“As fairly, to do them justice, as if they had been Frenchmen, and not English churls. As we came down along the dike, a little man of them steps between the two, and strikes down their swords as if they had been two reeds. ‘Come!’ cries he, ‘enough of this. You are two _prudhommes_ well matched, and you can fight out this any other day’; and away he and his men go down the dike-end to the water.” “Leaving Richard safe?” “Wounded a little,--but safe enough.” “And then?” “We followed them to the boat as hard as we could; killed one with a javelin, and caught another.” “Knightly done!” and William swore an awful oath, “and worthy of valiant Frenchmen. These English set you the example of chivalry by letting your comrade fight his own battle fairly, instead of setting on him all together; and you repay them by hunting them down with darts, because you dare not go within sword’s-stroke of better men than yourselves. Go. I am ashamed of you. No, stay. Where is your prisoner? For, Splendeur Dex! I will send him back safe and sound in return for Dade, to tell the knights of Ely that if they know so well the courtesies of war, William of Rouen does too.” “The prisoner, Sire,” quoth the knight, trembling, “is--is--” “You have not murdered him?” “Heaven forbid! but--” “He broke his bonds and escaped?” “Gnawed them through, Sire, as we suppose, and escaped through the mire in the dark, after the fashion of these accursed frogs of Girvians.” “But did he tell you naught ere he bade you good morning?” “He told as the names of all the seven. He that beat down the swords was Hereward himself.” “I thought as much. When shall I have that fellow at my side?” “He that fought Richard was one Wenoch.” “I have heard of him.” “He that we slew was Siward, a monk.” “More shame to you.” “He that we took was Azer the Hardy, a monk of Nicole--Licole,”--the Normans could never say Lincoln. “And the rest were Thurstan the Younger; Leofric the Deacon, Hereward’s minstrel; and Boter, the traitor monk of St. Edmund’s.” “And if I catch them,” quoth William, “I will make an abbot of every one of them.” “Sire?” quoth the chaplain, in a deprecating tone. CHAPTER XXX. HOW HEREWARD PLAYED THE POTTER; AND HOW HE CHEATED THE KING.