In those simple times there was a great wonder and mystery in life. Man walked in fear and solemnity, with Heaven very close above his head, and Hell below his very feet. God's visible hand was everywhere, in the rainbow and the comet, in the thunder and the wind. The Devil too raged openly upon the earth; he skulked1 behind the hedge-rows in the gloaming; he laughed loudly in the night-time; he clawed the dying sinner, pounced3 on the unbaptized babe, and twisted the limbs of the epileptic. A foul4 fiend slunk ever by a man's side and whispered villainies in his ear, while above him there hovered5 an angel of grace who pointed6 to the steep and narrow track. How could one doubt these things, when Pope and priest and scholar and King were all united in believing them, with no single voice of question in the whole wide world?
Every book read, every picture seen, every tale heard from nurse or mother, all taught the same lesson. And as a man traveled through the world his faith would grow the firmer, for go where he would there were the endless shrines7 of the saints, each with its holy relic8 in the center, and around it the tradition of incessant9 miracles, with stacks of deserted10 crutches11 and silver votive hearts to prove them. At every turn he was made to feel how thin was the veil, and how easily rent, which screened him from the awful denizens12 of the unseen world.
Hence the wild announcement of the frightened monk13 seemed terrible rather than incredible to those whom he addressed. The Abbot's ruddy face paled for a moment, it is true, but he plucked the crucifix from his desk and rose valiantly15 to his feet.
“Lead me to him!” said he. “Show me the foul fiend who dares to lay his grip upon brethren of the holy house of Saint Bernard! Run down to my chaplain, brother! Bid him bring the exorcist with him, and also the blessed box of relics16, and the bones of Saint James from under the altar! With these and a contrite17 and humble18 heart we may show front to all the powers of darkness.”
But the sacrist was of a more critical turn of mind. He clutched the monk's arm with a grip which left its five purple spots for many a day to come.
“Is this the way to enter the Abbot's own chamber19, without knock or reverence20, or so much as a 'Pax vobiscum'?” said he sternly. “You were wont21 to be our gentlest novice22, of lowly carriage in chapter, devout23 in psalmody and strict in the cloister24. Pull your wits together and answer me straightly. In what form has the foul fiend appeared, and how has he done this grievous scathe25 to our brethren? Have you seen him with your own eyes, or do you repeat from hearsay26? Speak, man, or you stand on the penance-stool in the chapter-house this very hour!”
Thus adjured27, the frightened monk grew calmer in his bearing, though his white lips and his startled eyes, with the gasping28 of his breath, told of his inward tremors29.
“If it please you, holy father, and you, reverend sacrist, it came about in this way. James the subprior, and Brother John and I had spent our day from sext onward30 on Hankley, cutting bracken for the cow-houses. We were coming back over the five-virgate field, and the holy subprior was telling us a saintly tale from the life of Saint Gregory, when there came a sudden sound like a rushing torrent31, and the foul fiend sprang over the high wall which skirts the water-meadow and rushed upon us with the speed of the wind. The lay brother he struck to the ground and trampled32 into the mire33. Then, seizing the good subprior in his teeth, he rushed round the field, swinging him as though he were a fardel of old clothes.
“Amazed at such a sight, I stood without movement and had said a credo and three aves, when the Devil dropped the subprior and sprang upon me. With the help of Saint Bernard I clambered over the wall, but not before his teeth had found my leg, and he had torn away the whole back skirt of my gown.” As he spoke35 he turned and gave corroboration36 to his story by the hanging ruins of his long trailing garment.
“In what shape then did Satan appear?” the Abbot demanded.
“As a great yellow horse, holy father—a monster horse, with eyes of fire and the teeth of a griffin.”
“A yellow horse!” The sacrist glared at the scared monk. “You foolish brother! How will you behave when you have indeed to face the King of Terrors himself if you can be so frightened by the sight of a yellow horse? It is the horse of Franklin Aylward, my father, which has been distrained by us because he owes the Abbey fifty good shillings and can never hope to pay it. Such a horse, they say, is not to be found betwixt this and the King's stables at Windsor, for his sire was a Spanish destrier, and his dam an Arab mare37 of the very breed which Saladin, whose soul now reeks38 in Hell, kept for his own use, and even it has been said under the shelter of his own tent. I took him in discharge of the debt, and I ordered the varlets who had haltered him to leave him alone in the water-meadow, for I have heard that the beast has indeed a most evil spirit, and has killed more men than one.”
