From the thicket bordering the pathway proceeded gasping, panting, maudlin complaints, and thickly-uttered curses; then came the sound of a feeble struggle as though a heavy body strove vainly to extricate itself from glutinous, liquescent soil. Richard the Scrob got down from his horse, handed the reins to Perot, who walked beside him, and strode in among the alders. The light of the sinking moon revealed a man lying face downwards, his legs submerged in a marshy pool, his hands clinging to a tuft of rushes. Having chosen a firm foothold, Richard seized the unfortunate by the scruff of the neck, and hauled him on to more or less solid ground. The bloated visage, streaming with mud, was just recognizable as that of Ulwin of the Moor.
"Oh, oh—ah—oh!" he blubbered. "I am a dead man! Drowned dead—frozen to the inwards! One had bewitched the accursed nag that she might throw me!"
Richard heard a horse cropping the wet fern a little distance away. He captured the offending animal without difficulty, and gave it into the care of his servant. Then he approached Ulwin once more, and took him by the arm in order to help him to his feet.
"Dost thou dare?" cried the Englishman, striking aimlessly in the direction of his rescuer's chin. "I have no gold upon me—nought upon me! Murder! Murder by our lord the King's highway! Fellow, I am a thane, and my wergild a thane's wergild—twelve hundred shillings worth!"
"No robber am I. Ulwin, I am Richard of Overton. Ye have known me this many a year—I am Richard the Scrob."
"Scrob? Scrob? Eh, what is Scrob?" said the thane of the Moor. "Oh, aye—I mind—thou art the Frenchman—Richard—neighbour Richard. Well, Richard, my old nag tossed me off—bewitched is she, the jade! And Alward and Ednoth and the others—to hell with them for selfish churls! they rode on and left me here—would not wait for me—rode on and left me lying here…. I called—I called! Wending home from Wigmore…. Cakes and ale had we—good eating and drinking at Wigmore, Richard…. Left me here to drown! What think ye of that?"
"Belike they missed thee not!" replied the other grimly. "Here is your horse. Try to get upon her. I think your bones are whole."
Ulwin remained sitting in the mud.
"Wa—la! wa—la!" He was weeping again now. "Wa-la-la and woe the day! Beggared am I and all undone! They set two worthy cocks to fight…. Oh, a fair sight to see them at war! When all around would wager upon them, how might I not do likewise? One hundred shillings have I lost to the men of Wigmore! And, Richard, I am burdened with debt: one hundred and forty shillings in all do I owe among my neighbours. I must sell myself into thralldom—my wife—my hapless bairns! Let me flee the shire…."
Richard brought a leather wallet from beneath his mantle.