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
"Not free!" exclaimed both nobles in a breath; and Sir Yvo gazed on
him wistfully, as if he but partially understood; but Philip de
Morville turned on his heel, superciliously. "Come, Sir Yvo," he said;
"it skills not wasting time, or breath, on these abjects. Why, by the
light of heaven! had I been fettered in a dungeon, with a ton of iron
at my heels, I had leaped head-high to know myself once more a
freeman; and here this slave, By 'r lady! I can not brook to speak his
name! can not consent, forsooth! can not consent to be free! Heaven's
mercy! Let him rot a slave, then! unless, perchance, thou wouldst
crave him for thy sake, and the Virgin Mother's sake, to take good
counsel and be free. Out on it! out on it! I am sick to the soul at
such baseness!"
And he left the cottage abruptly, in scorn and anger. But Sir Yvo de
Taillebois stood still, gazing compassionately and inquiringly on the
man, over whose face there had fallen a dark, gray, death-like shadow,
as he lay with his teeth and hands clinched like vices.
"Can this be? I thought not that on earth there lived a man who might
be free, and would not. Dost not love liberty, Kenric?"
"Ask the wild eagle in his place of pride! Ask the wild goat on
Pennigant or Ingleborough's head; and when they come down to the cage
and chain, believe, then, that I love it not. Freedom! freedom! To be
free but five minutes, I would die fifty deaths of direst torture. And
yet it can not be--it can not be! Peace, tempter, peace; you can not
stir my soul. Slave I was born, slave I must die, and only in the
grave shall be a slave no longer. Leave me, beausire; but think me not
ungrateful. I never looked to owe so much to living man, and least of
all to living man of your proud race, as I owe you to-day. But leave
me, noble sir; you can not aid us. So go your way, and leave us to our
sorrow, and may the God of serfs and seigneurs be about you with his
blessing."
"Passing strange! This is passing strange!" said De Taillebois, as he
turned to go likewise; "I never saw a beast that would not leave his
cage when the door was open."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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