"Set your fears at rest, lady. These rough men know how to lay a splintered bone, or close a wound, like any practised leech. But if you let your mind run on these things you will be miserable. I have no fear for him. The Normans will find their match, I trow, and give him a wide berth. I have seen them cut down churls like myself with vigorous strokes, and strike halting blows at him, through sheer terror at his appearance."
"But they are many to one, and better armed, and he will be overborne by the numbers of them. I am sure I could be of service, and I should like to be near; I don't mind the rough life at all. Saddle us a pair of horses, and let us start to-night."
"I warrant the Earl would slit my ears if I dared do any such thing! But these are idle fears. I forget me, though; I have a message from the Abbot Adhelm. But, by our Lady! he is no longer abbot, but a humble friar, with no more power in his own abbey than any scullion priest. He was a worthy Father, and never turned a lean dog of a Saxon away without crumbs and comfort. But, among the other bad things these Normans have brought, are a lot of swag-bellied monks, who broach more ale-casks than they say prayers; and, by the Mass! they drink the ale, too, for there is never a drop, or a taste of venison, to bestow on a famishing palmer, or starving yeoman. I wish I could stick a nettle under their tails and make them trot, the whole brood of them. The Church will never make much out of my prayers, beshrew me! but I would with right good will rid her of these shaveling carrion who have come swarming at the heels of the fighting men."
"But you said you had a message from Adhelm, did you not, Bretwul?"
"Aye, aye, lady!" said Bretwul, highly gratified at the diversion he had effected. "When my tongue is set a-wagging, it is as long as my dog's when he is dead beat in chasing a hare; there's no hauling it in. Well, Adhelm has found some pity in a wolf's den. Whoever would have looked for a she-wolf having compassion on the sheep?"
"I have not the slightest idea what you are talking about Bretwul."
"Marry, no! there's no sense in an ass's braying; but bringing him to the end on't is another matter. Well, gramercy! this fire-eating Norman count has got a daughter who belies her own father."
"Belies her own father? What may that mean?"
"Aye, marry, it's true enough—belies her own father. I take the liberty to dodge about a bit amongst the churls who have submitted to these Normans, to see what encouragement there may be to feed at the same trough as these broken-spirited cattle. Well, an iron collar about my neck is an ornament I don't covet, and kicks and cuffs always did bruise my flesh, and, what is even more painful, they bruise my mind; so a Norman serf I will not be. But they tell me this count has a daughter who has compassion, and visits them, carrying dainties to such as are sick. Adhelm also and she are great friends, and he says she occupies herself much in this sort of work."
This colloquy was cut short by a sharp knock at the door and the hurried entrance of one of the Earl's retainers.