“It was an ill day for Waverley that you brought such a monster within its bounds,” said the Abbot. “If the subprior and Brother John be indeed dead, then it would seem that if the horse be not the Devil he is at least the Devil's instrument.”
“Horse or Devil, holy father, I heard him shout with joy as he trampled upon Brother John, and had you seen him tossing the subprior as a dog shakes a rat you would perchance have felt even as I did.”
“Come then,” cried the Abbot, “let us see with our own eyes what evil has been done.”
They had no sooner descended41 than their more pressing fears were set at rest, for at that very moment, limping, disheveled and mud-stained, the two sufferers were being led in amid a crowd of sympathizing brethren. Shouts and cries from outside showed, however, that some further drama was in progress, and both Abbot and sacrist hastened onward as fast as the dignity of their office would permit, until they had passed the gates and gained the wall of the meadow. Looking over it, a remarkable42 sight presented itself to their eyes.
Fetlock deep in the lush grass there stood a magnificent horse, such a horse as a sculptor43 or a soldier might thrill to see. His color was a light chestnut44, with mane and tail of a more tawny45 tint46. Seventeen hands high, with a barrel and haunches which bespoke47 tremendous strength, he fined down to the most delicate lines of dainty breed in neck and crest48 and shoulder. He was indeed a glorious sight as he stood there, his beautiful body leaning back from his wide-spread and propped49 fore34 legs, his head craned high, his ears erect50, his mane bristling51, his red nostrils52 opening and shutting with wrath53, and his flashing eyes turning from side to side in haughty55 menace and defiance56.
Scattered57 round in a respectful circle, six of the Abbey lay servants and foresters, each holding a halter, were creeping toward him. Every now and then, with a beautiful toss and swerve58 and plunge59, the great creature would turn upon one of his would-be captors, and with outstretched head, flying mane and flashing teeth, would chase him screaming to the safety of the wall, while the others would close swiftly in behind and cast their ropes in the hope of catching60 neck or leg, but only in their turn to be chased to the nearest refuge.
Had two of these ropes settled upon the horse, and had their throwers found some purchase of stump61 or boulder62 by which they could hold them, then the man's brain might have won its wonted victory over swiftness and strength. But the brains were themselves at fault which imagined that one such rope would serve any purpose save to endanger the thrower.
Yet so it was, and what might have been foreseen occurred at the very moment of the arrival of the monks. The horse, having chased one of his enemies to the wall, remained so long snorting his contempt over the coping that the others were able to creep upon him from behind. Several ropes were flung, and one noose63 settled over the proud crest and lost itself in the waving mane. In an instant the creature had turned and the men were flying for their lives; but he who had cast the rope lingered, uncertain what use to make of his own success. That moment of doubt was fatal. With a yell of dismay, the man saw the great creature rear above him. Then with a crash the fore feet fell upon him and dashed him to the ground. He rose screaming, was hurled64 over once more, and lay a quivering, bleeding heap, while the savage65 horse, the most cruel and terrible in its anger of all creatures on earth, bit and shook and trampled the writhing66 body.
A loud wail67 of horror rose from the lines of tonsured68 heads which skirted the high wall—a wail which suddenly died away into a long hushed silence, broken at last by a rapturous cry of thanksgiving and of joy.
On the road which led to the old dark manor-house upon the side of the hill a youth had been riding. His mount was a sorry one, a weedy, shambling, long-haired colt, and his patched tunic69 of faded purple with stained leather belt presented no very smart appearance; yet in the bearing of the man, in the poise70 of his head, in his easy graceful71 carriage, and in the bold glance of his large blue eyes, there was that stamp of distinction and of breed which would have given him a place of his own in any assembly. He was of small stature72, but his frame was singularly elegant and graceful. His face, though tanned with the weather, was delicate in features and most eager and alert in expression. A thick fringe of crisp yellow curls broke from under the dark flat cap which he was wearing, and a short golden beard hid the outline of his strong square chin. One white osprey feather thrust through a gold brooch in the front of his cap gave a touch of grace to his somber73 garb74. This and other points of his attire75, the short hanging mantle76, the leather-sheathed hunting-knife, the cross belt which sustained a brazen77 horn, the soft doe-skin boots and the prick78 spurs, would all disclose themselves to an observer; but at the first glance the brown face set in gold and the dancing light of the quick, reckless, laughing eyes, were the one strong memory left behind.
