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diff --git a/3048-h/3048-h.htm b/3048-h/3048-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..74f2af4 --- /dev/null +++ b/3048-h/3048-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4845 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>The Little Duke</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.headingsummary { margin-left: 5%;} + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: left; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + color: gray;} + + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">The Little Duke, by Charlotte M. Yonge</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Little Duke, by Charlotte M. Yonge + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Little Duke + Richard the Fearless + + +Author: Charlotte M. Yonge + + + +Release Date: June 20, 2008 [eBook #3048] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE DUKE*** +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1905 Macmillan and Co. edition by Janet +Haselow, Marian Taylor and David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<h1>THE LITTLE DUKE</h1> +<p style="text-align: center">RICHARD THE FEARLESS</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by the author +of</span><br /> +“THE HEIR OF REDCLYFFE,”<br /> +<span class="smcap">etc.</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center">WITH ILLUSTRATIONS</p> +<p style="text-align: center">London<br /> +MACMILLAN AND CO., <span class="smcap">Limited</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">new york</span>: <span class="smcap">the +macmillan company</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center">1905</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>All rights reserved</i></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Richard Clay +and Sons</span>, <span class="smcap">Limited</span>,<br /> +<span class="smcap">bread street hill</span>, <span +class="smcap">e.c.</span>, <span class="smcap">and</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">bungay</span>, <span +class="smcap">suffolk</span>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Originally published +elsewhere</i>. <i>Transferred in</i> 1864. <i>First +Edition printed</i> (S) <i>for Macmillan and Co. November</i> +1864 (<i>Pott</i> 8<i>vo</i>). <i>Reprinted</i> 1869, 1872, +1873, 1876, 1878, 1881 (<i>Globe</i> 8<i>vo</i>), 1883, 1885, +1886, 1889. <i>New Edition</i> 1891, (<i>Crown</i> +8<i>vo</i>), 1892, 1894, 1895, 1897, 1898, 1899, 1900, 1901, +1903, 1905.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<p>On a bright autumn day, as long ago as the year 943, there was +a great bustle in the Castle of Bayeux in Normandy.</p> +<p>The hall was large and low, the roof arched, and supported on +thick short columns, almost like the crypt of a Cathedral; the +walls were thick, and the windows, which had no glass, were very +small, set in such a depth of wall that there was a wide deep +window seat, upon which the rain might beat, without reaching the +interior of the room. And even if it had come in, there was +nothing for it to hurt, for the walls were of rough stone, and +the floor of tiles. There was a fire at each end of this +great dark apartment, but there were no chimneys over the ample +hearths, and the smoke curled about in thick white folds in the +vaulted roof, adding to the wreaths of soot, which made the hall +look still darker.</p> +<p>The fire at the lower end was by far the largest and +hottest. Great black cauldrons hung over it, and servants, +both men and women, with red faces, bare and grimed arms, and +long iron hooks, or pots and pans, were busied around it. +At the other end, which was raised about three steps above the +floor of the hall, other servants were engaged. Two young +maidens were strewing fresh rushes on the floor; some men were +setting up a long table of rough boards, supported on trestles, +and then ranging upon it silver cups, drinking horns, and wooden +trenchers.</p> +<p>Benches were placed to receive most of the guests, but in the +middle, at the place of honour, was a high chair with very thick +crossing legs, and the arms curiously carved with lions’ +faces and claws; a clumsy wooden footstool was set in front, and +the silver drinking-cup on the table was of far more beautiful +workmanship than the others, richly chased with vine leaves and +grapes, and figures of little boys with goats’ legs. +If that cup could have told its story, it would have been a +strange one, for it had been made long since, in the old Roman +times, and been carried off from Italy by some Northman +pirate.</p> +<p>From one of these scenes of activity to the other, there moved +a stately old lady: her long thick light hair, hardly touched +with grey, was bound round her head, under a tall white cap, with +a band passing under her chin: she wore a long sweeping dark +robe, with wide hanging sleeves, and thick gold ear-rings and +necklace, which had possibly come from the same quarter as the +cup. She directed the servants, inspected both the cookery +and arrangements of the table, held council with an old steward, +now and then looked rather anxiously from the window, as if +expecting some one, and began to say something about fears that +these loitering youths would not bring home the venison in time +for Duke William’s supper.</p> +<p>Presently, she looked up rejoiced, for a few notes of a +bugle-horn were sounded; there was a clattering of feet, and in a +few moments there bounded into the hall, a boy of about eight +years old, his cheeks and large blue eyes bright with air and +exercise, and his long light-brown hair streaming behind him, as +he ran forward flourishing a bow in his hand, and crying out, +“I hit him, I hit him! Dame Astrida, do you +hear? ’Tis a stag of ten branches, and I hit him in +the neck.”</p> +<p>“You! my Lord Richard! you killed him?”</p> +<p>“Oh, no, I only struck him. It was Osmond’s +shaft that took him in the eye, and—Look you, Fru Astrida, +he came thus through the wood, and I stood here, it might be, +under the great elm with my bow thus”—And Richard was +beginning to act over again the whole scene of the deer-hunt, but +Fru, that is to say, Lady Astrida, was too busy to listen, and +broke in with, “Have they brought home the +haunch?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Walter is bringing it. I had a long +arrow—”</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p4b.jpg"> +<img alt="Richard with Dame Estrida" src="images/p4s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>A stout forester was at this instant seen bringing in the +venison, and Dame Astrida hastened to meet it, and gave +directions, little Richard following her all the way, and talking +as eagerly as if she was attending to him, showing how he shot, +how Osmond shot, how the deer bounded, and how it fell, and then +counting the branches of its antlers, always ending with, +“This is something to tell my father. Do you think he +will come soon?”</p> +<p>In the meantime two men entered the hall, one about fifty, the +other, one or two-and-twenty, both in hunting dresses of plain +leather, crossed by broad embroidered belts, supporting a knife, +and a bugle-horn. The elder was broad-shouldered, +sun-burnt, ruddy, and rather stern-looking; the younger, who was +also the taller, was slightly made, and very active, with a +bright keen grey eye, and merry smile. These were Dame +Astrida’s son, Sir Eric de Centeville, and her grandson, +Osmond; and to their care Duke William of Normandy had committed +his only child, Richard, to be fostered, or brought up. <a +name="citation1"></a><a href="#footnote1" +class="citation">[1]</a></p> +<p>It was always the custom among the Northmen, that young +princes should thus be put under the care of some trusty vassal, +instead of being brought up at home, and one reason why the +Centevilles had been chosen by Duke William was, that both Sir +Eric and his mother spoke only the old Norwegian tongue, which he +wished young Richard to understand well, whereas, in other parts +of the Duchy, the Normans had forgotten their own tongue, and had +taken up what was then called the +Languéd’ouì, a language between German and +Latin, which was the beginning of French.</p> +<p>On this day, Duke William himself was expected at Bayeux, to +pay a visit to his son before setting out on a journey to settle +the disputes between the Counts of Flanders and Montreuil, and +this was the reason of Fru Astrida’s great +preparations. No sooner had she seen the haunch placed upon +a spit, which a little boy was to turn before the fire, than she +turned to dress something else, namely, the young Prince Richard +himself, whom she led off to one of the upper rooms, and there he +had full time to talk, while she, great lady though she was, +herself combed smooth his long flowing curls, and fastened his +short scarlet cloth tunic, which just reached to his knee, +leaving his neck, arms, and legs bare. He begged hard to be +allowed to wear a short, beautifully ornamented dagger at his +belt, but this Fru Astrida would not allow.</p> +<p>“You will have enough to do with steel and dagger before +your life is at an end,” said she, “without seeking +to begin over soon.”</p> +<p>“To be sure I shall,” answered Richard. +“I will be called Richard of the Sharp Axe, or the Bold +Spirit, I promise you, Fru Astrida. We are as brave in +these days as the Sigurds and Ragnars you sing of! I only +wish there were serpents and dragons to slay here in +Normandy.”</p> +<p>“Never fear but you will find even too many of +them,” said Dame Astrida; “there be dragons of wrong +here and everywhere, quite as venomous as any in my +Sagas.”</p> +<p>“I fear them not,” said Richard, but half +understanding her, “if you would only let me have the +dagger! But, hark! hark!” he darted to the +window. “They come, they come! There is the +banner of Normandy.”</p> +<p>Away ran the happy child, and never rested till he stood at +the bottom of the long, steep, stone stair, leading to the +embattled porch. Thither came the Baron de Centeville, and +his son, to receive their Prince. Richard looked up at +Osmond, saying, “Let me hold his stirrup,” and then +sprang up and shouted for joy, as under the arched gateway there +came a tall black horse, bearing the stately form of the Duke of +Normandy. His purple robe was fastened round him by a rich +belt, sustaining the mighty weapon, from which he was called +“William of the long Sword,” his legs and feet were +cased in linked steel chain-work, his gilded spurs were on his +heels, and his short brown hair was covered by his ducal cap of +purple, turned up with fur, and a feather fastened in by a +jewelled clasp. His brow was grave and thoughtful, and +there was something both of dignity and sorrow in his face, at +the first moment of looking at it, recalling the recollection +that he had early lost his young wife, the Duchess Emma, and that +he was beset by many cares and toils; but the next glance +generally conveyed encouragement, so full of mildness were his +eyes, and so kind the expression of his lips.</p> +<p>And now, how bright a smile beamed upon the little Richard, +who, for the first time, paid him the duty of a pupil in +chivalry, by holding the stirrup while he sprung from his +horse. Next, Richard knelt to receive his blessing, which +was always the custom when children met their parents. The +Duke laid his hand on his head, saying, “God of His mercy +bless thee, my son,” and lifting him in his arms, held him +to his breast, and let him cling to his neck and kiss him again +and again, before setting him down, while Sir Eric came forward, +bent his knee, kissed the hand of his Prince, and welcomed him to +his Castle.</p> +<p>It would take too long to tell all the friendly and courteous +words that were spoken, the greeting of the Duke and the noble +old Lady Astrida, and the reception of the Barons who had come in +the train of their Lord. Richard was bidden to greet them, +but, though he held out his hand as desired, he shrank a little +to his father’s side, gazing at them in dread and +shyness.</p> +<p>There was Count Bernard, of Harcourt, called the +“Dane,” <a name="citation2"></a><a href="#footnote2" +class="citation">[2]</a> with his shaggy red hair and beard, to +which a touch of grey had given a strange unnatural tint, his +eyes looking fierce and wild under his thick eyebrows, one of +them mis-shapen in consequence of a sword cut, which had left a +broad red and purple scar across both cheek and forehead. +There, too, came tall Baron Rainulf, of Ferrières, cased +in a linked steel hauberk, that rang as he walked, and the +men-at-arms, with helmets and shields, looking as if Sir +Eric’s armour that hung in the hail had come to life and +was walking about.</p> +<p>They sat down to Fru Astrida’s banquet, the old Lady at +the Duke’s right hand, and the Count of Harcourt on his +left; Osmond carved for the Duke, and Richard handed his cup and +trencher. All through the meal, the Duke and his Lords +talked earnestly of the expedition on which they were bound to +meet Count Arnulf of Flanders, on a little islet in the river +Somme, there to come to some agreement, by which Arnulf might +make restitution to Count Herluin of Montreuil, for certain +wrongs which he had done him.</p> +<p>Some said that this would be the fittest time for requiring +Arnulf to yield up some towns on his borders, to which Normandy +had long laid claim, but the Duke shook his head, saying that he +must seek no selfish advantage, when called to judge between +others.</p> +<p>Richard was rather tired of their grave talk, and thought the +supper very long; but at last it was over, the Grace was said, +the boards which had served for tables were removed, and as it +was still light, some of the guests went to see how their steeds +had been bestowed, others to look at Sir Eric’s horses and +hounds, and others collected together in groups.</p> +<p>The Duke had time to attend to his little boy, and Richard sat +upon his knee and talked, told about all his pleasures, how his +arrow had hit the deer to-day, how Sir Eric let him ride out to +the chase on his little pony, how Osmond would take him to bathe +in the cool bright river, and how he had watched the +raven’s nest in the top of the old tower.</p> +<p>Duke William listened, and smiled, and seemed as well pleased +to hear as the boy was to tell. “And, Richard,” +said he at last, “have you nought to tell me of Father +Lucas, and his great book? What, not a word? Look up, +Richard, and tell me how it goes with the learning.” <a +name="citation3"></a><a href="#footnote3" +class="citation">[3]</a></p> +<p>“Oh, father!” said Richard, in a low voice, +playing with the clasp of his father’s belt, and looking +down, “I don’t like those crabbed letters on the old +yellow parchment.”</p> +<p>“But you try to learn them, I hope!” said the +Duke.</p> +<p>“Yes, father, I do, but they are very hard, and the +words are so long, and Father Lucas will always come when the sun +is so bright, and the wood so green, that I know not how to bear +to be kept poring over those black hooks and strokes.”</p> +<p>“Poor little fellow,” said Duke William, smiling +and Richard, rather encouraged, went on more boldly. +“You do not know this reading, noble father?”</p> +<p>“To my sorrow, no,” said the Duke.</p> +<p>“And Sir Eric cannot read, nor Osmond, nor any one, and +why must I read, and cramp my fingers with writing, just as if I +was a clerk, instead of a young Duke?” Richard looked +up in his father’s face, and then hung his head, as if +half-ashamed of questioning his will, but the Duke answered him +without displeasure.</p> +<p>“It is hard, no doubt, my boy, to you now, but it will +be the better for you in the end. I would give much to be +able myself to read those holy books which I must now only hear +read to me by a clerk, but since I have had the wish, I have had +no time to learn as you have now.”</p> +<p>“But Knights and Nobles never learn,” said +Richard.</p> +<p>“And do you think it a reason they never should? +But you are wrong, my boy, for the Kings of France and England, +the Counts of Anjou, of Provence, and Paris, yes, even King Hako +of Norway, <a name="citation4"></a><a href="#footnote4" +class="citation">[4]</a> can all read.”</p> +<p>“I tell you, Richard, when the treaty was drawn up for +restoring this King Louis to his throne, I was ashamed to find +myself one of the few crown vassals who could not write his name +thereto.”</p> +<p>“But none is so wise or so good as you, father,” +said Richard, proudly. “Sir Eric often says +so.”</p> +<p>“Sir Eric loves his Duke too well to see his +faults,” said Duke William; “but far better and wiser +might I have been, had I been taught by such masters as you may +be. And hark, Richard, not only can all Princes here read, +but in England, King Ethelstane would have every Noble taught; +they study in his own palace, with his brothers, and read the +good words that King Alfred the truth-teller put into their own +tongue for them.”</p> +<p>“I hate the English,” said Richard, raising his +head and looking very fierce.</p> +<p>“Hate them? and wherefore?”</p> +<p>“Because they traitorously killed the brave Sea King +Ragnar! Fru Astrida sings his death-song, which he chanted +when the vipers were gnawing him to death, and he gloried to +think how his sons would bring the ravens to feast upon the +Saxon. Oh! had I been his son, how I would have carried on +the feud! How I would have laughed when I cut down the +false traitors, and burnt their palaces!” +Richard’s eye kindled, and his words, as he spoke the old +Norse language, flowed into the sort of wild verse in which the +Sagas or legendary songs were composed, and which, perhaps, he +was unconsciously repeating.</p> +<p>Duke William looked grave.</p> +<p>“Fru Astrida must sing you no more such Sagas,” +said he, “if they fill your mind with these revengeful +thoughts, fit only for the worshippers of Odin and Thor. +Neither Ragnar nor his sons knew better than to rejoice in this +deadly vengeance, but we, who are Christians, know that it is for +us to forgive.”</p> +<p>“The English had slain their father!” said +Richard, looking up with wondering dissatisfied eyes.</p> +<p>“Yes, Richard, and I speak not against them, for they +were even as we should have been, had not King Harold the +fair-haired driven your grandfather from Denmark. They had +not been taught the truth, but to us it has been said, +‘Forgive, and ye shall be forgiven.’ Listen to +me, my son, Christian as is this nation of ours, this duty of +forgiveness is too often neglected, but let it not be so with +you. Bear in mind, whenever you see the Cross <a +name="citation5"></a><a href="#footnote5" +class="citation">[5]</a> marked on our banner, or carved in stone +on the Churches, that it speaks of forgiveness to us; but of that +pardon we shall never taste if we forgive not our enemies. +Do you mark me, boy?”</p> +<p>Richard hesitated a little, and then said, “Yes, father, +but I could never have pardoned, had I been one of Ragnar’s +sons.”</p> +<p>“It may be that you will be in their case, +Richard,” said the Duke, “and should I fall, as it +may well be I shall, in some of the contests that tear to pieces +this unhappy Kingdom of France, then, remember what I say +now. I charge you, on your duty to God and to your father, +that you keep up no feud, no hatred, but rather that you should +deem me best revenged, when you have with heart and hand, given +the fullest proof of forgiveness to your enemy. Give me +your word that you will.”</p> +<p>“Yes, father,” said Richard, with rather a subdued +tone, and resting his head on his father’s shoulder. +There was a silence for a little space, during which he began to +revive into playfulness, to stroke the Duke’s short curled +beard, and play with his embroidered collar.</p> +<p>In so doing, his fingers caught hold of a silver chain, and +pulling it out with a jerk, he saw a silver key attached to +it. “Oh, what is that?” he asked eagerly. +“What does that key unlock?”</p> +<p>“My greatest treasure,” replied Duke William, as +he replaced the chain and key within his robe.</p> +<p>“Your greatest treasure, father! Is that your +coronet?”</p> +<p>“You will know one day,” said his father, putting +the little hand down from its too busy investigations; and some +of the Barons at that moment returning into the hall, he had no +more leisure to bestow on his little son.</p> +<p>The next day, after morning service in the Chapel, and +breakfast in the hall, the Duke again set forward on his journey, +giving Richard hopes he might return in a fortnight’s time, +and obtaining from him a promise that he would be very attentive +to Father Lucas, and very obedient to Sir Eric de Centeville.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<p>One evening Fru Astrida sat in her tall chair in the chimney +corner, her distaff, with its load of flax in her hand, while she +twisted and drew out the thread, and her spindle danced on the +floor. Opposite to her sat, sleeping in his chair, Sir Eric +de Centeville; Osmond was on a low bench within the chimney +corner, trimming and shaping with his knife some feathers of the +wild goose, which were to fly in a different fashion from their +former one, and serve, not to wing the flight of a harmless +goose, but of a sharp arrow.</p> +<p>The men of the household sat ranged on benches on one side of +the hall, the women on the other; a great red fire, together with +an immense flickering lamp which hung from the ceiling, supplied +the light; the windows were closed with wooden shutters, and the +whole apartment had a cheerful appearance. Two or three +large hounds were reposing in front of the hearth, and among them +sat little Richard of Normandy, now smoothing down their broad +silken ears; now tickling the large cushions of their feet with +the end of one of Osmond’s feathers; now fairly pulling +open the eyes of one of the good-natured sleepy creatures, which +only stretched its legs, and remonstrated with a sort of low +groan, rather than a growl. The boy’s eyes were, all +the time, intently fixed on Dame Astrida, as if he would not lose +one word of the story she was telling him; how Earl Rollo, his +grandfather, had sailed into the mouth of the Seine, and how +Archbishop Franco, of Rouen, had come to meet him and brought him +the keys of the town, and how not one Neustrian of Rouen had met +with harm from the brave Northmen. Then she told him of his +grandfather’s baptism, and how during the seven days that +he wore his white baptismal robes, he had made large gifts to all +the chief churches in his dukedom of Normandy.</p> +<p>“Oh, but tell of the paying homage!” said Richard; +“and how Sigurd Bloodaxe threw down simple King +Charles! Ah! how would I have laughed to see it!”