Great Britain -- History -- Stephen, 1135-1154 -- Fiction; Murder -- Fiction; Revenge -- Fiction; Serfs -- Fiction
With that they let him go, and, bleeding and sobbing, the poor fellow
slunk away into the stables. Sitting in the straw, he cried as if his
heart would break, until he felt hot breath on his cheek, and looking
up saw large mild eyes, like still woodland pools, regarding him with
love. Above him towered the vast form of "Duke Robert," Geoffroi's great
war charger, as large and ponderous as a small elephant, his one dear
friend. So he forgot his troubles a little while.
It was now about nine o'clock, and breakfast was served. The Baron and
his son, and also the Lady Alice, never appeared in the great hall until
the "noon meat" at three. They ate the first meal of the day in the
"bowers" or sleeping chambers.
While the Lady Alice and her women superintended the more important
household business, or sat in the orchard outside the south wall of the
castle with their needlework, the Baron was throned in the gateway of
the castle conducting the business of his estate, and presiding over a
kind of local court.
The Justices in Eyre were hardly yet sufficiently established on
circuit, and, moreover, the country was in so disturbed a state that the
administration of law was merely in most cases, certainly at Hilgay, a
question of local tyranny.
The whole business of the day was well afoot with all its multifarious
activity when Hyla rested from his work, and sitting under the shadow
of a stone wall, ate a hunk of bread which he had brought with him. He
had sat late with Cerdic the night before, and, as he had half expected,
had been bidden in the morning to work in Pierce's fields, and not to go
to the castle. All the morning, since early dawn, he had been manuring
fields with marl, in the old British fashion. The work was very hard, as
the fields were only in the first stage of being reclaimed from wild
common land, and required infinite preparation.
The supply of dung had given out, and the marl was hard to carry and bad
to breathe.
The awful blow dealt to his whole life had dazed his brain for hours,
but the long talk with Cerdic and Harl had condensed his pain within
him, and turned it to strong purpose.
He thought over his life as he remembered it, his dull life of slavery,
and saw with bitter clearness how the clouds were gathering round him
and his kind. The present and the future alike were black as night, and
the years pressed more and more heavily as they dragged onwards.
During the last years the serfs at Hilgay had been more ill-used and
down-trodden than ever before. The Saxon gentlemen, who had held the
forefathers of Hyla in thrall, were stern and hard, but life had been
possible with them. Life was more light-hearted. Githa would sometimes
dance upon the green when the day's work was done, and spend a few
long-hoarded triens in an ivory comb or a string of coloured beads.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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