Such was the youth who, cracking his whip joyously79, and followed by half a score of dogs, cantered on his rude pony80 down the Tilford Lane, and thence it was that with a smile of amused contempt upon his face he observed the comedy in the field and the impotent efforts of the servants of Waverley.
Suddenly, however, as the comedy turned swiftly to black tragedy, this passive spectator leaped into quick strenuous81 life. With a spring he was off his pony, and with another he was over the stone wall and flying swiftly across the field. Looking up from his victim, the great yellow horse saw this other enemy approach, and spurning82 the prostrate83, but still writhing body with its heels, dashed at the newcomer.
But this time there was no hasty flight, no rapturous pursuit to the wall. The little man braced84 himself straight, flung up his metal-headed whip, and met the horse with a crashing blow upon the head, repeated again and again with every attack. In vain the horse reared and tried to overthrow85 its enemy with swooping86 shoulders and pawing hoofs87. Cool, swift and alert, the man sprang swiftly aside from under the very shadow of death, and then again came the swish and thud of the unerring blow from the heavy handle.
The horse drew off, glared with wonder and fury at this masterful man, and then trotted88 round in a circle, with mane bristling, tail streaming and ears on end, snorting in its rage and pain. The man, hardly deigning89 to glance at his fell neighbor, passed on to the wounded forester, raised him in his arms with a strength which could not have been expected in so slight a body, and carried him, groaning90, to the wall, where a dozen hands were outstretched to help him over. Then, at his leisure, the young man also climbed the wall, smiling back with cool contempt at the yellow horse, which had come raging after him once more.
As he sprang down, a dozen monks surrounded him to thank him or to praise him; but he would have turned sullenly92 away without a word had he not been stopped by Abbot John in person.
“Nay, Squire93 Loring,” said he, “if you be a bad friend to our Abbey, yet we must needs own that you have played the part of a good Christian94 this day, for if there is breath left in our servant's body it is to you next to our blessed patron Saint Bernard that we owe it.”
“By Saint Paul! I owe you no good-will, Abbot John,” said the young man. “The shadow of your Abbey has ever fallen across the house of Loring. As to any small deed that I may have done this day, I ask no thanks for it. It is not for you nor for your house that I have done it, but only because it was my pleasure so to do.”
The Abbot flushed at the bold words, and bit his lip with vexation.
It was the sacrist, however, who answered: “It would be more fitting and more gracious,” said he, “if you were to speak to the holy Father Abbot in a manner suited to his high rank and to the respect which is due to a Prince of the Church.”
The youth turned his bold blue eyes upon the monk, and his sunburned face darkened with anger. “Were it not for the gown upon your back, and for your silvering hair, I would answer you in another fashion,” said he. “You are the lean wolf which growls95 ever at our door, greedy for the little which hath been left to us. Say and do what you will with me, but by Saint Paul! if I find that Dame96 Ermyntrude is baited by your ravenous97 pack I will beat them off with this whip from the little patch which still remains98 of all the acres of my fathers.”
“Have a care, Nigel Loring, have a care!” cried the Abbot, with finger upraised. “Have you no fears of the law of England?”
“A just law I fear and obey.”
“Have you no respect for Holy Church?”
“I respect all that is holy in her. I do not respect those who grind the poor or steal their neighbor's land.”
“Rash man, many a one has been blighted99 by her ban for less than you have now said! And yet it is not for us to judge you harshly this day. You are young and hot words come easily to your lips. How fares the forester?”
“His hurt is grievous, Father Abbot, but he will live,” said a brother, looking up from the prostrate form. “With a blood-letting and an electuary, I will warrant him sound within a month.”
“Then bear him to the hospital. And now, brother, about this terrible beast who still gazes and snorts at us over the top of the wall as though his thoughts of Holy Church were as uncouth100 as those of Squire Nigel himself, what are we to do with him?”
“Here is Franklin Aylward,” said one of the brethren. “The horse was his, and doubtless he will take it back to his farm.”
