him, and the giant ceased to boast. Cornwall had a giant the less. Next
he sought Ireland, and did yeoman service in the wars of that unquiet
island. Taking ship thence, he made his way to Flanders, where legend
credits him with wonderful deeds. Battle and bread were the nutriment of
his existence, the one as necessary to him as the other, and a journey
of a few hundreds of miles, with the hope of a hard fight at the end,
was to him but a holiday.

Such is the Hereward to whom tradition introduces us, an idol of popular
song and story, and doubtless a warrior of unwonted courage and skill,
agile and strong, ready for every toil and danger, and so keenly alert
and watchful that men called him the Wake. This vigorous and valiant man
was born to be the hero and champion of the English, in their final
struggle for freedom against their Norman foes.

A new passion entered Hereward's soul in Flanders, that of love. He met
and wooed there a fair lady, Torfrida by name, who became his wife. A
faithful helpmeet she proved, his good comrade in his wanderings, his
wise counseller in warfare, and ever a softening influence in the fierce
warrior's life. Hitherto the sword had been his mistress, his temper the
turbulent and hasty one of the dweller in camp. Henceforth he owed a
divided allegiance to love and the sword, and grew softer in mood,
gentler and more merciful in disposition, as life went on.

To this wandering Englishman beyond the seas came tidings of sad
disasters in his native land. Harold and his army had been overthrown at
Hastings, and Norman William was on the throne; Norman earls had
everywhere seized on English manors, Norman churls, ennobled on the
field of battle, were robbing and enslaving the old owners of the land.
The English had risen in the north, and William had harried whole