by Unknown
“It was not I who touched them.”
“Oh, so you didn’t touch them? Ah! But you defied my power by refusing to bow down to the hat. I set up that hat to prove the people’s loyalty. I am afraid you are not loyal, Tell.”
“I was a little thoughtless, not disloyal. I passed the hat without thinking.”
“You should always think, Tell. It is very dangerous not to do so. And I suppose that you shot your arrow through the hat without thinking?”
“I was a little carried away by excitement, your Excellency.”
“Dear, dear! Carried away by excitement, were you? You must really be more careful, Tell. One of these days you will be getting yourself into trouble. But it seems to have been a very fine shot. You are a capital marksman, I believe?”
“Father’s the best shot in all Switzerland,” piped a youthful voice. “He can hit an apple on a tree a hundred yards away. I’ve seen him. Can’t you, father?”
Walter, who had run away when the fighting began, had returned on seeing his father in the hands of the soldiers.
Gessler turned a cold eye upon him.
“Who is this?” he asked.
CHAPTER XI
“It is my son Walter, your Excellency,” said Tell.
“Your son? Indeed. This is very interesting. Have you any more children?”
“I have one other boy.”
“And which of them do you love the most, eh?”
“I love them both alike, your Excellency.”
“Dear me! Quite a happy family. Now, listen to me, Tell. I know you are fond of excitement, so I am going to try to give you a little. Your son says that you can hit an apple on a tree a hundred yards away, and I am sure you have every right to be very proud of such a feat. Friesshardt!”
“Your Excellency?”
“Bring me an apple.”
Friesshardt picked one up. Some apples had been thrown at him and Leuthold earlier in the day, and there were several lying about.
“Which I’m afraid as how it’s a little bruised, your Excellency,” he said, “having hit me on the helmet.”
“Thank you. I do not require it for eating purposes,” said Gessler. “Now, Tell, I have here an apple—a simple apple, not over-ripe. I should like to test that feat of yours. So take your bow—I see you have it in your hand—and get ready to shoot. I am going to put this apple on your son’s head. He will be placed a hundred yards away from you, and if you do not hit the apple with your first shot your life shall pay forfeit.”
[Illustration: PLATE X]
And he regarded Tell with a look of malicious triumph.
“Your Excellency, it cannot be!” cried Tell; “the thing is too monstrous. Perhaps your Excellency is pleased to jest. You cannot bid a father shoot an apple from off his son’s head! Consider, your Excellency!”
“You shall shoot the apple from off the head of this boy,” said Gessler sternly. “I do not jest. That is my will.”
“Sooner would I die,” said Tell.
“If you do not shoot you die with the boy. Come, come, Tell, why so cautious? They always told me that you loved perilous enterprises, and yet when I give you one you complain. I could understand anybody else shrinking from the feat. But you! Hitting apples at a hundred yards is child’s play to you. And what does it matter where the apple is—whether it is on a tree or on a boy’s head? It is an apple just the same. Proceed, Tell.”
The crowd, seeing a discussion going on, had left the edge of the meadow and clustered round to listen. A groan of dismay went up at the Governor’s words.
“Down on your knees, boy,” whispered Rudolph der Harras to Walter—”down on your knees, and beg his Excellency for your life.”
“I won’t!” said Walter stoutly.
“Come,” said Gessler, “clear a path there—clear a path! Hurry yourselves. I won’t have this loitering. Look you, Tell: attend to me for a moment. I find you in the middle of this meadow deliberately defying my authority and making sport of my orders. I find you in the act of stirring up discontent among my people with speeches. I might have you executed without ceremony. But do I? No. Nobody shall say that Hermann Gessler the Governor is not kind-hearted. I say to myself, ‘I will give this man one chance.’ I place your fate in your own skilful hands. How can a man complain of harsh treatment when he is made master of his own fate? Besides, I don’t ask you to do anything difficult. I merely hid you perform what must be to you a simple shot. You boast of your unerring aim. Now is the time to prove it. Clear the way there!”
