The Tale of Gamelyn

In the reign of King Edward I, there lived in Lincolnshire a noble gentleman, Sir John of the Marches. He was now old, but was still a model of all courtesy and a perfect gentle knight. He had three sons, of whom the youngest, Gamelyn, was born in his father’s old age, and was greatly beloved by the old man; the other two were much older than he, and John, the eldest, had already developed a wicked character. Gamelyn and his second brother, Otho, respected their father, but John had no respect or obedience for the good gentleman, and was the chief trouble of his declining years, as Gamelyn was his chief joy.

At last old age and weakness overcame the worthy old Sir John, and he was forced to take to his bed, where he lay sadly thinking of his children’s future, and wondering how to divide his possessions fairly among the three. Fearing that he could commit an injustice, Sir John sent throughout the district for wise knights, asking them to come hastily, if they wished to see him alive and help him. When the country squires and lords, his near neighbours, heard of his serious condition, they hurried to the castle, and gathered in the bedchamber, where the dying knight greeted them thus:

“Lords and gentlemen, I may no longer live; but I pray, for my sake, to help me to divide my lands among my three sons. For the love of God, do it justly, and forget not my youngest, Gamelyn. Seldom does any heir to an estate help his brothers after his father’s death.”

The friends whom Sir John had invited thought long over the disposal of the estate. Most of them wanted to give all to the eldest son, but a strong minority said they must not forget the second. They all agreed, however, that Gamelyn might wait till his eldest brother chose to give him a share of his father’s lands. At last it was decided to divide the inheritance between the two elder sons, and the knights returned to the room where the brave old knight lay dying, and told him their decision. He summoned up strength enough to protest against their plan, and said:

“No, by Lord, I can yet leave my lands to whom I wish: they still are mine. Then be silent, neighbours, while I make my will. To John, my eldest son, and heir, I leave five ploughlands, my dead father’s heritage; and same to my second, which I myself won in battles; everything else I own, in lands and goods and wealth, goes to Gamelyn, my youngest. And I ask you, for the love of God, not to forsake, but guard his helpless youth and let him not be denied his wealth.”

Then Sir John, satisfied with having proclaimed his will, died with Christian resignation, leaving his little son Gamelyn in the power of the cruel eldest brother, now, in his turn, Sir John.

Since the boy was very young, the new knight, as a natural guardian, got the control of Gamelyn’s land, vassals, education, and nurture; but he did not fulfil his duty, for he clothed and fed the boy badly, and neglected his lands, so that his parks and houses, his farms and villages, fell into decay. The boy, when he grew older, noticed this and tried to change it, but did not realise the power in himself with which he tried to redress the wrongs. Later, though, he fully understood what injuries he could inflict others, so no man would dare to face him in fight when he was angry, so strong a youth had he become.

While Gamelyn, one day, walking in the hall, was thinking of the ruin of all his inheritance, Sir John came in, and, seeing him, called out: “How now: is dinner ready?”

Furious at being addressed as if he were just a servant, Gamelyn replied angrily: “Go and do your own baking; I am not your cook.”

Sir John was astonished. “What, my dear brother, is that the way to answer? You have never addressed me so before!”

“No,” replied Gamelyn, “because until now I have never considered all the wrong you have done me. My parks are broken open, my deer are driven off; you have deprived me of my armour and my horses; all that my father left to me is falling into ruin and decay. God’s curse upon you, false brother!”

Sir John was now angry beyond all measure, and shouted: “Stand still, vagabond! What right do you have to speak of land or vassals? Thou shall learn to be grateful for food and the roof above your head.”

“A curse upon him that calls me a vagabond! I am no worse than yourself; I am the son of a lady and a good knight.”

In spite of all his anger, Sir John was a careful man, thinking of his own safety. He would not risk an encounter with Gamelyn, but called his servants and told them to beat him well, till he should learn better manners. But when the boy understood his brother’s intention he promised that he would not be beaten alone – others should suffer too, and Sir John not the least. Leaping on to the wall, he got a pestle standing by the wall, and so boldly attacked the servants, that he drove them into a heap. Sir John had not even got that small amount of bravery: he fled to the next room and shut the door, while Gamelyn cleared the hall with his pestle, and chased the cowardly grooms.

