Some short season Hereward passed in silent and sad reflections. Then approaching the bier whereon the body of Girolamo lay with the face turned to the skies, and the little silver cross lying on the breast, and the limbs decently composed, all through the pious care of Elfric, the Lord of Brunn muttered a _De profundis_ and a _Requiescat in pace_, and then said, “Elfric, I never loved that man! Perhaps, at times, I almost feared him, with the reach of his skill and the depth and darkness of his passions. I never could hate the foul fiend himself so much as Girolamo hated these Normans! But, be it said, his wrongs and sufferings have far exceeded mine. England and I stand deeply indebted to him!” “He bade me give thee this his sword, and to tell thee that he died thy friend,” said Elfric. “There never yet was sword deeper in the gore of our foes,” said Hereward; “I know he was my friend, and in many things my instructor, and I reproach my heart for that it never could love him, albeit it was ever grateful towards him! But, Elfric, we must down the river without delay, for the monks of Ely will be clamorous for their wine, and traitors may take advantage of mine absence from the camp. See to it, Elfric, for a heaviness is upon my heart such as I have never known before. I had bad dreams in my last sleep, visions of surprisings and burnings by the Normans, and now the great loss and bad omen of Girolamo’s death bring those dreams back upon my mind with more force than they had before.” “I have had my dreams too of late,” said the sword-bearer; “but dreams, good my lord, are to be read contrariwise. Let me give your lordship a slice of wheaten bread and a cup of wine.” Quoth the Lord of Brunn, “’Tis not badly thought, for I am fasting since last sunset, and the monks of Ely must hold us excused if we broach one cask. Elfric, I say again, we have paid all too dearly for this corn and wine.” CHAPTER XXIII. A CHAPTER AND A GREAT TREASON.