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Whistler, Charles W. (Charles Watts), 1856-1913

"A Prince of Cornwall A Story of Glastonbury and the West in the Days of Ina of Wessex"

Then Herewald
would have us come in for some cheer after the long day, but we
were tired and stained, and I must be back at the guardroom, and so
he bade his folk bring somewhat out here to us. There was a cask of
ale already set on the low wall by the gate for the men, and we sat
on our horses waiting, with a little crowd of thralls and children
round us, looking at the two good deer that we brought back. Then
the steward and some of the women of the house brought horns of ale
from the house for us.
One of the women came to me, and without seeing who she was, or
thinking of doing so, I reached out my hand for the horn that she
held up, and at that moment some one from behind seemed to run
against my horse's flank, and he lashed out and reared as if he was
hurt. My rein was loose, and I was bending carelessly over to take
the horn, and it was all that I could do to keep my seat for the
moment. As for the girl, she dropped the horn and ran from the
plunging horse into the doorway for safety.
Then I heard the sharp crack of a whip, and the voice of the head
huntsman speaking angrily:
"Out on you for a silly oaf!--What mean you by going near the thane
at all?"
The whip cracked again, and the long lash curled round the
shoulders of a ragged thrall, who tried in vain to escape it.


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