Arab countries -- Fiction; Crusades -- Fiction; Great Britain -- History -- Medieval period, 1066-1485 -- Fiction
“You hear what he says, the silly fellow?” said Georgios. “What? You do
not understand Greek—only Arabic? Well, he asks me to give him money to
pay for his dinner and his night’s lodging. You must forgive him, for
he is but a simple peasant, and cannot believe that anyone may be
lodged and fed without payment. I will explain to him, the pig!” And
explain he did in shrill, high notes, of which no one else could
understand a word.
“There, Sir Knight, I do not think he will offend you so again. Ah!
look. He is walking off—he is sulky. Well, let him alone; he will be
back for his dinner, the pig! Oh, the wet and the wind! A Cypriote does
not mind them in his sheepskins, in which he will sleep even in the
snow.”
So, Georgios still declaiming upon the shortcomings of his servant,
they went back into the hall. Here the conversation soon turned upon
other matters, such as the differences between the creeds of the Greek
and Latin churches—a subject upon which he seemed to be an expert—and
the fear of the Christians in Cyprus lest Saladin should attempt to
capture that island.
At length five o’clock came, and Georgios having first been taken to
the lavatory—it was but a stone trough—to wash his hands, was led to
the dinner, or rather to the supper-table, which stood upon a dais in
front of the entrance to the solar. Here places were laid for six—Sir
Andrew, his nephews, Rosamund, the chaplain, Matthew, who celebrated
masses in the church and ate at the hall on feast-days, and the
Cypriote merchant, Georgios himself. Below the dais, and between it and
the fire, was another table, at which were already gathered twelve
guests, being the chief tenants of Sir Andrew and the reeves of his
outlying lands. On most days the servants of the house, with the
huntsmen, swineherds, and others, sat at a third table beyond the fire.
But as nothing would stop these from growing drunken on the good ale at
a feast, and though many ladies thought little of it, there was no sin
that Rosamund hated so much as this, now their lord sent them to eat
and drink at their ease in the barn which stood in the courtyard with
its back to the moat.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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