Part 1

I

In that pleasant district of merry England which lies on both sides of the river Don, in old times there was a large forest. Parts of this forest still exist. It was the home of the brave outlaws, who were so popular.

Our story describes the time towards the end of the reign, of Richard I, when he was abroad. The barons, in the king's absence, strengthened their castles and acted like little kings. Prince John, the king's brother, with the help of the barons, tried to seize the throne. Common people were cruelly oppressed.

A hundred years had passed since the Conquest of England by Duke William of Normandy. But in these hundred years the language and the interests of the Normans and Anglo-Saxons were not yet united. These two peoples remained enemies. Only a few of the Saxon princes were still masters of the land which had belonged to their fathers. After the Conquest, William the Conqueror had taken the greater part of the land from its Saxon owners and given it to the Norman barons. At court and in the castles of the great nobles Norman-French¹ was the only language spoken. Anglo-Saxon was spoken only by common people and the few remaining Saxon nobles who had not yet bent under the Norman rule.

The sun was setting upon one of the glades of that forest which we have spoken about. There were two men in the glade. The elder of these men had a serious look. He was wearing a long shirt made of the skin of some animal, and reaching down to his knees. On his feet he had sandals. Round his neck there was a metal ring, like a dog's collar; on the ring there were such words: "Gurth, the born slave of Cedric of Rotherwood." Gurth was a swineherd. The other man was sitting on the ground beside Gurth. He looked about ten years younger. His clothes, in form, were like those of his companion, but his shirt was of better materials and of brighter colours. Over his shirt he was wearing a short red cloak. Round his neck there was a collar of the same metal, with these words: "Wamba, the born slave of Cedric of Rotherwood." On his head he had a cap with bells round it. This cap, and his bright clothes, showed that he was a domestic jester.

The swineherd looked serious and sad. Wamba's eyes were merry. The two men were talking in Anglo-Saxon, which, as we said before, was spoken by all common people, except the Norman soldiers. Gurth, with the help of his dog, was trying to gather his swine together, but could not.

"Stand up, Wamba, if you are a man," he said, "and help me, or wolves on two legs will catch some of them before night."

"Really," said Wamba without standing up, "I have asked my legs, and they think that it is not good for me to run about and cover my wonderful clothes with dust. That's why, Gurth, I advise you to leave the herd alone²: because if they meet a group of travelling soldiers, or of outlaws, the only thing that can happen to them is that they will be turned into Normans³ before morning."

"The swine will be turned into Normans!" repeated Gurth. "Explain that to me, Wamba, I don't understand you."

"Why, what do you call these animals which are running about on their four legs?" asked Wamba.

"Swine, fool, swine," said the herd, "every fool knows that."

"And swine is a good Anglo-Saxon word," said the jester; "but what do you call the swine when it is killed and washed and cut into pieces and cooked?"

"Pork," answered the swineherd.

"I am very glad every fool knows that too," said Wamba, "and pork, I think, is a Norman-French word. And so, when this animal lives, and a Saxon slave takes care of it, it goes by its Anglo-Saxon name; but when it is carried to the dinner-table in the castle, it becomes a Norman and is called pork, what do you think of this, friend Gurth, ha?"

"It is true, friend Wamba. How did it get into your fool's head?"

"I can tell you more," said Wamba in the same tone; "the old Ox goes by its Anglo-Saxon name while serfs like you take care of it; but becomes a Norman and is called Beef when it arrives at table."

"You speak sad truths," answered Gurth. "Little is left to us, except the air which we breathe. All that is best goes to the Normans; our bravest men become their soldiers arid go to die in distant lands; very few remain here who have either the will or the power to protect the poor Saxons. God bless our Master Cedric; he always stands by us⁴. Here, here! Well done!" he exclaimed, as his dog appeared driving the swine before it. "You have gathered all of them now! Now, quick, Wamba, because a terrible storm of thunder and lightning is coming. Let's hurry home before the storm begins, because the night will be terrible."

And they walked quickly down the forest path, driving the swine before them.

П

Gurth and Wamba were soon overtaken by a group often horsemen, two of which seemed to be important persons, and the others - their servants.

One of the important persons was a monk of high rank dressed in rich clothes. His companion was a man over forty, thin, strong and tall, with a very sunburnt face. He had a long red cloak over his shoulders, with a white cross on it. Under it he was wearing chain mail.

In the first of the two horsemen Gurth and Wamba recognized Prior Aymer, of the nearest Abbey, a rich Norman, well-known in the neighbourhood. But they did not know his companion and were surprised that he looked half a monk, half a soldier.

"My children," said the Prior to Gurth and Wamba, "we are looking for a place where we and our servants could⁵ spend the night. Can you show us the way to the house of Cedric the Saxon?"

"It will be difficult to find the road," said Gurth, "and the family of Cedric go to bed early."

"You must tell us the way," said the Prior. "This reverend brother⁶ is of the order of Knights Templars⁷, he is half a monk, half a soldier. He has been all his life fighting with the Saracens. It will soon be night, and we are tired and hungry."

"Well, then," said Wamba, "you must ride along this path till you come to a cross; four paths meet at that cross; you take the path to the left, and I think you will reach the house of Cedric of Rotherwood before the storm begins."

The Prior thanked him, and the group rode quickly on. When they disappeared, Gurth said to Wamba, "If they go as you have told them, I think they will not reach Rotherwood this night."

"I think not," said Wamba smiling, "and it will be good."

"You are right," said Gurth. "It will be bad enough if Prior Aymer sees the Lady Rowena, and it will be worse if Cedric quarrels with this military monk."

III

As the horsemen were moving an, they talked in Norman-French, the language used by the upper classes.

"What do you call the man to whose house we are riding?" said the Templar to his companion.

"Cedric of Rotherwood," answered the Prior, "and remember: he is very proud. He stands up for his Saxons⁸ so sternly, that he is called by everybody Cedric the Saxon."

"This Lady Rowena, his daughter, is very beautiful, I think?" said the Templar.

"Cedric is not her father," replied the Prior, “she is his distant relation” he is her guardian, and loves her as his own child. She is really very beautiful, you will see it yourself. But be careful, brother Brian, how you look at Rowena and how you talk to her: if Cedric the Saxon does not like it, we are lost men. People say that he turned his own son out of the house because the young man fell in love with her. But here is the cross, and the night is so dark, that it is very difficult to see the paths. Which way did he tell us to turn? To the left?"

"To the right," said Brian.

"To the left, I think," said the Prior.

They were in a difficulty, but here they noticed a young man sleeping at the foot of the cross. They woke him up and asked if he could tell them the way to Rotherwood. "I am going there myself," said the stranger. “I know the way very well” and if you give me a horse, I can be your guide."

A horse was given to the stranger, and he led the group along a path through the forest. The way was difficult, they had to cross some streams and turn in many places, but at last they came to a wide road, at the end of which they saw a large low building. The young man pointed to it and said, "This is Rotherwood, the house of Cedric the Saxon."