“Brother,” said Gamelyn, when he finally saw where the latter was hiding, “come a little nearer, and I will teach you how to play this merry game.”

“No, I will not come till you put down that pestle. Brother, be angry no more, and I will make peace with you. I swear it by the grace of God!”

“I was forced to defend myself,” said Gamelyn, “I could not let grooms beat a good knight’s son; but now grant me one gift, and we shall soon be at peace with each other.”

“Yes, certainly, brother; ask for your gift, and I will give it readily. But indeed I was only testing you, for you are so young that I doubted your strength and manliness. It was only a pretence of beating that I meant.”

“This is my request,” said the boy: “if there is to be peace between us you must give to me all that my father left me while he was alive.”

To this Sir John agreed with apparent willingness, and even promised to repair the decayed houses and restore the lands and farms; but though he showed content with the agreement and kissed his brother with affection, yet he was inwardly planning a treachery against the unsuspecting youth.

Shortly after this quarrel between the brothers a wrestling competition was announced, the winner of which would become the owner of a fine ram and a ring of gold, and Gamelyn decided to try his powers. Accordingly he asked a horse from Sir John, who offered him his choice of all the horses in the stable, and then curiously questioned him as to his purpose. The lad explained that he wished to compete in the wrestling match, hoping to win honour by bearing away the prize; then he mounted his horse and rode away merrily, while the false Sir John locked the gate behind him, praying that he might get his neck broken in the contest.

The boy rode along, rejoicing in his youth and strength, singing as he went, till he drew near the appointed place, and then he suddenly heard a man’s voice crying, “O grief! Alas!” and saw a venerable yeoman wringing his hands.

“Good man,” said Gamelyn, “why are you in such distress? Can no one help you?”

“Alas!” said the yeoman. “Woe to the day on which I was born! The champion wrestler here has overthrown my two sons, and unless God help them they will die of their injuries. I would give ten pounds to find a man to avenge on him for my dear sons.”

“Good man, hold my horse while my groom takes my coat and shoes, and I will try my luck and strength against this champion.”

“Thank God!” said the yeoman. “I will do it at once; I will guard thy coat and shoes and good horse safely – and may Jesus Christ help you!”

When Gamelyn entered the ring, barefooted and ready for wrestling, all men gazed curiously at the reckless youth who dared to challenge the best champion, and the great man himself, rising from the ground, went across to meet Gamelyn and said imperiously: “Who is your father, and what is your name? Truly you are a young fool to come here!”

Gamelyn answered equally imperiously: “You knew my father well while he lived: he was Sir John of the Marches, and I am his youngest son, Gamelyn.”

The champion replied: “Boy, I knew your father well in his lifetime, and I have heard of you, but nothing good: you have always been in mischief.”

“Now I am older and you shall know me better,” said Gamelyn.

The wrestling had lasted till late in the evening, and the moon was shining over the scene when Gamelyn and the champion began their fight. The wrestler tried many wily tricks, but the boy was ready for them all. Then, in his turn, he grasped his rival round the waist, and cast him so heavily to the ground that three ribs were broken, and his left arm. Then the winner said mockingly:

“Shall we count that, or not?”

“By heaven! No man will survive in your hands,” said the champion painfully.

The yeoman, who had watched the match with great anxiety, now broke out with blessings:

“Be blessed, young sir, that ever you were born!” and, turning to the fallen champion, added: “It was young ‘Mischief’ who taught you this game!”

“He is master of us all,” said the champion. “In all my years of wrestling I have never been used so cruelly.”

Now the winner stood in the ring, ready for more wrestling, but no man would dare to compete with him, and the two judges who kept order and awarded the prizes asked him to retire, for no other competitor could be found to face him.

But he was a little disappointed at this easy victory. “Is the fair over? Why, I haven’t yet had enough fun,” he said.