But the stout101 red-faced farmer shook his head at the proposal. “Not I, in faith!” said he. “The beast hath chased me twice round the paddock; it has nigh slain102 my boy Samkin. He would never be happy till he had ridden it, nor has he ever been happy since. There is not a hind2 in my employ who will enter his stall. Ill fare the day that ever I took the beast from the Castle stud at Guildford, where they could do nothing with it and no rider could be found bold enough to mount it! When the sacrist here took it for a fifty-shilling debt he made his own bargain and must abide103 by it. He comes no more to the Crooksbury farm.”
“And he stays no more here,” said the Abbot. “Brother sacrist, you have raised the Devil, and it is for you to lay it again.”
“That I will most readily,” cried the sacrist. “The pittance-master can stop the fifty shillings from my very own weekly dole104, and so the Abbey be none the poorer. In the meantime here is Wat with his arbalist and a bolt in his girdle. Let him drive it to the head through this cursed creature, for his hide and his hoofs are of more value than his wicked self.”
A hard brown old woodman who had been shooting vermin in the Abbey groves106 stepped forward with a grin of pleasure. After a lifetime of stoats and foxes, this was indeed a noble quarry107 which was to fall before him. Fitting a bolt on the nut of his taut108 crossbow, he had raised it to his shoulder and leveled it at the fierce, proud, disheveled head which tossed in savage freedom at the other side of the wall. His finger was crooked109 on the spring, when a blow from a whip struck the bow upward and the bolt flew harmless over the Abbey orchard110, while the woodman shrank abashed111 from Nigel Loring's angry eyes.
“Keep your bolts for your weasels!” said he. “Would you take life from a creature whose only fault is that its spirit is so high that it has met none yet who dare control it? You would slay112 such a horse as a king might be proud to mount, and all because a country franklin, or a monk, or a monk's varlet, has not the wit nor the hands to master him?”
The sacrist turned swiftly on the Squire. “The Abbey owes you an offering for this day's work, however rude your words may be,” said he. “If you think so much of the horse, you may desire to own it. If I am to pay for it, then with the holy Abbot's permission it is in my gift and I bestow113 it freely upon you.”
The Abbot plucked at his subordinate's sleeve. “Bethink you, brother sacrist,” he whispered, “shall we not have this man's blood upon our heads?”
“His pride is as stubborn as the horse's, holy father,” the sacrist answered, his gaunt fact breaking into a malicious114 smile. “Man or beast, one will break the other and the world will be the better for it. If you forbid me—”
“Then I give it—hide and hoofs, tail and temper—to Nigel Loring, and may it be as sweet and as gentle to him as he hath been to the Abbot of Waverley!”
The sacrist spoke aloud amid the tittering of the monks, for the man concerned was out of earshot. At the first words which had shown him the turn which affairs had taken he had run swiftly to the spot where he had left his pony. From its mouth he removed the bit and the stout bridle117 which held it. Then leaving the creature to nibble118 the grass by the wayside he sped back whence he came.
“I take your gift, monk,” said he, “though I know well why it is that you give it. Yet I thank you, for there are two things upon earth for which I have ever yearned119, and which my thin purse could never buy. The one is a noble horse, such a horse as my father's son should have betwixt his thighs120, and here is the one of all others which I would have chosen, since some small deed is to be done in the winning of him, and some honorable advancement121 to be gained. How is the horse called?”
“Its name,” said the franklin, “is Pommers. I warn you, young sir, that none may ride him, for many have tried, and the luckiest is he who has only a staved rib14 to show for it.”
“I thank you for your rede,” said Nigel, “and now I see that this is indeed a horse which I would journey far to meet. I am your man, Pommers, and you are my horse, and this night you shall own it or I will never need horse again. My spirit against thine, and God hold thy spirit high, Pommers, so that the greater be the adventure, and the more hope of honor gained!”
While he spoke the young Squire had climbed on to the top of the wall and stood there balanced, the very image of grace and spirit and gallantry, his bridle hanging from one hand and his whip grasped in the other. With a fierce snort, the horse made for him instantly, and his white teeth flashed as he snapped; but again a heavy blow from the loaded whip caused him to swerve, and even at the instant of the swerve, measuring the distance with steady eyes, and bending his supple122 body for the spring, Nigel bounded into the air and fell with his legs astride the broad back of the yellow horse. For a minute, with neither saddle nor stirrups to help him, and the beast ramping123 and rearing like a mad thing beneath him, he was hard pressed to hold his own. His legs were like two bands of steel welded on to the swelling124 arches of the great horse's ribs125, and his left hand was buried deep in the tawny mane.
