sir nigel-第7章
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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
gallop； 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 frantic 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 decided；
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； rippling 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 shrouded 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 blurred in
its mind by this strange thing which had befallen； wheeled round
once more； trembling in every fiber； and tossing its petulant head
until at last the mantle had been slipped from its eyes and the
chilling darkness had melted into the homely circle of sunlit
grass once more。
But what was this new outrage which had been inflicted upon it？
What was this defiling bar of iron which was locked hard against
its mouth？ What were these straps which galled 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 deftly
secured it。
Blind； frantic fury surged in the yellow horse's heart once more
at this new degradation； this badge of serfdom and infamy。 His
spirit rose high and menacing at the touch。 He loathed 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 immediate 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 bough rasped him rudely； but never shook
his spirit nor his grip。 Rearing； plunging and struggling；
Pommers broke through the sapling grove 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 jingle of that old Surrey
ballad； 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 indignities 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 fixed as Fate upon his purpose。
Over Hankley Down； through Thursley Marsh； with the reeds up to
his mud…splashed withers； onward up the long slope of the Headland
of the Hinds； down by the Nutcombe Gorge； slipping； blundering；
bounding； but never slackening his fearful speed； on went the
great yellow horse。 The villagers of Shottermill heard the wild
clatter 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 clog him； no
hill could hold him back。 Up the slope of Linchmere and the long
ascent 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 foam and caked with mud。 His eyes
were gorged with blood； his mouth open and gasping； his nostrils
expanded； his coat stark and reeking。 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 sobbing breath and slowed the tumultuous gallop to a canter。
Oh； crowning infamy！ Was there no limit to these degradations？
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…lash 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