</p> +<p>“Nay, nay, Lord Richard,” said the old lady, +“I love not that tale. That was ere the Norman learnt +courtesy, and rudeness ought rather to be forgotten than +remembered, save for the sake of amending it. No, I will +rather tell you of our coming to Centeville, and how dreary I +thought these smooth meads, and broad soft gliding streams, +compared with mine own father’s fiord in Norway, shut in +with the tall black rocks, and dark pines above them, and far +away the snowy mountains rising into the sky. Ah! how blue +the waters were in the long summer days when I sat in my +father’s boat in the little fiord, and—”</p> +<p>Dame Astrida was interrupted. A bugle note rang out at +the castle gate; the dogs started to their feet, and uttered a +sudden deafening bark; Osmond sprung up, exclaiming, +“Hark!” and trying to silence the hounds; and Richard +running to Sir Eric, cried, “Wake, wake, Sir Eric, my +father is come! Oh, haste to open the gate, and admit +him.”</p> +<p>“Peace, dogs!” said Sir Eric, slowly rising, as +the blast of the horn was repeated. “Go, Osmond, with +the porter, and see whether he who comes at such an hour be +friend or foe. Stay you here, my Lord,” he added, as +Richard was running after Osmond; and the little boy obeyed, and +stood still, though quivering all over with impatience.</p> +<p>“Tidings from the Duke, I should guess,” said Fru +Astrida. “It can scarce be himself at such an +hour.”</p> +<p>“Oh, it must be, dear Fru Astrida!” said +Richard. “He said he would come again. Hark, +there are horses’ feet in the court! I am sure that +is his black charger’s tread! And I shall not be +there to hold his stirrup! Oh! Sir Eric, let me +go.”</p> +<p>Sir Eric, always a man of few words, only shook his head, and +at that moment steps were heard on the stone stairs. Again +Richard was about to spring forward, when Osmond returned, his +face showing, at a glance, that something was amiss; but all that +he said was, “Count Bernard of Harcourt, and Sir Rainulf de +Ferrières,” and he stood aside to let them pass.</p> +<p>Richard stood still in the midst of the hall, +disappointed. Without greeting to Sir Eric, or to any +within the hall, the Count of Harcourt came forward to Richard, +bent his knee before him, took his hand, and said with a broken +voice and heaving breast, “Richard, Duke of Normandy, I am +thy liegeman and true vassal;” then rising from his knees +while Rainulf de Ferrières went through the same form, the +old man covered his face with his hands and wept aloud.</p> +<p>“Is it even so?” said the Baron de Centeville; and +being answered by a mournful look and sigh from Ferrières, +he too bent before the boy, and repeated the words, “I am +thy liegeman and true vassal, and swear fealty to thee for my +castle and barony of Centeville.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no, no!” cried Richard, drawing back his hand +in a sort of agony, feeling as if he was in a frightful dream +from which he could not awake. “What means it? +Oh! Fru Astrida, tell me what means it? Where is my +father?”</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p22b.jpg"> +<img alt="The oath of the vassals" src="images/p22s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>“Alas, my child!” said the old lady, putting her +arm round him, and drawing him close to her, whilst her tears +flowed fast, and Richard stood, reassured by her embrace, +listening with eyes open wide, and deep oppressed breathing, to +what was passing between the four nobles, who spoke earnestly +among themselves, without much heed of him.</p> +<p>“The Duke dead!” repeated Sir Eric de Centeville, +like one stunned and stupefied.</p> +<p>“Even so,” said Rainulf, slowly and sadly, and the +silence was only broken by the long-drawn sobs of old Count +Bernard.</p> +<p>“But how? when? where?” broke forth Sir Eric, +presently. “There was no note of battle when you went +forth. Oh, why was not I at his side?”</p> +<p>“He fell not in battle,” gloomily replied Sir +Rainulf.</p> +<p>“Ha! could sickness cut him down so quickly?”</p> +<p>“It was not sickness,” answered +Ferrières. “It was treachery. He fell in +the Isle of Pecquigny, by the hand of the false +Fleming!”</p> +<p>“Lives the traitor yet?” cried the Baron de +Centeville, grasping his good sword.</p> +<p>“He lives and rejoices in his crime,” said +Ferrières, “safe in his own merchant +towns.”</p> +<p>“I can scarce credit you, my Lords!” said Sir +Eric. “Our Duke slain, and his enemy safe, and you +here to tell the tale!”</p> +<p>“I would I were stark and stiff by my Lord’s +side!” said Count Bernard, “but for the sake of +Normandy, and of that poor child, who is like to need all that +ever were friends to his house. I would that mine eyes had +been blinded for ever, ere they had seen that sight! And +not a sword lifted in his defence! Tell you how it passed, +Rainulf! My tongue will not speak it!”</p> +<p>He threw himself on a bench and covered his face with his +mantle, while Rainulf de Ferrières proceeded: “You +know how in an evil hour our good Duke appointed to meet this +caitiff, Count of Flanders, in the Isle of Pecquigny, the Duke +and Count each bringing twelve men with them, all unarmed. +Duke Alan of Brittany was one on our side, Count Bernard here +another, old Count Bothon and myself; we bore no +weapon—would that we had—but not so the false +Flemings. Ah me! I shall never forget Duke +William’s lordly presence when he stepped ashore, and +doffed his bonnet to the knave Arnulf.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” interposed Bernard. “And marked +you not the words of the traitor, as they met? ‘My +Lord,’ quoth he, ‘you are my shield and +defence.’ <a name="citation6"></a><a href="#footnote6" +class="citation">[6]</a> Would that I could cleave his +treason-hatching skull with my battle-axe.”</p> +<p>“So,” continued Rainulf, “they conferred +together, and as words cost nothing to Arnulf, he not only +promised all restitution to the paltry Montreuil, but even was +for offering to pay homage to our Duke for Flanders itself; but +this our William refused, saying it were foul wrong to both King +Louis of France, and Kaiser Otho of Germany, to take from them +their vassal. They took leave of each other in all +courtesy, and we embarked again. It was Duke +William’s pleasure to go alone in a small boat, while we +twelve were together in another. Just as we had nearly +reached our own bank, there was a shout from the Flemings that +their Count had somewhat further to say to the Duke, and +forbidding us to follow him, the Duke turned his boat and went +back again. No sooner had he set foot on the isle,” +proceeded the Norman, clenching his hands, and speaking between +his teeth, “than we saw one Fleming strike him on the head +with an oar; he fell senseless, the rest threw themselves upon +him, and the next moment held up their bloody daggers in scorn at +us! You may well think how we shouted and yelled at them, +and plied our oars like men distracted, but all in vain, they +were already in their boats, and ere we could even reach the +isle, they were on the other side of the river, mounted their +horses, fled with coward speed, and were out of reach of a +Norman’s vengeance.”</p> +<p>“But they shall not be so long!” cried Richard, +starting forward; for to his childish fancy this dreadful history +was more like one of Dame Astrida’s legends than a reality, +and at the moment his thought was only of the blackness of the +treason. “Oh, that I were a man to chastise +them! One day they shall feel—”</p> +<p>He broke off short, for he remembered how his father had +forbidden his denunciations of vengeance, but his words were +eagerly caught up by the Barons, who, as Duke William had said, +were far from possessing any temper of forgiveness, thought +revenge a duty, and were only glad to see a warlike spirit in +their new Prince.</p> +<p>“Ha! say you so, my young Lord?” exclaimed old +Count Bernard, rising. “Yes, and I see a sparkle in +your eye that tells me you will one day avenge him +nobly!”</p> +<p>Richard drew up his head, and his heart throbbed high as Sir +Eric made answer, “Ay, truly, that will he! You might +search Normandy through, yea, and Norway likewise, ere you would +find a temper more bold and free. Trust my word, Count +Bernard, our young Duke will be famed as widely as ever were his +forefathers!”</p> +<p>“I believe it well!” said Bernard. “He +hath the port of his grandfather, Duke Rollo, and much, too, of +his noble father! How say you, Lord Richard, will you be a +valiant leader of the Norman race against our foes?”</p> +<p>“That I will!” said Richard, carried away by the +applause excited by those few words of his. “I will +ride at your head this very night if you will but go to chastise +the false Flemings.”</p> +<p>“You shall ride with us to-morrow, my Lord,” +answered Bernard, “but it must be to Rouen, there to be +invested with your ducal sword and mantle, and to receive the +homage of your vassals.”</p> +<p>Richard drooped his head without replying, for this seemed to +bring to him the perception that his father was really gone, and +that he should never see him again. He thought of all his +projects for the day of his return, how he had almost counted the +hours, and had looked forward to telling him that Father Lucas +was well pleased with him! And now he should never nestle +into his breast again, never hear his voice, never see those kind +eyes beam upon him. Large tears gathered in his eyes, and +ashamed that they should be seen, he sat down on a footstool at +Fru Astrida’s feet, leant his forehead on his hands, and +thought over all that his father had done and said the last time +they were together. He fancied the return that had been +promised, going over the meeting and the greeting, till he had +almost persuaded himself that this dreadful story was but a +dream. But when he looked up, there were the Barons, with +their grave mournful faces, speaking of the corpse, which Duke +Alan of Brittany was escorting to Rouen, there to be buried +beside the old Duke Rollo, and the Duchess Emma, Richard’s +mother. Then he lost himself in wonder how that stiff +bleeding body could be the same as the father whose arm was so +lately around him, and whether his father’s spirit knew how +he was thinking of him; and in these dreamy thoughts, the young +orphan Duke of Normandy, forgotten by his vassals in their grave +councils, fell asleep, and scarce wakened enough to attend to his +prayers, when Fru Astrida at length remembered him, and led him +away to bed.</p> +<p>When Richard awoke the next morning, he could hardly believe +that all that had passed in the evening was true, but soon he +found that it was but too real, and all was prepared for him to +go to Rouen with the vassals; indeed, it was for no other purpose +than to fetch him that the Count of Harcourt had come to +Bayeux. Fru Astrida was quite unhappy that “the +child,” as she called him, should go alone with the +warriors; but Sir Eric laughed at her, and said that it would +never do for the Duke of Normandy to bring his nurse with him in +his first entry into Rouen, and she must be content to follow at +some space behind under the escort of Walter the huntsman.</p> +<p>So she took leave of Richard, charging both Sir Eric and +Osmond to have the utmost care of him, and shedding tears as if +the parting was to be for a much longer space; then he bade +farewell to the servants of the castle, received the blessing of +Father Lucas, and mounting his pony, rode off between Sir Eric +and Count Bernard. Richard was but a little boy, and he did +not think so much of his loss, as he rode along in the free +morning air, feeling himself a Prince at the head of his vassals, +his banner displayed before him, and the people coming out +wherever he passed to gaze on him, and call for blessings on his +name. Rainulf de Ferrières carried a large heavy +purse filled with silver and gold, and whenever they came to +these gazing crowds, Richard was well pleased to thrust his hands +deep into it, and scatter handfuls of coins among the gazers, +especially where he saw little children.</p> +<p>They stopped to dine and rest in the middle of the day, at the +castle of a Baron, who, as soon as the meal was over, mounted his +horse, and joined them in their ride to Rouen. So far it +had not been very different from Richard’s last journey, +when he went to keep Christmas there with his father; but now +they were beginning to come nearer the town, he knew the broad +river Seine again, and saw the square tower of the Cathedral, and +he remembered how at that very place his father had met him, and +how he had ridden by his side into the town, and had been led by +his hand up to the hall.</p> +<p>His heart was very heavy, as he recollected there was no one +now to meet and welcome him; scarcely any one to whom he could +even tell his thoughts, for those tall grave Barons had nothing +to say to such a little boy, and the very respect and formality +with which they treated him, made him shrink from them still +more, especially from the grim-faced Bernard; and Osmond, his own +friend and playfellow, was obliged to ride far behind, as +inferior in rank.</p> +<p>They entered the town just as it was growing dark. Count +Bernard looked back and arrayed the procession; Eric de +Centeville bade Richard sit upright and not look weary, and then +all the Knights held back while the little Duke rode alone a +little in advance of them through the gateway. There was a +loud shout of “Long live the little Duke!” and crowds +of people were standing round to gaze upon his entry, so many +that the bag of coins was soon emptied by his largesses. +The whole city was like one great castle, shut in by a wall and +moat, and with Rollo’s Tower rising at one end like the +keep of a castle, and it was thither that Richard was turning his +horse, when the Count of Harcourt said, “Nay, my Lord, to +the Church of our Lady.” <a name="citation7"></a><a +href="#footnote7" class="citation">[7]</a></p> +<p>It was then considered a duty to be paid to the deceased, that +their relatives and friends should visit them as they lay in +state, and sprinkle them with drops of holy water, and Richard +was now to pay this token of respect. He trembled a little, +and yet it did not seem quite so dreary, since he should once +more look on his father’s face, and he accordingly rode +towards the Cathedral. It was then very unlike what it is +now; the walls were very thick, the windows small and almost +buried in heavy carved arches, the columns within were low, +clumsy, and circular, and it was usually so dark that the +vaulting of the roof could scarcely be seen.</p> +<p>Now, however, a whole flood of light poured forth from every +window, and when Richard came to the door, he saw not only the +two tall thick candles that always burnt on each side of the +Altar, but in the Chancel stood a double row ranged in a square, +shedding a pure, quiet brilliancy throughout the building, and +chiefly on the silver and gold ornaments of the Altar. +Outside these lights knelt a row of priests in dark garments, +their heads bowed over their clasped hands, and their chanted +psalms sounding sweet, and full of soothing music. Within +that guarded space was a bier, and a form lay on it.</p> +<p>Richard trembled still more with awe, and would have paused, +but he was obliged to proceed. He dipped his hand in the +water of the font, crossed his brow, and came slowly on, +sprinkled the remaining drops on the lifeless figure, and then +stood still. There was an oppression on his breast as if he +could neither breathe nor move.</p> +<p>There lay William of the Long Sword, like a good and true +Christian warrior, arrayed in his shining armour, his sword by +his side, his shield on his arm, and a cross between his hands, +clasped upon his breast. His ducal mantle of crimson +velvet, lined with ermine, was round his shoulders, and, instead +of a helmet, his coronet was on his head; but, in contrast with +this rich array, over the collar of the hauberk, was folded the +edge of a rough hair shirt, which the Duke had worn beneath his +robes, unknown to all, until his corpse was disrobed of his +blood-stained garments. His face looked full of calm, +solemn peace, as if he had gently fallen asleep, and was only +awaiting the great call to awaken. There was not a single +token of violence visible about him, save that one side of his +forehead bore a deep purple mark, where he had first been struck +by the blow of the oar which had deprived him of sense.</p> +<p>“See you that, my Lord?” said Count Bernard, first +breaking the silence, in a low, deep, stern voice.</p> +<p>Richard had heard little for many hours past save counsels +against the Flemings, and plans of bitter enmity against them; +and the sight of his murdered father, with that look and tone of +the old Dane, fired his spirit, and breaking from his trance of +silent awe and grief, he exclaimed, “I see it, and dearly +shall the traitor Fleming abye it!” Then, encouraged +by the applauding looks of the nobles, he proceeded, feeling like +one of the young champions of Fru Astrida’s songs. +His cheek was coloured, his eye lighted up, and he lifted his +head, so that the hair fell back from his forehead; he laid his +hand on the hilt of his father’s sword, and spoke on in +words, perhaps, suggested by some sage. “Yes, Arnulf +of Flanders, know that Duke William of Normandy shall not rest +unavenged! On this good sword I vow, that, as soon as my +arm shall have strength—”</p> +<p>The rest was left unspoken, for a hand was laid on his +arm. A priest, who had hitherto been kneeling near the head +of the corpse, had risen, and stood tall and dark over him, and, +looking up, he recognized the pale, grave countenance of Martin, +Abbot of Jumièges, his father’s chief friend and +councillor.</p> +<p>“Richard of Normandy, what sayest thou?” said he, +sternly. “Yes, hang thy head, and reply not, rather +than repeat those words. Dost thou come here to disturb the +peace of the dead with clamours for vengeance? Dost thou +vow strife and anger on that sword which was never drawn, save in +the cause of the poor and distressed? Wouldst thou rob Him, +to whose service thy life has been pledged, and devote thyself to +that of His foe? Is this what thou hast learnt from thy +blessed father?”</p> +<p>Richard made no answer, but he covered his face with his +hands, to hide the tears which were fast streaming.</p> +<p>“Lord Abbot, Lord Abbot, this passes!” exclaimed +Bernard the Dane. “Our young Lord is no monk, and we +will not see each spark of noble and knightly spirit quenched as +soon as it shows itself.”</p> +<p>“Count of Harcourt,” said Abbot Martin, “are +these the words of a savage Pagan, or of one who has been washed +in yonder blessed font? Never, while I have power, shalt +thou darken the child’s soul with thy foul thirst of +revenge, insult the presence of thy master with the crime he so +abhorred, nor the temple of Him who came to pardon, with thy +hatred. Well do I know, ye Barons of Normandy, that each +drop of your blood would willingly be given, could it bring back +our departed Duke, or guard his orphan child; but, if ye have +loved the father, do his bidding—lay aside that accursed +spirit of hatred and vengeance; if ye love the child, seek not to +injure his soul more deeply than even his bitterest foe, were it +Arnulf himself, hath power to hurt him.”</p> +<p>The Barons were silenced, whatever their thoughts might be, +and Abbot Martin turned to Richard, whose tears were still +dropping fast through his fingers, as the thought of those last +words of his father returned more clearly upon him. The +Abbot laid his hand on his head, and spoke gently to him. +“These are tears of a softened heart, I trust,” said +he. “I well believe that thou didst scarce know what +thou wert saying.”</p> +<p>“Forgive me!” said Richard, as well as he could +speak.</p> +<p>“See there,” said the priest, pointing to the +large Cross over the Altar, “thou knowest the meaning of +that sacred sign?”</p> +<p>Richard bowed his head in assent and reverence.</p> +<p>“It speaks of forgiveness,” continued the +Abbot. “And knowest thou who gave that pardon? +The Son forgave His murderers; the Father them who slew His +Son. And shalt thou call for vengeance?”</p> +<p>“But oh!” said Richard, looking up, “must +that cruel, murderous traitor glory unpunished in his crime, +while there lies—” and again his voice was cut off by +tears.</p> +<p>“Vengeance shall surely overtake the sinner,” said +Martin, “the vengeance of the Lord, and in His own good +time, but it must not be of thy seeking. Nay, Richard, thou +art of all men the most bound to show love and mercy to Arnulf of +Flanders. Yes, when the hand of the Lord hath touched him, +and bowed him down in punishment for his crime, it is then, that +thou, whom he hath most deeply injured, shouldst stretch out +thine hand to aid him, and receive him with pardon and +peace. If thou dost vow aught on the sword of thy blessed +father, in the sanctuary of thy Redeemer, let it be a Christian +vow.”</p> +<p>Richard wept too bitterly to speak, and Bernard de Harcourt, +taking his hand, led him away from the Church.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<p>Duke William of the Long Sword was buried the next morning in +high pomp and state, with many a prayer and psalm chanted over +his grave.</p> +<p>When this was over, little Richard, who had all the time stood +or knelt nearest the corpse, in one dull heavy dream of wonder +and sorrow, was led back to the palace, and there his long, +heavy, black garments were taken off, and he was dressed in his +short scarlet tunic, his hair was carefully arranged, and then he +came down again into the hall, where there was a great assembly +of Barons, some in armour, some in long furred gowns, who had all +been attending his father’s burial. Richard, as he +was desired by Sir Eric de Centeville, took off his cap, and +bowed low in reply to the reverences with which they all greeted +his entrance, and he then slowly crossed the hall, and descended +the steps from the door, while they formed into a procession +behind him, according to their ranks—the Duke of Brittany +first, and then all the rest, down to the poorest knight who held +his manor immediately from the Duke of Normandy.</p> +<p>Thus, they proceeded, in slow and solemn order, till they came +to the church of our Lady. The clergy were there already, +ranged in ranks on each side of the Choir; and the Bishops, in +their mitres and rich robes, each with his pastoral staff in his +hand, were standing round the Altar. As the little Duke +entered, there arose from all the voices in the Chancel the full, +loud, clear chant of <i>Te Deum Laudamus</i>, echoing among the +dark vaults of the roof. To that sound, Richard walked up +the Choir, to a large, heavy, crossed-legged, carved chair, +raised on two steps, just before the steps of the Altar began, +and there he stood, Bernard de Harcourt and Eric de Centeville on +each side of him, and all his other vassals in due order, in the +Choir.