Never had the dull round of the lives of the gentle brethren of Waverley been broken by so fiery126 a scene. Springing to right and swooping to left, now with its tangled127 wicked head betwixt its forefeet, and now pawing eight feet high in the air, with scarlet128, furious nostrils and maddened eyes, the yellow horse was a thing of terror and of beauty. But the lithe129 figure on his back, bending like a reed in the wind to every movement, firm below, pliant130 above, with calm inexorable face, and eyes which danced and gleamed with the joy of contest, still held its masterful place for all that the fiery heart and the iron muscles of the great beast could do.
Once a long drone of dismay rose from the monks, as rearing higher and higher yet a last mad effort sent the creature toppling over backward upon its rider. But, swift and cool, he had writhed131 from under it ere it fell, spurned132 it with his foot as it rolled upon the earth, and then seizing its mane as it rose swung himself lightly on to its back once more. Even the grim sacrist could not but join the cheer, as Pommers, amazed to find the rider still upon his back, plunged134 and curveted down the field.
But the wild horse only swelled135 into a greater fury. In the sullen91 gloom of its untamed heart there rose the furious resolve to dash the life from this clinging rider, even if it meant destruction to beast and man. With red, blazing eyes it looked round for death. On three sides the five-virgate field was bounded by a high wall, broken only at one spot by a heavy four-foot wooden gate. But on the fourth side was a low gray building, one of the granges of the Abbey, presenting a long flank unbroken by door or window. The horse stretched itself into a gallop136, and headed straight for that craggy thirty-foot wall. He would break in red ruin at the base of it if he could but dash forever the life of this man, who claimed mastery over that which had never found its master yet.
The great haunches gathered under it, the eager hoofs drummed the grass, as faster and still more fast the frantic137 horse bore himself and his rider toward the wall. Would Nigel spring off? To do so would be to bend his will to that of the beast beneath him. There was a better way than that. Cool, quick and decided138, the man swiftly passed both whip and bridle into the left hand which still held the mane. Then with the right he slipped his short mantle from his shoulders and lying forward along the creature's strenuous, rippling139 back he cast the flapping cloth over the horse's eyes.
The result was but too successful, for it nearly brought about the downfall of the rider. When those red eyes straining for death were suddenly shrouded140 in unexpected darkness the amazed horse propped on its forefeet and came to so dead a stop that Nigel was shot forward on to its neck and hardly held himself by his hair-entwined hand. Ere he had slid back into position the moment of danger had passed, for the horse, its purpose all blurred141 in its mind by this strange thing which had befallen, wheeled round once more, trembling in every fiber142, and tossing its petulant143 head until at last the mantle had been slipped from its eyes and the chilling darkness had melted into the homely144 circle of sunlit grass once more.
But what was this new outrage145 which had been inflicted146 upon it? What was this defiling147 bar of iron which was locked hard against its mouth? What were these straps148 which galled149 the tossing neck, this band which spanned its chest? In those instants of stillness ere the mantle had been plucked away Nigel had lain forward, had slipped the snaffle between the champing teeth, and had deftly150 secured it.
Blind, frantic fury surged in the yellow horse's heart once more at this new degradation151, this badge of serfdom and infamy152. His spirit rose high and menacing at the touch. He loathed153 this place, these people, all and everything which threatened his freedom. He would have done with them forever; he would see them no more. Let him away to the uttermost parts of the earth, to the great plains where freedom is. Anywhere over the far horizon where he could get away from the defiling bit and the insufferable mastery of man.
He turned with a rush, and one magnificent deer-like bound carried him over the four-foot gate. Nigel's hat had flown off, and his yellow curls streamed behind him as he rose and fell in the leap. They were in the water-meadow now, and the rippling stream twenty feet wide gleamed in front of them running down to the main current of the Wey. The yellow horse gathered his haunches under him and flew over like an arrow. He took off from behind a boulder and cleared a furze-bush on the farther side. Two stones still mark the leap from hoof-mark to hoof-mark, and they are eleven good paces apart. Under the hanging branch of the great oak-tree on the farther side (that Quercus Tilfordiensis ordiensis is still shown as the bound of the Abby's immediate154 precincts) the great horse passed. He had hoped to sweep off his rider, but Nigel sank low on the heaving back with his face buried in the flying mane. The rough bough115 rasped him rudely, but never shook his spirit nor his grip. Rearing, plunging155 and struggling, Pommers broke through the sapling grove105 and was out on the broad stretch of Hankley Down.
