"King Henry II. to the Sheriff of Lancaster and Westmoreland, greeting—Kenric, the son of Werewulf, of Kentmere, in Westmoreland, has showed to us, that whereas he is a free man, and ready to prove his liberty, Sir Foulke d'Oilly, knight and baron of Waltheofstow and Fenton in the Forest of Sherwood, in Yorkshire, claiming him to be his nief, unjustly vexes him; and therefore we command you, that if the aforesaid Kenric shall make you secure touching the proving of his liberty, then put that plea before our justices, at the first assizes, when they shall come into those parts, to wit, in our good city of Lancaster, on the first day of December next ensuing, because proof of this kind belongeth not to you to take; and in the mean time cause the said Kenric to have peace thereupon, and tell the aforesaid Sir Foulke d'Oilly that he may be there, if he will, to prosecute thereof, against the aforesaid Kenric. And have there this writ."Witness:{William Fitz Adhelm.{Hugo Le Norman."This tenth day of October, in the year of Grace, 1184.Kendal, county of Westmoreland."
"King Henry II. to the Sheriff of Lancaster and Westmoreland, greeting—Kenric, the son of Werewulf, of Kentmere, in Westmoreland, has showed to us, that whereas he is a free man, and ready to prove his liberty, Sir Foulke d'Oilly, knight and baron of Waltheofstow and Fenton in the Forest of Sherwood, in Yorkshire, claiming him to be his nief, unjustly vexes him; and therefore we command you, that if the aforesaid Kenric shall make you secure touching the proving of his liberty, then put that plea before our justices, at the first assizes, when they shall come into those parts, to wit, in our good city of Lancaster, on the first day of December next ensuing, because proof of this kind belongeth not to you to take; and in the mean time cause the said Kenric to have peace thereupon, and tell the aforesaid Sir Foulke d'Oilly that he may be there, if he will, to prosecute thereof, against the aforesaid Kenric. And have there this writ.
"This tenth day of October, in the year of Grace, 1184.Kendal, county of Westmoreland."
"Well, there is a bail-bond needed, is there not, bailiff?"
"It is here, sir. William Fitz Adhelm, knight, and Aradas de Ratcliffe, esquire, both of the county of Westmoreland, are herein bound, jointly and severally, in the sum of two thousand marks, that Kenric, as aforesaid, shall appear at the Lancaster assizes next ensuing, and show cause why he is a freeman, and not a villeyn, as claimed, of Sir Foulke d'Oilly, as aforesaid. This is according to the law of England, and Kenric may go his way until the time of the assize, none hindering him in his lawful business."
"Therefore," said Sir Yvo de Taillebois, "I will pray Sir Foulke d'Oilly to command his vassals, that they release the man Kenric forthwith, nor force me to rescue him by the strong hand."
D'Oilly, who, during all these proceedings, to which, however unwilling, he was compelled to listen without resistance, had sat on the settle in the chimney corner, in a lounging attitude, gazing into the ashes of the wood fire, and affecting to hear nothing that was passing, rose to his feet sullenly, shook himself, till every link of his mail clashed and rang, and uttered, in a tone more like the short roar of a disappointed lion than the voice of a man, the one word, "Lachez!" Then turning to Sir Yvo, he said—
"And now, sir, I suppose that I, too, like this Saxon cur, about whom there has been so much pother, may go about my lawful business, none hindering me."
"So much so, Sir Foulke, that if you will do me the favor to order your horses, I will mount on the instant, and escort you to the boundary of the shire. You, Kenric, tarry here with my harbinger, and get yourself into more fitting guise to return to the castle. Now, master bailiff, in quality of host, can you not find a flask of something choicer than your ale and metheglin? Ha! wine of Anjou! This will wash the cobwebs of the law out of my gullet, rarely. I was nigh choked with them, by St. Agatha! Sir Foulke, I hear your horses stamping at the door. Will it please you, mount? It draws nigh to morning."
"I will mount," he replied fiercely, "when I am ready; and so give you short thanks for scanty courtesy."
"The less we say, I think, about courtesy, Sir Foulke d'Oilly, the better," said Sir Yvo, sternly; "for courtesy is not, nor ever can be, between us two, until I am certified how my dear friend and comrade in arms, Sir Philip de Morville, came by his death in Sherwood Forest."
The baron glared at him fiercely under the rim of his raised avantaille; then dashed the vizor down over his scowling features, that none might read their fell expression; clinched his gauntleted hand, and dashed it against the shield which hung about his neck, in impotent fury. But he spoke no word more, till they parted, without salutation or defiance, on a bare moor, where the three shires of York, Lancaster, and Westmoreland, meet, at the county stone, under the looming mountain masses of Whernside.
Duke.What, is Antonio here?Ant.Ready, so please your grace.Duke.I am sorry for thee. Thou art come to answerA strong adversary, an inhuman wretch.
Duke.What, is Antonio here?Ant.Ready, so please your grace.Duke.I am sorry for thee. Thou art come to answerA strong adversary, an inhuman wretch.
Duke.What, is Antonio here?Ant.Ready, so please your grace.Duke.I am sorry for thee. Thou art come to answerA strong adversary, an inhuman wretch.
Duke.What, is Antonio here?
Ant.Ready, so please your grace.
Duke.I am sorry for thee. Thou art come to answer
A strong adversary, an inhuman wretch.
Merchant of Venice.
