A tear stood in the eye of the rough Thane as he spoke—a mark of feeling which even the death of Athelstane had not extracted; but there was something in the half-instinctive attachment of his clown, that waked his nature more keenly than even grief itself.
“Nay,” said the Jester, extricating himself from master’s caress, “if you pay my service with the water of your eye, the Jester must weep for company, and then what becomes of his vocation?—But, uncle, if you would indeed pleasure me, I pray you to pardon my playfellow Gurth, who stole a week from your service to bestow it on your son.”
“Pardon him!” exclaimed Cedric; “I will both pardon and reward him.—Kneel down, Gurth.”—The swineherd was in an instant at his master’s feet—“ Theow and Esne art thou no longer,” said Cedric touching him with a wand; “ Folkfree and Sacless art thou in town and from town, in the forest as in the field. A hide of land I give to thee in my steads of Walbrugham, from me and mine to thee and thine aye and forever; and God’s malison on his head who this gainsays!”
No longer a serf, but a freeman and a landholder, Gurth sprung upon his feet, and twice bounded aloft to almost his own height from the ground. “A smith and a file,” he cried, “to do away the collar from the neck of a freeman!—Noble master! doubled is my strength by your gift, and doubly will I fight for you!—There is a free spirit in my breast—I am a man changed to myself and all around.—Ha, Fangs!” he continued—for that faithful cur, seeing his master thus transported, began to jump upon him, to express his sympathy—“knowest thou thy master still?”
“Ay,” said Wamba, “Fangs and I still know thee, Gurth, though we must needs abide by the collar; it is only thou art likely to forget both us and thyself.”
“I shall forget myself indeed ere I forget thee, true comrade,” said Gurth; “and were freedom fit for thee, Wamba, the master would not let thee want it.”