Later, when the judges returned to their seats, they formally awarded the prize to Gamelyn, and now came to him, bearing the ram and the ring. Gamelyn took them gladly, and went home the next morning, followed by a cheering crowd of admirers; but when the cowardly Sir John saw the people he shut the castle doors against his more favourite and successful brother.

The porter, obeying his master’s commands, refused Gamelyn entrance; and the youth, angry at this insult, broke down the door with one blow, caught the porter, and flung him down the well in the courtyard. His brother’s servants fled from his anger, and the crowd that had accompanied him spread into courtyard and hall, while the knight took refuge in a little tower.

“Welcome to you all,” said Gamelyn. “We will be masters here and ask no man’s leave.

Yesterday I left five barrels of wine in the cellar; we will drain them dry before you go. If my brother objects (as he may, for he is greedy), I will be a butler and caterer myself and manage the whole feast. Any person who dares to protest may join the porter in the well.”

Naturally no objections followed, and Gamelyn and his friends held the carouse for a week, while Sir John was hiding in his tower, terrified at the noise and revelry, and fearing what his brother might do to him now he had so many followers.

However, the guests departed quietly on the eighth day, leaving Gamelyn alone, and very sorrowful, in the hall where he had held the feast. As he stood there sadly, he heard a timid footstep, and saw his brother coming towards him. When he had attracted Gamelyn’s attention he spoke out loudly: “Who made you so bold as to destroy all my household stores?”

“No, brother, be not angry,” said the youth quietly. “If I have used anything I have paid for it fully beforehand. For these sixteen years you have had full use and profit of fifteen good ploughlands which my father left me; you have also the use and increase of all my cattle and horses; and now all this past profit I abandon to you, in return for the expense of this feast of mine.”

Then said the treacherous Sir John: “Wait, my dear brother: I have no son, and you shall be my heir – I swear by the holy St. John.”

“Honestly, brother,” said Gamelyn, “if that is the case, and if this offer is made in all sincerity, may God reward you!” for it was impossible for him to suspect his brother of treachery.

Sir John hesitated a moment, and then said doubtfully: “There is one thing I must tell you, Gamelyn. When you threw my porter into the well I swore in my wrath that I would have you bound hand and foot. That is impossible now without your agreement, but I swore to god and cannot forget my promise. I will go to hell unless you let yourself be bound for a moment, as a mere form, just to save me from the sin.”

So sincere Sir John seemed, and so simple did the whole thing appear, that Gamelyn agreed at once. “Why, certainly, brother, you shall not go to hell for my sake.”

So he sat down, and the servants bound him hand and foot; and then Sir John looked mockingly at him as he said: “So now, my fine brother, I have you caught at last.” Then he ordered to chain him fast to a post in the centre of the hall. Gamelyn was placed on his feet with his back to the post and his hands tight behind him, and as he stood there the false brother told every person who entered that Gamelyn had suddenly gone mad, and was chained for safety’s sake, so that he would not do himself or others some deadly hurt. For two long days and nights he stood there bound, with no food or drink, and grew faint with hunger and weariness, for his ropes were so tight that he could not sit or lie down; bitterly he regretted the carelessness which made him fall such an easy prey to his treacherous brother’s evil plans.

When all others had left the hall Gamelyn appealed to old Adam Spencer, the steward of the household, a loyal old servant who had known Sir John of the Marches, and had watched the boy grow up. “Adam Spencer,” he said, “unless my brother wants to kill me, I am kept hungry too long. I pray, for the great love my father had for you, get the keys and release me from my bonds. I will share all my free land with you if you help me in this distress.”

The poor old servant was greatly perplexed. He knew not how to reconcile his grateful loyalty to his dead master with the loyalty to his present lord, and he said doubtfully: “I have served your brother for sixteen years, and if I release you now, he will rightly call me a traitor.”

“Ah, Adam! You’ll find him a false rogue in the end, as I have done. Release me, dear friend Adam, and I will be true to my agreement to share my land with you.”

