Wager of Battle: A Tale of Saxon Slavery in Sherwood Forest

by Henry William Herbert

  CHAPTER V.

  THE SERF'S QUARTER.

  "As they sat in Englyshe wood, Under the greenwode tree, They thought they heard a woman wepe, But her they mought not see."

  ADAM BELL, ETC.

  Leaving the warder lounging listlessly at his post, as in awell-settled district and in "piping times of peace," with no feudalenemies at hand, and no outlaws in the vicinity, none at least sonumerous as to render any guard necessary, except as a matter ofdignity and decorum, the two knights strolled down the sandy lanetoward the village, or quarter of the serfs; who were not admittedgenerally to reside within the walls, partly as a precaution, lest, incase of some national affray, they might so far outnumber the Normanmen-at-arms as to become dangerous, partly because they were notdeemed fitting associates for the meanest of the feudal servitors.

  The two gentlemen in question were excellent specimens of the Normanbaron of the day, without, however, being heroes or geniuses, or inany particular--except perhaps for good temper and the lack ofespecial temptation toward evil--manifestly superior to others oftheir class, caste, and period. Neither of them was in any respect atyrant, individually cruel, or intentionally an oppressor; but bothwere, as every one of us is at this day, used to look at things as wefind them, through our own glasses, and to seek rather for what is thecustom, than for what is right, and therefore ought to be; for what itsuits us, and is permitted to us by law to do to others, than for whatwe should desire others to do unto us.

  Reckless of life themselves, brought up from their cradles to regardpain as a thing below consideration, and death as a thing to be riskeddaily, they were not like to pay much regard to the mere physicalsufferings of others, or to set human life at a value, such as torender it worth the preserving, when great stakes were to be won orlost on its hazard. Accustomed to set their own lives on the die, forthe most fantastic whim of honor, or at the first call of their feudalsuzerains, accustomed to see their Norman vassals fall under shield,and deem such death honorable and joyous, at their own slightestbidding, how should they have thought much of the life, far more ofthe physical or mental sufferings, of the Saxon serf, whom they hadfound, on their arrival in their newly-conquered England, a thingdebased below the value, in current coin, of an ox, a dog, or awar-horse--a thing, the taking of whose life was compensated by atrivial fine, and whom they naturally came to regard as a dull,soulless, inanimate, stupid senseless animal, with the passions only,but without the intellect of the man. Of the two barons, Sir Yvo deTaillebois was the superior, both in intellect and culture; he was ineasy circumstances also, while his far younger friend, Sir Philip deMorville, was embarrassed by the _res angusta domi_, and by theimportunity of relentless creditors, which often drives men to do, aswell as to suffer, extremes.

  It was no hardness of nature or cruelty of disposition, therefore,which led either of these noble men--for they were noble, not in birthonly, but in sentiment and soul, according to the notions of theirage, which were necessarily _their_ notions, and to the lightsvouchsafed to them--to speak concerning the Saxon serfs, and acttoward them, ever as if they were beasts of burden, worthy of care,kindness, and some degree of physical consideration, rather than likemen, as themselves, endowed with hearts to feel and souls tocomprehend. Had they been other than they were, they had beenmonsters; as it was, they were excellent men, as men went then, and gonow, fully up to the spirit of their own times, and to the strain ofmorality and justice understood thereby, but not one whit above it.Therefore, Sir Yvo de Taillebois, finding himself indebted for hisdaughter's life to the hardihood and courage of the Saxon serf, whomhe regarded much as he would have done his charger or his hound,desired, as a point of honor, rather than of gratitude, to secure tothe serf an indemnity from toil, punishment, or want, during the restof his life, just as he would have assigned a stall, with free rackand manger, to the superannuated charger which had saved his own lifein battle; or given the run of kitchen, buttery, and hall, to thehound which had run the foremost of his pack. The sensibilities of theSaxon were as incomprehensible to him as those of the charger or thestaghound, and he thought no more of considering him in his social orfamily relations, than the animals to which, in some sort, he likenedhim.

