horse after they’re all wore out,” said Ivy. “And maybe, if you collect so many taxes they can’t hardly believe it, maybe they’ll invite us to the castle sometimes.” She walked about the hut coquettishly, holding the hem of an imaginary train above the dirt floor. “Bon joor, monsoor, madame,” she said. “I trust your lordship and ladyship ain’t poorly.”
“Is that the best dream you’ve got?” said Elmer, shocked.
“And they’d give you some distinguished name like Elmer the Bloody or Elmer the Mad,” said Ivy, “and you and me and Ethelbert would ride to church on Sundays, all spruced up, and if some old serf talked to us snotty, we’d haul off and—”
“Ivy!” cried Elmer. “We are serfs.”
Ivy tapped her foot and rocked her head from side to side. “Ain’t Robert the Horrible just gave us the opportunity to improve ourselves?” she said.
“To be as bad as he is?” said Elmer. “That’s an improvement?”
Ivy sat down at the table, and put her feet up on it. “If a body gets stuck in the ruling classes through no fault of their own,” she said, “they got to rule or have folks just lose all respect for government.” She scratched herself daintily. “Folks got to be governed.”
“To their sorrow,” said Elmer.
“Folks got to be protected,” said Ivy, “and armor and castles don’t come cheap.”
Elmer rubbed his eyes. “Ivy, would you tell me what it is we’re being protected from that’s so much worse than what we’ve got?” he said. “I’d like to have a look at it, and then make up my own mind about what scares me most.”
Ivy wasn’t listening to him. She was thrilling to the approach of hoofbeats. Robert the Horrible and his entourage passed on their way back to the castle, and the hut trembled with might and glory.
Ivy ran to the door and threw it open.
Elmer and Ethelbert bowed their heads.
There were shouts of happy surprise from the Normans.
“Hien!”
“Regardez!”
“Donnez la chasse, mes braves!”
The Normans’ horses reared, wheeled, and galloped into the forest.
“What’s the good news?” said Elmer. “Did they squash something?”
“They seen a deer!” said Ivy. “They’re all taking out after it, with Robert the Horrible in front.” She put her hand over her heart. “Ain’t he the sportsman, though?”
“Ain’t he, though,” said Elmer. “May God make his right arm strong.” He looked to Ethelbert for an answering sardonic smile.
Ethelbert’s thin face was white. His eyes bugged. “The trap—they’re going up where the trap is!” he said.
“If they lay a finger on that trap,” said Elmer, “I’ll—” The cords in his neck stood out and his hands became claws. Of course Robert the Horrible would hack the boy’s work of love to pieces if he saw it. “Pour le sport, pour le sport,” he said bitterly.
Elmer tried to daydream of murdering Robert the Horrible, but the dream was as frustrating as life—a search for weaknesses where there were no weaknesses. The dream ended truthfully, with Robert and his men on horses as big as cathedrals, with Robert and his men in iron shells, laughing behind the bars of their visors, choosing at leisure from their collections of skewers, chains, hammers, and meat-axes—choosing ways to deal with an angry woodcutter in rags.
Elmer’s hands went limp. “If they wreck the trap,” he said flabbily, “we’ll build another one, better than ever.”
Shame for his weakness made Elmer sick. The sickness worsened. He rested his head on his folded arms. When he raised his head, it was to look about himself with a death’s-head grin. He had passed his breaking point.
“Father! Are you all right?” said Ethelbert, alarmed.
Elmer stood shakily. “Fine,” he said, “just fine.”
“You look so different,” said Ethelbert.
“I am different,” said Elmer. “I’m not afraid anymore.” He gripped the edge of the table and shouted. “I’m not
“Is that the best dream you’ve got?” said Elmer, shocked.
“And they’d give you some distinguished name like Elmer the Bloody or Elmer the Mad,” said Ivy, “and you and me and Ethelbert would ride to church on Sundays, all spruced up, and if some old serf talked to us snotty, we’d haul off and—”
“Ivy!” cried Elmer. “We are serfs.”
Ivy tapped her foot and rocked her head from side to side. “Ain’t Robert the Horrible just gave us the opportunity to improve ourselves?” she said.
“To be as bad as he is?” said Elmer. “That’s an improvement?”
Ivy sat down at the table, and put her feet up on it. “If a body gets stuck in the ruling classes through no fault of their own,” she said, “they got to rule or have folks just lose all respect for government.” She scratched herself daintily. “Folks got to be governed.”
“To their sorrow,” said Elmer.
“Folks got to be protected,” said Ivy, “and armor and castles don’t come cheap.”
Elmer rubbed his eyes. “Ivy, would you tell me what it is we’re being protected from that’s so much worse than what we’ve got?” he said. “I’d like to have a look at it, and then make up my own mind about what scares me most.”
Ivy wasn’t listening to him. She was thrilling to the approach of hoofbeats. Robert the Horrible and his entourage passed on their way back to the castle, and the hut trembled with might and glory.
Ivy ran to the door and threw it open.
Elmer and Ethelbert bowed their heads.
There were shouts of happy surprise from the Normans.
“Hien!”
“Regardez!”
“Donnez la chasse, mes braves!”
The Normans’ horses reared, wheeled, and galloped into the forest.
“What’s the good news?” said Elmer. “Did they squash something?”
“They seen a deer!” said Ivy. “They’re all taking out after it, with Robert the Horrible in front.” She put her hand over her heart. “Ain’t he the sportsman, though?”
“Ain’t he, though,” said Elmer. “May God make his right arm strong.” He looked to Ethelbert for an answering sardonic smile.
Ethelbert’s thin face was white. His eyes bugged. “The trap—they’re going up where the trap is!” he said.
“If they lay a finger on that trap,” said Elmer, “I’ll—” The cords in his neck stood out and his hands became claws. Of course Robert the Horrible would hack the boy’s work of love to pieces if he saw it. “Pour le sport, pour le sport,” he said bitterly.
Elmer tried to daydream of murdering Robert the Horrible, but the dream was as frustrating as life—a search for weaknesses where there were no weaknesses. The dream ended truthfully, with Robert and his men on horses as big as cathedrals, with Robert and his men in iron shells, laughing behind the bars of their visors, choosing at leisure from their collections of skewers, chains, hammers, and meat-axes—choosing ways to deal with an angry woodcutter in rags.
Elmer’s hands went limp. “If they wreck the trap,” he said flabbily, “we’ll build another one, better than ever.”
Shame for his weakness made Elmer sick. The sickness worsened. He rested his head on his folded arms. When he raised his head, it was to look about himself with a death’s-head grin. He had passed his breaking point.
“Father! Are you all right?” said Ethelbert, alarmed.
Elmer stood shakily. “Fine,” he said, “just fine.”
“You look so different,” said Ethelbert.
“I am different,” said Elmer. “I’m not afraid anymore.” He gripped the edge of the table and shouted. “I’m not
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