faithful band had long defied its foes.

Hither came Hereward with his warlike followers, and quickly found
himself at the head of the band of patriot refugees. History was
repeating itself. Centuries before King Alfred had sought just such a
shelter against the Danes, and had troubled his enemies as Hereward now
began to trouble his.

The exiles of the Camp of Refuge found new blood in their organization
when Hereward became their leader. Their feeble forays were quickly
replaced by bold and daring ones. Issuing like hornets from their nests,
Hereward and his valiant followers sharply stung the Norman invaders,
hesitating not to attack them wherever found, cutting off armed bands,
wresting from them the spoils of which they had robbed the Saxons, and
flying back to their reedy shelter before their foes could gather in
force.

Of the exploits of this band of active warriors but one is told in full,
and that one is worth repeating. The Abbey of Peterborough, not far
removed from Ely, had submitted to Norman rule and gained a Norman
abbot, Turold by name. This angered the English at Ely, and they made a
descent upon the settlement. No great harm was intended. Food and some
minor spoil would have satisfied the raiders. But the frightened monks,
instead of throwing themselves on the clemency of their
fellow-countrymen, sent word in haste to Turold. This incensed the
raiding band, composed in part of English, in part of Danes who had
little regard for church privileges. Provoked to fury, they set fire to
the monks' house and the town, and only one house escaped the flames.
Then they assailed the monastery, the monks flying for their lives. The
whole band of outlaws burst like wolves into the minster, which they