There is nothing in all the reign of that wise, moderate, and able prince, as viewed according to the circumstances of his position and the intelligence of his era, the Second Henry of England, so remarkable, or in his character so praiseworthy, as his efforts to establish a perfect system both of judiciary power and of justice throughout England. In these efforts he more than mediately succeeded; and, although some corruptions continued to exist, and some instances of malfeasance to occur, owing in some degree to the king's own avaricious temperament and willingness to commute punishments, and perhaps, at times, even prosecutions, for pecuniary fines, justice was not for many centuries more equitably administered, certainly not four hundred years afterward, in the reign of the eighth monarch of the same Christian name, than in the latter portion of the twelfth century.
At this period, that justly celebrated lawyer, Ranulf de Glanville, was High Justiciary of England, besides holding the especial duty of administering justice, at the head of five others, in the circuit courts of all the counties north of the Trent; and he has left it on record "that there was not now in the King's Court one judge, who dared swerve from the path of justice, or to pronounce an opinion inconsistent with truth."
During the six weeks, which intervened between the liberation of Kenric from the arrest of Sir Foulke d'Oilly, and the day appointed for the holding of the Lancaster assizes, there was great tribulation in the castle of Hawkshead; and it was known that Sir Yvo de Taillebois was in constant correspondence with the High Justiciary; flying posts were coming and going, night and day, booted and spurred, through rain or shine, from York, the present abode of Sir Ranulf, to the shores of Windermere.
The old chaplain was buried up to the eyes in old parchments and genealogies; and, to complete the mystery, Clarencieux, king-at-arms, came down to the castle, accompanied by a pursuivant, loaded with documents from the college of heralds, a fortnight before the decisive day, and tarried at the castle until the time came, no one knowing especially, save Sir Yvo, his daughter, Aradas de Ratcliffe, and the persons employed in the research, what was the matter at issue.
Necessary, however, as it was deemed, at that time, to hold the proceedings and their cause in perfect secrecy, no such reason exists now; and it may be stated that, the object being no other than to bring Sir Foulke d'Oilly to justice for the murder of Sir Philip de Morville, it was necessary to be prepared at every point.
Now, according to the criminal law of that day, no prosecutor could put in his charge for murder, until he should have proved himself to be of the blood of the deceased. And this it was now the object of Sir Yvo to do, there having always been a traditionary belief in a remote kindred between the two families, though the exact point and period were forgotten.
At length, in the middle of the month of October, a proclamation was issued, in the name of the King, offering a free pardon for all other offenses, with the exception of high treason and misprision of treason, and five hundred marks reward to any freeman, or freedom to any serf, who, not being a principal in the deed, should appear before the court of assize at Lancaster, on the first day of December next ensuing, and give such evidence as should result in the conviction of the murderer or murderers of the late Sir Philip de Morville, of Waltheofstow, in the county of York.
At the same time, orders were issued to Kenric, and all his associate foresters and keepers, to bring in Eadwulf, under assurance of pardon, if he might be found in any quarter; and rewards were offered to stimulate the men to exertion. But in vain. The foresters pushed their way into the deepest and wildest recesses of the Cumbrian wilderness, at the risk of some smart conflicts with the outlaws of that dark and desolate region, who fancied that they were trespassing on their own savage haunts, with no good or amicable intent; but of Eadwulf they found no traces.
Kenric persisted, alone, after all the rest had resigned the enterprise; and, relying on his Saxon origin and late servile condition, mingled with the outlaws, told his tale, showed the proclamation, and succeeded in interesting his auditors in his own behalf and that of his brother; but he, no more than the others, could find any traces of the fugitive, and he began almost to consider it certain that the unhappy Eadwulf had perished among the hills, of the inclemency of the weather. He too, at last, returned home, despairing of ever seeing the unhappy outlaw more.
In the mean time, an earnest and interesting contest was going on in the castle, between Guendolen and Aradas on the one hand, and Sir Yvo de Taillebois on the other. For it had been discovered by the heralds, that there did exist proofs of blood-connection between the two families, sufficient to justify Sir Yvo in putting in a charge of his kinsman's murder against Sir Foulke d'Oilly, on the grounds of common rumor and hearsay, if Eadwulf should not be found; and, if he should, then on his testimony.
That d'Oilly would forthwith claim trial by wager of battle, none might doubt, who knew the character and antecedents of that desperately bad but dauntless man.
Now, it was the suit of Guendolen and Aradas, that Sir Yvo should appoint his young esquire his champion to do battle for the judgment of God—for they were irrevocably convinced—what, between their real faith in the justice of this cause, and the zealous trust, of those who love, in the superiority of the beloved, and the generous confidence of youth in its own glowing and impulsive valor—that Aradas would surely beat the traitor down, and win the spurs of gold, to which he so passionately aspired. But the clear-headed veteran regarded matters with a cooler and perhaps a wiser eye. He knew Sir Foulke d'Oilly for a trained, experienced, and all-practiced soldier; not only brave at all times, and brave among the bravest—but a champion, such as there were few, and to be beaten only by a champion. He knew him also desperate, and fighting his last stake. He foresaw that, even for himself, the felon knight, unless the sense of guilt should paralyze his heart, or the visible judgment of God be interposed in the heat of battle—a thing in those days scarcely to be looked for—would prove no easy bargain in the lists; and, how highly soever he might estimate his young esquire's courage and prowess, he yet positively refused to allow him to assume the place of appellant in the lists; and denied utterly that such a conflict, being the most solemn and awful of appeals to the Almighty on his judgment-seat, was any proper occasion for the striving after spurs of gold, or aiming at the honors of knighthood.