  He would not, it is true, if asked as a philosophical truth, whetherthe life of a Saxon serf and of an Andalusian charger were equivalent,have replied in the affirmative; for he was, according to his lights,a Christian, and knew that a Saxon had a soul to be saved; nor wouldhe have answered, that the colt of the high-bred mare, or the whelp ofthe generous brach, stood exactly in the same relation as the child ofthe serf to its human parent; but use had much deadened hisperceptions to the distinction; and the impassive and stolidinsensibility of the Saxon race, imbruted and degraded by ages ofserfdom, caused him to overlook the faint and rarely seen displays ofhuman sensibilities, which would have led him less to undervalue thesense and sentiment of his helpless fellow-countrymen. As it was, hewould as soon have expected his favorite charger or best brood mare topine hopelessly, and grieve as one who could not be consoled, at beingliberated from spur and saddle, and turned out to graze at libertyforever in a free and fertile pasture, while its colts should remainin life-long bondage, as he would have supposed it possible for theSaxon serf to be affected beyond consolation by the death, thedeportation, or the disasters of his family.

  Nor, again, did he regard liberty or servitude in an abstract sense,apart from ideas of incarceration, torture, or extreme privation, asgreat and inherent right or wrong.

  The serf owed him absolute service; the free laborer, or villeyn,service, in some sort, less absolute; his vassals, man-service,according to their degree, either in the field of daily labor, thehunting-field, or the battle-field; he himself owed service to hissuzerain; his suzerain to the King. It was all service, and thedifference was but in the degree; and if the service of the serf wasdegraded, it was a usual, a habitual degradation, to which, it mightbe presumed, he was so well accustomed, that he felt it not more thanthe charger his demipique, or the hawk his bells and jesses; and, forthe most part, he did not feel it more, nor regret it, nor know thelack of liberty, save as connected with the absence of the fetters orthe lash.

  And this, indeed, is the great real evil of slavery, wheresoever andunder whatsoever form it exists, that it is not more, but less,hurtful to the slave than to the master, and that its ill effects arein a much higher and more painful degree intellectual than physical;that, while it degrades and lowers the inferiors almost to the levelof mere brutes, through the consciousness of degradation, the absenceof all hope to rise in the scale of manhood, and the lack of everystimulus to ambition or exertion, it hardens the heart, and deadensthe sensibilities of the master, and renders him, through the strangepower of circumstance and custom, blind to the existence of wrongs,sufferings, and sorrows, at the mere narration of which, under adifferent phase of things, his blood would boil with indignation.

  Such, then, was in some considerable degree, the state of mind,arising from habit and acquaintance with the constitution of freedomand slavery, intermingled every where in the then world, any thing tothe contrary of which they had never seen nor even heard of, in whichthe two Norman lords took their way down the village street, if itcould be so called, being a mere sandy tract, passable only tohorsemen, or carts and vehicles of the very rudest construction,unarmed, except with their heavy swords, and wholly unattended, on anerrand, as they intended, of liberality and mercy.

  The quarter of the serfs of Sir Philip de Morville was, for the mostpart, very superior to the miserable collection of huts, liker todog-houses than to any human habitation, which generally constitutedthe dwellings of this forlorn and miserable race; for the knight was,as it has been stated, an even-tempered and good-natured, thoughcommon-place man; and being endowed with rather an uncommon regard fororder and taste for the picturesque, he consequently looked more thanusual to the comfort of his serfs, both in allotting them small plotsof garden-ground and orchards, and in b
estowing on them buildingmaterials of superior quality and appearance.

  All the huts, therefore, rudely framed of oak beams, having theinterstices filled in with a cement of clay and ruddle, with thatchedroofs and wooden lattices instead of windows, were whole, and for themost part weather-proof. Many of the inhabitants had made porches,covered with natural wild runners, as the woodbine and sweet-brier;all had made gardens in front, which they might cultivate in theirhours of leisure, when the day's task-work should be done, and whichdisplayed evidently enough, by their orderly or slovenly culture, thecharacter and disposition of their occupants.

