Sire, if we
prepared them a feast, it was because we feared to drink their wine
cup to the dregs. Might was theirs, and we were as the captive who
sees no succour on the road. These Saxons were pagan men. Thy servants
are Christians. Therefore the heathen oppressed us the more mightily,
and laid the heavier burdens upon us. But great as was the mischief
these Saxons wrought us, thou hast done us the sorer harm. Theirs
were the whips, but thine are the stinging scorpions. It should prove
little honour to the Christian king that he slay by hunger amongst
these rocks those folk who cry his pardon for their trespass. We die,
sire, of famine and of all misease. Nothing is left us save cold and
wretchedness. Thou hast overcome us, every one; destroy us not from
the land, but suffer us to live of thy bounty. Grant that we and all
our race--so it be thy pleasure--may find peace in the king's service.
Have mercy on thy poor Christians. We hold the faith that you, too,
count dear. How foully then should Christianity be wronged, if you
destroy the whole realm. Alas, has not mischief enough been wrought
already!" Arthur was tender of heart and marvellously pitiful. He took
compassion on this doleful company of ladies, and by reason of those
holy bodies of the saints and those fair prelates, he granted life and
member to his captives, and forgave them their debts.
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