</p> +<p>After the beautiful chant of the hymn was ended, the service +for the Holy Communion began. When the time came for the +offering, each noble gave gold or silver; and, lastly, Rainulf of +Ferrières came up to the step of the Altar with a cushion, +on which was placed a circlet of gold, the ducal coronet; and +another Baron, following him closely, carried a long, heavy +sword, with a cross handle. The Archbishop of Rouen +received both coronet and sword, and laid them on the +Altar. Then the service proceeded. At that time the +rite of Confirmation was administered in infancy, and Richard, +who had been confirmed by his godfather, the Archbishop of Rouen, +immediately after his baptism, knelt in solemn awe to receive the +other Holy Sacrament from his hands, as soon as all the clergy +had communicated. <a name="citation8"></a><a href="#footnote8" +class="citation">[8]</a></p> +<p>When the administration was over, Richard was led forward to +the step of the Altar by Count Bernard, and Sir Eric, and the +Archbishop, laying one hand upon both his, as he held them +clasped together, demanded of him, in the name of God, and of the +people of Normandy, whether he would be their good and true +ruler, guard them from their foes, maintain truth, punish +iniquity, and protect the Church.</p> +<p>“I will!” answered Richard’s young, +trembling voice, “So help me God!” and he knelt, and +kissed the book of the Holy Gospels, which the Archbishop offered +him.</p> +<p>It was a great and awful oath, and he dreaded to think that he +had taken it. He still knelt, put both hands over his face, +and whispered, “O God, my Father, help me to keep +it.”</p> +<p>The Archbishop waited till he rose, and then, turning him with +his face to the people, said, “Richard, by the grace of +God, I invest thee with the ducal mantle of Normandy!”</p> +<p>Two of the Bishops then hung round his shoulders a crimson +velvet mantle, furred with ermine, which, made as it was for a +grown man, hung heavily on the poor child’s shoulders, and +lay in heaps on the ground. The Archbishop then set the +golden coronet on his long, flowing hair, where it hung so +loosely on the little head, that Sir Eric was obliged to put his +hand to it to hold it safe; and, lastly, the long, straight, +two-handed sword was brought and placed in his hand, with another +solemn bidding to use it ever in maintaining the right. It +should have been girded to his side, but the great sword was so +much taller than the little Duke, that, as it stood upright by +him, he was obliged to raise his arm to put it round the +handle.</p> +<p>He then had to return to his throne, which was not done +without some difficulty, encumbered as he was, but Osmond held up +the train of his mantle, Sir Eric kept the coronet on his head, +and he himself held fast and lovingly the sword, though the Count +of Harcourt offered to carry it for him. He was lifted up +to his throne, and then came the paying him homage; Alan, Duke of +Brittany, was the first to kneel before him, and with his hand +between those of the Duke, he swore to be his man, to obey him, +and pay him feudal service for his dukedom of Brittany. In +return, Richard swore to be his good Lord, and to protect him +from all his foes. Then followed Bernard the Dane, and many +another, each repeating the same formulary, as their large rugged +hands were clasped within those little soft fingers. Many a +kind and loving eye was bent in compassion on the orphan child; +many a strong voice faltered with earnestness as it pronounced +the vow, and many a brave, stalwart heart heaved with grief for +the murdered father, and tears flowed down the war-worn cheeks +which had met the fiercest storms of the northern ocean, as they +bent before the young fatherless boy, whom they loved for the +sake of his conquering grandfather, and his brave and pious +father. Few Normans were there whose hearts did not glow at +the touch of those small hands, with a love almost of a parent, +for their young Duke.</p> +<p>The ceremony of receiving homage lasted long and Richard, +though interested and touched at first, grew very weary; the +crown and mantle were so heavy, the faces succeeded each other +like figures in an endless dream, and the constant repetition of +the same words was very tedious. He grew sleepy, he longed +to jump up, to lean to the right or left, or to speak something +besides that regular form. He gave one great yawn, but it +brought him such a frown from the stern face of Bernard, as quite +to wake him for a few minutes, and make him sit upright, and +receive the next vassal with as much attention as he had shown +the first, but he looked imploringly at Sir Eric, as if to ask if +it ever would be over. At last, far down among the Barons, +came one at whose sight Richard revived a little. It was a +boy only a few years older than himself, perhaps about ten, with +a pleasant brown face, black hair, and quick black eyes which +glanced, with a look between friendliness and respect, up into +the little Duke’s gazing face. Richard listened +eagerly for his name, and was refreshed at the sound of the +boyish voice which pronounced, “I, Alberic de +Montémar, am thy liegeman and vassal for my castle and +barony of Montémar sur Epte.”</p> +<p>When Alberic moved away, Richard followed him with his eye as +far as he could to his place in the Cathedral, and was taken by +surprise when he found the next Baron kneeling before him.</p> +<p>The ceremony of homage came to an end at last, and Richard +would fain have run all the way to the palace to shake off his +weariness, but he was obliged to head the procession again; and +even when he reached the castle hall his toils were not over, for +there was a great state banquet spread out, and he had to sit in +the high chair where he remembered climbing on his father’s +knee last Christmas-day, all the time that the Barons feasted +round, and held grave converse. Richard’s best +comfort all this time was in watching Osmond de Centeville and +Alberic de Montémar, who, with the other youths who were +not yet knighted, were waiting on those who sat at the +table. At last he grew so very weary, that he fell fast +asleep in the corner of his chair, and did not wake till he was +startled by the rough voice of Bernard de Harcourt, calling him +to rouse up, and bid the Duke of Brittany farewell.</p> +<p>“Poor child!” said Duke Alan, as Richard rose up, +startled, “he is over-wearied with this day’s +work. Take care of him, Count Bernard; thou a kindly nurse, +but a rough one for such a babe. Ha! my young Lord, your +colour mantles at being called a babe! I crave your pardon, +for you are a fine spirit. And hark you, Lord Richard of +Normandy, I have little cause to love your race, and little +right, I trow, had King Charles the Simple to call us free +Bretons liegemen to a race of plundering Northern pirates. +To Duke Rollo’s might, my father never gave his homage; +nay, nor did I yield it for all Duke William’s long sword, +but I did pay it to his generosity and forbearance, and now I +grant it to thy weakness and to his noble memory. I doubt +not that the recreant Frank, Louis, whom he restored to his +throne, will strive to profit by thy youth and helplessness, and +should that be, remember that thou hast no surer friend than Alan +of Brittany. Fare thee well, my young Duke.”</p> +<p>“Farewell, Sir,” said Richard, willingly giving +his hand to be shaken by his kind vassal, and watching him as Sir +Eric attended him from the hall.</p> +<p>“Fair words, but I trust not the Breton,” muttered +Bernard; “hatred is deeply ingrained in them.”</p> +<p>“He should know what the Frank King is made of,” +said Rainulf de Ferrières; “he was bred up with him +in the days that they were both exiles at the court of King +Ethelstane of England.”</p> +<p>“Ay, and thanks to Duke William that either Louis or +Alan are not exiles still. Now we shall see whose gratitude +is worth most, the Frank’s or the Breton’s. I +suspect the Norman valour will be the best to trust +to.”</p> +<p>“Yes, and how will Norman valour prosper without +treasure? Who knows what gold is in the Duke’s +coffers?”</p> +<p>There was some consultation here in a low voice, and the next +thing Richard heard distinctly was, that one of the Nobles held +up a silver chain and key, <a name="citation9"></a><a +href="#footnote9" class="citation">[9]</a> saying that they had +been found on the Duke’s neck, and that he had kept them, +thinking that they doubtless led to something of importance.</p> +<p>“Oh, yes!” said Richard, eagerly, “I know +it. He told me it was the key to his greatest +treasure.”</p> +<p>The Normans heard this with great interest, and it was +resolved that several of the most trusted persons, among whom +were the Archbishop of Rouen, Abbot Martin of Jumièges, +and the Count of Harcourt, should go immediately in search of +this precious hoard. Richard accompanied them up the narrow +rough stone stairs, to the large dark apartment, where his father +had slept. Though a Prince’s chamber, it had little +furniture; a low uncurtained bed, a Cross on a ledge near its +head, a rude table, a few chairs, and two large chests, were all +it contained. Harcourt tried the lid of one of the chests: +it opened, and proved to be full of wearing apparel; he went to +the other, which was smaller, much more carved, and ornamented +with very handsome iron-work. It was locked, and putting in +the key, it fitted, the lock turned, and the chest was +opened. The Normans pressed eagerly to see their +Duke’s greatest treasure.</p> +<p>It was a robe of serge, and a pair of sandals, such as were +worn in the Abbey of Jumièges.</p> +<p>“Ha! is this all? What didst say, child?” +cried Bernard the Dane, hastily.</p> +<p>“He told me it was his greatest treasure!” +repeated Richard.</p> +<p>“And it was!” said Abbot Martin.</p> +<p>Then the good Abbot told them the history, part of which was +already known to some of them. About five or six years +before, Duke William had been hunting in the forest of +Jumièges, when he had suddenly come on the ruins of the +Abbey, which had been wasted thirty or forty years previously by +the Sea-King, Hasting. Two old monks, of the original +brotherhood, still survived, and came forth to greet the Duke, +and offer him their hospitality.</p> +<p>“Ay!” said Bernard, “well do I remember +their bread; we asked if it was made of fir-bark, like that of +our brethren of Norway.”</p> +<p>William, then an eager, thoughtless young man, turned with +disgust from this wretched fare, and throwing the old men some +gold, galloped on to enjoy his hunting. In the course of +the sport, he was left alone, and encountered a wild boar, which +threw him down, trampled on him, and left him stretched senseless +on the ground, severely injured. His companions coming up, +carried him, as the nearest place of shelter, to the ruins of +Jumièges, where the two old monks gladly received him in +the remaining portion of their house. As soon as he +recovered his senses, he earnestly asked their pardon for his +pride, and the scorn he had shown to the poverty and patient +suffering which he should have reverenced.</p> +<p>William had always been a man who chose the good and refused +the evil, but this accident, and the long illness that followed +it, made him far more thoughtful and serious than he had ever +been before; he made preparing for death and eternity his first +object, and thought less of his worldly affairs, his wars, and +his ducal state. He rebuilt the old Abbey, endowed it +richly, and sent for Martin himself from France, to become the +Abbot; he delighted in nothing so much as praying there, +conversing with the Abbot, and hearing him read holy books; and +he felt his temporal affairs, and the state and splendour of his +rank, so great a temptation, that he had one day come to the +Abbot, and entreated to be allowed to lay them aside, and become +a brother of the order. But Martin had refused to receive +his vows. He had told him that he had no right to neglect +or forsake the duties of the station which God had appointed him; +that it would be a sin to leave the post which had been given him +to defend; and that the way marked out for him to serve God was +by doing justice among his people, and using his power to defend +the right. Not till he had done his allotted work, and his +son was old enough to take his place as ruler of the Normans, +might he cease from his active duties, quit the turmoil of the +world, and seek the repose of the cloister. It was in this +hope of peaceful retirement, that William had delighted to +treasure up the humble garments that he hoped one day to wear in +peace and holiness.</p> +<p>“And oh! my noble Duke!” exclaimed Abbot Martin, +bursting into tears, as he finished his narration, “the +Lord hath been very gracious unto thee! He has taken thee +home to thy rest, long before thou didst dare to hope for +it.”</p> +<p>Slowly, and with subdued feelings, the Norman Barons left the +chamber; Richard, whom they seemed to have almost forgotten, +wandered to the stairs, to find his way to the room where he had +slept last night. He had not made many steps before he +heard Osmond’s voice say, “Here, my Lord;” he +looked up, saw a white cap at a doorway a little above him, he +bounded up and flew into Dame Astrida’s outstretched +arms.</p> +<p>How glad he was to sit in her lap, and lay his wearied head on +her bosom, while, with a worn-out voice, he exclaimed, “Oh, +Fru Astrida! I am very, very tired of being Duke of +Normandy!”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<p>Richard of Normandy was very anxious to know more of the +little boy whom he had seen among his vassals.</p> +<p>“Ah! the young Baron de Montémar,” said Sir +Eric. “I knew his father well, and a brave man he +was, though not of northern blood. He was warden of the +marches of the Epte, and was killed by your father’s side +in the inroad of the Viscount du Cotentin, <a +name="citation10"></a><a href="#footnote10" +class="citation">[10]</a> at the time when you were born, Lord +Richard.”</p> +<p>“But where does he live? Shall I not see him +again?”</p> +<p>“Montémar is on the bank of the Epte, in the +domain that the French wrongfully claim from us. He lives +there with his mother, and if he be not yet returned, you shall +see him presently. Osmond, go you and seek out the lodgings +of the young Montémar, and tell him the Duke would see +him.”</p> +<p>Richard had never had a playfellow of his own age, and his +eagerness to see Alberic de Montémar was great. He +watched from the window, and at length beheld Osmond entering the +court with a boy of ten years old by his side, and an old +grey-headed Squire, with a golden chain to mark him as a +Seneschal or Steward of the Castle, walking behind.</p> +<p>Richard ran to the door to meet them, holding out his hand +eagerly. Alberic uncovered his bright dark hair, bowed low +and gracefully, but stood as if he did not exactly know what to +do next. Richard grew shy at the same moment, and the two +boys stood looking at each other somewhat awkwardly. It was +easy to see that they were of different races, so unlike were the +blue eyes, flaxen hair, and fair face of the young Duke, to the +black flashing eyes and olive cheek of his French vassal, who, +though two years older, was scarcely above him in height; and his +slight figure, well-proportioned, active and agile as it was, did +not give the same promise of strength as the round limbs and +large-boned frame of Richard, which even now seemed likely to +rival the gigantic stature of his grandfather, Earl Rollo, the +Ganger.</p> +<p>For some minutes the little Duke and the young Baron stood +surveying each other without a word, and old Sir Eric did not +improve matters by saying, “Well, Lord Duke, here he +is. Have you no better greeting for him?”</p> +<p>“The children are shame-faced,” said Fru Astrida, +seeing how they both coloured. “Is your Lady mother +in good health, my young sir?”</p> +<p>Alberic blushed more deeply, bowed to the old northern lady, +and answered fast and low in French, “I cannot speak the +Norman tongue.”</p> +<p>Richard, glad to say something, interpreted Fru +Astrida’s speech, and Alberic readily made courteous reply +that his mother was well, and he thanked the Dame de Centeville, +a French title which sounded new to Fru Astrida’s +ears. Then came the embarrassment again, and Fru Astrida at +last said, “Take him out, Lord Richard; take him to see the +horses in the stables, or the hounds, or what not.”</p> +<p>Richard was not sorry to obey, so out they went into the court +of Rollo’s tower, and in the open air the shyness went +off. Richard showed his own pony, and Alberic asked if he +could leap into the saddle without putting his foot in the +stirrup. No, Richard could not; indeed, even Osmond had +never seen it done, for the feats of French chivalry had scarcely +yet spread into Normandy.</p> +<p>“Can you?” said Richard; “will you show +us?”</p> +<p>“I know I can with my own pony,” said Alberic, +“for Bertrand will not let me mount in any other way; but I +will try with yours, if you desire it, my Lord.”</p> +<p>So the pony was led out. Alberic laid one hand on its +mane, and vaulted on its back in a moment. Both Osmond and +Richard broke out loudly into admiration. “Oh, this +is nothing!” said Alberic. “Bertrand says it is +nothing. Before he grew old and stiff he could spring into +the saddle in this manner fully armed. I ought to do this +much better.”</p> +<p>Richard begged to be shown how to perform the exploit, and +Alberic repeated it; then Richard wanted to try, but the +pony’s patience would not endure any longer, and Alberic +said he had learnt on a block of wood, and practised on the great +wolf-hound. They wandered about a little longer in the +court, and then climbed up the spiral stone stairs to the +battlements at the top of the tower, where they looked at the +house-tops of Rouen close beneath, and the river Seine, +broadening and glittering on one side in its course to the sea, +and on the other narrowing to a blue ribbon, winding through the +green expanse of fertile Normandy. They threw the pebbles +and bits of mortar down that they might hear them fall, and tried +which could stand nearest to the edge of the battlement without +being giddy. Richard was pleased to find that he could go +the nearest, and began to tell some of Fru Astrida’s +stories about the precipices of Norway, among which when she was +a young girl she used to climb about and tend the cattle in the +long light summer time. When the two boys came down again +into the hall to dinner, they felt as if they had known each +other all their lives. The dinner was laid out in full +state, and Richard had, as before, to sit in the great +throne-like chair with the old Count of Harcourt on one side, +but, to his comfort, Fru Astrida was on the other.</p> +<p>After the dinner, Alberic de Montémar rose to take his +leave, as he was to ride half way to his home that +afternoon. Count Bernard, who all dinner time had been +watching him intently from under his shaggy eye-brows, at this +moment turned to Richard, whom he hardly ever addressed, and said +to him, “Hark ye, my Lord, what should you say to have him +yonder for a comrade?”</p> +<p>“To stay with me?” cried Richard, eagerly. +“Oh, thanks, Sir Count; and may he stay?”</p> +<p>“You are Lord here.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Alberic!” cried Richard, jumping out of his +chair of state, and running up to him, “will you not stay +with me, and be my brother and comrade?”</p> +<p>Alberic looked down hesitating.</p> +<p>“Oh, say that you will! I will give you horses, +and hawks, and hounds, and I will love you—almost as well +as Osmond. Oh, stay with me, Alberic.”</p> +<p>“I must obey you, my Lord,” said Alberic, +“but—”</p> +<p>“Come, young Frenchman, out with it,” said +Bernard,—“no buts! Speak honestly, and at once, +like a Norman, if you can.”</p> +<p>This rough speech seemed to restore the little Baron’s +self-possession, and he looked up bright and bold at the rugged +face of the old Dane, while he said, “I had rather not stay +here.”</p> +<p>“Ha! not do service to your Lord?”</p> +<p>“I would serve him with all my heart, but I do not want +to stay here. I love the Castle of Montémar better, +and my mother has no one but me.”</p> +<p>“Brave and true, Sir Frenchman,” said the old +Count, laying his great hand on Alberic’s head, and looking +better pleased than Richard thought his grim features could have +appeared. Then turning to Bertrand, Alberic’s +Seneschal, he said, “Bear the Count de Harcourt’s +greetings to the noble Dame de Montémar, and say to her +that her son is of a free bold spirit, and if she would have him +bred up with my Lord Duke, as his comrade and brother in arms, he +will find a ready welcome.”</p> +<p>“So, Alberic, you will come back, perhaps?” said +Richard.</p> +<p>“That must be as my mother pleases,” answered +Alberic bluntly, and with all due civilities he and his Seneschal +departed.</p> +<p>Four or five times a day did Richard ask Osmond and Fru +Astrida if they thought Alberic would return, and it was a great +satisfaction to him to find that every one agreed that it would +be very foolish in the Dame de Montémar to refuse so good +an offer, only Fru Astrida could not quite believe she would part +with her son. Still no Baron de Montémar arrived, +and the little Duke was beginning to think less about his hopes, +when one evening, as he was returning from a ride with Sir Eric +and Osmond, he saw four horsemen coming towards them, and a +little boy in front.</p> +<p>“It is Alberic himself, I am sure of it!” he +exclaimed, and so it proved; and while the Seneschal delivered +his Lady’s message to Sir Eric, Richard rode up and greeted +the welcome guest.</p> +<p>“Oh, I am very glad your mother has sent you!”</p> +<p>“She said she was not fit to bring up a young warrior of +the marches,” said Alberic.</p> +<p>“Were you very sorry to come?”</p> +<p>“I dare say I shall not mind it soon; and Bertrand is to +come and fetch me home to visit her every three months, if you +will let me go, my Lord.”</p> +<p>Richard was extremely delighted, and thought he could never do +enough to make Rouen pleasant to Alberic, who after the first day +or two cheered up, missed his mother less, managed to talk +something between French and Norman to Sir Eric and Fru Astrida, +and became a very animated companion and friend. In one +respect Alberic was a better playfellow for the Duke than Osmond +de Centeville, for Osmond, playing as a grown up man, not for his +own amusement, but the child’s, had left all the advantages +of the game to Richard, who was growing not a little inclined to +domineer. This Alberic did not like, unless, as he said, +“it was to be always Lord and vassal, and then he did not +care for the game,” and he played with so little animation +that Richard grew vexed.</p> +<p>“I can’t help it,” said Alberic; “if +you take all the best chances to yourself, ’tis no sport +for me. I will do your bidding, as you are the Duke, but I +cannot like it.”