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Updated: June 3, 2025
Fool, which is the right way for me, save the path which leads to a land where all is forgotten?" "To Crowland! To Crowland! To the minster! To the monks! That is the only right way for poor wretches in a world like this. The Lady Godiva told you you must go to Crowland. And now you are going. I too, I ran away from a monastery when I was young; and now I am going back. Come along!"
And Hereward did; and went back again like a man stunned. After a while there came by boat to Crowland all Torfrida's wealth: clothes, jewels: not a shred had Hereward kept. The magic armor came with them. Torfrida gave all to the abbey, there and then.
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.
For English affairs we are reduced to the meagre accounts of William of Worcester, of the Continuator of the Crowland Chronicle, and of Fabyan. Fabyan is a London alderman with a strong bias in favour of the House of Lancaster, and his work is useful for London only.
Most of it is in complete ruin, but the north aisle of the nave has been sufficiently preserved to serve as the parish church of Crowland; round about the church and the ruins extends the village graveyard. Set up in the porch beneath the tower is a memorial for William Hill, the sexton, who died in 1792.
So he rode down to the river, and there took two great barges, and rowed away to Crowland, with forty men-at-arms. And all the while he thought of Alftruda, as he hai seen her at Peterborough. And of no one else? Not so. For all the while he felt that he loved Torfrida's little finger better than Alftruda's whole body, and soul into the bargain. What a long way it was to Crowland.
'The rest who were in the same condition' were 'dumped down' near Smyrna, where the valuable Harrison was sold to 'a grave physician. 'This Turk he' was eighty-seven years of age, and 'preferred Crowland in Lincolnshire before all other places in England. No inquiries are known to have been made about a Turkish medical man who once practised at Crowland in Lincolnshire, though, if he ever did, he was likely to be remembered in the district.
And they were going, by some by-stream, to Crowland, to the sanctuary of the Danish fen-men, that they might cast themselves down before St. Guthlac, and ask of him that mercy for their souls which the conqueror had denied to their bodies.
It was the third day. The Normans were drinking in the hall of Bourne, casting lots among themselves who should espouse the fair Alftruda, who sat weeping within over the headless corpse; when in the afternoon a servant came in, and told them how a barge full of monks had come to the shore, and that they seemed to be monks from Crowland.
"Or I," said Ivo Taillebois, "till I see Hereward's head on Bourne gable, where he stuck up those Norman's heads seven years ago. But what the Lord Abbot means by saying that we have done with English saints I do not see, for the villains of Crowland have just made a new one for themselves." "A new one?"
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