By these words the steward was persuaded, and, waiting till Sir John was safely in bed, managed to get the keys and release Gamelyn, who stretched his arms and legs and thanked God for his liberty. Then Adam took him to a private room and set food before him; eagerly he ate and drank till his hunger was satisfied and he began to think of revenge.

“What is your advice, Adam? Shall I go to my brother and smite off his head? He well deserves it.”

“No,” answered Adam, “I know a better plan than that. Sir John is to give a great feast on Sunday to many Churchmen and prelates; there will be present a great number of abbots and priors and other holy men. Do you stand as if bound by your post in the hall, and ask them to release you. If they help you, your liberty will be gained with no blame to me; if they all refuse, you shall cast aside the unlocked chains, and you and I, with two good sticks, can soon win your freedom. Christ’s curse on him who fails his comrade!”

“Yes, let me be cursed if I fail in my part of the bargain! But if we must need to help them to do penance for their sins, you must warn me, brother Adam, when to begin.”

“Certainly, master, I will give you a warning. When I wink at you be ready to cast away your chains at once and come to me.”

“This is good advice of yours, Adam, and blessings on your head. If these imperious Churchmen refuse to help me I’ll pay them well.”

Sunday came, and after mass many guests arrived to the feast in the great hall; they all stared curiously at Gamelyn as he stood with his hands behind him, apparently chained to his post, and Sir John explained sadly that he, after killing the porter and wasting the household stores, had gone mad, and was to be chained, for his fury was dangerous. The servants carried delicious dishes round the table, and beakers of rich wines, but, though Gamelyn cried aloud that he was hungry, no food was brought to him. Then he spoke pitifully and humbly to the noble guests:

“Lords, for Christ’s sake help a poor captive out of prison.” But the guests were hard-hearted, and answered cruelly, especially the abbots and priors, who had been deceived by Sir John’s false tales. So rude was their reply that he grew angry.

“Oh,” said he, “that is all the answer I am to have to my prayer! Now I see that I have no friends. Cursed be he that ever does good to abbot or prior!”

Adam Spencer, busied about the removal of the tablecloth, looked anxiously at Gamelyn, and saw how angry he was growing. He thought little more of his service, but, making an excuse to go to the pantry, brought two good oak sticks, and put them beside the hall door. Then he winked at Gamelyn, who with a sudden shout flung off his chains, rushed to the hall door, took a barrel and whirled his weapon as lightly as if it had been a holy water sprinkler. There was a dreadful mess in the hall, for the fat Churchmen tried to escape, but Gamelyn was able to scatter the prelates. Now he had no pity on these cruel Churchmen, as they had been without pity for him; he knocked them over, battered them, broke their arms and legs, and brought a terrible fear among them; and during this time Adam Spencer kept the door so that none might escape. He called aloud to Gamelyn to respect the sanctity of men of Holy Church and shed no blood, but if he should by chance break arms and legs there would be no sacrilege, because no blood would be shed.

Thus Gamelyn did what he wanted, laying hands on monks and friars, and sent them home wounded, while some of them muttered: “We were better at home, with just bread and water, than here where we have had such a sorry feast!”

Then Gamelyn turned his attention to his false brother, who had been unable to escape. He caught him by the neck, broke his backbone with one blow, and chained, sitting, to the post at which he had stood.

“Sit there, brother, and cool thy blood,” said Gamelyn, as he and Adam sat down to a feast, at which the servants served them eagerly, partly from love and partly from fear.

Now the sheriff happened to be only five miles away, and soon heard the news of this disturbance, and how Gamelyn and Adam had broken the peace. As his duty was, he determined to arrest the law-breakers. Twenty-four of his best men were sent to the castle to arrest Gamelyn and his steward; but the new porter, loyal to Gamelyn, denied them entrance till he knew their errand; when they refused to tell it, he sent a servant to wake his master and warn him that the sheriff’s men stood before the gate.

Then answered Gamelyn: “Good porter, go; delay my foes with fair speech at the gate till I have invented some plan. If I survive this incident, I will requite you truth and loyalty. Adam,” said he then to his steward, “Our enemies are on us, and we have no friend – the sheriff’s men surround us, we must go where our safety calls us.”