Walter Fürst flung himself on his knees before the Governor.
“Your Highness,” he cried, “none deny your power. Let it be mingled with mercy. It is excellent, as an English poet will say in a few hundred years, to have a giant’s strength, but it is tyrannous to use it like a giant. Take the half of my possessions, but spare my son-in-law.”
But Walter Tell broke in impatiently, and bade his grandfather rise, and not kneel to the tyrant.
“Where must I stand?” asked he. “I’m not afraid. Father can hit a bird upon the wing.”
“You see that lime-tree yonder,” said Gessler to his soldiers; “take the boy and bind him to it.”
“I will not be bound!” cried Walter. “I am not afraid. I’ll stand still. I won’t breathe. If you bind me I’ll kick!”
“Let us bind your eyes, at least,” said Rudolph der Harras.
“Do you think I fear to see father shoot?” said Walter. “I won’t stir an eyelash. Father, show the tyrant how you can shoot. He thinks you’re going to miss. Isn’t he an old donkey!”
“Very well, young man,” muttered Gessler, “we’ll see who is laughing five minutes from now.” And once more he bade the crowd stand back and leave a way clear for Tell to shoot.
CHAPTER XII
The crowd fell back, leaving a lane down which Walter walked, carrying the apple. There was dead silence as he passed. Then the people began to whisper excitedly to one another.
“Shall this be done before our eyes?” said Arnold of Melchthal to Werner Stauffacher. “Of what use was it that we swore an oath to rebel if we permit this? Let us rise and slay the tyrant.”
Werner Stauffacher, prudent man, scratched his chin thoughtfully.
“We-e-ll,” he said, “you see, the difficulty is that we are not armed and the soldiers are. There is nothing I should enjoy more than slaying the tyrant, only I have an idea that the tyrant would slay us. You see my point?”
“Why were we so slow!” groaned Arnold. “We should have risen before, and then this would never have happened. Who was it that advised us to delay?”
“We-e-ll,” said Stauffacher (who had himself advised delay), “I can’t quite remember at the moment, but I dare say you could find out by looking up the minutes of our last meeting. I know the motion was carried by a majority of two votes. See! Gessler grows impatient.”
Gessler, who had been fidgeting on his horse for some time, now spoke again, urging Tell to hurry.
“Begin!” he cried—”begin!”
“Immediately,” replied Tell, fitting the arrow to the string.
Gessler began to mock him once more.
“You see now,” he said, “the danger of carrying arms. I don’t know if you have ever noticed it, but arrows very often recoil on the man who carries them. The only man who has any business to possess a weapon is the ruler of a country—myself, for instance. A low, common fellow—if you will excuse the description—like yourself only grows proud through being armed, and so offends those above him. But, of course, it’s no business of mine. I am only telling you what I think about it. Personally, I like to encourage my subjects to shoot; that is why I am giving you such a splendid mark to shoot at. You see, Tell?”
Tell did not reply. He raised his bow and pointed it. There was a stir of excitement in the crowd, more particularly in that part of the crowd which stood on his right, for, his hand trembling for the first time in his life, Tell had pointed his arrow
, not at his son, but straight into the heart of the crowd.
[Illustration: PLATE XI]
“Here! Hi! That’s the wrong way! More to the left!” shouted the people in a panic, while Gessler roared with laughter, and bade Tell shoot and chance it.
“If you can’t hit the apple or your son,” he chuckled, “you can bring down one of your dear fellow-countrymen.”
Tell lowered his bow, and a sigh of relief went through the crowd.
“My eyes are swimming,” he said; “I cannot see.”
Then he turned to the Governor.
“I cannot shoot,” he said; “bid your soldiers kill me.”
“No,” said Gessler—”no, Tell. That is not at all what I want. If I had wished my soldiers to kill you, I should not have waited for a formal invitation from you. I have no desire to see you slain. Not at present. I wish to see you shoot. Come, Tell, they say you can do everything, and are afraid of nothing. Only the other day, I hear, you carried a man, one Baumgartner—that was his name, I think—across a rough sea in an open boat. You may remember it? I particularly wished to catch Baumgartner, Tell. Now, this is a feat which calls for much less courage. Simply to shoot an apple off a boy’s head. A child could do it.”
