His praises after this were sung far and wide; but amidst all the joy there was a secret plot made to destroy him by some of the knights who had shown themselves to be cowards, and were jealous of the bold deed he had performed. So one day they concealed themselves in the wood and tried to kill him as he came slowly along the mossy paths followed by his servant Martin. The story tells how Hereward slew two of these knights in self-defence, and another crept away, or was carried wounded to the house. Soon after this he bade Gilbert of Ghent farewell; he said that he could not live happily where there were traitors, but those who loved him were grieved when he rode away, and the women shed many tears, remembering how he had saved them with his strong right arm from a cruel death.
From Scotland he went to Cornwall, and there we are told he performed some brave deeds, and rescued a Cornish princess by slaying in combat a fierce and cruel Pict, a giant in height, whom her father had commanded her to marry against her own inclination.
Some time after he was heard of in Ireland, where he took part in the warlike exploits of King Ranald. Whenever there was fighting he was sure to be found where the danger was thickest, and the name of "The Wake" was given to him because he was always on the watch for his enemies, and could never be taken unawares.
But in Ireland he began to get homesick; he longed to see his brave father once more, and his mother, the Lady of Bourne, sitting amongst her maidens, or gliding amongst the sick like some comforting angel; he wanted to know if his relations had any kindly feeling left towards him. This longing became so strong that he asked the king to give him two ships, which Ranald granted him readily in return for his services, and with these he set out for England. But he had not sailors enough on board, and since he could get no more to serve him in Ireland, he sailed up northwards towards the Orkneys. When he reached these islands a storm arose and one of his ships was wrecked on the shore of Hoy.
With the other vessel he hoped to get safe to England, but he had not been long at sea when the winds blew furiously, the waves dashed and foamed, and storm-tossed for many days he was at last driven on the shore of Flanders. In this country he found a welcome, and married a noble Flemish lady named Torfrida. No part of his life, perhaps, was more peaceful than that which he spent in his new home: nevertheless, it appears that wherever he was, he always engaged in the wars that were carried on around him, and never failed to distinguish himself by his valour.