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Pax vobiscum_,” said the Jester, entering the
apartment; “the blessing of St Dunstan, St Dennis, runescape gold             

 
St Duthoc, and all other saints whatsoever, be
upon ye and about ye.”

“Enter freely,” answered Cedric to the supposed
friar; “with what intent art thou come hither?”
runescape money         
“To bid you prepare yourselves for death,” answered
the Jester.

“It is impossible!” replied Cedric, starting. runescape accounts       
“Fearless and wicked as they are, they dare not
attempt such open and gratuitous cruelty!”

“Alas!” said the Jester, “to restrain them by
their sense of humanity, is the same as to stop a
runaway horse with a bridle of silk thread. Bethink runescape power leveling      
thee, therefore, noble Cedric, and you also,
gallant Athelstane, what crimes you have committed
in the flesh; for this very day will ye be called
to answer at a higher tribunal.”

“Hearest thou this, Athelstane?” said Cedric;
“we must rouse up our hearts to this last action,
since better it is we should die like men, than live
like slaves.”

“I am ready,” answered Athelstane, “to stand
the worst of their malice, and shall walk to my death
with as much composure as ever I did to my dinner.”

“Let us then unto our holy gear, father,” said
Cedric.

“Wait yet a moment, good uncle,” said the
Jester, in his natural tone; “better look long before
you leap in the dark.”

“By my faith,” said Cedric, “I should know
that voice!”

“It is that of your trusty slave and jester,” answered
Wamba, throwing back his cowl. “Had
you taken a fool’s advice formerly, you would not
have been here at all. Take a fool’s advice now,
and you will not be here long.”

“How mean’st thou, knave?” answered the Saxon.

“Even thus,” replied Wamba; “take thou this
frock and cord, which are all the orders I ever had,
and march quietly out of the castle, leaving me
your cloak and girdle to take the long leap in thy
stead.”

“Leave thee in my stead!” said Cedric, astonished
at the proposal; “why, they would hang
thee, my poor knave.”

“E’en let them do as they are permitted,” said
Wamba; “I trust—no disparagement to your birth
—that the son of Witless may hang in a chain with
as much gravity as the chain hung upon his ancestor
the alderman.”

“Well, Wamba,” answered Cedric, “for one
thing will I grant thy request. And that is, if thou
wilt make the exchange of garments with Lord
Athelstane instead of me.”

“No, by St Dunstan,” answered Wamba; “there
were little reason in that. Good right there is, that
the son of Witless should suffer to save the son of
Hereward; but little wisdom there were in his
dying for the benefit of one whose fathers were
strangers to his.”

“Villain,” said Cedric, “the fathers of Athelstane
were monarchs of England!”

“They might be whomsoever they pleased,” replied
Wamba; “but my neck stands too straight
upon my shoulders to have it twisted for their sake.
Wherefore, good my master, either take my proffer
yourself, or suffer me to leave this dungeon as
free as I entered.”

“Let the old tree wither,” continued Cedric, “so
the stately hope of the forest be preserved. Save
the noble Athelstane, my trusty Wamba! it is the
duty of each who has Saxon blood in his veins.
Thou and I will abide together the utmost rage of
our injurious oppressors, while he, free and safe,
shall arouse the awakened spirits of our countrymen
to avenge us.”

“Not so, father Cedric,” said Athelstane, grasping
his hand,—for, when roused to think or act, his
deeds and sentiments were not unbecoming his high
race—“Not so,” he continued; “I would rather
remain in this hall a week without food save the
prisoner’s stinted loaf, or drink save the prisoner’s
measure of water, than embrace the opportunity to
escape which the slave’s untaught kindness has purveyed
for his master.”