Here, at Ely in Cambridgeshire, a band of Englishmen
had formed what they called a "Camp of Refuge," whence they issued at
intervals in excursions against the Normans. England had no safer haven
of retreat for her patriot sons. Ely was practically an island, being
surrounded by watery marshes on all sides. Lurking behind the reeds and
rushes of these fens, and hidden by their misty exhalations, that
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.
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