Английские легенды / English Legends - Страница 7
For this holy vocation she chose her second son, Hereward, a wild, rebellious lad with rather an uncontrollable temper. He was a robust, strongly built youngster, with long golden curls and eyes of different colours, one grey, one blue. In vain[54] Lady Godiva tried to educate him for the monkish life, but he utterly refused to follow her scheme. He did not like studying and had only the most primitive knowledge of the basic subjects, but spent his time in wrestling, boxing, fighting and other exercises. He would not be inspired even with the noble ideal of knighthood, to say nothing of an ecclesiastic career. His wildness and recklessness were only increasing with his years, and often his mother had to stand between him and his father, as Hereward was sometimes bold enough to confront the earl.
When he was sixteen or seventeen he became the terror of Mercia, because he gathered a band of youths as wild and reckless as himself, who chose him for their leader, and obeyed him absolutely, however outrageous were his commands. Earl Leofric understood little of the nature of his second son, and looked upon what he was doing as evidence of a cruel and lawless mind, a threat to the peace of England, while they were, in reality, only the signs of a restless energy boiling against the background of dull life in England of that time.
The disagreements between father and son were very frequent, and Lady Godiva could foresee a bad ending of the argument every time Hereward and his father met; yet she could do nothing to prevent it. None of the men would recognize that the other could be right, and so things went from bad to worse.
Nevertheless, in all Hereward’s deeds there was no wickedness. He hated monks and loved playing tricks upon them, but took his punishment, when it came, also with cheerfulness; he robbed merchants, but then returned all that he had stolen, satisfied with that he had had fun; his band fought other bands, but it was not because of hatred, but more for exercising their strength, and the youths did not keep any offence after the fighting was over. There was, however, one feature in Hereward’s character that was not noble enough: he was jealous of admitting that any man was stronger or more attractive than him. But it cannot be denied that his vanity had solid grounds[55], as he indeed was marked with extraordinary might and beauty.
So, what brought Earl Leofric’s terrible wrath upon his son were not matters of pointless wickedness, but of recklessness and lawless personal violence. Called to attend his father to the King’s court, the youth, who had little respect for anyone who disliked war and fighting, said something with an evident contempt for saintly king, his Norman prelate and the monks. He said it too loudly, and thereby shocked the weakly Edward, who honestly believed that piety to be the whole duty of man. But his wildness abused the king a lot. In his simple, somewhat naive patriotism Hereward hated the Norman favourites who surrounded the Confessor; besides, he was all covered in marks of the personal injuries he received when fighting the Normans in simple boyish fights, and he kept on talking of more injuries which he gave them, until at last his father could endure the disgrace no longer.
During an audience of the king, Leofric formally asked for a permission to outlaw his own son. Edward the Confessor, surprised, but not displeased, felt even sorry as he saw the father’s affection beaten by the judge’s severity. Earl Godwin, Leofric’s greatest rival, was present in the council, too, and he pleaded to forgive the noble lad, whose faults were only those of youth. But that was sufficient to make Leofric more insistent in his petition. The curse of family feud[56], which afterwards made England lie powerless at the foot of William the Conqueror[57], was already felt. It felt so strongly that Hereward behaved more aggressively seeing Godwin’s attempts to save him more than when learning of his father’s sternness.
“What!” he cried, “shall a son of Leofric, the noblest man in England, accept pity from Godwin or any of his family? No. I may be unworthy of my wise father and my saintly mother, but I am not yet sunk so low[58] as to ask a favour from Godwin. Father, I thank you. For years I have been disturbing the peace of the land, and thus have caused your displeasure; but I shall now go in exile, and in exile I may go abroad and win my fortune at the sword’s point[59].”
“Win your fortune, foolish boy!” said his father. “And where will you go?”
“Wherever fate and my fortune lead me,” he replied recklessly. “I can do anything—serve the Emperor in Constantinople, kill dragons and other monsters, follow a quest to the north—but never shall Mercia see me again till England calls me home. Farewell, father; farewell, Earl Godwin; farewell, reverend king. I go. And pray that you may never need my arm, for it may happen that you will call me and I will not come.”
So Hereward rode away, followed into exile by one man only, Martin Lightfoot, who left his father’s service for that of his outlawed son. Also, that time at court Hereward first saw and liked of a lovely little Saxon maiden named Alftruda[60], a servant of the pious king.
Hereward was now legally outlawed in Mercia by the wish of the king himself, but the decision had only nominal weight[61] in Northumbria, where Earl Siward[62] ruled almost as an independent lord. Hereward went there, for there lived his own godfather, Gilbert of Ghent[63], and his castle was known as a good training school for young candidates for knighthood. Sailing from Dover, the young man landed at Whitby, and made his way to Gilbert’s castle, where he was well received. His godfather was smart; he knew that an outlawry could be reversed at any time, and Leofric’s son might yet come to rule England. Thus Hereward was added to the number of other young men, mainly Normans or Flemings, who were seeking to perfect themselves in chivalry before taking knighthood. He soon showed himself a brave warrior, a superb wrestler, and a dangerous fighter, and soon no one wanted to fight the young Mercian, who beat them all in manly sports. The envy of the young Normans was only controlled by two things: Gilbert’s presence and fear of Hereward’s strength. But one day, in Gilbert’s absence, an incident occurred which placed the young exile so far above them that only by his death could they hope to stop being much inferior to him.
Gilbert kept in his castle court an immense white Polar bear, feared by all for its size and strength, and called the Fairy Bear. It was even believed that the huge beast had some family relation to old Earl Siward, who bore a bear upon his crest, and was said to have been as dangerous and strong as a bear in his youth. This white bear was so much scared of that he was kept on a chain and in a strong cage.
One morning, as Hereward was returning with Martin from his morning ride, he heard cries from the castle yard, and, reaching the great gate, entered and quickly closed it behind him, for there outside the broken cage, with broken chain dangling from his neck, stood the Fairy Bear, looking savagely round the courtyard. Not far from it stood a deadly frightened girl of about twelve years of age. She happened to stay outside when everybody rushed inside the castle. There were sounds of men’s voices and women’s cried from within, but the doors were closed, while the girl, in her terror, beat on the doors and begged them, for the love of God, to let her in. The cowards refused, and in the meantime the great bear, irritated by the dangling chain, ran towards the child. Hereward rushed forward, shouting to distract the bear, and just managed to stop him attaching the girl. The savage animal turned on the newcomer. Taking his battle-axe, the youth threw it masterly and split the skull of the furious beast, which fell dead. It was a blow so mighty that even Hereward himself was surprised at its deadly effect. Then the little girl, who turned out to be no other than the king’s servant, Alftruda, and who had been watching with fascinated eyes first the approach of the monster, and then its sudden death, now ran to Hereward, who had always been kind to the pretty child, and flung herself into his arms[64].