</p> +<p>“Never mind my being Duke, but play as we used to +do.”</p> +<p>“Then let us play as I did with Bertrand’s sons at +Montémar. I was their Baron, as you are my Duke, but +my mother said there would be no sport unless we forgot all that +at play.”</p> +<p>“Then so we will. Come, begin again, Alberic, and +you shall have the first turn.”</p> +<p>However, Alberic was quite as courteous and respectful to the +Duke when they were not at play, as the difference of their rank +required; indeed, he had learnt much more of grace and +courtliness of demeanour from his mother, a Provençal +lady, than was yet to be found among the Normans. The +Chaplain of Montémar had begun to teach him to read and +write, and he liked learning much better than Richard, who would +not have gone on with Father Lucas’s lessons at all, if +Abbot Martin of Jumièges had not put him in mind that it +had been his father’s especial desire.</p> +<p>What Richard most disliked was, however, the being obliged to +sit in council. The Count of Harcourt did in truth govern +the dukedom, but nothing could be done without the Duke’s +consent, and once a week at least, there was held in the great +hall of Rollo’s tower, what was called a <i>Parlement</i>, +or “a talkation,” where Count Bernard, the +Archbishop, the Baron de Centeville, the Abbot of +Jumièges, and such other Bishops, Nobles, or Abbots, as +might chance to be at Rouen, consulted on the affairs of +Normandy; and there the little Duke always was forced to be +present, sitting up in his chair of state, and hearing rather +than listening to, questions about the repairing and guarding of +Castles, the asking of loans from the vassals, the appeals from +the Barons of the Exchequer, who were then Nobles sent through +the duchy to administer justice, and the discussions about the +proceedings of his neighbours, King Louis of France, Count +Foulques of Anjou, and Count Herluin of Montreuil, and how far +the friendship of Hugh of Paris, and Alan of Brittany might be +trusted.</p> +<p>Very tired of all this did Richard grow, especially when he +found that the Normans had made up their minds not to attempt a +war against the wicked Count of Flanders. He sighed most +wearily, yawned again and again, and moved restlessly about in +his chair; but whenever Count Bernard saw him doing so, he +received so severe a look and sign that he grew perfectly to +dread the eye of the fierce old Dane. Bernard never spoke +to him to praise him, or to enter into any of his pursuits; he +only treated him with the grave distant respect due to him as a +Prince, or else now and then spoke a few stern words to him of +reproof for this restlessness, or for some other childish +folly.</p> +<p>Used as Richard was to be petted and made much of by the whole +house of Centeville, he resented this considerably in secret, +disliked and feared the old Count, and more than once told +Alberic de Montémar, that as soon as he was fourteen, when +he would be declared of age, he should send Count Bernard to take +care of his own Castle of Harcourt, instead of letting him sit +gloomy and grim in the Castle hall in the evening, spoiling all +their sport.</p> +<p>Winter had set in, and Osmond used daily to take the little +Duke and Alberic to the nearest sheet of ice, for the Normans +still prided themselves on excelling in skating, though they had +long since left the frost-bound streams and lakes of Norway.</p> +<p>One day, as they were returning from the ice, they were +surprised, even before they entered the Castle court, by hearing +the trampling of horses’ feet, and a sound of voices.</p> +<p>“What may this mean?” said Osmond. +“There must surely be a great arrival of the vassals. +The Duke of Brittany, perhaps.”</p> +<p>“Oh,” said Richard, piteously, “we have had +one council already this week. I hope another is not +coming!”</p> +<p>“It must import something extraordinary,” +proceeded Osmond. “It is a mischance that the Count +of Harcourt is not at Rouen just now.”</p> +<p>Richard thought this no mischance at all, and just then, +Alberic, who had run on a little before, came back exclaiming, +“They are French. It is the Frank tongue, not the +Norman, that they speak.”</p> +<p>“So please you, my Lord,” said Osmond, stopping +short, “we go not rashly into the midst of them. I +would I knew what were best to do.”</p> +<p>Osmond rubbed his forehead and stood considering, while the +two boys looked at him anxiously. In a few seconds, before +he had come to any conclusion, there came forth from the gate a +Norman Squire, accompanied by two strangers.</p> +<p>“My Lord Duke,” said he to Richard, in French, +“Sir Eric has sent me to bring you tidings that the King of +France has arrived to receive your homage.”</p> +<p>“The King!” exclaimed Osmond.</p> +<p>“Ay!” proceeded the Norman, in his own tongue, +“Louis himself, and with a train looking bent on +mischief. I wish it may portend good to my Lord here. +You see I am accompanied. I believe from my heart that +Louis meant to prevent you from receiving a warning, and taking +the boy out of his clutches.”</p> +<p>“Ha! what?” said Richard, anxiously. +“Why is the King come? What must I do?”</p> +<p>“Go on now, since there is no help for it,” said +Osmond.</p> +<p>“Greet the king as becomes you, bend the knee, and pay +him homage.”</p> +<p>Richard repeated over to himself the form of homage that he +might be perfect in it, and walked on into the court; Alberic, +Osmond, and the rest falling back as he entered. The court +was crowded with horses and men, and it was only by calling out +loudly, “The Duke, the Duke,” that Osmond could get +space enough made for them to pass. In a few moments +Richard had mounted the steps and stood in the great hall.</p> +<p>In the chair of state, at the upper end of the room, sat a +small spare man, of about eight or nine-and-twenty, pale, and of +a light complexion, with a rich dress of blue and gold. Sir +Eric and several other persons stood respectfully round him, and +he was conversing with the Archbishop, who, as well as Sir Eric, +cast several anxious glances at the little Duke as he advanced up +the hall. He came up to the King, put his knee to the +ground, and was just beginning, “Louis, King of France, +I—” when he found himself suddenly lifted from the +ground in the King’s arms, and kissed on both cheeks. +Then setting him on his knee, the King exclaimed, “And is +this the son of my brave and noble friend, Duke William? +Ah! I should have known it from his likeness. Let me +embrace you again, dear child, for your father’s +sake.”</p> +<p>Richard was rather overwhelmed, but he thought the King very +kind, especially when Louis began to admire his height and +free-spirited bearing, and to lament that his own sons, Lothaire +and Carloman, were so much smaller and more backward. He +caressed Richard again and again, praised every word he +said—Fru Astrida was nothing to him; and Richard began to +say to himself how strange and unkind it was of Bernard de +Harcourt to like to find fault with him, when, on the contrary, +he deserved all this praise from the King himself.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p68b.jpg"> +<img alt="Louis of France and the Little Duke" +src="images/p68s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<p>Duke Richard of Normandy slept in the room which had been his +father’s; Alberic de Montémar, as his page, slept at +his feet, and Osmond de Centeville had a bed on the floor, across +the door, where he lay with his sword close at hand, as his young +Lord’s guard and protector.</p> +<p>All had been asleep for some little time, when Osmond was +startled by a slight movement of the door, which could not be +pushed open without awakening him. In an instant he had +grasped his sword, while he pressed his shoulder to the door to +keep it closed; but it was his father’s voice that answered +him with a few whispered words in the Norse tongue, “It is +I, open.” He made way instantly, and old Sir Eric +entered, treading cautiously with bare feet, and sat down on the +bed motioning him to do the same, so that they might be able to +speak lower. “Right, Osmond,” he said. +“It is well to be on the alert, for peril enough is around +him—The Frank means mischief! I know from a sure hand +that Arnulf of Flanders was in council with him just before he +came hither, with his false tongue, wiling and coaxing the poor +child!”</p> +<p>“Ungrateful traitor!” murmured Osmond. +“Do you guess his purpose?”</p> +<p>“Yes, surely, to carry the boy off with him, and so he +trusts doubtless to cut off all the race of Rollo! I know +his purpose is to bear off the Duke, as a ward of the Crown +forsooth. Did you not hear him luring the child with his +promises of friendship with the Princes? I could not +understand all his French words, but I saw it plain +enough.”</p> +<p>“You will never allow it?”</p> +<p>“If he does, it must be across our dead bodies; but +taken as we are by surprise, our resistance will little +avail. The Castle is full of French, the hall and court +swarm with them. Even if we could draw our Normans +together, we should not be more than a dozen men, and what could +we do but die? That we are ready for, if it may not be +otherwise, rather than let our charge be thus borne off without a +pledge for his safety, and without the knowledge of the +states.”</p> +<p>“The king could not have come at a worse time,” +said Osmond.</p> +<p>“No, just when Bernard the Dane is absent. If he +only knew what has befallen, he could raise the country, and come +to the rescue.”</p> +<p>“Could we not send some one to bear the tidings +to-night?”</p> +<p>“I know not,” said Sir Eric, musingly. +“The French have taken the keeping of the doors; indeed +they are so thick through the Castle that I can hardly reach one +of our men, nor could I spare one hand that may avail to guard +the boy to-morrow.”</p> +<p>“Sir Eric;” a bare little foot was heard on the +floor, and Alberic de Montémar stood before him. +“I did not mean to listen, but I could not help hearing +you. I cannot fight for the Duke yet, but I could carry a +message.”</p> +<p>“How would that be?” said Osmond, eagerly. +“Once out of the Castle, and in Rouen, he could easily find +means of sending to the Count. He might go either to the +Convent of St. Ouen, or, which would be better, to the trusty +armourer, Thibault, who would soon find man and horse to send +after the Count.”</p> +<p>“Ha! let me see,” said Sir Eric. “It +might be. But how is he to get out?”</p> +<p>“I know a way,” said Alberic. “I +scrambled down that wide buttress by the east wall last week, +when our ball was caught in a branch of the ivy, and the +drawbridge is down.”</p> +<p>“If Bernard knew, it would be off my mind, at +least!” said Sir Eric. “Well, my young +Frenchman, you may do good service.”</p> +<p>“Osmond,” whispered Alberic, as he began hastily +to dress himself, “only ask one thing of Sir +Eric—never to call me young Frenchman again!”</p> +<p>Sir Eric smiled, saying, “Prove yourself Norman, my +boy.”</p> +<p>“Then,” added Osmond, “if it were possible +to get the Duke himself out of the castle to-morrow +morning. If I could take him forth by the postern, and once +bring him into the town, he would be safe. It would be only +to raise the burghers, or else to take refuge in the Church of +Our Lady till the Count came up, and then Louis would find his +prey out of his hands when he awoke and sought him.”</p> +<p>“That might be,” replied Sir Eric; “but I +doubt your success. The French are too eager to hold him +fast, to let him slip out of their hands. You will find +every door guarded.”</p> +<p>“Yes, but all the French have not seen the Duke, and the +sight of a squire and a little page going forth, will scarcely +excite their suspicion.”</p> +<p>“Ay, if the Duke would bear himself like a little page; +but that you need not hope for. Besides, he is so taken +with this King’s flatteries, that I doubt whether he would +consent to leave him for the sake of Count Bernard. Poor +child, he is like to be soon taught to know his true +friends.”</p> +<p>“I am ready,” said Alberic, coming forward.</p> +<p>The Baron de Centeville repeated his instructions, and then +undertook to guard the door, while his son saw Alberic set off on +his expedition. Osmond went with him softly down the +stairs, then avoiding the hall, which was filled with French, +they crept silently to a narrow window, guarded by iron bars, +placed at such short intervals apart that only so small and slim +a form as Alberic’s could have squeezed out between +them. The distance to the ground was not much more than +twice his own height, and the wall was so covered with ivy, that +it was not a very dangerous feat for an active boy, so that +Alberic was soon safe on the ground, then looking up to wave his +cap, he ran on along the side of the moat, and was soon lost to +Osmond’s sight in the darkness.</p> +<p>Osmond returned to the Duke’s chamber, and relieved his +father’s guard, while Richard slept soundly on, little +guessing at the plots of his enemies, or at the schemes of his +faithful subjects for his protection.</p> +<p>Osmond thought this all the better, for he had small trust in +Richard’s patience and self-command, and thought there was +much more chance of getting him unnoticed out of the Castle, if +he did not know how much depended on it, and how dangerous his +situation was.</p> +<p>When Richard awoke, he was much surprised at missing Alberic, +but Osmond said he was gone into the town to Thibault the +armourer, and this was a message on which he was so likely to be +employed that Richard’s suspicion was not excited. +All the time he was dressing he talked about the King, and +everything he meant to show him that day; then, when he was +ready, the first thing was as usual to go to attend morning +mass.</p> +<p>“Not by that way, to-day, my Lord,” said Osmond, +as Richard was about to enter the great hall. “It is +crowded with the French who have been sleeping there all night; +come to the postern.”</p> +<p>Osmond turned, as he spoke, along the passage, walking fast, +and not sorry that Richard was lingering a little, as it was +safer for him to be first. The postern was, as he expected, +guarded by two tall steel-cased figures, who immediately held +their lances across the door-way, saying, “None passes +without warrant.”</p> +<p>“You will surely let us of the Castle attend to our +daily business,” said Osmond. “You will hardly +break your fast this morning if you stop all communication with +the town.”</p> +<p>“You must bring warrant,” repeated one of the +men-at-arms. Osmond was beginning to say that he was the +son of the Seneschal of the Castle, when Richard came hastily +up. “What? Do these men want to stop us?” +he exclaimed in the imperious manner he had begun to take up +since his accession. “Let us go on, sirs.”</p> +<p>The men-at-arms looked at each other, and guarded the door +more closely. Osmond saw it was hopeless, and only wanted +to draw his young charge back without being recognised, but +Richard exclaimed loudly, “What means this?”</p> +<p>“The King has given orders that none should pass without +warrant,” was Osmond’s answer. “We must +wait.”</p> +<p>“I will pass!” said Richard, impatient at +opposition, to which he was little accustomed. “What +mean you, Osmond? This is my Castle, and no one has a right +to stop me. Do you hear, grooms? let me go. I am the +Duke!”</p> +<p>The sentinels bowed, but all they said was, “Our orders +are express.”</p> +<p>“I tell you I am Duke of Normandy, and I will go where I +please in my own city!” exclaimed Richard, passionately +pressing against the crossed staves of the weapons, to force his +way between them, but he was caught and held fast in the powerful +gauntlet of one of the men-at-arms. “Let me go, +villain!” cried he, struggling with all his might. +“Osmond, Osmond, help!”</p> +<p>Even as he spoke Osmond had disengaged him from the grasp of +the Frenchman, and putting his hand on his arm, said, “Nay, +my Lord, it is not for you to strive with such as +these.”</p> +<p>“I will strive!” cried the boy. “I +will not have my way barred in my own Castle. I will tell +the King how these rogues of his use me. I will have them +in the dungeon. Sir Eric! where is Sir Eric?”</p> +<p>Away he rushed to the stairs, Osmond hurrying after him, lest +he should throw himself into some fresh danger, or by his loud +calls attract the French, who might then easily make him +prisoner. However, on the very first step of the stairs +stood Sir Eric, who was too anxious for the success of the +attempt to escape, to be very far off. Richard, too angry +to heed where he was going, dashed up against him without seeing +him, and as the old Baron took hold of him, began, “Sir +Eric, Sir Eric, those French are villains! they will not let me +pass—”</p> +<p>“Hush, hush! my Lord,” said Sir Eric. +“Silence! come here.”</p> +<p>However imperious with others, Richard from force of habit +always obeyed Sir Eric, and now allowed himself to be dragged +hastily and silently by him, Osmond following closely, up the +stairs, up a second and a third winding flight, still narrower, +and with broken steps, to a small round, thick-walled turret +chamber, with an extremely small door, and loop-holes of windows +high up in the tower. Here, to his great surprise, he found +Dame Astrida, kneeling and telling her beads, two or three of her +maidens, and about four of the Norman Squires and +men-at-arms.</p> +<p>“So you have failed, Osmond?” said the Baron.</p> +<p>“But what is all this? How did Fru Astrida come up +here? May I not go to the King and have those insolent +Franks punished?”</p> +<p>“Listen to me, Lord Richard,” said Sir Eric: +“that smooth-spoken King whose words so charmed you last +night is an ungrateful deceiver. The Franks have always +hated and feared the Normans, and not being able to conquer us +fairly, they now take to foul means. Louis came hither from +Flanders, he has brought this great troop of French to surprise +us, claim you as a ward of the crown, and carry you away with him +to some prison of his own.”</p> +<p>“You will not let me go?” said Richard.</p> +<p>“Not while I live,” said Sir Eric. +“Alberic is gone to warn the Count of Harcourt, to call the +Normans together, and here we are ready to defend this chamber to +our last breath, but we are few, the French are many, and succour +may be far off.”</p> +<p>“Then you meant to have taken me out of their reach this +morning, Osmond?”</p> +<p>“Yes, my Lord.”</p> +<p>“And if I had not flown into a passion and told who I +was, I might have been safe! O Sir Eric! Sir Eric! +you will not let me be carried off to a French prison!”</p> +<p>“Here, my child,” said Dame Astrida, holding out +her arms, “Sir Eric will do all he can for you, but we are +in God’s hands!”</p> +<p>Richard came and leant against her. “I wish I had +not been in a passion!” said he, sadly, after a silence; +then looking at her in wonder—“But how came you up +all this way?”</p> +<p>“It is a long way for my old limbs,” said Fru +Astrida, smiling, “but my son helped me, and he deems it +the only safe place in the Castle.”</p> +<p>“The safest,” said Sir Eric, “and that is +not saying much for it.”</p> +<p>“Hark!” said Osmond, “what a tramping the +Franks are making. They are beginning to wonder where the +Duke is.”</p> +<p>“To the stairs, Osmond,” said Sir Eric. +“On that narrow step one man may keep them at bay a long +time. You can speak their jargon too, and hold parley with +them.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps they will think I am gone,” whispered +Richard, “if they cannot find me, and go away.”</p> +<p>Osmond and two of the Normans were, as he spoke, taking their +stand on the narrow spiral stair, where there was just room for +one man on the step. Osmond was the lowest, the other two +above him, and it would have been very hard for an enemy to force +his way past them.</p> +<p>Osmond could plainly hear the sounds of the steps and voices +of the French as they consulted together, and sought for the +Duke. A man at length was heard clanking up these very +stairs, till winding round, he suddenly found himself close upon +young de Centeville.</p> +<p>“Ha! Norman!” he cried, starting back in +amazement, “what are you doing here?”</p> +<p>“My duty,” answered Osmond, shortly. +“I am here to guard this stair;” and his drawn sword +expressed the same intention.</p> +<p>The Frenchman drew back, and presently a whispering below was +heard, and soon after a voice came up the stairs, saying, +“Norman—good Norman—”</p> +<p>“What would you say?” replied Osmond, and the head +of another Frank appeared. “What means all this, my +friend?” was the address. “Our King comes as a +guest to you, and you received him last evening as loyal +vassals. Wherefore have you now drawn out of the way, and +striven to bear off your young Duke into secret places? +Truly it looks not well that you should thus strive to keep him +apart, and therefore the King requires to see him +instantly.”</p> +<p>“Sir Frenchman,” replied Osmond, “your King +claims the Duke as his ward. How that may be my father +knows not, but as he was committed to his charge by the states of +Normandy, he holds himself bound to keep him in his own hands +until further orders from them.”</p> +<p>“That means, insolent Norman, that you intend to shut +the boy up and keep him in your own rebel hands. You had +best yield—it will be the better for you and for him. +The child is the King’s ward, and he shall not be left to +be nurtured in rebellion by northern pirates.”</p> +<p>At this moment a cry from without arose, so loud as almost to +drown the voices of the speakers on the turret stair, a cry +welcome to the ears of Osmond, repeated by a multitude of voices, +“Haro! Haro! our little Duke!”</p> +<p>It was well known as a Norman shout. So just and so +ready to redress all grievances had the old Duke Rollo been, that +his very name was an appeal against injustice, and whenever wrong +was done, the Norman outcry against the injury was always +“Ha Rollo!” or as it had become shortened, +“Haro.” And now Osmond knew that those whose +affection had been won by the uprightness of Rollo, were +gathering to protect his helpless grandchild.</p> +<p>The cry was likewise heard by the little garrison in the +turret chamber, bringing hope and joy. Richard thought +himself already rescued, and springing from Fru Astrida, danced +about in ecstasy, only longing to see the faithful Normans, whose +voices he heard ringing out again and again, in calls for their +little Duke, and outcries against the Franks. The windows +were, however, so high, that nothing could be seen from them but +the sky; and, like Richard, the old Baron de Centeville was +almost beside himself with anxiety to know what force was +gathered together, and what measures were being taken. He +opened the door, called to his son, and asked if he could tell +what was passing, but Osmond knew as little—he could see +nothing but the black, cobwebbed, dusty steps winding above his +head, while the clamours outside, waxing fiercer and louder, +drowned all the sounds which might otherwise have come up to him +from the French within the Castle. At last, however, Osmond +called out to his father, in Norse, “There is a Frank Baron +come to entreat, and this time very humbly, that the Duke may +come to the King.”