(原版)澳大利亞語文第六冊 LESSON 11
LESSON 11 THE JUDGE'S DEBT
THE JUDGE'S DEBT
II
Forty years passed away, and the two little West-minster scholars had long since lost sight of each other. Their ways in life lay far apart. England was divided into two parties. The Royalists had been defeated, and the king, Charles I., had been put to death. The Roundheads [1] were in power, and Oliver Cromwell was ruler of England.
Nicholas had become a great lawyer, and as he was a Roundhead, he had been made a judge. Wake, who had always been fond of fighting, had become a soldier. He was an officer in the Royalist army.
He had been defeated in a battle in the west of England, and, along with other officers, he was put in Exeter prison to he tried for treason [2] . The punishment for treason was death.
The day of the trial came on, and the judge whom Cromwell sent down from London was Judge Nicholas. He looked very grand and solemn, as he sat on a raised platform, wearing his white wig, and his scarlet robes trimmed with ermine [3] . Very worn and weary were the poor, mud-stained soldiers, who were led in to receive their sentence.
Their names were read out. It was noticed that the judge started when he heard the name of Colonel Wake.
But he had to do his duty. The men before him were guilty, and he sentenced them to death. They were to be shot in four days.
But when the trial was over, and the men had been led back to their cells, the judge was strangely troubled. "Is there anyone here who knows this Colonel Wake?" he asked.
A man stepped forward. "I do, your worship," he said. "I knew him when he was a boy."
Was he at Westminster School?
Yes, said the man. "His father lived in London at that time."
The judge hurried to his room. His servant wondered to see him throw off his scarlet robes, and toss aside his wig. He threw down a handful of silver on the table.
Fetch me meat and drink, he said, "and then go out and get me a horse. And, mark you, let it be the swiftest horse in Exeter."
Two hours later, a rider, booted and spurred, galloped out of the old town, and turned his horse's head towards London. The watchman at the gate looked at him as he passed, but he did not know the stately judge, who had sat all day in the town hall, robed in scarlet and ermine. And yet it was he, riding for dear life, to save the life of his friend.
On and on he rode. All through that night, through the next day, and through the next night, he went as fast as horse could gallop. He stopped only three times, and each time it was to get a fresh horse. All the way he repeated one sentence over and over again: "Let me be in time; only let me be in time."
He arrived in London in the morning, and went straight to the great ruler's house. Cromwell stared as the mud-stained rider was shown into his room.
It is Judge Nicholas! he said in surprise. "What has caused your worship to ride in such haste?"
I have an old debt to pay, said the judge, "and I come to you to ask liberty to pay it." Then he told the story of the torn curtain, and how Wake had shielded him from blame.
It was not only the flogging that he saved me from, my lord, he went on. "He set me an example, and he made me think. I saw the difference between a coward and a brave boy. I determined from that day that I would never tell another lie, and, thank God, I have succeeded. Whatever good there is in me today is due to my friend's example.
And now, unless your lordship pardons him, he must die in two days—or I must. For if you cannot grant his pardon, at least grant me leave to suffer in his stead."
The tears stood in Cromwell's eyes. Without a word he took pen and paper, and wrote out a free pardon. "Take it," he said, handing it to the judge. "In such a matter as this, I cannot refuse you."
Once more Judge Nicholas flung himself on his horse's back, and galloped away. He forgot how stiff his limbs were, and how tired he was. For had he not the precious paper safe inside his coat?
When he arrived in Exeter, he lost no time in going to the prison, and demanding to be taken to Colonel Wake's cell. You can fancy how the condemned man looked at him, wondering, as Cromwell had done, what his visitor wanted.
But he soon found out. Pulling the pardon from his pocket, the judge handed it to him, and then, with a sob, he flung his arms round the soldier's neck. "You have forgotten me," he said, "and I deserved to be forgotten. But I have never forgotten you, or what you did for me, and, thank God, I have been able to keep the promise that I made long ago at Westminster School. I have paid my debt."
* * *
[1] Roundheads: The followers of Cromwell, so called from their fashion of cutting their hair.
[2] treason: Disloyalty to one's country.
[3] ermine: The fur on a judge's robe, taken from an animal of the same name.
