“They go before us indeed in the field—as deer before dogs,” said Malvoisin.
“And with good right may they go before us—forget not,” said the Prior Aymer, “the superior decency and decorum of their manners.”
“Their singular abstemiousness and temperance,” said De Bracy, forgetting the plan which promised him a Saxon bride.
“Together with the courage and conduct,” said Brian de Bois-Guilbert, “by which they distinguished themselves at Hastings and elsewhere.”
While, with smooth and smiling cheek, the courtiers, each in turn, followed their Prince’s example, and aimed a shaft of ridicule at Cedric, the face of the Saxon became inflamed with passion, and he glanced his eyes fiercely from one to another, as if the quick succession of so many injuries had prevented his replying to them in turn; or, like a baited bull, who, surrounded by his tormentors, is at a loss to choose from among them the immediate object of his revenge. At length he spoke, in a voice half choked with passion; and, addressing himself to Prince John as the head and front of the offence which he had received, “Whatever,” he said, “have been the follies and vices of our race, a Saxon would have been held nidering,” (the most emphatic term for abject worthlessness,) “who should in his own hall, and while his own wine-cup passed, have treated, or suffered to be treated, an unoffending guest as your highness has this day beheld me used; and whatever was the misfortune of our fathers on the field of Hastings , those may at least be silent,” here he looked at Front-de-Boeuf and the Templar, “who have within these few hours once and again lost saddle and stirrup before the lance of a Saxon.”
“By my faith, a biting jest!” said Prince John. “How like you it, sirs?—Our Saxon subjects rise in spirit and courage; become shrewd in wit, and bold in bearing, in these unsettled times—What say ye, my lords?—By this good light, I hold it best to take our galleys, and return to Normandy in time.”