So the lovers were obliged to decline into hopes of some indefinite future chance; and did decline into despondent and listless apathy, until, two days only before that appointed for the departure of the company into Lancashire, fortune or fate, which you will, thought fit to take the whole matter into its own hands, and to decide the much-vexed question of the championship by the misstep of a stumbling palfrey.
After having ridden all day long on a stout, sure-footed cob, which he had backed for ten years, without knowing him to make a solitary blunder, marking trees for felling, and laying out new plantations with his foresters, Sir Yvo was wending his way toward the castle gates, across the great home-park, when, a small blind ditch crossing his path, he put the pony at it in a canter.
Startled by some deer, which rose up suddenly out of the long fern, growing thick among the oak-trees, the pony shyed, set his forefeet in the middle of the drain, and came down on his head, throwing his heavy rider heavily on the hard frozen ground.
A dislocated shoulder was the consequence; and, though it was speedily reduced, and no ill consequences followed, the surgeons declared that it was impossible that the knight should support his armor, or wield a sword, within two months; and thus, perforce, Guendolen had her way; and it was decided that Aradas should be admitted to the perilous distinction of maintaining the charge, in the wager of battle.
Strange times! when to be permitted to engage in a conflict, in which there was no alternative but victory, or infamy and death, was esteemed a favor, and was sought for, as a boon, not by strong men and soldiers only, but by delicate and gentle girls, in behalf of their betrothed lovers, as a mode of winningloson earth, and glory everlasting in the heavens.
Yet so it was; and when it was told to Guendolen, that her lover was nominated to that dreadful enterprise, a blush, indeed, mantled to her cheek, and a thrill ran through all her quivering frame, and an unbidden tear trembled in her beautiful clear eye; but the blush, and the thrill, and the tear, were of pride and excitement, not of fear or compassion; and the lady never slept sounder or more sweetly than on that eventful night, when she learned that, beyond a peradventure, her true love would be sleeping, within ten little days, under a bloody and dishonorable sod, or living, the winner of those golden-spurs and of her own peerless beauties.
There was, however, a strange mixture of simple and fervent faith in those days, with an infinitely larger amount of coarse and open wickedness, violence, and vice, than, perhaps, ever prevailed in any other age. And while the moral restraint on men's conduct and actions, arising from a sense of future responsibility and retribution, was vastly inferior to what now exists, owing to the open sale of indulgences, absolutions, and dispensations, and the other abominable corruptions of the Romish church, the belief in temporal judgments, and the present interference of divine justice in the affairs of men, was almost universal.
Infidelity in those days was a madness utterly unknown; and an atheist, materialist, or any phase of what we now call a free-thinker, would have been regarded with greater wonder than the strangest physical monster. It is not too much to say, that there were not in that day twenty men in England, who did not believe in the real efficacy of the ordeals, whether by water, fire, or battle, in discovering the truth, or one in a thousand who would not be half-defeated, before entering the lists, by the belief that God was fighting against him, or strengthened unto victory by the confidence that his cause was just.
One of these one men in a thousand it was, however, about to be the fortune of Aradas de Ratcliffe to encounter, in the person of Sir Foulke d'Oilly; but this he neither knew, nor would have thought of twice, had he known it. However hardened the heart of his adversary might be by the petrifying effects of habitual vice, however dulled his conscience by impunity and arrogance and self-relying contumacy, his own was so strongly panoplied in conscious honesty, so bucklered by confidence in his own good cause, so puissant by faith in God, that he no more feared what the might of that bad man could do against him, than he doubted the creed of Christ and his holy apostles.
Nor less was the undoubting assurance of the lady of his love, in whom, to her faith in divine justice, to her absolute conviction of d'Oilly's damning guilt, was added that over-weening confidence in her lover's absolute superiority, not only to all other men in general, but to every other man individually, which was common to love-sick ladies in those days of romance and chivalry.
But we must not anticipate, nor indeed is there cause to do so; for the days flew; until, after leaving Kendal Castle, the old fortalice of Yvo de Taillebois, who, coming in with the Conqueror, had wedded the sister of the Earls Morcar and Edwin, whence they took their departure as so much nearer to their destination, and journeying four pleasant winter days round the head of Morecambe Bay, they entered the old town of Lancaster. Sir Yvo de Taillebois was borne in a horse-litter, in consequence of his accident, at the head of a dozen knights, his vassals, all armed cap-à-pie; and a hundred spears of men-at-arms followed, with thrice as many of the already famous Kendal archers, escorting a long train of litters, conveying the lady and her female attendants, and a yet longer array of sumpter-mules and pack-horses.
The town was already crowded; but for a party so distinguished as that of Sir Yvo de Taillebois, High-Sheriff of the North-western counties, and chief local officer of the crown, apartments were prepared in the castle, adjoining those of the high justiciary and the itinerant, or, as we should now call them, circuit judges; while his train easily found quarters, some among the garrison of which they formed a part, as of right, and the rest in the vicinity of the castle.
