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Updated: June 11, 2025
"Then speak not of it, Roger. Be this Giles's mission." "Aye, Rogerkin, leave it to me. In faith, noble lady, I will with suggestion soft and subtle, with knowing look and wily wag of head, so work upon my lord that he shall hither hot-foot haste " "At moonrise," said the Duchess softly, "this evening at moonrise!" "Verily, lady, at moonrise! And a blue camlet cloak, say you?"
Heroes were we all, last night nay, very Titans four 'gainst an army! whiles now, within this balmy-breathing morn you shall see Walkyn o' the Bloody Axe with grim Black Rogerkin, down at the brook yonder, a-sprawl upon their bellies busily a-tickling trout for breakfast, while I, whose good yew bow carrieth death in every twang, toasting deer-flesh on a twig, am mocked of wanton warblers i' the green: and thou, who art an Achilles, a Hector, an Ajax a very Mars do sleep and slumber, soft and sweet as full-fed friar Heigho!
Very close in his counsels! very near to all his thoughts and actions. All of the which cometh of possessing a tongue as ready as my wit, Rogerkin!" Now as he hearkened, Roger's frown grew blacker and his powerful hand clenched upon the bridle. "And yet," quoth Giles, "as I am in my lord's dear friendship, so art thou in mine, Roger, man, nor in my vaulting fortunes will I e'er forget thee.
Hush! speak not, but come for mark this: "In faith a cunning man is Giles In counsel sage and full of wiles!" "So come, Rogerkin!" So saying, he gripped stout Roger's arm and plunged into the crowd.
GILES. "Snort not, my gentle Roger, for I fell in company with him ere he knew aught of thee so thy snort availeth nothing, my Rogerkin.
There hath been no blood-letting betwixt them these four days, and scarce a quarrel." ROGER. "Aye, this comes of my lord. My master hath a wondrous tongue, Giles." GILES. "My brother-in-arms hath a wondrous strong fist, Rogerkin " ROGER. "Thy brother-in-arms, archer? Thine, forsooth! Ha!"
Ill deaths, look you, aye, 'tis a cruel death to be burnt alive, Roger!" "To be torn by hounds is worse!" growled Roger. "Nay, my Rogerkin, the fire is slower, methinks I have watched good flesh sear and shrivel ere now ha! by Saint Giles, 'tis an evil subject; let us rather think upon two others." "As what, archer?" "The long legs of our comrade Walkyn. Hist! hark ye to that bruit!
But on they rode toward the green of the woods, and ever as they rode Giles sang full blithely to himself whiles Roger gloomed and sighed; wherefore at last the archer turned to clap him on the shoulder. "What aileth thee, my Rogerkin?" quoth he. "Ha," growled Roger, "the world waggeth well with thee, Giles, these days, but as for me poor Roger lacketh.
Nor will he speak to any but Sir Gui for a great lord and proud is Robert of Hurstmanswyke. Ha, what think ye, Roger?" "I think perchance he must go dumb then come, let us follow." "Nay, but speak he must since he may tell us much, aye, and speak he shall. So come, my Rogerkin, hither with me!" "With thee, Giles? And wherefore?" "A wile, sweet Roger, a notable wile a wile of wiles.
Yet do his bulging eyes supplicate the wherefore of smocks, and his goodly large ears do twitch for the why of sacks. O impatient Rogerkin, bolt thy food, man, gulp swallow, and ask and importune my lord thyself!" "Not I not I!" quoth Roger, "an my master lacketh for a smock or a sack, for me is no question of wherefore or why, so long as he doth get them!"
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