</p> +<p>“Tell him,” replied Sir Eric, “that save +with consent of the council of Normandy, the child leaves not my +hands.”</p> +<p>“He says,” called back Osmond, after a moment, +“that you shall guard him yourself, with as many as you +choose to bring with you. He declares on the faith of a +free Baron, that the King has no thought of ill—he wants to +show him to the Rouennais without, who are calling for him, and +threaten to tear down the tower rather than not see their little +Duke. Shall I bid him send a hostage?”</p> +<p>“Answer him,” returned the Baron, “that the +Duke leaves not this chamber unless a pledge is put into our +hands for his safety. There was an oily-tongued Count, who +sat next the King at supper—let him come hither, and then +perchance I may trust the Duke among them.”</p> +<p>Osmond gave the desired reply, which was carried to the +King. Meantime the uproar outside grew louder than ever, +and there were new sounds, a horn was winded, and there was a +shout of “<i>Dieu aide</i>!” the Norman war-cry, +joined with “Notre Dame de Harcourt!”</p> +<p>“There, there!” cried Sir Eric, with a long +breath, as if relieved of half his anxieties, “the boy has +sped well. Bernard is here at last! Now his head and +hand are there, I doubt no longer.”</p> +<p>“Here comes the Count,” said Osmond, opening the +door, and admitting a stout, burly man, who seemed sorely out of +breath with the ascent of the steep, broken stair, and very +little pleased to find himself in such a situation. The +Baron de Centeville augured well from the speed with which he had +been sent, thinking it proved great perplexity and distress on +the part of Louis. Without waiting to hear his hostage +speak, he pointed to a chest on which he had been sitting, and +bade two of his men-at-arms stand on each side of the Count, +saying at the same time to Fru Astrida, “Now, mother, if +aught of evil befalls the child, you know your part. Come, +Lord Richard.”</p> +<p>Richard moved forward. Sir Eric held his hand. +Osmond kept close behind him, and with as many of the men-at-arms +as could be spared from guarding Fru Astrida and her hostage, he +descended the stairs, not by any means sorry to go, for he was +weary of being besieged in that turret chamber, whence he could +see nothing, and with those friendly cries in his ears, he could +not be afraid.</p> +<p>He was conducted to the large council-room which was above the +hall. There, the King was walking up and down anxiously, +looking paler than his wont, and no wonder, for the uproar +sounded tremendous there—and now and then a stone dashed +against the sides of the deep window.</p> +<p>Nearly at the same moment as Richard entered by one door, +Count Bernard de Harcourt came in from the other, and there was a +slight lull in the tumult.</p> +<p>“What means this, my Lords?” exclaimed the +King. “Here am I come in all good will, in memory of +my warm friendship with Duke William, to take on me the care of +his orphan, and hold council with you for avenging his death, and +is this the greeting you afford me? You steal away the +child, and stir up the rascaille of Rouen against me. Is +this the reception for your King?”</p> +<p>“Sir King,” replied Bernard, “what your +intentions may be, I know not. All I do know is, that the +burghers of Rouen are fiercely incensed against you—so much +so, that they were almost ready to tear me to pieces for being +absent at this juncture. They say that you are keeping the +child prisoner in his own Castle and that they will have him +restored if they tear it down to the foundations.”</p> +<p>“You are a true man, a loyal man—you understand my +good intentions,” said Louis, trembling, for the Normans +were extremely dreaded. “You would not bring the +shame of rebellion on your town and people. Advise +me—I will do just as you counsel me—how shall I +appease them?”</p> +<p>“Take the child, lead him to the window, swear that you +mean him no evil, that you will not take him from us,” said +Bernard. “Swear it on the faith of a King.”</p> +<p>“As a King—as a Christian, it is true!” said +Louis. “Here, my boy! Wherefore shrink from +me? What have I done, that you should fear me? You +have been listening to evil tales of me, my child. Come +hither.”</p> +<p>At a sign from the Count de Harcourt, Sir Eric led Richard +forward, and put his hand into the King’s. Louis took +him to the window, lifted him upon the sill, and stood there with +his arm round him, upon which the shout, “Long live +Richard, our little Duke!” arose again. Meantime, the +two Centevilles looked in wonder at the old Harcourt, who shook +his head and muttered in his own tongue, “I will do all I +may, but our force is small, and the King has the best of +it. We must not yet bring a war on ourselves.”</p> +<p>“Hark! he is going to speak,” said Osmond.</p> +<p>“Fair Sirs!—excellent burgesses!” began the +King, as the cries lulled a little. <a name="citation11"></a><a +href="#footnote11" class="citation">[11]</a> “I +rejoice to see the love ye bear to our young Prince! I +would all my subjects were equally loyal! But wherefore +dread me, as if I were come to injure him? I, who came but +to take counsel how to avenge the death of his father, who +brought me back from England when I was a friendless exile. +Know ye not how deep is the debt of gratitude I owe to Duke +William? He it was who made me King—it was he who +gained me the love of the King of Germany; he stood godfather for +my son—to him I owe all my wealth and state, and all my +care is to render guerdon for it to his child, since, alas! +I may not to himself. Duke William rests in his bloody +grave! It is for me to call his murderers to account, and +to cherish his son, even as mine own!”</p> +<p>So saying, Louis tenderly embraced the little boy, and the +Rouennais below broke out into another cry, in which “Long +live King Louis,” was joined with “Long live +Richard!”</p> +<p>“You will not let the child go?” said Eric, +meanwhile, to Harcourt.</p> +<p>“Not without provision for his safety, but we are not +fit for war as yet, and to let him go is the only means of +warding it off.”</p> +<p>Eric groaned and shook his head; but the Count de +Harcourt’s judgment was of such weight with him, that he +never dreamt of disputing it.</p> +<p>“Bring me here,” said the King, “all that +you deem most holy, and you shall see me pledge myself to be your +Duke’s most faithful friend.”</p> +<p>There was some delay, during which the Norman Nobles had time +for further counsel together, and Richard looked wistfully at +them, wondering what was to happen to him, and wishing he could +venture to ask for Alberic.</p> +<p>Several of the Clergy of the Cathedral presently appeared in +procession, bringing with them the book of the Gospels on which +Richard had taken his installation oath, with others of the +sacred treasures of the Church, preserved in gold cases. +The Priests were followed by a few of the Norman Knights and +Nobles, some of the burgesses of Rouen, and, to Richard’s +great joy, by Alberic de Montémar himself. The two +boys stood looking eagerly at each other, while preparation was +made for the ceremony of the King’s oath.</p> +<p>The stone table in the middle of the room was cleared, and +arranged so as in some degree to resemble the Altar in the +Cathedral; then the Count de Harcourt, standing before it, and +holding the King’s hand, demanded of him whether he would +undertake to be the friend, protector, and good Lord of Richard, +Duke of Normandy, guarding him from all his enemies, and ever +seeking his welfare. Louis, with his hand on the Gospels, +“swore that so he would.”</p> +<p>“Amen!” returned Bernard the Dane, solemnly, +“and as thou keepest that oath to the fatherless child, so +may the Lord do unto thine house!”</p> +<p>Then followed the ceremony, which had been interrupted the +night before, of the homage and oath of allegiance which Richard +owed to the King, and, on the other hand, the King’s formal +reception of him as a vassal, holding, under him, the two +dukedoms of Normandy and Brittany. “And,” said +the King, raising him in his arms and kissing him, “no +dearer vassal do I hold in all my realm than this fair child, son +of my murdered friend and benefactor—precious to me as my +own children, as so on my Queen and I hope to testify.”</p> +<p>Richard did not much like all this embracing; but he was sure +the King really meant him no ill, and he wondered at all the +distrust the Centevilles had shown.</p> +<p>“Now, brave Normans,” said the King, “be ye +ready speedily, for an onset on the traitor Fleming. The +cause of my ward is my own cause. Soon shall the trumpet be +sounded, the ban and arrière ban of the realm be called +forth, and Arnulf, in the flames of his cities, and the blood of +his vassals, shall learn to rue the day when his foot trod the +Isle of Pecquigny! How many Normans can you bring to the +muster, Sir Count?”</p> +<p>“I cannot say, within a few hundreds of lances,” +replied the old Dane, cautiously; “it depends on the +numbers that may be engaged in the Italian war with the Saracens, +but of this be sure, Sir King, that every man in Normandy and +Brittany who can draw a sword or bend a bow, will stand forth in +the cause of our little Duke; ay, and that his blessed +father’s memory is held so dear in our northern home, that +it needs but a message to King Harold Blue-tooth to bring a fleet +of long keels into the Seine, with stout Danes enough to carry +fire and sword, not merely through Flanders, but through all +France. We of the North are not apt to forget old +friendships and favours, Sir King.”</p> +<p>“Yes, yes, I know the Norman faith of old,” +returned Louis, uneasily, “but we should scarcely need such +wild allies as you propose; the Count of Paris, and Hubert of +Senlis may be reckoned on, I suppose.”</p> +<p>“No truer friend to Normandy than gallant and wise old +Hugh the White!” said Bernard, “and as to Senlis, he +is uncle to the boy, and doubly bound to us.”</p> +<p>“I rejoice to see your confidence,” said +Louis. “You shall soon hear from me. In the +meantime I must return to gather my force together, and summon my +great vassals, and I will, with your leave, brave Normans, take +with me my dear young ward. His presence will plead better +in his cause than the finest words; moreover, he will grow up in +love and friendship with my two boys, and shall be nurtured with +them in all good learning and chivalry, nor shall he ever be +reminded that he is an orphan while under the care of Queen +Gerberge and myself.”</p> +<p>“Let the child come to me, so please you, my Lord the +King,” answered Harcourt, bluntly. “I must hold +some converse with him, ere I can reply.”</p> +<p>“Go then, Richard,” said Louis, “go to your +trusty vassal—happy are you in possessing such a friend; I +hope you know his value.”</p> +<p>“Here then, young Sir,” said the Count, in his +native tongue, when Richard had crossed from the King’s +side, and stood beside him, “what say you to this +proposal?”</p> +<p>“The King is very kind,” said Richard. +“I am sure he is kind; but I do not like to go from Rouen, +or from Dame Astrida.”</p> +<p>“Listen, my Lord,” said the Dane, stooping down +and speaking low. “The King is resolved to have you +away; he has with him the best of his Franks, and has so taken us +at unawares, that though I might yet rescue you from his hands, +it would not be without a fierce struggle, wherein you might be +harmed, and this castle and town certainly burnt, and wrested +from us. A few weeks or months, and we shall have time to +draw our force together, so that Normandy need fear no man, and +for that time you must tarry with him.”</p> +<p>“Must I—and all alone?”</p> +<p>“No, not alone, not without the most trusty guardian +that can be found for you. Friend Eric, what say +you?” and he laid his hand on the old Baron’s +shoulder. “Yet, I know not; true thou art, as a +Norwegian mountain, but I doubt me if thy brains are not too dull +to see through the French wiles and disguises, sharp as thou +didst show thyself last night.”</p> +<p>“That was Osmond, not I,” said Sir Eric. +“He knows their mincing tongue better than I. He were +the best to go with the poor child, if go he must.”</p> +<p>“Bethink you, Eric,” said the Count, in an +undertone, “Osmond is the only hope of your good old +house—if there is foul play, the guardian will be the first +to suffer.”</p> +<p>“Since you think fit to peril the only hope of all +Normandy, I am not the man to hold back my son where he may aid +him,” said old Eric, sadly. “The poor child +will be lonely and uncared-for there, and it were hard he should +not have one faithful comrade and friend with him.”</p> +<p>“It is well,” said Bernard: “young as he is, +I had rather trust Osmond with the child than any one else, for +he is ready of counsel, and quick of hand.”</p> +<p>“Ay, and a pretty pass it is come to,” muttered +old Centeville, “that we, whose business it is to guard the +boy, should send him where you scarcely like to trust my +son.”</p> +<p>Bernard paid no further attention to him, but, coming forward, +required another oath from the King, that Richard should be as +safe and free at his court as at Rouen, and that on no pretence +whatsoever should he be taken from under the immediate care of +his Esquire, Osmond Fitz Eric, heir of Centeville.</p> +<p>After this, the King was impatient to depart, and all was +preparation. Bernard called Osmond aside to give full +instructions on his conduct, and the means of communicating with +Normandy, and Richard was taking leave of Fru Astrida, who had +now descended from her turret, bringing her hostage with +her. She wept much over her little Duke, praying that he +might safely be restored to Normandy, even though she might not +live to see it; she exhorted him not to forget the good and holy +learning in which he had been brought up, to rule his temper, +and, above all, to say his prayers constantly, never leaving out +one, as the beads of his rosary reminded him of their +order. As to her own grandson, anxiety for him seemed +almost lost in her fears for Richard, and the chief things she +said to him, when he came to take leave of her, were directions +as to the care he was to take of the child, telling him the +honour he now received was one which would make his name forever +esteemed if he did but fulfil his trust, the most precious that +Norman had ever yet received.</p> +<p>“I will, grandmother, to the very best of my +power,” said Osmond; “I may die in his cause, but +never will I be faithless!”</p> +<p>“Alberic!” said Richard, “are you glad to be +going back to Montémar?”</p> +<p>“Yes, my Lord,” answered Alberic, sturdily, +“as glad as you will be to come back to Rouen.”</p> +<p>“Then I shall send for you directly, Alberic, for I +shall never love the Princes Carloman and Lothaire half as well +as you!”</p> +<p>“My Lord the King is waiting for the Duke,” said a +Frenchman, coming forward.</p> +<p>“Farewell then, Fru Astrida. Do not weep. I +shall soon come back. Farewell, Alberic. Take the +bar-tailed falcon back to Montémar, and keep him for my +sake. Farewell, Sir Eric—Farewell, Count +Bernard. When the Normans come to conquer Arnulf you will +lead them. O dear, dear Fru Astrida, farewell +again.”</p> +<p>“Farewell, my own darling. The blessing of Heaven +go with you, and bring you safe home! Farewell, +Osmond. Heaven guard you and strengthen you to be his +shield and his defence!”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<p>Away from the tall narrow gateway of Rollo’s Tower, with +the cluster of friendly, sorrowful faces looking forth from it, +away from the booth-like shops of Rouen, and the stout burghers +shouting with all the power of their lungs, “Long live Duke +Richard! Long live King Louis! Death to the +Fleming!”—away from the broad Seine—away from +home and friends, rode the young Duke of Normandy, by the side of +the palfrey of the King of France.</p> +<p>The King took much notice of him, kept him by his side, talked +to him, admired the beautiful cattle grazing in security in the +green pastures, and, as he looked at the rich dark brown earth of +the fields, the Castles towering above the woods, the Convents +looking like great farms, the many villages round the rude +Churches, and the numerous population who came out to gaze at the +party, and repeat the cry of “Long live the King! +Blessings on the little Duke!” he told Richard, again and +again, that his was the most goodly duchy in France and Germany +to boot.</p> +<p>When they crossed the Epte, the King would have Richard in the +same boat with him, and sitting close to Louis, and talking +eagerly about falcons and hounds, the little Duke passed the +boundary of his own dukedom.</p> +<p>The country beyond was not like Normandy. First they +came to a great forest, which seemed to have no path through +it. The King ordered that one of the men, who had rowed +them across, should be made to serve as guide, and two of the +men-at-arms took him between them, and forced him to lead the +way, while others, with their swords and battle-axes, cut down +and cleared away the tangled branches and briars that nearly +choked the path. All the time, every one was sharply on the +look-out for robbers, and the weapons were all held ready for use +at a moment’s notice. On getting beyond the forest a +Castle rose before them, and, though it was not yet late in the +day, they resolved to rest there, as a marsh lay not far before +them, which it would not have been safe to traverse in the +evening twilight.</p> +<p>The Baron of the Castle received them with great respect to +the King, but without paying much attention to the Duke of +Normandy, and Richard did not find the second place left for him +at the board. He coloured violently, and looked first at +the King, and then at Osmond, but Osmond held up his finger in +warning; he remembered how he had lost his temper before, and +what had come of it, and resolved to try to bear it better; and +just then the Baron’s daughter, a gentle-looking maiden of +fifteen or sixteen, came and spoke to him, and entertained him so +well, that he did not think much more of his offended +dignity.—When they set off on their journey again, the +Baron and several of his followers came with them to show the +only safe way across the morass, and a very slippery, +treacherous, quaking road it was, where the horses’ feet +left pools of water wherever they trod. The King and the +Baron rode together, and the other French Nobles closed round +them; Richard was left quite in the background, and though the +French men-at-arms took care not to lose sight of him, no one +offered him any assistance, excepting Osmond, who, giving his own +horse to Sybald, one of the two Norman grooms who accompanied +him, led Richard’s horse by the bridle along the whole +distance of the marshy path, a business that could scarcely have +been pleasant, as Osmond wore his heavy hauberk, and his pointed, +iron-guarded boots sunk deep at every step into the bog. He +spoke little, but seemed to be taking good heed of every stump of +willow or stepping-stone that might serve as a note of +remembrance of the path.</p> +<p>At the other end of the morass began a long tract of +dreary-looking, heathy waste, without a sign of life. The +Baron took leave of the King, only sending three men-at-arms, to +show him the way to a monastery, which was to be the next +halting-place. He sent three, because it was not safe for +one, even fully armed, to ride alone, for fear of the attacks of +the followers of a certain marauding Baron, who was at deadly +feud with him, and made all that border a most perilous +region. Richard might well observe that he did not like the +Vexin half as well as Normandy, and that the people ought to +learn Fru Astrida’s story of the golden bracelets, which, +in his grandfather’s time, had hung untouched for a year, +in a tree in a forest.</p> +<p>It was pretty much the same through the whole journey, waste +lands, marshes, and forests alternated. The Castles stood +on high mounds frowning on the country round, and villages were +clustered round them, where the people either fled away, driving +off their cattle with them at the first sight of an armed band, +or else, if they remained, proved to be thin, wretched-looking +creatures, with wasted limbs, aguish faces, and often iron +collars round their necks. Wherever there was anything of +more prosperous appearance, such as a few cornfields, vineyards +on the slopes of the hills, fat cattle, and peasantry looking +healthy and secure, there was sure to be seen a range of long low +stone buildings, surmounted with crosses, with a short square +Church tower rising in the midst, and interspersed with gnarled +hoary old apple-trees, or with gardens of pot-herbs spreading +before them to the meadows. If, instead of two or three +men-at-arms from a Castle, or of some trembling serf pressed into +the service, and beaten, threatened, and watched to prevent +treachery, the King asked for a guide at a Convent, some lay +brother would take his staff; or else mount an ass, and proceed +in perfect confidence and security as to his return homewards, +sure that his poverty and his sacred character would alike +protect him from any outrage from the most lawless marauder of +the neighbourhood.</p> +<p>Thus they travelled until they reached the royal Castle of +Laon, where the Fleur-de-Lys standard on the battlements +announced the presence of Gerberge, Queen of France, and her two +sons. The King rode first into the court with his Nobles, +and before Richard could follow him through the narrow arched +gateway, he had dismounted, entered the Castle, and was out of +sight. Osmond held the Duke’s stirrup, and followed +him up the steps which led to the Castle Hall. It was full +of people, but no one made way, and Richard, holding his +Squire’s hand, looked up in his face, inquiring and +bewildered.</p> +<p>“Sir Seneschal,” said Osmond, seeing a broad +portly old man, with grey hair and a golden chain, “this is +the Duke of Normandy—I pray you conduct him to the +King’s presence.”</p> +<p>Richard had no longer any cause to complain of neglect, for +the Seneschal instantly made him a very low bow, and calling +“Place—place for the high and mighty Prince, my Lord +Duke of Normandy!” ushered him up to the dais or raised +part of the floor, where the King and Queen stood together +talking. The Queen looked round, as Richard was announced, +and he saw her face, which was sallow, and with a sharp sour +expression that did not please him, and he backed and looked +reluctant, while Osmond, with a warning hand pressed on his +shoulder, was trying to remind him that he ought to go forward, +kneel on one knee, and kiss her hand.