At an early hour in the morning, preceded by trumpets and javelin men, clad in all the magnificence of scarlet and ermine, emblematic of judicial purity, but unencumbered by the hideous perukes of horse-hair which later ages have devised for the disfigurement of forensic dignitaries, the high justiciary, Ranulf de Glanville, followed by his five associate judges, proceeded to the superb oak-wainscoted and oak-groined hall, in which it was used to hold the sittings of "the King's court," at that time the highest tribunal in the realm.
This noble apartment, which was above a hundred feet in length by half that width, and measured sixty feet from the floor to the spring of the open arches, independent of the octagon lantern in the center, beneath which burned nearly a ton of charcoal, in a superb brazier of carved bronze, was crowded from the floor to the light, flying galleries, with all the flower of the Northern counties, ladies as well as knights and nobles, attracted by one of those untraceable but ubiquitous rumors, which so often precede remarkable events, to the effect that something of more than ordinary moment was likely to occur at the present assize. Among this noble assemblage, all of whom rose to their feet, with a heavy rustle of furred and embroidered robes, and a suppressed murmur of applause, as the judges entered, conspicuous on the right-hand side of the nave was Sir Foulke d'Oilly, attended by two or three barons and bannerets of his immediate train, and not less than twenty knights, who held fiefs under him.
What, however, was the astonishment of the assembly, when, after the guard of pensioners, in royal livery, armed with halberts, which followed the judges, Clarencieux, king-at-arms, in his magnificent costume, supported by six pursuivants, in their tabards, with trumpets, made his appearance in the nave, and then two personages, no less than Humphrey de Bohun, Lord High Constable, and William de Warrenne, Earl Mareschal of England, indicating by their presence that the court, about to be held, would be one of chivalry as well as of justice. Sir Yvo de Taillebois, and other officers of the crown, followed in the order; the justiciary and other high dignitaries took their seats, the trumpets sounded thrice, and, with the usual formalities, "the King's court" was declared open.
It was remarked afterward, though at the time no one noticed it, none suspecting the cause, that when the heralds and pomp, indicating the presence of a Court of Chivalry made their appearance, the face of Sir Foulke d'Oilly flushed fiery-red for a moment, and then turned white as ashes, even to the lips; and that he trembled so violently, that he was compelled to sit down, while all the rest were standing.
During the first three days of the assize, though many causes were tried of great local and individual interest, nothing occurred to satisfy the secret and eager anticipations of the excited audience, nothing to account for the unusual combination of civil and military powers on the judicial bench; and though all manner of strange rumors were afloat, there were none certainly that came very near the truth.
On the fourth morning, however, the crier, at command of the court, called Sir Foulke d'Oilly; who, presently appearing, stated that he was there, in pursuance of the king's order, to prosecute his claim to the possession of one Eadwulf the Red, alias Kenric, a fugitive villeyn, who had fled from his manor of Waltheofstow, within the precincts of Sherwood Forest, against his, Sir Foulke d'Oilly's, will; and who was now in the custody of the sheriff of the county. He concluded by appointing Geoffrey Fitz Peter and William of Tichborne, two sergeants, learned in the law, as his counsel.
The sheriff of the county was then called into court, to produce the body of the person at issue, and Kenric was placed at the bar, his bondsmen surrendering him to take his trial.
Sir Yvo de Taillebois then stated the preliminary proceedings, the arrest of Kenric by seizure, his purchasing a writde libertate probanda; and that, whereas he, the Sheriff, might not try that question in his court, it was now brought up before the Eyre of justices for trial.
Kenric was then called upon to plead, which he did, by claiming to be a free man, and desiring liberty to prove the same before God and a jury of his countrymen.
The sheriff was thereupon commanded to impannel a jury; and this was speedily accomplished, twelve men being selected and sworn, six of whom were belted knights, two esquires of Norman birth, and four Saxon franklins, as they were now termed, who would have been thanes under their ancient dynasty, all free and lawful men, and sufficient to form a jury.
Then, the defendant in the suit being a poor man, and of no substance, counsel, skilled in the law, were assigned him by the court, Thomas de Curthose, and Matthew Gourlay, that he might have fair show of justice; and so the trial was ordered to proceed.
Then Geoffrey Fitz Peter rose and opened the case by stating that they should prove the person at the bar to be a serf, known as "Eadwulf the Red," who has escaped from the manor of his lord at Waltheofstow, in Sherwood Forest, against his lord's will, on the 13th day of July last passed—that he had killed a deer, with a cross-bolt, on that same day, in the forest between Thurgoland and Bolterstone—and afterward murdered the bailiff of the manor of Waltheofstow, as aforesaid, with a similar weapon, at or near the same place, which weapons would be produced in court, and identified by comparison with corresponding weapons, and the arbalast to which they belong, found in the possession of the prisoner, when taken at Kentmere in Westmoreland—that he had been hunted hot-foot, with bloodhounds, through the forest, and across the moors to the Lancaster sands, when he had escaped only by the aid of the fatal and furious tide which had overwhelmed the pursuing horsemen—that he had been seen to land on the shore of Westmoreland, by a party of the pursuers, who had escaped the flood-tide by skirting the coastline, and had been traced, foot by foot, by report of the natives of the country, who had heard of the arrival of a fugitive serf in the neighborhood, until he was captured in a cottage beside Kentmere, on the 10th day of October of this present year. And to prove this, he called Sir Foulke d'Oilly.