While he was speaking, Tell had been standing in silence, his hands trembling and his eyes fixed, sometimes on the Governor, sometimes on the sky. He now seized his quiver, and taking from it a second arrow, placed it in his belt. Gessler watched him, but said nothing.
“Shoot, father!” cried Walter from the other end of the lane; “I’m not afraid.”
Tell, calm again now, raised his bow and took a steady aim. Everybody craned forward, the front ranks in vain telling those behind that there was nothing to be gained by pushing. Gessler bent over his horse’s neck and peered eagerly towards Walter. A great hush fell on all as Tell released the string.
“Phut!” went the string, and the arrow rushed through the air.
A moment’s suspense, and then a terrific cheer rose from the spectators.
[Illustration: PLATE XII]
The apple had leaped from Walter’s head, pierced through the centre.
CHAPTER XIII
Intense excitement instantly reigned. Their suspense over, the crowd cheered again and again, shook hands with one another, and flung their caps into the air. Everyone was delighted, for everyone was fond of Tell and Walter. It also pleased them to see the Governor disappointed. He had had things his own way for so long that it was a pleasant change to see him baffled in this manner. Not since Switzerland became a nation had the meadow outside the city gates been the scene of such rejoicings.
Walter had picked up the apple with the arrow piercing it, and was showing it proudly to all his friends.
“I told you so,” he kept saying; “I knew father wouldn’t hurt me. Father’s the best shot in all Switzerland.”
“That was indeed a shot!” exclaimed Ulric the smith; “it will ring through the ages. While the mountains stand will the tale of Tell the bowman be told.”
Rudolph der Harras took the apple from Walter and showed it to Gessler, who had been sitting transfixed on his horse.
“See,” he said, “the arrow has passed through the very centre. It was a master shot.”
“It was very nearly a ‘Master Walter shot,’” said Rösselmann the priest severely, fixing the Governor with a stern eye.
Gessler made no answer. He sat looking moodily at Tell, who had dropped his crossbow and was standing motionless, still gazing in the direction in which the arrow had sped. Nobody liked to be the first to speak to him.
“Well,” said Rudolph der Harras, breaking an awkward silence, “I suppose it’s all over now? May as well be moving, eh?”
He bit a large piece out of the apple, which he still held. Walter uttered a piercing scream as he saw the mouthful disappear. Up till now he had shown no signs of dismay, in spite of the peril which he had had to face; but when he watched Rudolph eating the apple, which he naturally looked upon as his own property, he could not keep quiet any longer. Rudolph handed him the apple with an apology, and he began to munch it contentedly.
“Come with me to your mother, my boy,” said Rösselmann.
Walter took no notice, but went on eating the apple.
Tell came to himself with a start, looked round for Walter, and began to lead him away in the direction of his home, deaf to all the cheering that was going on around him.
Gessler leaned forward in his saddle.
“Tell,” he said, “a word with you.”
Tell came back.
“Your Excellency?”
“Before you go I wish you to explain one thing.”
“A thousand, your Excellency.”
“No, only one. When you were getting ready to shoot at the apple you placed an arrow in the string and a second arrow in your belt.”
“A second arrow!” Tell pretended to be very much astonished, but the pretence did not deceive the Governor.
“Yes, a second arrow. Why was that? What did you intend to do with that arrow, Tell?”
Tell looked down uneasily, and twisted his bow about in his hands.
“My lord,” he said at last, “it is a bowman’s custom. All archers place a second arrow in their belt.”
“No, Tell,” said Gessler, “I cannot take that answer as the truth. I know there was some other meaning in what you did. Tell me the reason without concealment. Why was it? Your life is safe, whatever it was, so speak out. Why did you take out that second arrow?”
Tell stopped fidgeting with his bow, and met the Governor’s eye with a steady gaze.
