‘If the man has poisoned you he shall pay for it,’ said her husband, and
seizing a thick stick he ran downstairs and began to beat the poor
man, who had been sound asleep, and had nothing to defend himself
with. Luckily, the noise aroused the younger brother, who jumped up and
snatched the stick from the farmer’s hand, saying:
‘We are both going to Evora to try a law-suit. Come too, and accuse him
there if he has attempted to rob you or murder you, but don’t kill him
now, or you will get yourself into trouble.’
‘Well, perhaps you are right,’ answered the farmer, ‘but the sooner that
fellow has his deserts, the better I shall be pleased,’ and without more
words he went to the stables and brought out a horse for himself and
also the black Andalusian mare ridden by the rich man, while the poor
brother, fearing more ill-treatment, started at once on foot.
Now all that night it had rained heavily, and did not seem likely to
stop, and in some places the road was so thick with mud that it was
almost impossible to get across it. In one spot it was so very bad that
a mule laden with baggage had got stuck in it, and tug as he might,
his master was quite unable to pull him out. The muleteer in despair
appealed to the two horseman, who were carefully skirting the swamp at
some distance off, but they paid no heed to his cries, and he began to
talk cheerfully to his mule, hoping to keep up his spirits, declaring
that if the poor beast would only have a little patience help was sure
to come.
And so it did, for very soon the poor brother reached the place,
bespattered with mud from head to foot, but ready to do all he could
to help with the mule and his master. First they set about finding some
stout logs of wood to lay down on the marsh so that they could reach the
mule, for by this time his frantic struggles had broken his bridle, and
he was deeper in than ever. Stepping cautiously along the wood, the poor
man contrived to lay hold of the animal’s tale, and with a desperate
effort the mule managed to regain his footing on dry ground, but at the
cost of leaving his tail in the poor man’s hand. When he saw this the
muleteer’s anger knew no bounds, and forgetting that without the help
given him he would have lost his mule altogether, he began to abuse the
poor man, declaring that he had ruined his beast, and the law would make
him pay for it. Then, jumping on the back of the mule, which was so glad
to be out of the choking mud that he did not seem to mind the loss of
his tail, the ungrateful wretch rode on, and that evening reached the
inn at Evora, where the rich man and the farmer had already arrived for
the night.
Meanwhile the poor brother walked wearily along, wondering what other
dreadful adventures were in store for him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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