He, being sworn, testified that he knew, and had often seen, his serf "Eadwulf the Red," on the manor of Waltheofstow, and fully believed the person at the bar to be the man in question. He had joined the pursuers of the fugitive on the day after the catastrophe of the sands, had been engaged in tracing him to the cottage on Kentmere, and fully believed the person captured to be the same who was traced upward from the sands. Positively identified and swore to the person at the bar, as the man captured on the 10th day of October, and to the crossbow and bolts produced in court, and branded with the name "Kenric," as taken in his possession.
Being cross-examined—he could not swear positively to any personal recollection of the features of "Eadwulf the Red," or that the person at the barwasthe man, orresembledthe man, in question. Believed him to be the man Eadwulf, because it was the general impression of his people that he was so.
Thomas de Curthose said—"This, my lords, is mere hearsay, and stands for naught." And Sir Ranulf de Glanville bowed his head, and replied—"Merely for naught."
Then Sir Foulke d'Oilly, being asked how, when he assumed this person's name to be Eadwulf, he ascribed to him the ownership of weapons stamped "Kenric," he replied, that "Kenric" was a name prepared aforehand, to avert suspicion, and assumed by Eadwulf, so to avoid suspicion.
Being asked where he showed that Eadwulf had assumed such other name, or that the name "Kenric" had ever been assumed by one truly named "Eadwulf," he replied, that "It was probable."
Thomas de Curthose said—"That is mere conjecture."
And, again, the justiciary assented.
No ceremony that to great ones 'longs,Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword,The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,Become them with one half so good a graceAs "justice" does.
No ceremony that to great ones 'longs,Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword,The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,Become them with one half so good a graceAs "justice" does.
No ceremony that to great ones 'longs,Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword,The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,Become them with one half so good a graceAs "justice" does.
No ceremony that to great ones 'longs,
Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword,
The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe,
Become them with one half so good a grace
As "justice" does.
Measure for Measure.
Then was called Ralph Brito.
He, being sworn, deposed thus—Is a man-at-arms of Sir Foulke d'Oilly; has served him these twenty years and over, in France, in Wales, and in Ireland. Has dwelt the last ten years, until this year now current, at Sir Foulke's castle of Fenton in the Forest; since the decease of Sir Philip de Morville, has been one of the garrison of Waltheofstow. Knows Eadwulf the Red perfectly well—as well as his own brother. Has known him these ten years back, when he was gross thrall to Sir Philip de Morville. Has seen him since the death of Sir Philip. Has seen him daily, since he made one of the garrison of Waltheofstow, until the twelfth day of September last, when he saw him for the last time, until he was taken in the cottage on Kentmere. The person at the bar is the man. The person at the bar is Eadwulf the Red, and is also the man who was taken at the cottage. They are the same. Did not follow the prisoner with the bloodhounds; came up, with my lord, the day after the accident on the sands. Was engaged in the pursuit till he was taken; was present at the arrest. The weapons in court were taken in the prisoner's house; took them down himself, from above the mantle-piece. The prisoner admitted them to be his weapons.
Matthew Gourlay, cross-examining, asked him—"You swear, certainly, that the man at the bar ishe, known, in the time of Sir Philip de Morville, as Eadwulf the Red?"
"I do."
"Of your own knowledge?"
"Of my own knowledge."
"Why was he called the Red?"
"Because hewasred."
"What part of him?"
"His hair and beard."
"Of what color are your own hair and beard?"
"Red."
It so happened that the close-curled hair and the beard, knotted like the wool of a poodle dog, of this man, were of the brightest and most fiery hue of which the human hair is susceptible; while that of Kenric was of a deep, glossy auburn, falling in loose waves from a broad fair forehead.
"And what color is the person's at the bar?"
"Why, reddish, I suppose," said Ralph Brito, sullenly.
"About the same color with your own, ha? Well, you may go down," he said, satisfied that he had somewhat damaged the evidence, even of this positive perjurer.
Andrew of Spyinghow was then called, and, being sworn, testified, that "he is the brother of Ralph Wetheral, the bailiff of Waltheofstow, who was found dead in the forest of Sherwood, on the 13th day of September last passed; and of Hugonet the Black, seneschal of Waltheofstow, as aforesaid, who was lost in the sands of Lancaster, on the 17th day of the said month. He and his brothers were known as the three spears of Spyinghow. He knew the serf, spoken of as Eadwulf the Red, as well as he knew his own face in the mirror. Had known him any time the last ten years, as serf, both to Sir Philip de Morville, and to his own lord, Sir Foulke d'Oilly. Had seen him last on the night of September the 12th, in the castle court at Waltheofstow; but had tracked him thence with bloodhounds to the verge of Borland Forest; had followed him by hue and cry across the moors to the sands of Morecambe Bay; had seen the fugitive crossing the bay; had seen him land on the Westmoreland shore, nor ever had lost the track of him, until he saw him taken in the cottage at Kentmere. The prisoner at the bar is the man." The witness then proceeded at length to describe the discovery of the slain stag, and the murdered bailiff, the manner of their deaths, the weapons found in the mortal wounds both of the beast and the man, and of the taking up of the scent of the fugitive from the spot where the double killing had taken place, by the bloodhounds.
Here Thomas de Curthose said—"This is a case we are trying, in this court of common pleas, of neifty,de nativo habendo; not a case of deer-slaying, in a forest court, or of murder, in a criminal court. Therefore, this evidence, as irrelevant, and tending to prejudice the jury against the prisoner, should be ruled out."