</p> +<p>“There he is,” said the King.</p> +<p>“One thing secure!” said the Queen; “but +what makes that northern giant keep close to his +heels?”</p> +<p>Louis answered something in a low voice, and, in the meantime, +Osmond tried in a whisper to induce his young Lord to go forward +and perform his obeisance.</p> +<p>“I tell you I will not,” said Richard. +“She looks cross, and I do not like her.”</p> +<p>Luckily he spoke his own language; but his look and air +expressed a good deal of what he said, and Gerberge looked all +the more unattractive.</p> +<p>“A thorough little Norwegian bear,” said the King; +“fierce and unruly as the rest. Come, and perform +your courtesy—do you forget where you are?” he added, +sternly.</p> +<p>Richard bowed, partly because Osmond forced down his shoulder; +but he thought of old Rollo and Charles the Simple, and his proud +heart resolved that he would never kiss the hand of that +sour-looking Queen. It was a determination made in pride +and defiance, and he suffered for it afterwards; but no more +passed now, for the Queen only saw in his behaviour that of an +unmannerly young Northman: and though she disliked and despised +him, she did not care enough about his courtesy to insist on its +being paid. She sat down, and so did the King, and they +went on talking; the King probably telling her his adventures at +Rouen, while Richard stood on the step of the dais, swelling with +sullen pride.</p> +<p>Nearly a quarter of an hour had passed in this manner when the +servants came to set the table for supper, and Richard, in spite +of his indignant looks, was forced to stand aside. He +wondered that all this time he had not seen the two Princes, +thinking how strange he should have thought it, to let his own +dear father be in the house so long without coming to welcome +him. At last, just as the supper had been served up, a side +door opened, and the Seneschal called, “Place for the high +and mighty Princes, my Lord Lothaire and my Lord Carloman!” +and in walked two boys, one about the same age as Richard, the +other rather less than a year younger. They were both thin, +pale, sharp-featured children, and Richard drew himself up to his +full height, with great satisfaction at being so much taller than +Lothaire.</p> +<p>They came up ceremoniously to their father and kissed his +hand, while he kissed their foreheads, and then said to them, +“There is a new play-fellow for you.”</p> +<p>“Is that the little Northman?” said Carloman, +turning to stare at Richard with a look of curiosity, while +Richard in his turn felt considerably affronted that a boy so +much less than himself should call him little.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said the Queen; “your father has +brought him home with him.”</p> +<p>Carloman stepped forward, shyly holding out his hand to the +stranger, but his brother pushed him rudely aside. “I +am the eldest; it is my business to be first. So, young +Northman, you are come here for us to play with.”</p> +<p>Richard was too much amazed at being spoken to in this +imperious way to make any answer. He was completely taken +by surprise, and only opened his great blue eyes to their utmost +extent.</p> +<p>“Ha! why don’t you answer? Don’t you +hear? Can you speak only your own heathen tongue?” +continued Lothaire.</p> +<p>“The Norman is no heathen tongue!” said Richard, +at once breaking silence in a loud voice. “We are as +good Christians as you are—ay, and better too.”</p> +<p>“Hush! hush! my Lord!” said Osmond.</p> +<p>“What now, Sir Duke,” again interfered the King, +in an angry tone, “are you brawling already? Time, +indeed, I should take you from your own savage court. Sir +Squire, look to it, that you keep your charge in better rule, or +I shall send him instantly to bed, supperless.”</p> +<p>“My Lord, my Lord,” whispered Osmond, “see +you not that you are bringing discredit on all of us?”</p> +<p>“I would be courteous enough, if they would be courteous +to me,” returned Richard, gazing with eyes full of defiance +at Lothaire, who, returning an angry look, had nevertheless +shrunk back to his mother. She meanwhile was saying, +“So strong, so rough, the young savage is, he will surely +harm our poor boys!”</p> +<p>“Never fear,” said Louis; “he shall be +watched. And,” he added in a lower tone, “for +the present, at least, we must keep up appearances. Hubert +of Senlis, and Hugh of Paris, have their eyes on us, and were the +boy to be missed, the grim old Harcourt would have all the +pirates of his land on us in the twinkling of an eye. We +have him, and there we must rest content for the present. +Now to supper.”</p> +<p>At supper, Richard sat next little Carloman, who peeped at him +every now and then from under his eyelashes, as if he was afraid +of him; and presently, when there was a good deal of talking +going on, so that his voice could not be heard, half whispered, +in a very grave tone, “Do you like salt beef or +fresh?”</p> +<p>“I like fresh,” answered Richard, with equal +gravity, “only we eat salt all the winter.”</p> +<p>There was another silence, and then Carloman, with the same +solemnity, asked, “How old are you?”</p> +<p>“I shall be nine on the eve of St. Boniface. How +old are you?”</p> +<p>“Eight. I was eight at Martinmas, and Lothaire was +nine three days since.”</p> +<p>Another silence; then, as Osmond waited on Richard, Carloman +returned to the charge, “Is that your Squire?”</p> +<p>“Yes, that is Osmond de Centeville.”</p> +<p>“How tall he is!”</p> +<p>“We Normans are taller than you French.”</p> +<p>“Don’t say so to Lothaire, or you will make him +angry.”</p> +<p>“Why? it is true.”</p> +<p>“Yes; but—” and Carloman sunk his +voice—“there are some things which Lothaire will not +hear said. Do not make him cross, or he will make my mother +displeased with you. She caused Thierry de Lincourt to be +scourged, because his ball hit Lothaire’s face.”</p> +<p>“She cannot scourge me—I am a free Duke,” +said Richard. “But why? Did he do it on +purpose?”</p> +<p>“Oh, no!”</p> +<p>“And was Lothaire hurt?”</p> +<p>“Hush! you must say Prince Lothaire. No; it was +quite a soft ball.”</p> +<p>“Why?” again asked Richard—“why was he +scourged?”</p> +<p>“I told you, because he hit Lothaire.”</p> +<p>“Well, but did he not laugh, and say it was +nothing? Alberic quite knocked me down with a great +snowball the other day, and Sir Eric laughed, and said I must +stand firmer.”</p> +<p>“Do you make snowballs?”</p> +<p>“To be sure I do! Do not you?”</p> +<p>“Oh, no! the snow is so cold.”</p> +<p>“Ah! you are but a little boy,” said Richard, in a +superior manner. Carloman asked how it was done; and +Richard gave an animated description of the snowballing, a +fortnight ago, at Rouen, when Osmond and some of the other young +men built a snow fortress, and defended it against Richard, +Alberic, and the other Squires. Carloman listened with +delight, and declared that next time it snowed, they would have a +snow castle; and thus, by the time supper was over, the two +little boys were very good friends.</p> +<p>Bedtime came not long after supper. Richard’s was +a smaller room than he had been used to at Rouen; but it amazed +him exceedingly when he first went into it: he stood gazing in +wonder, because, as he said, “It was as if he had been in a +church.”</p> +<p>“Yes, truly!” said Osmond. “No wonder +these poor creatures of French cannot stand before a Norman +lance, if they cannot sleep without glass to their windows. +Well! what would my father say to this?”</p> +<p>“And see! see, Osmond! they have put hangings up all +round the walls, just like our Lady’s church on a great +feast-day. They treat us just as if we were the holy +saints; and here are fresh rushes strewn about the floor, +too. This must be a mistake—it must be an oratory, +instead of my chamber.”</p> +<p>“No, no, my Lord; here is our gear, which I bade Sybald +and Henry see bestowed in our chamber. Well, these Franks +are come to a pass, indeed! My grandmother will never +believe what we shall have to tell her. Glass windows and +hangings to sleeping chambers! I do not like it I am sure we +shall never be able to sleep, closed up from the free air of +heaven in this way: I shall be always waking, and fancying I am +in the chapel at home, hearing Father Lucas chanting his +matins. Besides, my father would blame me for letting you +be made as tender as a Frank. I’ll have out this +precious window, if I can.”</p> +<p>Luxurious as the young Norman thought the King, the glazing of +Laon was not permanent. It consisted of casements, which +could be put up or removed at pleasure; for, as the court +possessed only one set of glass windows, they were taken down, +and carried from place to place, as often as Louis removed from +Rheims to Soissons, Laon, or any other of his royal castles; so +that Osmond did not find much difficulty in displacing them, and +letting in the sharp, cold, wintry breeze. The next thing +he did was to give his young Lord a lecture on his want of +courtesy, telling him that “no wonder the Franks thought he +had no more culture than a Viking (or pirate), fresh caught from +Norway. A fine notion he was giving them of the training he +had at Centeville, if he could not even show common civility to +the Queen—a lady! Was that the way Alberic had +behaved when he came to Rouen?”</p> +<p>“Fru Astrida did not make sour faces at him, nor call +him a young savage,” replied Richard.</p> +<p>“No, and he gave her no reason to do so; he knew that +the first teaching of a young Knight is to be courteous to +ladies—never mind whether fair and young, or old and foul +of favour. Till you learn and note that, Lord Richard, you +will never be worthy of your golden spurs.”</p> +<p>“And the King told me she would treat me as a +mother,” exclaimed Richard. “Do you think the +King speaks the truth, Osmond?”</p> +<p>“That we shall see by his deeds,” said Osmond.</p> +<p>“He was very kind while we were in Normandy. I +loved him so much better than the Count de Harcourt; but now I +think that the Count is best! I’ll tell you, Osmond, +I will never call him grim old Bernard again.”</p> +<p>“You had best not, sir, for you will never have a more +true-hearted vassal.”</p> +<p>“Well, I wish we were back in Normandy, with Fru Astrida +and Alberic. I cannot bear that Lothaire. He is +proud, and unknightly, and cruel. I am sure he is, and I +will never love him.”</p> +<p>“Hush, my Lord!—beware of speaking so loud. +You are not in your own Castle.”</p> +<p>“And Carloman is a chicken-heart,” continued +Richard, unheeding. “He does not like to touch snow, +and he cannot even slide on the ice, and he is afraid to go near +that great dog—that beautiful wolf-hound.”</p> +<p>“He is very little,” said Osmond.</p> +<p>“I am sure I was not as cowardly at his age, now was I, +Osmond? Don’t you remember?”</p> +<p>“Come, Lord Richard, I cannot let you wait to remember +everything; tell your beads and pray that we may be brought safe +back to Rouen; and that you may not forget all the good that +Father Lucas and holy Abbot Martin have laboured to teach +you.”</p> +<p>So Richard told the beads of his rosary—black polished +wood, with amber at certain spaces—he repeated a prayer +with every bead, and Osmond did the same; then the little Duke +put himself into a narrow crib of richly carved walnut; while +Osmond, having stuck his dagger so as to form an additional bolt +to secure the door, and examined the hangings that no secret +entrance might be concealed behind them, gathered a heap of +rushes together, and lay down on them, wrapped in his mantle, +across the doorway. The Duke was soon asleep; but the +Squire lay long awake, musing on the possible dangers that +surrounded his charge, and on the best way of guarding against +them.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<p>Osmond de Centeville was soon convinced that no immediate +peril threatened his young Duke at the Court of Laon. Louis +seemed to intend to fulfil his oaths to the Normans by allowing +the child to be the companion of his own sons, and to be treated +in every respect as became his rank. Richard had his proper +place at table, and all due attendance; he learnt, rode, and +played with the Princes, and there was nothing to complain of, +excepting the coldness and inattention with which the King and +Queen treated him, by no means fulfilling the promise of being as +parents to their orphan ward. Gerberge, who had from the +first dreaded his superior strength and his roughness with her +puny boys, and who had been by no means won by his manners at +their first meeting, was especially distant and severe with him, +hardly ever speaking to him except with some rebuke, which, it +must be confessed, Richard often deserved.</p> +<p>As to the boys, his constant companions, Richard was on very +friendly terms with Carlo-man, a gentle, timid, weakly +child. Richard looked down upon him; but he was kind, as a +generous-tempered boy could not fail to be, to one younger and +weaker than himself. He was so much kinder than Lothaire, +that Carloman was fast growing very fond of him, and looked up to +his strength and courage as something noble and marvellous.</p> +<p>It was very different with Lothaire, the person from whom, +above all others, Richard would have most expected to meet with +affection, as his father’s god-son, a relationship which in +those times was thought almost as near as kindred by blood. +Lothaire had been brought up by an indulgent mother, and by +courtiers who never ceased flattering him, as the heir to the +crown, and he had learnt to think that to give way to his +naturally imperious and violent disposition was the way to prove +his power and assert his rank. He had always had his own +way, and nothing had ever been done to check his faults; somewhat +weakly health had made him fretful and timid; and a latent +consciousness of this fearfulness made him all the more cruel, +sometimes because he was frightened, sometimes because he fancied +it manly.</p> +<p>He treated his little brother in a way which in these times +boys would call bullying; and, as no one ever dared to oppose the +King’s eldest son, it was pretty much the same with every +one else, except now and then some dumb creature, and then all +Lothaire’s cruelty was shown. When his horse kicked, +and ended by throwing him, he stood by, and caused it to be +beaten till the poor creature’s back streamed with blood; +when his dog bit his hand in trying to seize the meat with which +he was teazing it, he insisted on having it killed, and it was +worse still when a falcon pecked one of his fingers. It +really hurt him a good deal, and, in a furious rage, he caused +two nails to be heated red hot in the fire, intending to have +them thrust into the poor bird’s eyes.</p> +<p>“I will not have it done!” exclaimed Richard, +expecting to be obeyed as he was at home; but Lothaire only +laughed scornfully, saying, “Do you think you are master +here, Sir pirate?”</p> +<p>“I will not have it done!” repeated Richard. +“Shame on you, shame on you, for thinking of such an +unkingly deed.”</p> +<p>“Shame on me! Do you know to whom you speak, master +savage?” cried Lothaire, red with passion.</p> +<p>“I know who is the savage now!” said +Richard. “Hold!” to the servant who was +bringing the red-hot irons in a pair of tongs.</p> +<p>“Hold?” exclaimed Lothaire. “No one +commands here but I and my father. Go on +Charlot—where is the bird? Keep her fast, +Giles.”</p> +<p>“Osmond. You I can command—”</p> +<p>“Come away, my Lord,” said Osmond, interrupting +Richard’s order, before it was issued. “We have no +right to interfere here, and cannot hinder it. Come away +from such a foul sight.”</p> +<p>“Shame on you too, Osmond, to let such a deed be done +without hindering it!” exclaimed Richard, breaking from +him, and rushing on the man who carried the hot irons. The +French servants were not very willing to exert their strength +against the Duke of Normandy, and Richard’s onset, taking +the man by surprise, made him drop the tongs. Lothaire, +both afraid and enraged, caught them up as a weapon of defence, +and, hardly knowing what he did, struck full at Richard’s +face with the hot iron. Happily it missed his eye, and the +heat had a little abated; but, as it touched his cheek, it burnt +him sufficiently to cause considerable pain. With a cry of +passion, he flew at Lothaire, shook him with all his might, and +ended by throwing him at his length on the pavement. But +this was the last of Richard’s exploits, for he was at the +same moment captured by his Squire, and borne off, struggling and +kicking as if Osmond had been his greatest foe; but the young +Norman’s arms were like iron round him; and he gave over +his resistance sooner, because at that moment a whirring flapping +sound was heard, and the poor hawk rose high, higher, over their +heads in ever lessening circles, far away from her enemies. +The servant who held her, had relaxed his grasp in the +consternation caused by Lothaire’s fall, and she was +mounting up and up, spying, it might be, her way to her native +rocks in Iceland, with the yellow eyes which Richard had +saved.</p> +<p>“Safe! safe!” cried Richard, joyfully, ceasing his +struggles. “Oh, how glad I am! That young +villain should never have hurt her. Put me down, Osmond, +what are you doing with me?”</p> +<p>“Saving you from your—no, I cannot call it +folly,—I would hardly have had you stand still to see +such—but let me see your face.”</p> +<p>“It is nothing. I don’t care now the hawk is +safe,” said Richard, though he could hardly keep his lips +in order, and was obliged to wink very hard with his eyes to keep +the tears out, now that he had leisure to feel the smarting; but +it would have been far beneath a Northman to complain, and he +stood bearing it gallantly, and pinching his fingers tightly +together, while Osmond knelt down to examine the hurt. +“’Tis not much,” said he, talking to himself, +“half bruise, half burn—I wish my grandmother was +here—however, it can’t last long! ’Tis +right, you bear it like a little Berserkar, and it is no bad +thing that you should have a scar to show, that they may not be +able to say you did <i>all</i> the damage.”</p> +<p>“Will it always leave a mark?” said Richard. +“I am afraid they will call me Richard of the scarred +cheek, when we get back to Normandy.”</p> +<p>“Never mind, if they do—it will not be a mark to +be ashamed of, even if it does last, which I do not believe it +will.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no, I am so glad the gallant falcon is out of his +reach!” replied Richard, in a somewhat quivering voice.</p> +<p>“Does it smart much? Well, come and bathe it with +cold water—or shall I take you to one of the Queen’s +women?”</p> +<p>“No—the water,” said Richard, and to the +fountain in the court they went; but Osmond had only just begun +to splash the cheek with the half-frozen water, with a sort of +rough kindness, afraid at once of teaching the Duke to be +effeminate, and of not being as tender to him as Dame Astrida +would have wished, when a messenger came in haste from the King, +commanding the presence of the Duke of Normandy and his +Squire.</p> +<p>Lothaire was standing between his father and mother on their +throne-like seat, leaning against the Queen, who had her arm +round him; his face was red and glazed with tears, and he still +shook with subsiding sobs. It was evident he was just +recovering from a passionate crying fit.</p> +<p>“How is this?” began the King, as Richard +entered. “What means this conduct, my Lord of +Normandy? Know you what you have done in striking the heir +of France? I might imprison you this instant in a dungeon +where you would never see the light of day.”</p> +<p>“Then Bernard de Harcourt would come and set me +free,” fearlessly answered Richard.</p> +<p>“Do you bandy words with me, child? Ask Prince +Lothaire’s pardon instantly, or you shall rue +it.”</p> +<p>“I have done nothing to ask his pardon for. It +would have been cruel and cowardly in me to let him put out the +poor hawk’s eyes,” said Richard, with a +Northman’s stern contempt for pain, disdaining to mention +his own burnt cheek, which indeed the King might have seen +plainly enough.</p> +<p>“Hawk’s eyes!” repeated the King. +“Speak the truth, Sir Duke; do not add slander to your +other faults.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p124b.jpg"> +<img alt="False accusation" src="images/p124s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>“I have spoken the truth—I always speak it!” +cried Richard. “Whoever says otherwise lies in his +throat.”</p> +<p>Osmond here hastily interfered, and desired permission to tell +the whole story. The hawk was a valuable bird, and +Louis’s face darkened when he heard what Lothaire had +purposed, for the Prince had, in telling his own story, made it +appear that Richard had been the aggressor by insisting on +letting the falcon fly. Osmond finished by pointing to the +mark on Richard’s cheek, so evidently a burn, as to be +proof that hot iron had played a part in the matter. The +King looked at one of his own Squires and asked his account, and +he with some hesitation could not but reply that it was as the +young Sieur de Centeville had said. Thereupon Louis angrily +reproved his own people for having assisted the Prince in trying +to injure the hawk, called for the chief falconer, rated him for +not better attending to his birds, and went forth with him to see +if the hawk could yet be recaptured, leaving the two boys neither +punished nor pardoned.</p> +<p>“So you have escaped for this once,” said +Gerberge, coldly, to Richard; “you had better beware +another time. Come with me, my poor darling +Lothaire.” She led her son away to her own +apartments, and the French Squires began to grumble to each other +complaints of the impossibility of pleasing their Lords, since, +if they contradicted Prince Lothaire, he was so spiteful that he +was sure to set the Queen against them, and that was far worse in +the end than the King’s displeasure. Osmond, in the +meantime, took Richard to re-commence bathing his face, and +presently Carloman ran out to pity him, wonder at him for not +crying, and say he was glad the poor hawk had escaped.</p> +<p>The cheek continued inflamed and painful for some time, and +there was a deep scar long after the pain had ceased, but Richard +thought little of it after the first, and would have scorned to +bear ill-will to Lothaire for the injury.</p> +<p>Lothaire left off taunting Richard with his Norman accent, and +calling him a young Sea-king. He had felt his strength, and +was afraid of him; but he did not like him the better—he +never played with him willingly—scowled, and looked dark +and jealous, if his father, or if any of the great nobles took +the least notice of the little Duke, and whenever he was out of +hearing, talked against him with all his natural +spitefulness.