"Come, Kenric," said De Morville, cheeringly, "thou talkest now more like to a gray brother, than to the stout woodman who struckest yon brave blow but a while since, and saved Sir Yvo's fair lady, Guendolen. Faith! it was bravely done, and well; and well shall come of it to you, believe me. It is to speak of that to thee that we came hither, but this boy's death hath put it from our minds. But, hark ye, boy! I will send down some wenches hither from the castle, with ale and mead for his lykewake, and linen for a shroud; and Father Engelram shall see to the church-service; and there shall be a double dole to the poor at the abbey; and I myself will pay ten marks, in masses for his soul. If he died a serf, he shall be buried as though he were a freeman, and a franklin's son; and all for thy sake, and for the good blow thou struckest but three hours agone." Kenric's brow flushed high, whether it was with gratification, or gratitude, or from wounded pride; but he stuttered confusedly, as he attempted to thank his lord, and only found his tongue as he related to his grandmother, in his native language, the promises and goodly proffers of the castellan; and she, for a moment, spoke eagerly in reply, but then seemed to forget, and was silent. A word or two passed in French between the nobles, Yvo de Taillebois urging that the time was inopportune for speaking of the matter on which they had come down; for that it was not well to mingle great joys with great sorrows; but Sir Philip insisted, declaring that there was no so good way to cure a past grief as by the news of a coming joy. "So, hark you, Kenric," he said; "the cure we came to bring you for your bruised bones, and the guerdon for your gallant deed, in two words, is this--I may not, as you may have heard tell, liberate my serfs, under condition, but I may _sell_; and I have sold thee to mine ancient friend and brother in arms, Yvo de Taillebois." "Not to hold in thrall," exclaimed Yvo de Taillebois, eagerly, as he saw the face of the wounded man flush fiery red, and then grow pale as ashes. "Not to hold in thrall, but to liberate; but to make thee as free as the birds of the wildest wing--a freeman; and, if thou wilt follow me, a freeholder on my lands beyond the lakes, in the fair shire of Westmoreland." "I am a serf of the soil, Beausire de Morville, and I may not be sold from the soil, unless legally convicted of felony. I know no felony that I have done, Sir Philip." "Felony, man!" exclaimed Sir Philip; "art thou mad? We would reward thee for thy good faith and valor. We would set thee free. Of course, thou canst not be sold, but with thine own consent. But thou hast only to consent, and be free as thy master." "Sir Philip," replied the man, turning even paler than before, and trembling, as if he had a fit of palsy, "would I could rise to bless you, on my bended knee! May the great God of all things bless you! but I can not consent--think me not ungrateful--but I can not be free!"