  The few men whom the lords met on their way, mostly driving up beastsladen with fire-wood or forage to the cattle, for the day was not yetfar spent, nor the hours devoted to toil well-nigh passed, were hale,strong, sturdy varlets, in good physical condition, strong-limbed, andgiving plentiful evidences in their appearance of ample coarsesubsistence; they were well-dressed, moreover, although in theplainest and coarsest habiliments, made, for the most part, of thetanned hides of beasts with the hair outward, or in some cases ofcheap buff leather, their feet protected by clumsy home-made sandals,and their heads uncovered, save by the thick and matted elf-locks oftheir unkempt and dingy hair.

  They louted low as their lord passed them by, but no gleam ofrecognition, much less any smile of respectful greeting, such aspasses between the honored superior and the valued servant, playedover their stolid and heavy countenance, begrimed for the most partwith filth, and half-covered with disordered beards and unshornmustaches.

  Neither in form, motion, nor attire, did they show any symptom ofmisusage; there were no scars, as of the stripes, the stocks, or thefetters, on their bare arms and legs; they were in good physicalcondition, well-fed, warmly-lodged, sufficiently-clad--perhaps in thebest possible condition for the endurance of continuous labor, and theperformance of works requiring strength and patience, rather thanagility or energetic exertion.

  But so also were the mules, oxen, or horses, which they were employedin driving, and which, in all these respects, were fully equal totheir drivers, while they had this manifest advantage over them, thatthey were rubbed down and curry-combed, and cleaned, and showed theirhides glossy and sleek, and their manes free from scurf and burrs,which is far more than could be stated of their human companions, wholooked for the most part as if their tanned and swart complexions wereas innocent of water as were their beards and elf-locks of brush orcurrycomb.

  In addition, however, to their grim and sordid aspect, and theirevident ignorance, or carelessness, of their base appearance, therewas a dull, sullen, dogged expression on all their faces--a look notdespairing, nor even sorrowful, but perfectly impassive, as if theyhad nothing to hope for, or regret, or fear; the look of a caged bear,wearied and fattened out of his fierceness, not tamed, civilized, orcontrolled by any human teaching.

  The stature and bearing, even of the freeborn and noble Saxon, in theday when his fair isle of Albion was his own, and he trod the soil itsproud proprietor, had never been remarkable for its beauty, grace, ordignity. He was, for the most part, short, thick-set, sturdy-limbed,bull-necked, bullet-headed; a man framed more for hardihood,endurance, obstinate resolve, indomitable patience to resist, than forvivid energy, brilliant impulsive vigor, or ardor, whetherintellectual or physical; but these men, though they neither loungednor lagged behind, plodded along with a heavy, listless gait, theirfrowning brows turned earthward, their dull gray eyes rolling beneaththeir light lashes, meaningless and spiritless, and the same scowl onevery gloomy face.

  The younger women, a few of whom were seen about the doors or gardens,busied in churning butter, making cheese, or performing other dutiesof the farm and dairy, were somewhat more neatly, and, in some fewcases, even tastefully attired. Some were of rare beauty, with aprofusion of auburn, light brown, or flaxen hair, bright rosycomplexions, large blue eyes, and voluptuous figures; and these borecertainly a more cheerful aspect, as the nature of woman is morehopeful than that of man, and a more gentle mood than their fellows;yet there were no songs enlivening their moments of rest oralleviating their hours of toil--no jests, no romping, as we are wontto see among young girls of tender years, occupied in the lighter andmore feminine occupations of agricultural life.

  Some one or two of these, indeed, smiled as they courtesied to theirlord, but the smile was wan and somewhat sickly, nor seemed to comefrom the heart; it gave no pleasure, one would say, to her whogave--no pleasure to him who received it.