Geoffrey Fitz Peter said; "This testimony goeth only to prove the weapons, which were carried and used by the fugitive, be he who he may, at that place and that time stated, to be the same with those found in possession of the person at the bar, and owned by him to be his property. And this testimony we propose to use, in order to show that the person at the bar was actually at the place at the time stated as aforesaid, and is the very fugitive in question; not that he is the killer of the deer, or the murderer of the man, which it is not in the province of this court, or in our purpose to examine."
Sir Ranulf de Glanville said—"To prove the identity of the person at the bar with the alleged fugitive, this evidence standeth good, but not otherwise."
His examination being resumed, the witness described, vividly and accurately, the pursuit of the fugitive with bloodhounds; his superhuman efforts to escape, both by speed of foot and by power of swimming; his wonderful endurance, and, at last, his vanishing, as it were, without leaving a single trace, either for sight or scent, in the midst of a bare moor. Great sympathy and excitement were manifested throughout the whole court, at this graphic narrative; and all eyes were turned, especially those of the fair sex, to the fine athletic person and noble features of Kenric, as he stood at the bar, alone of all that company, impassive and unmoved, with looks of pity and admiration.
But Kenric only shook his head, with a grave smile and a quiet wafture of the hand, as if putting aside the undeserved sympathy.
But when the witness proceeded to describe the rediscovery of the fugitive crossing the sands, on the second morning after his temporary evasion, the desperate race against the speed of mortal horses, against the untamed velocity of the foam-crested coursers of the roaring ocean tide; when he depicted the storm bursting in the darkness, as of night, over the mailed riders and barbed horses struggling in the pools and quagmires; the fierce billows trampling over them, amid the tempest and the gloom; and the sun shining out on the face of the waters, and lo! there were none there, save Hugonet the Black, sitting motionless on his armed horse like a statue, until it should please the mounting tide to overwhelm him, from which he could by no earthly means escape, and the fugitive slave floating, in his chance-found coracle, within two oars' length of that devoted man, the excitement in the vast assembly knew no bounds. There were wild cries and sobs, and the multitude rocked and heaved to and fro, and several women swooned, and were carried out of the courthouse insensible, and seemingly lifeless. It was many minutes before order could be restored.
Then the bolts or quarrels, which had been extracted from the slaughtered deer and the murdered man were produced in court, yet stained with the blood, and bearing the name of Kenric branded upon the wooden shafts with an iron stamp. The crossbow and bolts, found in Kenric's cottage, and admitted by him to be his property, were also produced, and the quarrels found in the forest tallied from point to point, even to a broken letter in the branding, with those which he acknowledged to be his; and an expert armorer being summoned, testified that those quarrels were proper ones for that very arbalast, and would not fit one other out of twenty, it being of unusual construction.
At this point, not a person in the court, from the lowest spectator to the high justiciary on the bench, but believed the case to be entirely made out; and some of the crown lawyers whispered among themselves, wondering why the prisoner had not been arraigned in the forest or criminal courts, for the higher offenses, which seemed to be proved against him.
Thomas de Curthose, cross-examining the witness, asked—
"The man at the bar is Eadwulf the Red?"
"He is."
"On your oath, and of your own knowledge."
"On my oath, and of my own knowledge."
"Did you ever hear that 'Eadwulf the Red' should call himself, or be called by others, 'Kenric.'"
"Never, until now."
"And how have you heard it now?"
"I have seen it stamped on his quarrels."
"Had 'Eadwulf the Red' a brother?"
"A brother?"
"Had 'Eadwulf the Red' a brother?"
"I have heard say he had."
"Of your own knowledge, on your oath?"
"He had a brother."
"What was his name?"
"I—I have forgotten."
"On your oath! on your oath, sirrah!" thundered Thomas de Curthose. "Was not his name 'Kenric?'"
"I think it was 'Kenric.'"
"Look at the person at the bar." The man did so; but reluctantly, and with an evident tremor.
"Is not that man 'Kenric,' the brother of 'Eadwulf the Red?'"
"That man is 'Eadwulf the Red'—I have sworn it."
"And art forsworn, in swearing it. But again, thou hast sworn, 'that on the third morning, after taking scent of the fugitive from the place of the deer and manslaying, and after hunting him constantly with bloodhounds, you lost all track of him on the bare moor in Borland Forest?'"
"Why, ay! I have sworn that; it is quite true," said the man, seemingly reassured, at the change of the line of examination.
"I doubt it not. Now, when did the hounds take the scent again?"
"Why, not at all. We saw he was making for the sands, and so squandered ourselves in parties, and on the second morning, at daybreak, saw him crossing them."
"How far off was he, when you saw him?"
"About three miles."
"Could you see, to know him, at that distance?"
"Why, no; but we guessed it was he, when we saw him run from us; and, when we wound up the clew to the end, and caught him, we found that we were right."
"You may stand down. Who is next?"
Four other witnesses followed, who all swore positively to the person of the prisoner, as "Eadwulf the Red," and testified to various points in the circumstances of the pursuit and capture, all tending to the identification of Kenric with the fugitive; and though the counsel for the defense had succeeded, more or less, in shaking the credit of some of the witnesses with the jury, and of raising a doubt concerning the existence of a brother, with whom the fugitive might have been confounded, no head had yet been made against the direct testimony of six witnesses, swearing positively to his person, and against the damaging circumstantial evidence of the crossbow and quarrels.