And now came such a ride as still lingers in the gossip of the lowly country folk and forms the rude jingle156 of that old Surrey ballad157, now nearly forgotten, save for the refrain:
The Doe that sped on Hinde Head,
The Kestril on the winde,
And Nigel on the Yellow Horse
Can leave the world behinde.
Before them lay a rolling ocean of dark heather, knee-deep, swelling in billow on billow up to the clear-cut hill before them. Above stretched one unbroken arch of peaceful blue, with a sun which was sinking down toward the Hampshire hills. Through the deep heather, down the gullies, over the watercourses, up the broken slopes, Pommers flew, his great heart bursting with rage, and every fiber quivering at the indignities158 which he had endured.
And still, do what he would, the man clung fast to his heaving sides and to his flying mane, silent, motionless, inexorable, letting him do what he would, but fixed159 as Fate upon his purpose. Over Hankley Down, through Thursley Marsh160, with the reeds up to his mud-splashed withers161, onward up the long slope of the Headland of the Hinds162, down by the Nutcombe Gorge163, slipping, blundering, bounding, but never slackening his fearful speed, on went the great yellow horse. The villagers of Shottermill heard the wild clatter164 of hoofs, but ere they could swing the ox-hide curtains of their cottage doors horse and rider were lost amid the high bracken of the Haslemere Valley. On he went, and on, tossing the miles behind his flying hoofs. No marsh-land could clog165 him, no hill could hold him back. Up the slope of Linchmere and the long ascent166 of Fernhurst he thundered as on the level, and it was not until he had flown down the incline of Henley Hill, and the gray castle tower of Midhurst rose over the coppice in front, that at last the eager outstretched neck sank a little on the breast, and the breath came quick and fast. Look where he would in woodland and on down, his straining eyes could catch no sign of those plains of freedom which he sought.
And yet another outrage! It was bad that this creature should still cling so tight upon his back, but now he would even go to the intolerable length of checking him and guiding him on the way that he would have him go. There was a sharp pluck at his mouth, and his head was turned north once more. As well go that way as another, but the man was mad indeed if he thought that such a horse as Pommers was at the end of his spirit or his strength. He would soon show him that he was unconquered, if it strained his sinews or broke his heart to do so. Back then he flew up the long, long ascent. Would he ever get to the end of it? Yet he would not own that he could go no farther while the man still kept his grip. He was white with foam167 and caked with mud. His eyes were gorged168 with blood, his mouth open and gasping, his nostrils expanded, his coat stark169 and reeking170. On he flew down the long Sunday Hill until he reached the deep Kingsley Marsh at the bottom. No, it was too much! Flesh and blood could go no farther. As he struggled out from the reedy slime with the heavy black mud still clinging to his fetlocks, he at last eased down with sobbing171 breath and slowed the tumultuous gallop to a canter.
Oh, crowning infamy! Was there no limit to these degradations173? He was no longer even to choose his own pace. Since he had chosen to gallop so far at his own will he must now gallop farther still at the will of another. A spur struck home on either flank. A stinging whip-lash54 fell across his shoulder. He bounded his own height in the air at the pain and the shame of it. Then, forgetting his weary limbs, forgetting his panting, reeking sides, forgetting everything save this intolerable insult and the burning spirit within, he plunged off once more upon his furious gallop. He was out on the heather slopes again and heading for Weydown Common. On he flew and on. But again his brain failed him and again his limbs trembled beneath him, and yet again he strove to ease his pace, only to be driven onward by the cruel spur and the falling lash. He was blind and giddy with fatigue174.
