So all was done as directed; only Nahma, realizing the nature of the food thrown to him some hours later, refused to eat of it.
CHAPTER XXIII AN HONORED GUEST
On the following morning, after the lord of the manor, his family, and all his retainers had partaken of their rude but abundant breakfast, and washed it down with copious draughts of ale, which at that time took the place of coffee or tea, Sir Amory ordered the prisoner of the preceding evening to be brought before him. The dining-tables, which were merely boards laid on trestles, were cleared away, and the great hall was made ready to serve as a court of justice. Witnesses were summoned, and spectators gathered, until but few of the knight's following were absent. Squires, pages, men-at-arms, grooms, foresters, and under-servants, all filled with an eager curiosity, flocked to the scene of trial; for the case in hand was of so serious a nature that its resulting punishment would be certain to afford vast entertainment.
In those days the killing of a deer by any person beneath the rank of a gentleman was a capital offence; while the killing of a hunting dog by one of the peasant class ranked as a crime so abominable as to merit the severest penalty. For either of these things the offender might be hanged, whipped to death, or executed in any other fitting manner, at the discretion of the judge. He might not be beheaded, as that form of punishment was reserved for offences against the state, committed by persons of rank. Neither might he be burned, since the stake was only for witches and victims of religious persecution. If the lord of the manor were inclined to be merciful, the deer-stealer or dog-killer might be given his life, and escape with some such slight punishment as having his ears cropped or a hand chopped off; but in the present case it was universally agreed that the crime was of a nature to demand the severest possible punishment. Thus, when the prisoner appeared, he was regarded with eager curiosity as one who promised to furnish a spectacle of uncommon interest.
Friendless, wounded, ragged, half starved, and utterly ignorant of the situation confronting him, the son of Longfeather was led the whole length of the great hall to the dais at its upper end, on which sat the master of his fate. As he was halted, Sir Amory exclaimed,—
"On my soul, as scurvy a knave as ever I set eyes upon. I knew not that even a gypsy could present so foul an aspect. What is thy name and condition, sirrah?"
Not understanding what was said, Nahma made no answer. Only, recalling the teaching of his own people, he stared his questioner full in the face with a mien that, in spite of his sorry plight, was quite as haughty as that of the knight himself.
"A contumacious varlet and insolent," remarked Sir Amory, "but it is possible that we may find means to lower his pride. Let the ranger named Jem stand forth and relate his tale of the occurrence concerning which this investigation is made."