When the counsel for the plaintiff rested, and the court adjourned at ten o'clock, for dinner, not a lawyer in the court, except those retained in the defense, but looked on the case of Kenric as hopeless; and the party of Sir Foulke d'Oilly were consequently in high glee. But when the court reassembled, at noon, Walter Gourlay arose, and addressed the six judges—
"May it please your lordships, we shall right shortly prove to your satisfaction and to that of this honorable jury that this case lies in a nutshell, or rather is no case at all, or shadow of a case. First, we shall show to you that this person at the bar is not, nor ever was called, 'Eadwulf the Red,' though there may be some slight similarity of person between him and his brother, of that name; but that he is, and has been called from his cradle to this day, 'Kenric the Dark.' Secondly, we shall show you that this 'Kenric the Dark' was not in Sherwood Forest, or within fifty miles of it, on the 13th day of September last passed, or on any day within two months thereof. Thirdly, we shall show you that this 'Kenric the Dark' is not serf or villeyn to Sir Foulke d'Oilly, or to any Sir in England; but a free man, and free tenant of the Lord of Kendal, in the county of Westmoreland."
Then William of Tichborne, said—"Nay! Brother Gourlay, do not prove too much against us," and he laughed sneeringly; "else thou wilt convict our witnesses as mansworn."
And Thomas de Curthose laughed, and said—"Marry will we, and pillory them for it, likewise."
Then the defense called Bertha, the wife of Werewulf; and an exceedingly old woman was supported into court, by a younger woman of exceeding beauty; and, in consideration of her age and infirmities, she was accommodated with a seat. She was very feeble, and much emaciated, and her hair was as white as snow; but her figure, though frail and quivering, was erect as a weather-beaten pine, and her eye as clear as an eagle's.
"Well, mother, and who art thou?" asked the justiciary, in a kindly tone, "and what hast thou to tell us in this matter?"
"I am Bertha," she replied, in tones singularly clear and distinct, "the wife of Werewulf, the son of Beowulf, who was henchman to Waltheof, who was the Lord of Waltheofstow, before the Normans came to England."
"A serf to testify in proof of a serf's liberty!" said William of Tichborne. "Such evidence may not stand."
"She is no serf, my lord," said Gourlay, "but as free as my brother of Tichborne. Let the Sheriff of Lancaster be sworn."
So, Sir Yvo de Taillebois being sworn in his place, testified: "Bertha, the wife of Werewulf, is a free woman. I bought her myself, with her own free consent, of my friend Sir Philip de Morville, and manumitted her, for reasons of mine own."
"Let Bertha proceed."
"I am the mother of seven sons, in lawful wedlock born; five of whom, and three grandsons, sleep with their fathers, in the kirkyard of Waltheofstow; two, as I believe, yet draw the breath of life, biding God's good time; 'Kenric the Dark,' my second born, and 'Eadwulf the Red,' my youngest. Kenric stands yonder, at the bar; Eadwulf is a wanderer on the moorland."
Being cross-examined; "Would she know her sons any where; would she know them apart?"
"Know my own sons!" she made answer; "the flesh of my own flesh, the bone of my own bone! By day or by night, in darkness or in light, by the lowest sound of the voice, by the least pressure of the hand, by the feeling of their hair, or the smell of their breath, would I know them, and know them apart, any where. Yon is Kenric, and Kenric is no more like to Eadwulf, than day is to darkness, or a bright summer sunshine to a thunder-cloud in autumn."
"Call Aradas de Ratcliffe."
He, being sworn, was asked;
"Know you the person at the bar; and, if ay, what is his name?"
"I know him well; his name is Kenric; his condition, so far as I know, a freeman, and verdurer to Sir Yvo de Taillebois."
"When did you see him first, to know him?"
"In July last, when my Lord of Taillebois returned from Yorkshire, and brought him along in his train."
"Have you seen him in the mean time; and, if ay, how often."
"Almost daily. He is one of our best foresters, and we rarely hunt or hawk without him."
"Can you name any one day, in particular, when you saw the person at the bar, between July and October, to know him?"
"I can. On the 12th day of last September, at eight o'clock in the evening, we being then at supper, Kenric came into the hall, by permission, to bring tidings that he had tracked the great mouse-colored hart-royal, which has been known in the dales this hundred years, into a deep dingle at the head of Yewdale, and that he was laid up for the night. On the 13th, we were astir before day, and Kenric led us to the lair; and we hunted that hart all day long on the 13th, and killed him at sunset on the skirts of Skiddaw. We had to pass the night on the mountain, and I well remember how Kenric was the best man in collecting firing and making all things comfortable for the night, it being cold, and a keen white frost."
Being cross-examined—"I know it was on the 12th that he brought the tidings, because my rents fall due on that day at Rydal Manor, and I had ridden over to collect them, and returned home somewhat late for supper, and had just sat down to table, very hungry, when he came in with the news of the great hart-royal; and that spoiled my supper, for the thought of killing that hart on the morrow took away all my appetite."
"And did you kill him, sir?" asked Sir Ranulf de Glanville from the bench, eagerly; for if he were famous as a lawyer, he was little less so as a woodman.
"With a cloth-yard shaft from my own bow, Sir Ranulf, at twenty score yards and thirteen."
"Well, sir, it was a very pretty shot," returned the high justiciary, nothing abashed by the smile which ran through the court; "and you have given very pretty evidence. Have you any more witnesses, Master Gourlay? Methinks the jury have had almost enough of this."
