"But it does not please me, thou knave," said Cedric, "that I should be

made to suppose otherwise for two hours, and sit here devising vengeance

against my neighbours for wrongs they have not done me. I tell thee,

shackles and the prison-house shall punish the next offence of this

kind."

Gurth, knowing his master's irritable temper, attempted no exculpation;

but the Jester, who could presume upon Cedric's tolerance, by virtue

of his privileges as a fool, replied for them both; "In troth, uncle

Cedric, you are neither wise nor reasonable to-night."

"'How, sir?" said his master; "you shall to the porter's lodge, and

taste of the discipline there, if you give your foolery such license."

"First let your wisdom tell me," said Wamba, "is it just and reasonable

to punish one person for the fault of another?"

"Certainly not, fool," answered Cedric.

"Then why should you shackle poor Gurth, uncle, for the fault of his dog

Fangs? for I dare be sworn we lost not a minute by the way, when we had

got our herd together, which Fangs did not manage until we heard the

vesper-bell."

"Then hang up Fangs," said Cedric, turning hastily towards the

swineherd, "if the fault is his, and get thee another dog."

"Under favour, uncle," said the Jester, "that were still somewhat on the

bow-hand of fair justice; for it was no fault of Fangs that he was lame

and could not gather the herd, but the fault of those that struck off

two of his fore-claws, an operation for which, if the poor fellow had

been consulted, he would scarce have given his voice."

"And who dared to lame an animal which belonged to my bondsman?" said

the Saxon, kindling in wrath.

"Marry, that did old Hubert," said Wamba, "Sir Philip de Malvoisin's

keeper of the chase. He caught Fangs strolling in the forest, and said

he chased the deer contrary to his master's right, as warden of the

walk."

"The foul fiend take Malvoisin," answered the Saxon, "and his keeper

both! I will teach them that the wood was disforested in terms of

the great Forest Charter. But enough of this. Go to, knave, go to thy

place--and thou, Gurth, get thee another dog, and should the keeper dare

to touch it, I will mar his archery; the curse of a coward on my head,

if I strike not off the forefinger of his right hand!--he shall draw

bowstring no more.--I crave your pardon, my worthy guests. I am beset

here with neighbours that match your infidels, Sir Knight, in Holy Land.

But your homely fare is before you; feed, and let welcome make amends

for hard fare."




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