and helpless as he was when with his brother Geoffroy he lay floundering in the fen pool near Ey, Elfric and the score of merry men he took with him found the great Ivo Taille-Bois with two Norman knights as helpless as himself: and upon being summoned by the sword-bearer and threatened by the Saxon soldiers, Ivo and the two knights crawled out of the mud upon their hands and knees, and gave themselves up as prisoners to Hereward the Knight and Lord of Brunn, for Ivo could call him knight now, aye, knight and lord!
When the great vicomte and so-called nephew of the Conqueror was brought into the presence of Hereward, that merry Saxon lord could not but laugh at the woeful figure he made: and he said, smiling all the while, “Oh, Sir Ivo, this is the second time we meet, and each time thou comest before me in very dirty plight! But, Ivo, the mud and slime of our fens are not so foul as the work thou hast each time had in hand! At Ey thou thoughtest to have surprised a defenceless maiden, and here hast thou been coming against a young matron, my right noble wife, and a poor defenceless little township and a handful of monks. Ivo, thou art a big man and hast a big voice, yet art thou but a braggart and coward! ’Tis well thou hast not had time to do mischief at the manor-house, for hadst thou done any, I would have hacked thee to pieces! As it stands thou art my prisoner, nor will I ever hear of ransom.”
The Taille-Bois hung down his head, and said no word, except that he hoped the Lord of Brunn would yet remember that by marriage they were as good as cousins.
The townfolk of Spalding and the true and now relieved monks came across the river in the boats which the Normans had left behind them, and saluted and did honour to Hereward; nor did they forget Elfric, who had lived so long among them; and as they as yet knew nought of what had befallen the Saxons that morning in the Camp of Refuge, these poor men were all jubilant beyond measure.
It was not an hour since Hereward first fell upon the Normans on the causey, and everything that he could do for this night was already done. He bade Elfric count the prisoners and the number of the slain. Without counting those who had perished in the fens, more than two score Normans lay stark dead on the causey. More were wounded, but not half a score of Saxons were slain. The exceeding great light which had come from the burning town was now dying away, for the flames had consumed everything that was consumable in Spalding. But many torches were soon lighted, and by their light the Lord of Brunn and his faithful sword-bearer marched hastily towards the manor-house, over which their hearts had long been hovering; and they were followed thitherward by Ivo Taille-Bois and the rest of the prisoners, and by a part of the Saxon force, the rest of those three hundred true men being left to guard the river and the succursal cell.
At the sound of his horn the drawbridge was lowered and the gates of the manor-house were thrown open to the Lord of Brunn; and then was there happy meeting in the hall with the Ladie Alftrude and the maid Mildred—so happy that Hereward and Elfric forgot for the time the shame and woe of that bloody morning, and the young dame and the maiden forgot their own late agony and danger: nor was it when the lady brought her first-born son, rosy from his sleep, and put him in the arms of his glad sire, and when maid Mildred hung upon the arm of the sword-bearer and called him her deliverer, and said that she would never more leave him, but go whithersoever he might go, that these sad things could be brought back to the mind, or that either Hereward or Elfric could recollect that henceforward they and those who were dearest unto them must lead a wandering life in the wilds and the fens. Nay, when a cheerful fire was lit in the great hall, and the tables were well spread, and the drinking-horns well filled, every good Saxon present seemed to think that this joy must last.
Yet if, in the morning after this happy meeting, there came sad thoughts and many and much sadder recollections, there was no craven panic, nor so much as any visible perturbation or confusion. Vir serenissimus, a most serene and imperturbable man, was the Lord of Brunn: and to this high quality of his nature was mainly owing all that he had done and all that he lived to do afterwards. The Ladie Alftrude was worthy to mate with such a lord; and their serenity made serene and confident all those that were about them. And therefore was it that when the foul treason at Ely was made known to all of them, and when much more bad news was brought in, as that the Normans had stormed and taken the lady’s manor-house at Ey and the lord’s manor-house at Brunn, and had been admitted again into Crowland Abbey, these good Saxons lost not heart and abated not of hope, but vowed that they would fight to the last for Lord Hereward, and be true to him in every extremity.