Earl Osbiorn shrunk back, appalled and trembling. “Aha!” said Hereward without looking round. “I never thought there would be loose stones in the roof. Here! Up here, Vikings, Berserker, and sea-cocks all! Here, Jutlanders, Jomsburgers, Letts, Finns, witches’ sons and devils’ sons all! Here!” cried he, while Osbiorn profited by that moment to thrust an especially brilliant jewel into his boot. “Here is gold, here is the dwarfs work! Come up and take your Polotaswarf! You would not get a richer out of the Kaiser’s treasury. Here, wolves and ravens, eat gold, drink gold, roll in gold, and know that Hereward is a man of his word, and pays his soldiers’ wages royally!” They rushed up the narrow stair, trampling each other to death, and thrust Hereward and the Earl, choking, into a corner. The room was so full for a few moments, that some died in it. Hereward and Osbiorn, protected by their strong armor, forced their way to the narrow window, and breathed through it, looking out upon the sea of flame below. “That was an unlucky blow,” said Hereward, “that fell upon my head.” “Very unlucky. I saw it coming, but had no time to warn you. Why do you hold my wrist?” “Men’s daggers are apt to get loose at such times as these.” “What do you mean?” and Earl Osbiorn went from him, and into the now thinning press. Soon only a few remained, to search, by the glare of the flames, for what their fellows might have overlooked. “Now the play is played out,” said Hereward, “we may as well go down, and to our ships.” Some drunken ruffians would have burnt the church for mere mischief. But Osbiorn, as well as Hereward, stopped that. And gradually they got the men down to the ships; some drunk, some struggling under plunder; some cursing and quarrelling because nothing had fallen to their lot. It was a hideous scene; but one to which Hereward, as well as Osbiorn, was too well accustomed to see aught in it save an hour’s inevitable trouble in getting the men on board. The monks had all fled. Only Leofwin the Long was left, and he lay sick in the infirmary. Whether he was burned therein, or saved by Hereward’s men, is not told. And so was the Golden Borough sacked and burnt. Now then, whither? The Danes were to go to Ely and join the army there. Hereward would march on to Stamford; secure that town if he could; then to Huntingdon, to secure it likewise; and on to Ely afterwards. “You will not leave me among these savages?” said Alftruda. “Heaven forbid! You shall come with me as far as Stamford, and then I will set you on your way.” “My way?” said Alftruda, in a bitter and hopeless tone. Hereward mounted her on a good horse, and rode beside her, looking--and he well knew it--a very perfect knight. Soon they began to talk. What had brought Alftruda to Peterborough, of all places on earth? “A woman’s fortune. Because I am rich,--and some say fair,--I am a puppet, and a slave, a prey. I was going back to my,--to Dolfin.”