“To the rope’s end, lads: that is all you will get in my company. Go home with you, and those who feel a calling, let them turn monks; and those who have not, let them learn ‘For to plough and to sow, And to reap and to mow, And to be a farmer’s boy.’ Good night.” And he went in, and shut the great gates after him, leaving them astonished. To take his advice, and go home, was the simplest thing to be done. A few of them on their return were soundly thrashed, and deserved it; a few were hidden by their mothers for a week, in hay-lofts and hen-roosts, till their father’s anger had passed away. But only one turned monk or clerk, and that was Leofric the Unlucky, godson of the great earl, and poet-in-ordinary to the band. The next morning at dawn Hereward mounted his best horse, armed himself from head to foot, and rode over to Peterborough. When he came to the abbey-gate, he smote thereon with his lance-but, till the porter’s teeth rattled in his head for fear. “Let me in!” he shouted. “I am Hereward Leofricsson. I must see my Uncle Brand.” “O my most gracious lord!” cried the porter, thrusting his head out of the wicket, “what is this that you have been doing to our Steward?” “The tithe of what I will do, unless you open the gate!” “O my lord!” said the porter, as he opened it, “if our Lady and St. Peter would but have mercy on your fair face, and convert your soul to the fear of God and man--” “She would make me as good an old fool as you. Fetch my uncle, the Prior.” The porter obeyed. The son of Earl Leofric was as a young lion among the sheep in those parts; and few dare say him nay, certainly not the monks of Peterborough; moreover, the good porter could not help being strangely fond of Hereward--as was every one whom he did not insult, rob, or kill. Out came Brand, a noble elder: more fit, from his eye and gait, to be a knight than a monk. He looked sadly at Hereward. “‘Dear is bought the honey that is licked off the thorn,’ quoth Hending,” said he. “Hending bought his wisdom by experience, I suppose,” said Hereward, “and so must I. So I am just starting out to see the world, uncle.” “Naughty, naughty boy! If we had thee safe here again for a week, we would take this hot blood out of thee, and send thee home in thy right mind.” “Bring a rod and whip me, then. Try, and you shall have your chance. Every one else has had, and this is the end of their labors.” “By the chains of St. Peter,” quoth the monk, “that is just what thou needest. Hoist thee on such another fool’s back, truss thee up, and lay it on lustily, till thou art ashamed. To treat thee as a man is only to make thee a more heady blown-up ass than thou art already.” “True, most wise uncle. And therefore my still wiser parents are going to treat me like a man indeed, and send me out into the world to seek my fortunes!” “Eh?”