“No it is not!” cried Torfrida suddenly, as if answering her own unspoken thoughts, and his. “Love is still left. The gallows and the stake cannot take that away.” And she clung closer to her husband’s side, and he again to hers. They reached the shore, and told their tale to their comrades. Whither now? “To Well. To the wide mere,” said Hereward. “But their ships will hunt us out there.” “We shall need no hunting. We must pick up the men at Cissham. You would not leave them to be murdered, too, as we have left the Ely men?” No. They would go to Well. And then? “The Bruneswald, and the merry greenwood,” said Hereward. “Hey for the merry greenwood!” shouted Leofric the Deacon. And the men, in the sudden delight of finding any place, any purpose, answered with a lusty cheer. “Brave hearts,” said Hereward. “We will live and die together like Englishmen.” “We will, we will, Viking.” “Where shall we stow the mare?” asked Geri, “the boats are full already.” “Leave her to me. On board, Torfrida.” He got on board last, leading the mare by the bridle. “Swim, good lass!” said he, as they pushed off; and the good lass, who had done it many a time before, waded in, and was soon swimming behind. Hereward turned, and bent over the side in the darkness. There was a strange gurgle, a splash, and a swirl. He turned round, and sat upright again. They rowed on. “That mare will never swim all the way to Well,” said one. “She will not need it,” said Hereward. “Why,” cried Torfrida, feeling in the darkness, “she is loose. What is this in your hand? Your dagger! And wet!” “Mare Swallow is at the bottom of the reach. We could never have got her to Well.” “And you have--” cried a dozen voices. “Do you think that I would let a cursed Frenchman--ay, even William’s self--say that he had bestridden Hereward’s mare?” None answered: but Torfrida, as she laid her head upon her husband’s bosom, felt the great tears running down from his cheek on to her own. None spoke a word. The men were awe-stricken. There was something despairing and ill-omened in the deed. And yet there was a savage grandeur in it, which bound their savage hearts still closer to their chief. And so mare Swallow’s bones lie somewhere in the peat unto this day.