“Since you promise me my life, your Excellency,” he replied, drawing himself up, “I will tell you.”
He drew the arrow from his belt and held it up.
The crowd pressed forward, hanging on his words.
“Had my first arrow,” said Tell slowly, “pierced my child and not the apple, this would have pierced you, my lord. Had I missed with my first shot, be sure, my lord, that my second would have found its mark.”
A murmur of approval broke from the crowd as Tell thrust the arrow back into the quiver and faced the Governor with folded arms and burning eyes. Gessler turned white with fury.
“Seize that man!” he shouted.
[Illustration: PLATE XIII]
“My lord, bethink you,” whispered Rudolph der Harras; “you promised him his life. Tell, fly!” he cried.
Tell did not move.
“Seize that man and bind him,” roared Gessler once more. “If he resists, cut him down.”
“I shall not resist,” said Tell scornfully. “I should have known the folly of trusting to a tyrant to keep his word. My death will at least show my countrymen the worth of their Governor’s promises.”
“Not so,” replied Gessler; “no man shall say I ever broke my knightly word. I promised you your life, and I will give you your life. But you are a dangerous man, Tell, and against such must I guard myself. You have told me your murderous purpose. I must look to it that that purpose is not fulfilled. Life I promised you, and life I will give you. But of freedom I said nothing. In my castle at Küssnacht there are dungeons where no ray of sun or moon ever falls. Chained hand and foot in one of these, you will hardly aim your arrows at me. It is rash, Tell, to threaten those who have power over you. Soldiers, bind him and lead him to my ship. I will follow, and will myself conduct him to Küssnacht.”
The soldiers tied Tell’s hands. He offered no resistance. And amidst the groans of the people he was led away to the shore of the lake, where Gessler’s ship lay at anchor.
[Illustration: PLATE XIV]
“Our last chance is gone,” said the people to one another. “Where shall we look now for a leader?”
CHAPTER XIV
The castle of Küssnacht lay on the opposite side of the lake, a mighty mass of stone reared on a mightier crag rising sheer out of the waves, which boiled and foamed about its foot. Steep rocks of fantastic shap
e hemmed it in, and many were the vessels which perished on these, driven thither by the frequent storms that swept over the lake.
Gessler and his men, Tell in their midst, bound and unarmed, embarked early in the afternoon at Flüelen, which was the name of the harbour where the Governor’s ship had been moored. Flüelen was about two miles from Küssnacht.
When they had arrived at the vessel they went on board, and Tell was placed at the bottom of the hold. It was pitch dark, and rats scampered over his body as he lay. The ropes were cast off, the sails filled, and the ship made her way across the lake, aided by a favouring breeze.
A large number of the Swiss people had followed Tell and his captors to the harbour, and stood gazing sorrowfully after the ship as it diminished in the distance. There had been whispers of an attempted rescue, but nobody had dared to begin it, and the whispers had led to nothing. Few of the people carried weapons, and the soldiers were clad in armour, and each bore a long pike or a sharp sword. As Arnold of Sewa would have said if he had been present, what the people wanted was prudence. It was useless to attack men so thoroughly able to defend themselves.
Therefore the people looked on and groaned, but did nothing.
For some time the ship sped easily on her way and through a calm sea. Tell lay below, listening to the trampling of the sailors overhead, as they ran about the deck, and gave up all hope of ever seeing his home and his friends again.
But soon he began to notice that the ship was rolling and pitching more than it had been doing at first, and it was not long before he realized that a very violent storm had begun. Storms sprung up very suddenly on the lake, and made it unsafe for boats that attempted to cross it. Often the sea was quite unruffled at the beginning of the crossing, and was rough enough at the end to wreck the largest ship.
Tell welcomed the storm. He had no wish to live if life meant years of imprisonment in a dark dungeon of Castle Küssnacht. Drowning would be a pleasant fate compared with that. He lay at the bottom of the ship, hoping that the next wave would dash them on to a rock and send them to the bottom of the lake. The tossing became worse and worse.