</p> +<p>Richard liked Lothaire quite as little, contemning almost +equally his cowardly ways and his imperious disposition. +Since he had been Duke, Richard had been somewhat inclined to +grow imperious himself, though always kept under restraint by Fru +Astrida’s good training, and Count Bernard’s +authority, and his whole generous nature would have revolted +against treating Alberic, or indeed his meanest vassal, as +Lothaire used the unfortunate children who were his +playfellows. Perhaps this made him look on with great +horror at the tyranny which Lothaire exercised; at any rate he +learnt to abhor it more, and to make many resolutions against +ordering people about uncivilly when once he should be in +Normandy again. He often interfered to protect the poor +boys, and generally with success, for the Prince was afraid of +provoking such another shake as Richard had once given him, and +though he generally repaid himself on his victim in the end, he +yielded for the time.</p> +<p>Carloman, whom Richard often saved from his brother’s +unkindness, clung closer and closer to him, went with him +everywhere, tried to do all he did, grew very fond of Osmond, and +liked nothing better than to sit by Richard in some wide +window-seat, in the evening, after supper, and listen to +Richard’s version of some of Fru Astrida’s favourite +tales, or hear the never-ending history of sports at Centeville, +or at Rollo’s Tower, or settle what great things they would +both do when they were grown up, and Richard was ruling +Normandy—perhaps go to the Holy Land together, and +slaughter an unheard-of host of giants and dragons on the +way. In the meantime, however, poor Carloman gave small +promise of being able to perform great exploits, for he was very +small for his age and often ailing; soon tired, and never able to +bear much rough play. Richard, who had never had any reason +to learn to forbear, did not at first understand this, and made +Carloman cry several times with his roughness and violence, but +this always vexed him so much that he grew careful to avoid such +things for the future, and gradually learnt to treat his poor +little weakly friend with a gentleness and patience at which +Osmond used to marvel, and which he would hardly have been taught +in his prosperity at home.</p> +<p>Between Carloman and Osmond he was thus tolerably happy at +Laon, but he missed his own dear friends, and the loving +greetings of his vassals, and longed earnestly to be at Rouen, +asking Osmond almost every night when they should go back, to +which Osmond could only answer that he must pray that Heaven +would be pleased to bring them home safely.</p> +<p>Osmond, in the meantime, kept a vigilant watch for anything +that might seem to threaten danger to his Lord; but at present +there was no token of any evil being intended; the only point in +which Louis did not seem to be fulfilling his promises to the +Normans was, that no preparations were made for attacking the +Count of Flanders.</p> +<p>At Easter the court was visited by Hugh the White, the great +Count of Paris, the most powerful man in France, and who was only +prevented by his own loyalty and forbearance, from taking the +crown from the feeble and degenerate race of Charlemagne. +He had been a firm friend of William Longsword, and Osmond +remarked how, on his arrival, the King took care to bring Richard +forward, talk of him affectionately, and caress him almost as +much as he had done at Rouen. The Count himself was really +kind and affectionate to the little Duke; he kept him by his +side, and seemed to like to stroke down his long flaxen hair, +looking in his face with a grave mournful expression, as if +seeking for a likeness to his father. He soon asked about +the scar which the burn had left, and the King was obliged to +answer hastily, it was an accident, a disaster that had chanced +in a boyish quarrel. Louis, in fact, was uneasy, and +appeared to be watching the Count of Paris the whole time of his +visit, so as to prevent him from having any conversation in +private with the other great vassals assembled at the +court. Hugh did not seem to perceive this, and acted as if +he was entirely at his ease, but at the same time he watched his +opportunity. One evening, after supper, he came up to the +window where Richard and Carloman were, as usual, deep in story +telling; he sat down on the stone seat, and taking Richard on his +knee, he asked if he had any greetings for the Count de +Harcourt.</p> +<p>How Richard’s face lighted up! “Oh, +Sir,” he cried, “are you going to +Normandy?”</p> +<p>“Not yet, my boy, but it may be that I may have to meet +old Harcourt at the Elm of Gisors.”</p> +<p>“Oh, if I was but going with you.”</p> +<p>“I wish I could take you, but it would scarcely do for +me to steal the heir of Normandy. What shall I tell +him?”</p> +<p>“Tell him,” whispered Richard, edging himself +close to the Count, and trying to reach his ear, “tell him +that I am sorry, now, that I was sullen when he reproved +me. I know he was right. And, sir, if he brings with +him a certain huntsman with a long hooked nose, whose name is +Walter, <a name="citation12"></a><a href="#footnote12" +class="citation">[12]</a> tell him I am sorry I used to order him +about so unkindly. And tell him to bear my greetings to Fru +Astrida and Sir Eric, and to Alberic.”</p> +<p>“Shall I tell him how you have marked your +face?”</p> +<p>“No,” said Richard, “he would think me a +baby to care about such a thing as that!”</p> +<p>The Count asked how it happened, and Richard told the story, +for he felt as if he could tell the kind Count anything—it +was almost like that last evening that he had sat on his +father’s knee. Hugh ended by putting his arm round +him, and saying, “Well, my little Duke, I am as glad as you +are the gallant bird is safe—it will be a tale for my own +little Hugh and Eumacette <a name="citation13"></a><a +href="#footnote13" class="citation">[13]</a> at home—and +you must one day be friends with them as your father has been +with me. And now, do you think your Squire could come to my +chamber late this evening when the household is at +rest?”</p> +<p>Richard undertook that Osmond should do so, and the Count, +setting him down again, returned to the dais. Osmond, +before going to the Count that evening, ordered Sybald to come +and guard the Duke’s door. It was a long conference, +for Hugh had come to Laon chiefly for the purpose of seeing how +it went with his friend’s son, and was anxious to know what +Osmond thought of the matter. They agreed that at present +there did not seem to be any evil intended, and that it rather +appeared as if Louis wished only to keep him as a hostage for the +tranquillity of the borders of Normandy; but Hugh advised that +Osmond should maintain a careful watch, and send intelligence to +him on the first token of mischief.</p> +<p>The next morning the Count of Paris quitted Laon, and +everything went on in the usual course till the feast of +Whitsuntide, when there was always a great display of splendour +at the French court. The crown vassals generally came to +pay their duty and go with the King to Church; and there was a +state banquet, at which the King and Queen wore their crowns, and +every one sat in great magnificence according to their rank.</p> +<p>The grand procession to Church was over. Richard had +walked with Carloman, the Prince richly dressed in blue, +embroidered with golden fleur-de-lys, and Richard in scarlet, +with a gold Cross on his breast; the beautiful service was over, +they had returned to the Castle, and there the Seneschal was +marshalling the goodly and noble company to the banquet, when +horses’ feet were heard at the gate announcing some fresh +arrival. The Seneschal went to receive the guests, and +presently was heard ushering in the noble Prince, Arnulf, Count +of Flanders.</p> +<p>Richard’s face became pale—he turned from Carloman +by whose side he had been standing, and walked straight out of +the hall and up the stairs, closely followed by Osmond. In +a few minutes there was a knock at the door of his chamber, and a +French Knight stood there saying, “Comes not the Duke to +the banquet?”</p> +<p>“No,” answered Osmond: “he eats not with the +slayer of his father.”</p> +<p>“The King will take it amiss; for the sake of the child +you had better beware,” said the Frenchman, hesitating.</p> +<p>“He had better beware himself,” exclaimed Osmond, +indignantly, “how he brings the treacherous murderer of +William Longsword into the presence of a free-born Norman, unless +he would see him slain where he stands. Were it not for the +boy, I would challenge the traitor this instant to single +combat.”</p> +<p>“Well, I can scarce blame you,” said the Knight, +“but you had best have a care how you tread. +Farewell.”</p> +<p>Richard had hardly time to express his indignation, and his +wishes that he was a man, before another message came through a +groom of Lothaire’s train, that the Duke must fast, if he +would not consent to feast with the rest.</p> +<p>“Tell Prince Lothaire,” replied Richard, +“that I am not such a glutton as he—I had rather fast +than be choked with eating with Arnulf.”</p> +<p>All the rest of the day, Richard remained in his own chamber, +resolved not to run the risk of meeting with Arnulf. The +Squire remained with him, in this voluntary imprisonment, and +they occupied themselves, as best they could, with furbishing +Osmond’s armour, and helping each other out in repeating +some of the Sagas. They once heard a great uproar in the +court, and both were very anxious to learn its cause, but they +did not know it till late in the afternoon.</p> +<p>Carloman crept up to them—“Here I am at +last!” he exclaimed. “Here, Richard, I have +brought you some bread, as you had no dinner: it was all I could +bring. I saved it under the table lest Lothaire should see +it.”</p> +<p>Richard thanked Carloman with all his heart, and being very +hungry was glad to share the bread with Osmond. He asked +how long the wicked Count was going to stay, and rejoiced to hear +he was going away the next morning, and the King was going with +him.</p> +<p>“What was that great noise in the court?” asked +Richard.</p> +<p>“I scarcely like to tell you,” returned +Carloman.</p> +<p>Richard, however, begged to hear, and Carloman was obliged to +tell that the two Norman grooms, Sybald and Henry, had quarrelled +with the Flemings of Arnulf’s train; there had been a fray, +which had ended in the death of three Flemings, a Frank, and of +Sybald himself—And where was Henry? Alas! there was +more ill news—the King had sentenced Henry to die, and he +had been hanged immediately.</p> +<p>Dark with anger and sorrow grew young Richard’s face; he +had been fond of his two Norman attendants, he trusted to their +attachment, and he would have wept for their loss even if it had +happened in any other way; but now, when it had been caused by +their enmity to his father’s foes, the Flemings,—when +one had fallen overwhelmed by numbers, and the other been +condemned hastily, cruelly, unjustly, it was too much, and he +almost choked with grief and indignation. Why had he not +been there, to claim Henry as his own vassal, and if he could not +save him, at least bid him farewell? Then he would have +broken out in angry threats, but he felt his own helplessness, +and was ashamed, and he could only shed tears of passionate +grief, refusing all Carloman’s attempts to comfort +him. Osmond was even more concerned; he valued the two +Normans extremely for their courage and faithfulness, and had +relied on sending intelligence by their means to Rouen, in case +of need. It appeared to him as if the first opportunity had +been seized of removing these protectors from the little Duke, +and as if the designs, whatever they might be, which had been +formed against him, were about to take effect. He had +little doubt that his own turn would be the next; but he was +resolved to endure anything, rather than give the smallest +opportunity of removing him, to bear even insults with patience, +and to remember that in his care rested the sole hope of safety +for his charge.</p> +<p>That danger was fast gathering around them became more evident +every day, especially after the King and Arnulf had gone away +together. It was very hot weather, and Richard began to +weary after the broad cool river at Rouen, where he used to bathe +last summer; and one evening he persuaded his Squire to go down +with him to the Oise, which flowed along some meadow ground about +a quarter of a mile from the Castle; but they had hardly set +forth before three or four attendants came running after them, +with express orders from the Queen that they should return +immediately. They obeyed, and found her standing in the +Castle hall, looking greatly incensed.</p> +<p>“What means this?” she asked, angrily. +“Knew you not that the King has left commands that the Duke +quits not the Castle in his absence?”</p> +<p>“I was only going as far as the river—” +began Richard, but Gerberge cut him short. “Silence, +child—I will hear no excuses. Perhaps you think, +Sieur de Centeville, that you may take liberties in the +King’s absence, but I tell you that if you are found +without the walls again, it shall be at your peril; ay, and +his! I’ll have those haughty eyes put out, if you +disobey!”</p> +<p>She turned away, and Lothaire looked at them with his air of +gratified malice. “You will not lord it over your +betters much longer, young pirate!” said he, as he followed +his mother, afraid to stay to meet the anger he might have +excited by the taunt he could not deny himself the pleasure of +making; but Richard, who, six months ago could not brook a slight +disappointment or opposition, had, in his present life of +restraint, danger, and vexation, learnt to curb the first +outbreak of temper, and to bear patiently instead of breaking out +into passion and threats, and now his only thought was of his +beloved Squire.</p> +<p>“Oh, Osmond! Osmond!” he exclaimed, +“they shall not hurt you. I will never go out +again. I will never speak another hasty word. I will +never affront the Prince, if they will but leave you with +me!” <a name="citation14"></a><a href="#footnote14" +class="citation">[14]</a></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<p>It was a fine summer evening, and Richard and Carloman were +playing at ball on the steps of the Castle-gate, when a voice was +heard from beneath, begging for alms from the noble Princes in +the name of the blessed Virgin, and the two boys saw a pilgrim +standing at the gate, wrapt in a long robe of serge, with a staff +in his hand, surmounted by a Cross, a scrip at his girdle, and a +broad shady hat, which he had taken off, as he stood, making low +obeisances, and asking charity.</p> +<p>“Come in, holy pilgrim,” said Carloman. +“It is late, and you shall sup and rest here +to-night.”</p> +<p>“Blessings from Heaven light on you, noble +Prince,” replied the pilgrim, and at that moment Richard +shouted joyfully, “A Norman, a Norman! ’tis my own +dear speech! Oh, are you not from Normandy? Osmond, +Osmond! he comes from home!”</p> +<p>“My Lord! my own Lord!” exclaimed the pilgrim, +and, kneeling on one knee at the foot of the steps, he kissed the +hand which his young Duke held out to him—“This is +joy unlooked for!”</p> +<p>“Walter!—Walter, the huntsman!” cried +Richard. “Is it you? Oh, how is Fru Astrida, +and all at home?”</p> +<p>“Well, my Lord, and wearying to know how it is with +you—” began Walter—but a very different tone +exclaimed from behind the pilgrim, “What is all this? +Who is stopping my way? What! Richard would be King, +and more, would he? More insolence!” It was +Lothaire, returning with his attendants from the chase, in by no +means an amiable mood, for he had been disappointed of his +game.</p> +<p>“He is a Norman—a vassal of Richard’s +own,” said Carloman.</p> +<p>“A Norman, is he? I thought we had got rid of the +robbers! We want no robbers here! Scourge him +soundly, Perron, and teach him how to stop my way!”</p> +<p>“He is a pilgrim, my Lord,” suggested one of the +followers.</p> +<p>“I care not; I’ll have no Normans here, coming +spying in disguise. Scourge him, I say, dog that he +is! Away with him! A spy, a spy!”</p> +<p>“No Norman is scourged in my sight!” said Richard, +darting forwards, and throwing himself between Walter and the +woodsman, who was preparing to obey Lothaire, just in time to +receive on his own bare neck the sharp, cutting leathern thong, +which raised a long red streak along its course. Lothaire +laughed.</p> +<p>“My Lord Duke! What have you done? Oh, leave +me—this befits you not!” cried Walter, extremely +distressed; but Richard had caught hold of the whip, and called +out, “Away, away! run! haste, haste!” and the words +were repeated at once by Osmond, Carloman, and many of the +French, who, though afraid to disobey the Prince, were unwilling +to violate the sanctity of a pilgrim’s person; and the +Norman, seeing there was no help for it, obeyed: the French made +way for him and he effected his escape; while Lothaire, after a +great deal of storming and raging, went up to his mother to +triumph in the cleverness with which he had detected a Norman spy +in disguise.</p> +<p>Lothaire was not far wrong; Walter had really come to satisfy +himself as to the safety of the little Duke, and try to gain an +interview with Osmond. In the latter purpose he failed, +though he lingered in the neighbourhood of Laon for several days; +for Osmond never left the Duke for an instant, and he was, as has +been shown, a close prisoner, in all but the name, within the +walls of the Castle. The pilgrim had, however, the +opportunity of picking up tidings which made him perceive the +true state of things: he learnt the deaths of Sybald and Henry, +the alliance between the King and Arnulf, and the restraint and +harshness with which the Duke was treated; and with this +intelligence he went in haste to Normandy.</p> +<p>Soon after his arrival, a three days’ fast was observed +throughout the dukedom, and in every church, from the Cathedral +of Bayeux to the smallest and rudest village shrine, crowds of +worshippers were kneeling, imploring, many of them with tears, +that God would look on them in His mercy, restore to them their +Prince, and deliver the child out of the hands of his +enemies. How earnest and sorrowful were the prayers offered +at Centeville may well be imagined; and at Montémar sur +Epte the anxiety was scarcely less. Indeed, from the time +the evil tidings arrived, Alberic grew so restless and unhappy, +and so anxious to do something, that at last his mother set out +with him on a pilgrimage to the Abbey of Jumièges, to pray +for the rescue of his dear little Duke.</p> +<p>In the meantime, Louis had sent notice to Laon that he should +return home in a week’s time; and Richard rejoiced at the +prospect, for the King had always been less unkind to him than +the Queen, and he hoped to be released from his captivity within +the Castle. Just at this time he became very unwell; it +might have been only the effect of the life of unwonted +confinement which he had lately led that was beginning to tell on +his health; but, after being heavy and uncomfortable for a day or +two, without knowing what was the matter with him, he was one +night attacked with high fever.</p> +<p>Osmond was dreadfully alarmed, knowing nothing at all of the +treatment of illness, and, what was worse, fully persuaded that +the poor child had been poisoned, and therefore resolved not to +call any assistance; he hung over him all night, expecting each +moment to see him expire—ready to tear his hair with +despair and fury, and yet obliged to restrain himself to the +utmost quietness and gentleness, to soothe the suffering of the +sick child.</p> +<p>Through that night, Richard either tossed about on his narrow +bed, or, when his restlessness desired the change, sat, leaning +his aching head on Osmond’s breast, too oppressed and +miserable to speak or think. When the day dawned on them, +and he was still too ill to leave the room, messengers were sent +for him, and Osmond could no longer conceal the fact of his +sickness, but parleyed at the door, keeping out every one he +could, and refusing all offers of attendance. He would not +even admit Carloman, though Richard, hearing his voice, begged to +see him; and when a proposal was sent from the Queen, that a +skilful old nurse should visit and prescribe for the patient, he +refused with all his might, and when he had shut the door, walked +up and down, muttering, “Ay, ay, the witch! coming to +finish what she has begun!”</p> +<p>All that day and the next, Richard continued very ill, and +Osmond waited on him very assiduously, never closing his eyes for +a moment, but constantly telling his beads whenever the boy did +not require his attendance. At last Richard fell asleep, +slept long and soundly for some hours, and waked much +better. Osmond was in a transport of joy: “Thanks to +Heaven, they shall fail for this time and they shall never have +another chance! May Heaven be with us still!” +Richard was too weak and weary to ask what he meant, and for the +next few days Osmond watched him with the utmost care. As +for food, now that Richard could eat again, Osmond would not hear +of his touching what was sent for him from the royal table, but +always went down himself to procure food in the kitchen, where he +said he had a friend among the cooks, who would, he thought, +scarcely poison him intentionally. When Richard was able to +cross the room, he insisted on his always fastening the door with +his dagger, and never opening to any summons but his own, not +even Prince Carloman’s. Richard wondered, but he was +obliged to obey; and he knew enough of the perils around him to +perceive the reasonableness of Osmond’s caution.</p> +<p>Thus several days had passed, the King had returned, and +Richard was so much recovered, that he had become very anxious to +be allowed to go down stairs again, instead of remaining shut up +there; but still Osmond would not consent, though Richard had +done nothing all day but walk round the room, to show how strong +he was.</p> +<p>“Now, my Lord, guard the door—take care,” +said Osmond; “you have no loss to-day, for the King has +brought home Herluin of Montreuil, whom you would be almost as +loth to meet as the Fleming. And tell your beads while I am +gone, that the Saints may bring us out of our peril.”</p> +<p>Osmond was absent nearly half an hour, and, when he returned, +brought on his shoulders a huge bundle of straw. +“What is this for?” exclaimed Richard. “I +wanted my supper, and you have brought straw!”</p> +<p>“Here is your supper,” said Osmond, throwing down +the straw, and producing a bag with some bread and meat. +“What should you say, my Lord, if we should sup in Normandy +to-morrow night?”</p> +<p>“In Normandy!” cried Richard, springing up and +clapping his hands. “In Normandy! Oh, Osmond, +did you say in Normandy? Shall we, shall we really? +Oh, joy! joy! Is Count Bernard come? Will the King +let us go?”</p> +<p>“Hush! hush, sir! It must be our own doing; it +will all fail if you are not silent and prudent, and we shall be +undone.”