Finding this impossible, he made a mighty effort, and lifted Cedric fairly from his feet, and flung him on his side upon the floor. For an instant it seemed he would win away unless I drove a quarrel through him; but Cedric twisted instantly and rolled the other on his back. Then in a flash he had pinned him down and had his knee on his breast.
“Now yield thee,” Cedric panted. “Thou seest I can slay thee if I will.”
“Slay me then,” gasped the other. “’Tis better than Lord Gilroy’s branding iron or hanging noose.”
“Ah then, thou’rt Egbert that murdered the dogmaster?”
“No murderer am I; but that will serve me not. Lord Gilroy will have me flayed alive with ne’er a chance to tell my tale.”
For a moment Cedric gazed into the bloodshot eyes beneath him. Then he questioned, slowly:
“Hark thee, my man. If I let thee up, wilt thou sit quiet and tell to us thy tale of this day’s doings?”
“Aye,” replied the thrall, “though to me ’tis all one. Thou’rt a knight and landlord, and wilt have no ear for the words of a thrall that wears the iron collar and is hunted by his master like a sheep-killing hound.”
“Of that we shall see,” replied Cedric, and, springing up, he released his prisoner and pointed to one of the benches that he might sit before us. “Now tell us,” he commanded, “why thou did’st beat the dogmaster till he lies near to death.”
Egbert, the thrall, took seat as he was bidden, loosed the garment that had tightened about his throat in the struggle and began: