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
But not a thought of these things ever crossed the mind of the stately
and puissant Normans. No impression such as these, which must needs
now strike home to the soul of every chance beholder, had ever been
made on their imaginations, by the sight of things, which, seeing
every day, they had come to consider only as things which were
customary, and were, therefore, right and proper--not the exception
even to the rule, but the rule without exception.
So differently, indeed, did the circumstances above related strike Sir
Yvo de Taillebois, that he even complimented his friend on the general
comfort of his villenage, and the admirable condition of his people,
the air of capacity of his men, and the beauty of his women; nay! he
commented even upon the plump forms and brawny muscles of the young
savages, who fled diverse from before their footsteps, shrieking and
terrified at the lordly port and resounding strides of their masters,
as indicative of their future strength, and probable size and stature.
And Philip replied, laughing, "Ay! ay! they are a stout and burly set
of knaves and good workers on the main. The hinges of the stocks are
rusted hard for want of use, and the whipping-post has not heard the
crack of the boar's hide these two years or better; but then I work
them lightly and feed them roundly, and I find that they do me the
more work for it, and the better; besides, the food they consume is
all of their own producing, and I have no use for it. They raise me
twice as much now as I can expend, on this manor. Now I work my folk
but ten hours to the day, and give them meat, milk, and cheese, daily,
and have not flogged a man since Martinmas two twelvemonths; and I
have thrice the profit of them that my friend and neighbor, Reginald
Maltravers, has, though his thralls toil from matin to curfew, with
three lenten days to the week, and the thong ever sounding. It is bad
policy, I say, to over-do the work or under-do the feeding. Besides,
poor devils, they have not much fun in life, and if you fill their
bellies, you fill them with all the pleasure and contentment they are
capable of knowing. But, hold! here is Kenric's home--the best cabin
in the quarter, as the owner is the best man. Let us go in."
"And carry him a welcome cure for his aching bones," said Sir Yvo, as
they entered the little gate of a pretty garden, which stretched from
the door down to a reach of the winding stream, overshadowed by
several large and handsome willows. "By my faith! he must needs be a
good man," resumed the speaker--"why, it is as neat as a thane's
manor, and neater, too, than many I have seen."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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