Adam replied: “Go where you want to go, I’ll follow you to the last or die abandoned. But this proud sheriffs will flee soon.”

As Gamelyn and Adam looked round for weapons, the former saw a stout post used for propping up the shafts; this he seized, and ran out of the back gate, followed by Adam with another staff. They caught the sheriff’s twenty four bold men from behind, and when Gamelyn had overthrown three, and Adam two, the rest fled.

“What!” said Adam as they were running away. “Drink a cup of my good wine! I am lord here.”

“No,” they shouted back; “such wine as yours scatters a man’s brains far too well.”

This little fight was hardly ended before the sheriff came in person with a greater group of soldiers. Gamelyn knew not what to do, but Adam again had a plan ready. “Let us stay no longer, but go to the greenwood: there we shall at least be at liberty.”

The advice suited Gamelyn, and each drank a draught of wine, mounted his steed, and lightly rode away, leaving the empty nest for the sheriff. However, when his party arrived, one of the officers dismounted, entered the hall, and found Sir John nearly dying. He released him, and summoned a doctor who healed his grievous wound, and thus enabled him to do more mischief.

Meanwhile, Adam wandered with Gamelyn in the greenwood, and found it very hard work, with little food. He complained aloud to his young lord: “Weren’t we better at home? I do not like this wood, there are too many trees, but no food or drink, or place to rest.”

“Ah! Adam,” answered Gamelyn, “Cheer yourself! A good man’s son often feels bitter woe at home!”

As they spoke sadly together Gamelyn heard men’s voices nearby, and, looking through the bushes, saw about a hundred and forty young men, sitting round a plentiful feast, spread on the green grass. He rejoiced greatly. Adam longed for a good meal, too, for they had found little to eat since they came to the greenwood. At that moment the master-outlaw saw them in the bushes, and told his men to bring to him these new guests whom God had sent: maybe, he said, there were others besides these two.

The seven bold youths went to fulfil the task, and cried to the two newcomers: “Do not move and hand us your bows and arrows!”

“Much sorrow may he bring who stops in front of you,” cried Gamelyn. “Why, with five more you would be only twelve, and I could fight you all.”

When the outlaws saw how boldly he behaved, they changed their tone, and said calmly: “Come to our master, and tell him of your trouble.”

“Who is your master?” asked Gamelyn. “He is the crowned king of the outlaws,” said they; and the two strangers were led away to the chief.

The master-outlaw, sitting on a wooden throne, with a crown of oak-leaves on his head, asked them their business, and Gamelyn replied: “He must walk in the wood who may not walk in the town. We are hungry and tired, and will only shoot the deer for food, for we are in great danger.”

The outlaw leader had pity on their distress, and gave them food; and as they ate ravenously the outlaws whispered one to another: “This is Gamelyn!” “This is Gamelyn!” Understanding all the evils that had befallen him, their leader soon made Gamelyn his second in command; and when, after three weeks, the outlaw king was pardoned and allowed to return home, Gamelyn was chosen to succeed him and was crowned king of the outlaws. So he lived merrily in the forest, and cared not about the world outside.

Meanwhile, the treacherous Sir John had recovered, and became a sheriff. He accused his brother of felony as soon as he could. As Gamelyn did not appear to answer to that accusation, he was proclaimed an outlaw, and a price was set for his life. His yeomen and vassals were grieved at this, for they feared the cruelty of the wicked sheriff; and therefore they sent messengers to Gamelyn to tell him the bad news. The youth was as furious as they had expected, and he promised to come and teach Sir John in his hall and protect his own tenants.

It was certainly very daring to go into the county where his brother was sheriff, but he rode boldly into the hall, with his hood thrown back, so that all might recognise him, and cried aloud: “God save all you here present! But, your broken-backed sheriff, evil he may be! Why has he done me such wrong and disgrace as to accuse me and proclaim me an outlaw?”

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, 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, 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 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.