He saw no longer where he placed his feet, he cared no longer whither he went, but his one mad longing175 was to get away from this dreadful thing, this torture which clung to him and would not let him go. Through Thursley village he passed, his eyes straining in his agony, his heart bursting within him, and he had won his way to the crest of Thursley Down, still stung forward by stab and blow, when his spirit weakened, his giant strength ebbed176 out of him, and with one deep sob172 of agony the yellow horse sank among the heather. So sudden was the fall that Nigel flew forward over his shoulder, and beast and man lay prostrate and gasping while the last red rim133 of the sun sank behind Butser and the first stars gleamed in a violet sky.
The young Squire was the first to recover, and kneeling by the panting, overwrought horse he passed his hand gently over the tangled mane and down the foam-flecked face. The red eye rolled up at him; but it was wonder not hatred177, a prayer and not a threat, which he could read in it. As he stroked the reeking muzzle178, the horse whinnied gently and thrust his nose into the hollow of his hand. It was enough. It was the end of the contest, the acceptance of new conditions by a chivalrous179 foe180 from a chivalrous victor.
“You are my horse, Pommers,” Nigel whispered, and he laid his cheek against the craning head. “I know you, Pommers, and you know me, and with the help of Saint Paul we shall teach some other folk to know us both. Now let us walk together as far as this moorland pond, for indeed I wot not whether it is you or I who need the water most.”
And so it was that some belated monks of Waverley passing homeward from the outer farms saw a strange sight which they carried on with them so that it reached that very night the ears both of sacrist and of Abbot. For, as they passed through Tilford they had seen horse and man walking side by side and head by head up the manor-house lane. And when they had raised their lanterns on the pair it was none other than the young Squire himself who was leading home, as a shepherd leads a lamb, the fearsome yellow horse of Crooksbury.
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skulked
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| v.潜伏，偷偷摸摸地走动，鬼鬼祟祟地活动( skulk的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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pounced
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| v.突然袭击( pounce的过去式和过去分词 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
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foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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6
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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7
shrines
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| 圣地，圣坛，神圣场所( shrine的名词复数 ) | |
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8
relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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9
incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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10
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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crutches
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| n.拐杖, 支柱 v.支撑 | |
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12
denizens
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| n.居民，住户( denizen的名词复数 ) | |
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13
monk
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| n.和尚，僧侣，修道士 | |
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14
rib
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| n.肋骨，肋状物 | |
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15
valiantly
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| adv.勇敢地，英勇地；雄赳赳 | |
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16
relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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17
contrite
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| adj.悔悟了的，后悔的，痛悔的 | |
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18
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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19
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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20
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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21
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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22
novice
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| adj.新手的，生手的 | |
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23
devout
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| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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24
cloister
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| n.修道院；v.隐退，使与世隔绝 | |
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25
scathe
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| v.损伤；n.伤害 | |
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26
hearsay
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| n.谣传，风闻 | |
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27
adjured
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| v.（以起誓或诅咒等形式）命令要求( adjure的过去式和过去分词 )；祈求；恳求 | |
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28
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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29
tremors
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| 震颤( tremor的名词复数 )； 战栗； 震颤声； 大地的轻微震动 | |
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30
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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31
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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32
trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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33
mire
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| n.泥沼，泥泞；v.使...陷于泥泞，使...陷入困境 | |
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34
fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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35
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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36
corroboration
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| n.进一步的证实，进一步的证据 | |
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37
mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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38
reeks
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| n.恶臭( reek的名词复数 )v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的第三人称单数 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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39
monks
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| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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40
cloisters
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| n.（学院、修道院、教堂等建筑的）走廊( cloister的名词复数 )；回廊；修道院的生活；隐居v.隐退，使与世隔绝( cloister的第三人称单数 ) | |
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41
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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42
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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43
sculptor
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| n.雕刻家，雕刻家 | |
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44
chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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45
tawny
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| adj.茶色的，黄褐色的；n.黄褐色 | |
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46
tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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47
bespoke
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| adj.（产品）订做的；专做订货的v.预定( bespeak的过去式 )；订（货）；证明；预先请求 | |
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48
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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49
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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50
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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51
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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52
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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53
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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54
lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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55
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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56
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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57
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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58
swerve
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| v.突然转向，背离；n．转向，弯曲，背离 | |
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59
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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60
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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61
stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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62
boulder
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| n.巨砾；卵石，圆石 | |
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63
noose
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| n.绳套，绞索（刑）；v.用套索捉；使落入圈套；处以绞刑 | |
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64
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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65
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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66
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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67
wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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68
tonsured
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| v.剃( tonsure的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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69
tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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70
poise
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| vt./vi. 平衡，保持平衡；n.泰然自若，自信 | |
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71
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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72
stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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73
somber
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| adj.昏暗的，阴天的，阴森的，忧郁的 | |
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74
garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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75
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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76
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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77
brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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78
prick
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| v.刺伤，刺痛，刺孔；n.刺伤，刺痛 | |
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79
joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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80
pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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81
strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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82
spurning
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| v.一脚踢开，拒绝接受( spurn的现在分词 ) | |
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83
