"Churl? barbarian?" she said, slowly and quietly, but with an intensity
which was more terrible than rage. "Who gives such names to one who was as
much better born and better bred than those who now sit here, as he was
braver and more terrible than they? The base wood-cutter's son? The
upstart who would have been honored had he taken service as yon dead man's
groom?"
"Talk to me so, and my stirrup leathers shall make acquaintance with your
sides," said Taillebois.
"Keep them for your wife. Churl? Barbarian? There is not a man within this
hall who is not a barbarian compared with him. Which of you touched the
harp like him? Which of you, like him, could move all hearts with song?
Which of you knows all tongues from Lapland to Provence? Which of you has
been the joy of ladies' bowers, the counsellor of earls and heroes, the
rival of a mighty king? Which of you will compare yourself with him,--whom
you dared not even strike, you and your robber crew, fairly in front, but,
skulked round him till he fell pecked to death by you, as Lapland
Skratlings peck to death the bear. Ten years ago he swept this hall of
such as you, and hung their heads upon yon gable outside; and were he
alive but one five minutes again, this hall would be right cleanly swept
again! Give me his body,--or bear forever the name of cowards, and
Torfrida's curse.
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