Английские легенды / English Legends - Страница 6

Sir John did not hesitate to use his legal powers. Seeing that his brother was quite alone, he imediately had him arrested and cast into prison, where, as was his intention, only death could release him.

All these years the second brother, Otho, had been living quietly on his own lands and taken care of the quarrels of the two others; but now, when news came to him of Sir John’s deadly hatred to their youngest brother, and Gamelyn’s trouble, he was deeply grieved, roused himself from his peaceful life, and rode to see if he could help his brother. First he asked Sir John’s mercy for the prisoner, for the sake of brotherhood and family love; but the latter only replied that Gamelyn must stay imprisoned till the justice decides otherwise. Then Otho offered to be bail[42], if only his young brother might be released from his bonds and brought from the dismal cell where he lay. To this Sir John finally agreed, warning Otho that if the accused failed to appear before the justice he himself must suffer the penalty for the breach of bail.

“I agree,” said Otho. “Have him released at once, and deliver him to me.”

Then Gamelyn was set free on his brother’s surety, and the two rode home to Otho’s house, talking sadly of all that had befallen, and how Gamelyn had become the king of the outlaws. The next morning Gamelyn asked Otho’s permission to go to the greenwood and see how his young men were doing without him, but Otho pointed out very clearly how dreadful would be the consequences to him if he did not return. The young man then vowed: “I swear by James[43], the mighty saint of Spain, that I will not leave you, nor will fail to stand my trial on the appointed day, if God Almighty give me strength and health and power to keep my vow. I will be there, so that I might demonstrate what bitter hate Sir John, my cruel brother, holds against me.” So Otho let him go. “God shield you from shame! Come when you see it is the right time, and save us both from blame and reproach.”

So Gamelyn went to the merry greenwood, and found his company of outlaws; and so much had they to tell of their work in his absence, and so much had he to tell of his adventures, that time passed by, and he soon fell again into his former mode of life, and his custom of robbing none but Churchmen, fat abbots and priors, monks and canons, so that all others spoke good of him, and called him the “courteous outlaw.”

Gamelyn stood one day looking out over the woods and fields, and it suddenly came to his mind that he had forgotten his promise to Otho, and the day of the trial was very near. He called his young men (for he had learned not to trust honour or loyalty of his brother the sheriff), and told them to prepare to accompany him to the place of the trial, sending Adam first to learn the news. Adam returned in great haste, bringing sad news. The judge was in his place, and the jury were ready to condemn Gamelyn to death, as they were bribed by the wicked sheriff, and Otho was put in prison in place of his brother.

The news made Gamelyn very angry, but Adam Spencer was even more infuriated; he would gladly kill every person in court except Otho; but his master’s sense of justice was too strong for that.

“Adam,” he said, “we will not do so, but will kill the guilty and let the innocent escape. I myself will have some conversation with the justice in the hall; and meanwhile you, my men, hold the doors fast. I will make myself justice today, and you, Adam, shall be my clerk. We will give sentence this day, and God save our new work!”

All his men applauded this speech and promised him obedience, and the whole group of outlaws hurried to surround the hall.

Once again Gamelyn strode into the jail in the midst of his enemies, and was recognised by all. He released Otho, who said gently: “Brother, you have nearly overstayed the time; the sentence has already been given against me that I should be hanged.”

“Brother,” said Gamelyn, “this day shall your and my enemies be hanged: the sheriff, the justice, and the wicked jury.”

Then Gamelyn turned to the judge, who sat as if paralysed in his seat, and said: “Come from the seat of justice: too often you have polluted law’s clear stream with wrongs; too often you have taken reward against the poor; too often help villainy, and given judgment against the innocent!”

The justice sat still, dumb with astonishment, and Gamelyn struck him fiercely, cut his cheek, and threw him over the bar so that his arm broke; and no man dared to withstand the outlaw, for fear of his company standing at the doors. The youth sat down in the judge’s seat, with Otho beside him, and Adam in the clerk’s desk; and he dealt with the false sheriff, the justice, and the unjust jury, and accused them of wrong and attempted murder. In order to keep up the forms of law, he created a jury of his own young men, who brought in a verdict of “Guilty,” and the prisoners were all condemned to death and immediately hanged, though the false sheriff tried to appeal to the brotherly affection of which he had shown so little.

After this daring punishment of their enemies Gamelyn and his brother went to lay their case before King Edward, and he forgave them, in consideration of all the wrongs and injuries Gamelyn had suffered; and before they returned to their distant county the king made Otho the sheriff of the county, and Gamelyn chief forester of all his free forests; his band of outlaws were all pardoned, and the king gave them posts according to their talents. Now Gamelyn and his brother settled down[44] to a happy, peaceful life. Otho, having no son, made Gamelyn his heir, and the latter married a beautiful lady, and lived with her in joy till his life’s end.

Hereward[45] the Wake

When the weak but saintly King Edward the Confessor[46] ruled in England, the land was divided into four parts, of which Mercia and Kent were held by two powerful rivals. The two earls, Leofric of Mercia[47] and Godwin of Kent[48] did not only dislike each other, but also each other’s families, each other’s power and wealth, and their sons were also enemies.

Their wives were as different as their lords. Lady Gytha[49], Godwin’s wife, of the royal family of Denmark, was imperious, arrogant and scheming, the best match there could ever be for her husband the earl, who was so ambitious that he would stick at nothing[50] to win kingly power for his children. But Lady Godiva[51], Leofric’s beloved wife, was, on the contrary, a tender, religious, faithful and loving woman, who had already won an almost saintly reputation when she saved her husband’s oppressed citizens at Coventry[52]. She then pitied the people of that town, who were suffering under her husband’s taxation. Lady Godiva asked her husband again and again to lower the sum of money they had to pay. At last he said he would do it if she agreed to ride naked on a horse through the streets of Coventry. Lady Godiva took him at his word[53], and, having asked all the people to stay indoors and shut their windows, rode through the town, clothed only in her long hair. So Leofric had to agree not to oppress his citizens anymore. Fortunately, her sacrifice awoke a nobler spirit in her husband, so he was to play a worthier part in England’s history. She, in turn, sympathized with the religious aspirations of Edward the Confessor, and would gladly have seen one of her sons become a monk, perhaps to win spiritual power over the king and his court.