“It is impossible!” said Cedric, starting. “Fearless and wicked as they are, they dare not attempt such open and [v]gratuitous cruelty!”
“Alas!” returned the priest, “to restrain them by their sense of humanity is the same as to stop a runaway horse with a bridle of silk thread. Bethink thee, therefore, Cedric, and you also, Athelstane, what crimes you have committed in the flesh, for this very day will ye be called to answer at a higher [v]tribunal.”
“Hearest thou this, Athelstane?” said Cedric. “We must rouse up our hearts to this last action, since better it is we should die like men than live like slaves.”
“I am ready,” answered Athelstane, “to stand the worst of their malice, and shall walk to my death with as much composure as ever I did to my dinner.”
“Let us, then, unto our holy [v]gear, father,” said Cedric.
“Wait yet a moment, good [v]uncle,” said the priest in a voice very different from his solemn tones of a moment before; “better look before you leap in the dark.”
“By my faith!” cried Cedric; “I should know that voice.”
“It is that of your trusty slave and jester,” answered the priest, throwing back his cowl and revealing the face of Wamba. “Take a fool’s advice, and you will not be here long.”
“How meanest thou, knave?” demanded the Saxon.
“Even thus,” replied Wamba; “take thou this frock and cord and march quietly out of the castle, leaving me your cloak and girdle to take the long leap in thy stead.”