“The wrath of the Lord will overtake thee for this ribaldry! Oh, Hereward of Brunn, we will not break bread with thee, nor sit at the table with such as thou art.” “Then stay here where ye are, and munch your dry bread to the odour of our roast meats,” said the young Lord of Brunn. And so, leaving the false monks under guard of some of his merry men, Hereward with the true monks went straight to the refectory and fared sumptuously; and then, like the bounteous lord that he was, he made all his followers, of whatsoever degree, eat, drink, and be merry; and so heartily did these true Saxons eat and drink, that of that same feast they left nothing behind them for Torauld of Fescamp and his hungry Normans. And when it was time to get gone, and they could drink no more, Elfric and sub-sacrist went down to the cellars and set every cask running, to the end that there should not be a drop of wine or a drop of ale or a drop of mead to cool the throats of the disappointed Frenchmen. Then the Lord of Brunn and his merry men all took their departure from the abbey of Peterborough, taking with them the chalices and pateras, the crosses and candelabra, the shrine-plates and the reliquaries, the diadems and the tables, the linens, the silks, and hangings, and everything that was worth taking, and everything that Torauld of Fescamp and his men-at-arms most wanted to find and seize. And thus did the great house of Peterborough cease to be called the rich and begin to be called miserably poor, _de aurea erat pauperrima_.[178]