"We will detain your lordships but a very little longer, William Fitz Adhelm."
And he knew Kenric well, and remembered his services particularly on that 13th day of September; and, to prove the date, he produced a record of the chase, carved on ivory, which was hung from the antlers of that celebrated deer, in the great hall at Hawkshead Castle, recording the length of the hunt, the dogs and horses engaged, and all the circumstances of the great event.
The bailiff of Kendal was then called, who swore that he knew Kenric, as forester and verdurer, since July last, and that he had seen him since that date almost daily; for that three days had never passed without his bringing him game for his guest-table, according to the orders of his lord.
"And here," said Thomas de Curthose, "we might safely rest, stating merely, in explanation, that the true 'Eadwulf the Red,' brother of the person at the bar, did, we believe, all the things stated by the witnesses to this court, and did leave, at the cottage on Kentmere, the crossbow produced before the court, which he had previously purloined from his brother, while at Waltheofstow. But desiring to place this man's freedom on record beyond a question or a peradventure, we will call Sir Yvo de Taillebois."
He, of course, testified to all that is known to the readers of this history, and which was not known to the jury or the court; to his own agency, namely, in the purchase and manumission of the serf Kenric, and to his establishment of him as a free tenant on his lands of Kentmere, in Kendal.
"And here we rest," said Thomas of Curthose, "nor shall trouble the court so much as to sum up what is so palpable."
The complainants declining to say any thing farther, Ranulf de Glanville said—
"It is scarce necessary that I should say any thing to this jury, seeing that if the evidence of Sir Yvo de Taillebois be received as credible, the case is at an end. But I would say that, without his testimony, the defense might have rested safely, when they had shown that the alleged fugitive, 'Kenric,' was a resident here in Westmoreland, on the day, and long before the day, when he is charged on oath to have been a serf in Yorkshire. For if A claim a horse, now in the possession of B, swearing, and bring in witnesses to swear, that he, A, lost, or had stolen from him, the said horse, on such a day; and B bring sufficient and true witnesses to satisfy the jury that the said horse, so claimed was in his, B's, possession, days, weeks, or months before the 'such a day' on which A avers to have lost or had the said horse stolen from him—then it is to be presumed, not that A and his witnesses are mistaken as to the day, on which the horse was lost, seeing that he and they have sworn positively to the day, and that it is in him and them, alone, and on no others, truly to know the day on which the said horse was lost or stolen—but that the horse is another horse altogether, and not that horse lost or stolen on the day averred; inasmuch as this horse claimed was, on that day, and theretofore and thereafter, standing here, and could not therefore be lost or stolen elsewhere. This is the law, gentlemen, of an ox, or an ass, or a goat, or a piece of furniture, or of any thing that is property, dead or living. Much more so, therefore, of the liberty of a man. For God forbid that on this earth of England the liberty of a man, which is even the dearest thing he hath on earth, should be more lightly jeoparded, or less securely guaranteed to him, than the value of his ox, or his ass, or his goat, or his chattel, whatsoever it may be, that is claimed of him. And now, gentlemen of the jury, I will detain you no longer. You may retire, if you wish to deliberate on your verdict, whether the person at the bar be 'Eadwulf the Red,' gross thrall of Sir Foulke d'Oilly, or 'Kenric the Dark,' and a true freeman."
"So please the court, we are agreed," was the unanimous answer of the jurymen.
"And how will you render your verdict?"
"By our foreman, Sir Ralph Egerton, of Egerton."
"We find," said the foreman, in answer to the eye of the justiciary, "that the person at the bar, 'Kenric, surnamed the Dark,' is a free man, and that Sir Foulke d'Oilly hath no claim against his liberty or person. And we farther recommend that the witnesses for the plaintiff, more especially Ralph Brito, and Andrew of Spyinghow, be taken into custody, and held to answer to a charge of perjury."
"You have said well, gentlemen, and I thank you for your verdict," said the justiciary. "Clerk of the court, record the verdict; and see that warrants issue against Ralph de Brito and Hugh of Spyinghow. Kenric, thou art free; free of all charge against thee; free to walk boldly and uprightly before God; and, so far as you do no wrong, to turn aside for fear of no man. Go, and thank God, therefore, that you are born on English soil, where every man is held free, till he is proved a slave; and where no man can be delivered into bondage, save on the verdict of a jury of his countrymen. This is the law of England. God save the King. Amen!"
Then, turning to Sir Yvo de Taillebois, "You brought that fellow off with flying colors! Now, you will sup with me, at my lodgings, at nine. My brothers of the bench will be with us, and my lord high constable, and the earl mareschal; and we will have a merry time of it. They have choice oysters here, and some lampreys; and that boar's head, and the venison you sent us, are superb. You will come, of course."
"With pleasure," said De Taillebois, "but"—and he whispered something in his ear.
"Ha! do you fear so? I think not; but we will provide for all chances; and, in good time, here comes Clarencieux. Ho! Clarencieux, sup with us, at nine to-night; and, look you, we shall want Sir Foulke d'Oilly in court to-morrow. I do not think that he will give us the slip; but, lest he try it, let two of your pursuivants and a dozen halberdiers keep their eye on him till the court sits in the morning; and if he offer to escape, arrest him without scruple, and have him to the constable's lodging. Meantime, forget not nine of the clock, in my lodgings."