He
fought by the side of our Harold when he tamed Griffith, the
wildcat of Wales. He was in Flanders, to our great loss, when the
Normans invaded England, and there he heard, with grief, of the
death of our Harold and the slaughter at Senlac. Now, hearing that
many brave men yet defy the tyrant in the Isle of Ely, protected by
its bogs and marshes, he has accepted the invitation of the Abbot
Thurstan, and has hastened to return home and place himself at
their head. Three years have passed since Hastings, and yet England
is unconquered; the Normans concentrate their force against Ely in
vain; Crowland, Spalding, and many other places are recovered, and
the Danes promise their assistance to deliver those who were their
brethren under Canute from Norman tyranny.
"Therefore, in the name of the Lord of Brunn and the Abbot Thurstan
of Ely, I invite you to repair thither, to take part in the great
struggle so nobly begun for the deliverance of England from the
hateful yoke."
There was a dead silence, broken at last by a voice:
"But might we not first strike a blow for our own poor homes?"
"That blow shall be struck in time, and in time not far off; but
now it would be a waste, and a sinful waste of English blood, just
when every man is wanted.
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