Wager of Battle: A Tale of Saxon Slavery in Sherwood ForestHerbert, Henry William
History
Wager of Battle: A Tale of Saxon Slavery in Sherwood Forest
Herbert, Henry William
Anglo-Saxons -- Fiction; Great Britain -- History -- Norman period, 1066-1154 -- Fiction; Sherwood Forest (England) -- Fiction
"What fortune, Sir Foulke; have you got the villeyn?"
"Safe enough, Fitz Hugh," replied the knight; "but he is no mere
brute, as you fellows told me, but a perilous, shrewd, intelligent,
clear-headed Saxon. He has been advised, too, in this matter, by some
one well-skilled in the law, and was, I think, expecting our coming. I
should not marvel much, if De Taillebois have notice of us. We must be
in the saddle again as soon as possible. But I must have a morsel ere
we start; I have not tasted aught since high-noon, and then it was but
a beggarly oat-cake and a flask of mead. What have you there?"
"Some right good treble ale, beausire; let me fill you a tankard, and
play cup-bearer for once." And, suiting the action to the word, he
filled out a mighty horn of the liquid amber, capped with its snowy
foam, and handed it to the knight, adding, "The supper is but
fragments, but there is more at the fire now. I will go to the
stables, and see the fresh horses saddled and caparisoned; and as I
pass the buttery and tap, I will stir up the loitering knaves."
"Do so, Fitz Hugh," replied the other; "but hasten, Jesu Maria!
hasten! I reckon but half done until we are out of this beggarly hole,
and under way for merry Yorkshire. And hark you, Fitz Hugh, let them
bring in the prisoner. We must have him along with us; and ten of the
best men, lightly armed, and mounted on the pick of our stud. Ten more
may tarry with the tired beasts we have just used, and bring them on
with the baggage and sumpter horses to-morrow."
Then, as his officer left the hall to attend to his multifarious
duties, he quaffed another huge flagon of the strong, heady ale; and,
casting himself into a settle in the chimney-corner, what between the
warmth of the fire, grateful after his hard ride in the chilly night
air, and the fumes of the heady tankard, he sunk into a doze, from
which he only aroused himself, when, half an hour afterward, in came a
dozen clumsy village servants, stamping and clattering in their
heavy-clouted shoes, and loaded the table with smoking platters and
huge joints, of which, however coarse the cookery, the odors were any
thing but unsavory.
To supper accordingly he now applied himself, two or three of the men
who had been with him at the seizure of Kenric, crowding into the room
and taking the lower end of the table, where another great fire was
blazing, and others coming in and out in succession, until all were
satisfied.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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