  The little children, however, who tumbled about in the dust, or builtmud-houses by the puddles in the road, were the saddest sight of all.Half-naked, sturdy-limbed, filthy little savages, utterly untaught anduntamed, scarcely capable of making themselves understood, even intheir own rude dialect; wild-eyed, and fierce or sullen-looking as itmight, subject to no control or correction, receiving no education, noculture whatsoever--not so much even as the colt, which is broken atleast to the menage, or the hound-puppy, which is entered at thequarry which he is to chase; ignorant of every moral or divinetruth--ignorant even that each one of them was the possessor of amortal body, far more of an immortal soul!

  But not a thought of these things ever crossed the mind of the statelyand puissant Normans. No impression such as these, which must needsnow strike home to the soul of every chance beholder, had ever beenmade on their imaginations, by the sight of things, which, seeingevery day, they had come to consider only as things which werecustomary, and were, therefore, right and proper--not the exceptioneven to the rule, but the rule without exception.

  So differently, indeed, did the circumstances above related strike SirYvo de Taillebois, that he even complimented his friend on the generalcomfort of his villenage, and the admirable condition of his people,the air of capacity of his men, and the beauty of his women; nay! hecommented even upon the plump forms and brawny muscles of the youngsavages, who fled diverse from before their footsteps, shrieking andterrified at the lordly port and resounding strides of their masters,as indicative of their future strength, and probable size and stature.

  And Philip replied, laughing, "Ay! ay! they are a stout and burly setof knaves and good workers on the main. The hinges of the stocks arerusted hard for want of use, and the whipping-post has not heard thecrack of the boar's hide these two years or better; but then I workthem lightly and feed them roundly, and I find that they do me themore work for it, and the better; besides, the food they consume isall of their own producing, and I have no use for it. They raise metwice as much now as I can expend, on this manor. Now I work my folkbut ten hours to the day, and give them meat, milk, and cheese, daily,and have not flogged a man since Martinmas two twelvemonths; and Ihave thrice the profit of them that my friend and neighbor, ReginaldMaltravers, has, though his thralls toil from matin to curfew, withthree lenten days to the week, and the thong ever sounding. It is badpolicy, I say, to over-do the work or under-do the feeding. Besides,poor devils, they have not much fun in life, and if you fill theirbellies, you fill them with all the pleasure and contentment they arecapable of knowing. But, hold! here is Kenric's home--the best cabinin the quarter, as the owner is the best man. Let us go in."

  "And carry him a welcome cure for his aching bones," said Sir Yvo, asthey entered the little gate of a pretty garden, which stretched fromthe door down to a reach of the winding stream, overshadowed byseveral large and handsome willows. "By my faith! he must needs be agood man," resumed the speaker--"why, it is as neat as a thane'smanor, and neater, too, than many I have seen."

  But as he spoke, the shrill and doleful wail of women came from theporch of the house. "Ah, well-a-day! ah, well-a-day! that I shouldlive to see it. Soul of my soul, Kenric, my first-born and my bestone--thou first borne in, almost a corpse; and then, my darling anddelight--my fair-haired Edgar's son dead of this doleful fever. Ah,well-a-day! ah, well-a-day! Would God that I were dead also, mostmiserable that I am, of women!"

  And then the manly voice of Kenric replied, but faint for his woundsand wavering
for the loss of blood; "Wail not for me, mother," hesaid; "wail not for me, for I am strong yet, and like to live thismany a day--until thy toils are ended, and then God do to me as seemshim good. But, above all, I say to thee, wail not for Adhemar thewhite-haired. His weakness and his innocence are over, here on earth.He has never known the collar or the gyves--has never felt how bitterand how hard a thing it is to be the slave of the best earthly master!His dream--his fever-dream of life is over; he is free from yoke andchain; he has awoken out of human servitude, to be the slave of theeverlasting God, whose strictest slavery is perfect liberty andperfect love."

  But still the woman wailed--"Ah, well-a-day! ah, well-a-day! would Godthat I were dead, most miserable of mothers that I am!"

  And the Norman barons stood unseen and silent, smitten into dumbnessbefore the regal majesty of the slave's maternal sorrow, perhapsawakened to some dim vision of the truth, which never had dawned onthem until that day, in the serf's quarter.