Herluin was of double mind. He longed to keep Hereward out of St. Peter’s grace. He longed to see Hereward dead at his feet; not because of any personal hatred, but because he foresaw in him a terrible foe to the Norman cause. But he wished, too, to involve Abbot Brand as much as possible in Hereward’s “rebellions” and “misdeeds,” and above all, in the master-offence of knighting him; for for that end, he saw, Hereward was come. Moreover, he was touched with the sudden frankness and humility of the famous champion. So he answered mildly,-- “Verily, thou hast a knightly soul. May God and St. Peter so forgive thee and thy companions as I forgive thee, freely and from my heart.” “Now,” cried Hereward, “a boon! a boon! Knight me and these my fellows, Uncle Brand, this day.” Brand was old and weak, and looked at Herluin. “I know,” said Hereward, “that the French look on us English monk-made knights as spurious and adulterine, unworthy of the name of knight. But, I hold--and what churchman will gainsay me?--that it is nobler to receive sword and belt from a man of God than from a man of blood like one’s self; the fittest to consecrate the soldier of an earthly king, is the soldier of Christ, the King of kings.” [Footnote: Almost word for word from the “Life of Hereward.”] “He speaks well,” said Herluin. “Abbot, grant him his boon.” “Who celebrates high mass to-morrow?” “Wilton the priest, the monk of Ely,” said Herluin, aloud. “And a very dangerous and stubborn Englishman,” added he to himself. “Good. Then this night you shall watch in the church. To-morrow, after the Gospel, the thing shall be done as you will.” That night two messengers, knights of the Abbot, galloped from Peterborough. One to Ivo Taillebois at Spalding, to tell him that Hereward was at Peterborough, and that he must try to cut him off upon the Egelric’s road, the causeway which one of the many Abbots Egelric had made some thirty years before, through Deeping Fen to Spalding, at an enormous expense of labor and of timber. The other knight rode south, along the Roman road to London, to tell King William of the rising of Kesteven, and all the evil deeds of Hereward and of Brand. And old Brand slept quietly in his bed, little thinking on what errands his prior had sent his knights. Hereward and his comrades watched that night in St. Peter’s church. Oppressed with weariness of body, and awe of mind, they heard the monks drone out their chants through the misty gloom; they confessed the sins--and they were many--of their past wild lives. They had to summon up within themselves courage and strength henceforth to live, not for themselves, but for the fatherland which they hoped to save. They prayed to all the heavenly powers of that Pantheon which then stood between man and God, to help them in the coming struggle; but ere the morning dawned, they were nodding, unused to any long strain of mind. Suddenly Hereward started, and sprang up, with a cry of fire.