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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84
braced
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| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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85
overthrow
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| v.推翻，打倒，颠覆；n.推翻，瓦解，颠覆 | |
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86
swooping
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的现在分词 ) | |
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87
hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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88
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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89
deigning
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| v.屈尊，俯就( deign的现在分词 ) | |
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90
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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91
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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92
sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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93
squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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94
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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95
growls
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的第三人称单数 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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96
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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97
ravenous
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| adj.极饿的，贪婪的 | |
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98
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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99
blighted
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| adj.枯萎的，摧毁的 | |
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100
uncouth
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| adj.无教养的，粗鲁的 | |
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102
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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103
abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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104
dole
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| n.救济，（失业）救济金；vt.（out）发放，发给 | |
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105
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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106
groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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107
quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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108
taut
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| adj.拉紧的，绷紧的，紧张的 | |
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109
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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110
orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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111
abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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112
slay
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| v.杀死，宰杀，杀戮 | |
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113
bestow
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| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
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114
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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115
bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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116
bestowal
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| 赠与，给与； 贮存 | |
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117
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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118
nibble
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| n.轻咬，啃；v.一点点地咬，慢慢啃，吹毛求疵 | |
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119
yearned
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| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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120
thighs
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| n.股，大腿( thigh的名词复数 )；食用的鸡（等的）腿 | |
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121
advancement
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| n.前进，促进，提升 | |
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122
supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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123
ramping
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| 土堤斜坡( ramp的现在分词 )； 斜道； 斜路； （装车或上下飞机的）活动梯 | |
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124
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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125
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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126
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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127
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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128
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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129
lithe
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| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
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130
pliant
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| adj.顺从的；可弯曲的 | |
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131
writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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132
spurned
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| v.一脚踢开，拒绝接受( spurn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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133
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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134
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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135
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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136
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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137
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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138
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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139
rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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140
shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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141
blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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142
fiber
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| n.纤维，纤维质 | |
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143
petulant
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| adj.性急的，暴躁的 | |
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144
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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145
outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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146
inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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147
defiling
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| v.玷污( defile的现在分词 )；污染；弄脏；纵列行进 | |
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148
straps
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| n.带子( strap的名词复数 )；挎带；肩带；背带v.用皮带捆扎( strap的第三人称单数 )；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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149
galled
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| v.使…擦痛( gall的过去式和过去分词 )；擦伤；烦扰；侮辱 | |
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150
deftly
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| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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151
degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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152
infamy
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| n.声名狼藉，出丑，恶行 | |
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153
loathed
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
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154
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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155
plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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156
jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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157
ballad
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| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
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158
indignities
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| n.侮辱，轻蔑( indignity的名词复数 ) | |
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159
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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160
marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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161
withers
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| 马肩隆 | |
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162
hinds
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| n.（常指动物腿）后面的( hind的名词复数 )；在后的；（通常与can或could连用）唠叨不停；滔滔不绝 | |
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163
gorge
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| n.咽喉，胃，暴食，山峡；v.塞饱，狼吞虎咽地吃 | |
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164
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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165
clog
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| vt.塞满，阻塞；n.[常pl.]木屐 | |
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166
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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167
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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168
gorged
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| v.（用食物把自己）塞饱，填饱( gorge的过去式和过去分词 )；作呕 | |
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169
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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170
reeking
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的现在分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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171
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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172
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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173
degradations
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| 堕落( degradation的名词复数 )； 下降； 陵削； 毁坏 | |
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174
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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175
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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176
ebbed
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| （指潮水）退( ebb的过去式和过去分词 )； 落； 减少； 衰落 | |
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177
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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178
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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179
chivalrous
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| adj.武士精神的；对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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180
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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