</p> +<p>“I will do anything to get home again!”</p> +<p>“Eat first,” said Osmond.</p> +<p>“But what are you going to do? I will not be as +foolish as I was when you tried to get me safe out of +Rollo’s tower. But I should like to wish Carloman +farewell.”</p> +<p>“That must not be,” said Osmond; “we should +not have time to escape, if they did not still believe you very +ill in bed.”</p> +<p>“I am sorry not to wish Carloman good-bye,” +repeated Richard; “but we shall see Fru Astrida again, and +Sir Eric; and Alberic must come back! Oh, do let us +go! O Normandy, dear Normandy!”</p> +<p>Richard could hardly eat for excitement, while Osmond hastily +made his arrangements, girding on his sword, and giving Richard +his dagger to put into his belt. He placed the remainder of +the provisions in his wallet, threw a thick purple cloth mantle +over the Duke, and then desired him to lie down on the straw +which he had brought in. “I shall hide you in +it,” he said, “and carry you through the hall, as if +I was going to feed my horse.”</p> +<p>“Oh, they will never guess!” cried Richard, +laughing. “I will be quite still—I will make no +noise—I will hold my breath.”</p> +<p>“Yes, mind you do not move hand or foot, or rustle the +straw. It is no play—it is life or death,” said +Osmond, as he disposed the straw round the little boy. +“There, can you breathe?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Richard’s voice from the +midst. “Am I quite hidden?”</p> +<p>“Entirely. Now, remember, whatever happens, do not +move. May Heaven protect us! Now, the Saints be with +us!”</p> +<p>Richard, from the interior of the bundle heard Osmond set open +the door; then he felt himself raised from the ground; Osmond was +carrying him along down the stairs, the ends of the straw +crushing and sweeping against the wall. The only way to the +outer door was through the hall, and here was the danger. +Richard heard voices, steps, loud singing and laughter, as if +feasting was going on; then some one said, “Tending your +horse, Sieur de Centeville?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” Osmond made answer. “You know, +since we lost our grooms, the poor black would come off badly, +did I not attend to him.”</p> +<p>Presently came Carloman’s voice: “O Osmond de +Centeville! is Richard better?”</p> +<p>“He is better, my Lord, I thank you, but hardly yet out +of danger.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I wish he was well! And when will you let me +come to him, Osmond? Indeed, I would sit quiet, and not +disturb him.”</p> +<p>“It may not be yet, my Lord, though the Duke loves you +well—he told me so but now.”</p> +<p>“Did he? Oh, tell him I love him very +much—better than any one here—and it is very dull +without him. Tell him so, Osmond.”</p> +<p>Richard could hardly help calling out to his dear little +Carloman; but he remembered the peril of Osmond’s eyes and +the Queen’s threat, and held his peace, with some vague +notion that some day he would make Carloman King of France. +In the meantime, half stifled with the straw, he felt himself +carried on, down the steps, across the court; and then he knew, +from the darkness and the changed sound of Osmond’s tread, +that they were in the stable. Osmond laid him carefully +down, and whispered—“All right so far. You can +breathe?”</p> +<p>“Not well. Can’t you let me out?”</p> +<p>“Not yet—not for worlds. Now tell me if I +put you face downwards, for I cannot see.”</p> +<p>He laid the living heap of straw across the saddle, bound it +on, then led out the horse, gazing round cautiously as he did so; +but the whole of the people of the Castle were feasting, and +there was no one to watch the gates. Richard heard the +hollow sound of the hoofs, as the drawbridge was crossed, and +knew that he was free; but still Osmond held his arm over him, +and would not let him move, for some distance. Then, just +as Richard felt as if he could endure the stifling of the straw, +and his uncomfortable position, not a moment longer, Osmond +stopped the horse, took him down, laid him on the grass, and +released him. He gazed around; they were in a little wood; +evening twilight was just coming on, and the birds sang +sweetly.</p> +<p>“Free! free!—this is freedom!” cried +Richard, leaping up in the delicious cool evening breeze; +“the Queen and Lothaire, and that grim room, all far +behind.”</p> +<p>“Not so far yet,” said Osmond; “you must not +call yourself safe till the Epte is between us and them. +Into the saddle, my Lord; we must ride for our lives.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p152b.jpg"> +<img alt="Escape from captivity" src="images/p152s.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Osmond helped the Duke to mount, and sprang to the saddle +behind him, set spurs to the horse, and rode on at a quick rate, +though not at full speed, as he wished to spare the horse. +The twilight faded, the stars came out, and still he rode, his +arm round the child, who, as night advanced, grew weary, and +often sunk into a sort of half doze, conscious all the time of +the trot of the horse. But each step was taking him further +from Queen Gerberge, and nearer to Normandy; and what recked he +of weariness? On—on; the stars grew pale again, and +the first pink light of dawn showed in the eastern sky; the sun +rose, mounted higher and higher, and the day grew hotter; the +horse went more slowly, stumbled, and though Osmond halted and +loosed the girth, he only mended his pace for a little while.</p> +<p>Osmond looked grievously perplexed; but they had not gone much +further before a party of merchants came in sight, winding their +way with a long train of loaded mules, and stout men to guard +them, across the plains, like an eastern caravan in the +desert. They gazed in surprise at the tall young Norman +holding the child upon the worn-out war-horse.</p> +<p>“Sir merchant,” said Osmond to the first, +“see you this steed? Better horse never was ridden; +but he is sorely spent, and we must make speed. Let me +barter him with you for yonder stout palfrey. He is worth +twice as much, but I cannot stop to chaffer—ay or no at +once.”</p> +<p>The merchant, seeing the value of Osmond’s gallant +black, accepted the offer; and Osmond removing his saddle, and +placing Richard on his new steed, again mounted, and on they went +through the country which Osmond’s eye had marked with the +sagacity men acquire by living in wild, unsettled places. +The great marshes were now far less dangerous than in the winter, +and they safely crossed them. There had, as yet, been no +pursuit, and Osmond’s only fear was for his little charge, +who, not having recovered his full strength since his illness, +began to suffer greatly from fatigue in the heat of that broiling +summer day, and leant against Osmond patiently, but very wearily, +without moving or looking up. He scarcely revived when the +sun went down, and a cool breeze sprang up, which much refreshed +Osmond himself; and still more did it refresh the Squire to see, +at length, winding through the green pastures, a blue river, on +the opposite bank of which rose a high rocky mound, bearing a +castle with many a turret and battlement.</p> +<p>“The Epte! the Epte! There is Normandy, sir! +Look up, and see your own dukedom.” +“Normandy!” cried Richard, sitting upright. +“Oh, my own home!” Still the Epte was wide and +deep, and the peril was not yet ended. Osmond looked +anxiously, and rejoiced to see marks of cattle, as if it had been +forded. “We must try it,” he said, and +dismounting, he waded in, leading the horse, and firmly holding +Richard in the saddle. Deep they went; the water rose to +Richard’s feet, then to the horse’s neck; then the +horse was swimming, and Osmond too, still keeping his firm hold; +then there was ground again, the force of the current was less, +and they were gaining the bank. At that instant, however, +they perceived two men aiming at them with cross-bows from the +castle, and another standing on the bank above them, who called +out, “Hold! None pass the ford of Montémar +without permission of the noble Dame Yolande.” +“Ha! Bertrand, the Seneschal, is that you?” returned +Osmond. “Who calls me by my name?” replied the +Seneschal. “It is I, Osmond de Centeville. Open +your gates quickly, Sir Seneschal; for here is the Duke, sorely +in need of rest and refreshment.”</p> +<p>“The Duke!” exclaimed Bertrand, hurrying down to +the landing-place, and throwing off his cap. “The +Duke! the Duke!” rang out the shout from the men-at-arms on +the battlements above and in an instant more Osmond had led the +horse up from the water, and was exclaiming, “Look up, my +Lord, look up! You are in your own dukedom again, and this +is Alberic’s castle.”</p> +<p>“Welcome, indeed, most noble Lord Duke! Blessings +on the day!” cried the Seneschal. “What joy for +my Lady and my young Lord!”</p> +<p>“He is sorely weary,” said Osmond, looking +anxiously at Richard, who, even at the welcome cries that showed +so plainly that he was in his own Normandy, scarcely raised +himself or spoke. “He had been very sick ere I +brought him away. I doubt me they sought to poison him, and +I vowed not to tarry at Laon another hour after he was fit to +move. But cheer up, my Lord; you are safe and free now, and +here is the good Dame de Montémar to tend you, far better +than a rude Squire like me.”</p> +<p>“Alas, no!” said the Seneschal; “our Dame is +gone with young Alberic on a pilgrimage to Jumièges to +pray for the Duke’s safety. What joy for them to know +that their prayers have been granted!”</p> +<p>Osmond, however, could scarcely rejoice, so alarmed was he at +the extreme weariness and exhaustion of his charge, who, when +they brought him into the Castle hall, hardly spoke or looked, +and could not eat. They carried him up to Alberic’s +bed, where he tossed about restlessly, too tired to sleep.</p> +<p>“Alas! alas!” said Osmond, “I have been too +hasty. I have but saved him from the Franks to be his death +by my own imprudence.”</p> +<p>“Hush! Sieur de Centeville,” said the +Seneschal’s wife, coming into the room. “To +talk in that manner is the way to be his death, indeed. +Leave the child to me—he is only over-weary.”</p> +<p>Osmond was sure his Duke was among friends, and would have +been glad to trust him to a woman; but Richard had but one +instinct left in all his weakness and exhaustion—to cling +close to Osmond, as if he felt him his only friend and protector; +for he was, as yet, too much worn out to understand that he was +in Normandy and safe. For two or three hours, therefore, +Osmond and the Seneschal’s wife watched on each side of his +bed, soothing his restlessness, until at length he became quiet, +and at last dropped sound asleep.</p> +<p>The sun was high in the heavens when Richard awoke. He +turned on his straw-filled crib, and looked up. It was not +the tapestried walls of his chamber at Laon that met his opening +eyes, but the rugged stone and tall loop-hole window of a turret +chamber. Osmond de Centeville lay on the floor by his side, +in the sound sleep of one overcome by long watching and +weariness. And what more did Richard see?</p> +<p>It was the bright face and sparkling eyes of Alberic de +Montémar, who was leaning against the foot of his bed, +gazing earnestly, as he watched for his waking. There was a +cry—“Alberic! Alberic!” “My Lord! +my Lord!” Richard sat up and held out both arms, and +Alberic flung himself into them. They hugged each other, +and uttered broken exclamations and screams of joy, enough to +have awakened any sleeper but one so wearied out as Osmond.</p> +<p>“And is it true? Oh, am I really in Normandy +again?” cried Richard.</p> +<p>“Yes, yes!—oh, yes, my Lord! You are at +Montémar. Everything here is yours. The +bar-tailed hawk is quite well, and my mother will be here this +evening; she let me ride on the instant we heard the +news.”</p> +<p>“We rode long and late, and I was very weary,” +said Richard! “but I don’t care, now we are at +home. But I can hardly believe it! Oh, Alberic, it +has been very dreary!”</p> +<p>“See here, my Lord!” said Alberic, standing by the +window. “Look here, and you will know you are at home +again!”</p> +<p>Richard bounded to the window, and what a sight met his eyes! +The Castle court was thronged with men-at-arms and horses, the +morning sun sparkling on many a burnished hauberk and tall +conical helmet, and above them waved many a banner and pennon +that Richard knew full well. “There! there!” he +shouted aloud with glee. “Oh, there is the horse-shoe +of Ferrières! and there the chequers of Warenne! Oh, +and best of all, there is—there is our own red pennon of +Centeville! O Alberic! Alberic! is Sir Eric +here? I must go down to him!”</p> +<p>“Bertrand sent out notice to them all, as soon as you +came, to come and guard our Castle,” said Alberic, +“lest the Franks should pursue you; but you are safe +now—safe as Norman spears can make you—thanks be to +God!”</p> +<p>“Yes, thanks to God!” said Richard, crossing +himself and kneeling reverently for some minutes, while he +repeated his Latin prayer; then, rising and looking at Alberic, +he said, “I must thank Him, indeed, for he has saved Osmond +and me from the cruel King and Queen, and I must try to be a less +hasty and overbearing boy than I was when I went away; for I +vowed that so I would be, if ever I came back. Poor Osmond, +how soundly he sleeps! Come, Alberic, show me the way to Sir +Eric!”</p> +<p>And, holding Alberic’s hand, Richard left the room, and +descended the stairs to the Castle hall. Many of the Norman +knights and barons, in full armour, were gathered there; but +Richard looked only for one. He knew Sir Eric’s +grizzled hair, and blue inlaid armour, though his back was +towards him, and in a moment, before his entrance had been +perceived, he sprang towards him, and, with outstretched arms, +exclaimed: “Sir Eric—dear Sir Eric, here I am! Osmond +is safe! And is Fru Astrida well?”</p> +<p>The old Baron turned. “My child!” he +exclaimed, and clasped him in his mailed arms, while the tears +flowed down his rugged cheeks. “Blessed be God that +you are safe, and that my son has done his duty!”</p> +<p>“And is Fru Astrida well?”</p> +<p>“Yes, right well, since she heard of your safety. +But look round, my Lord; it befits not a Duke to be clinging thus +round an old man’s neck. See how many of your true +vassals be here, to guard you from the villain Franks.”</p> +<p>Richard stood up, and held out his hand, bowing courteously +and acknowledging the greetings of each bold baron, with a grace +and readiness he certainly had not when he left Normandy. +He was taller too; and though still pale, and not dressed with +much care (since he had hurried on his clothes with no help but +Alberic’s)—though his hair was rough and disordered, +and the scar of the burn had not yet faded from his +check—yet still, with his bright blue eyes, glad face, and +upright form, he was a princely, promising boy, and the Norman +knights looked at him with pride and joy, more especially when, +unprompted, he said: “I thank you, gallant knights, for +coming to guard me. I do not fear the whole French host now +I am among my own true Normans.”</p> +<p>Sir Eric led him to the door of the hall to the top of the +steps, that the men-at-arms might see him; and then such a shout +rang out of “Long live Duke +Richard!”—“Blessings on the little +Duke!”—that it echoed and came back again from the +hills around—it pealed from the old tower—it roused +Osmond from his sleep—and, if anything more had been +wanting to do so, it made Richard feel that he was indeed in a +land where every heart glowed with loyal love for him.</p> +<p>Before the shout had died away, a bugle-horn was heard winding +before the gate; and Sir Eric, saying, “It is the Count of +Harcourt’s note,” sent Bertrand to open the gates in +haste, while Alberic followed, as Lord of the Castle, to receive +the Count.</p> +<p>The old Count rode into the court, and to the foot of the +steps, where he dismounted, Alberic holding his stirrup. He +had not taken many steps upwards before Richard came voluntarily +to meet him (which he had never done before), held out his hand, +and said, “Welcome, Count Bernard, welcome. Thank you +for coming to guard me. I am very glad to see you once +more.”</p> +<p>“Ah, my young Lord,” said Bernard, “I am +right glad to see you out of the clutches of the Franks! You know +friend from foe now, methinks!”</p> +<p>“Yes, indeed I do, Count Bernard. I know you meant +kindly by me, and that I ought to have thanked you, and not been +angry, when you reproved me. Wait one moment, Sir Count; +there is one thing that I promised myself to say if ever I came +safe to my own dear home. +Walter—Maurice—Jeannot—all you of my household, +and of Sir Eric’s—I know, before I went away, I was +often no good Lord to you; I was passionate, and proud, and +overbearing; but God has punished me for it, when I was far away +among my enemies, and sick and lonely. I am very sorry for +it, and I hope you will pardon me; for I will strive, and I hope +God will help me, never to be proud and passionate +again.”</p> +<p>“There, Sir Eric,” said Bernard, “you hear +what the boy says. If he speaks it out so bold and free, +without bidding, and if he holds to what he says, I doubt it not +that he shall not grieve for his journey to France, and that we +shall see him, in all things, such a Prince as his father of +blessed memory.”</p> +<p>“You must thank Osmond for me,” said Richard, as +Osmond came down, awakened at length. “It is Osmond +who has helped me to bear my troubles; and as to saving me, why +he flew away with me even like an old eagle with its +eaglet. I say, Osmond, you must ever after this wear a pair +of wings on shield and pennon, to show how well we managed our +flight.” <a name="citation15"></a><a href="#footnote15" +class="citation">[15]</a></p> +<p>“As you will, my Lord,” said Osmond, half asleep; +“but ’twas a good long flight at a stretch, and I +trust never to have to fly before your foes or mine +again.”</p> +<p>What a glad summer’s day was that! Even the three hours +spent in council did but renew the relish with which Richard +visited Alberic’s treasures, told his adventures, and +showed the accomplishments he had learnt at Laon. The +evening was more joyous still; for the Castle gates were opened, +first to receive Dame Yolande Montémar, and not above a +quarter of an hour afterwards, the drawbridge was lowered to +admit the followers of Centeville; and in front of them appeared +Fru Astrida’s own high cap. Richard made but one +bound into her arms, and was clasped to her breast; then held off +at arm’s-length, that she might see how much he was grown, +and pity his scar; then hugged closer than ever: but, taking +another look, she declared that Osmond left his hair like King +Harald Horrid-locks; <a name="citation16"></a><a +href="#footnote16" class="citation">[16]</a> and, drawing an +ivory comb from her pouch, began to pull out the thick tangles, +hurting him to a degree that would once have made him rebel, but +now he only fondled her the more.</p> +<p>As to Osmond, when he knelt before her, she blessed him, and +sobbed over him, and blamed him for over-tiring her darling, all +in one; and assuredly, when night closed in and Richard had, as +of old, told his beads beside her knee, the happiest boy in +Normandy was its little Duke.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<p>Montémar was too near the frontier to be a safe abode +for the little Duke, and his uncle, Count Hubert of Senlis, +agreed with Bernard the Dane that he would be more secure beyond +the limits of his own duchy, which was likely soon to be the +scene of war; and, sorely against his will, he was sent in +secret, under a strong escort, first to the Castle of Coucy, and +afterwards to Senlis.</p> +<p>His consolation was, that he was not again separated from his +friends; Alberic, Sir Eric, and even Fru Astrida, accompanied +him, as well as his constant follower, Osmond. Indeed, the +Baron would hardly bear that he should be out of his sight; and +he was still so carefully watched, that it was almost like a +captivity. Never, even in the summer days, was he allowed +to go beyond the Castle walls; and his guardians would fain have +had it supposed that the Castle did not contain any such +guest.</p> +<p>Osmond did not give him so much of his company as usual, but +was always at work in the armourer’s forge—a low, +vaulted chamber, opening into the Castle court. Richard and +Alberic were very curious to know what he did there; but he +fastened the door with an iron bar, and they were forced to +content themselves with listening to the strokes of the hammer, +keeping time to the voice that sang out, loud and cheerily, the +song of “Sigurd’s sword, and the maiden sleeping +within the ring of flame.” Fru Astrida said Osmond +was quite right—no good weapon-smith ever toiled with open +doors; and when the boys asked him questions as to his work, he +only smiled, and said that they would see what it was when the +call to arms should come.</p> +<p>They thought it near at hand, for tidings came that Louis had +assembled his army, and marched into Normandy to recover the +person of the young Duke, and to seize the country. No +summons, however, arrived, but a message came instead, that Rouen +had been surrendered into the bands of the King. Richard +shed indignant tears. “My father’s +Castle! My own city in the hands of the foe! Bernard +is a traitor then! None shall hinder me from so calling +him. Why did we trust him?”</p> +<p>“Never fear, Lord Duke,” said Osmond. +“When you come to the years of Knighthood, your own sword +shall right you, in spite of all the false Danes, and falser +Franks, in the land.”</p> +<p>“What! you too, son Osmond? I deemed you carried a +cooler brain than to miscall one who was true to Rollo’s +race before you or yon varlet were born!” said the old +Baron.</p> +<p>“He has yielded my dukedom! It is mis-calling to +say he is aught but a traitor!” cried Richard. +“Vile, treacherous, favour-seeking—”</p> +<p>“Peace, peace, my Lord,” said the Baron. +“Bernard has more in that wary head of his than your young +wits, or my old ones, can unwind. What he is doing I may +not guess, but I gage my life his heart is right.”</p> +<p>Richard was silent, remembering he had been once unjust, but +he grieved heartily when he thought of the French in +Rollo’s tower, and it was further reported that the King +was about to share Normandy among his French vassals. A +fresh outcry broke out in the little garrison of Senlis, but Sir +Eric still persisted in his trust in his friend Bernard, even +when he heard that Centeville was marked out as the prey of the +fat French Count who had served for a hostage at Rouen.</p> +<p>“What say you now, my Lord?” said he, after a +conference with a messenger at the gate. “The Black +Raven has spread its wings. Fifty keels are in the Seine, +and Harald Blue-tooth’s Long Serpent at the head of +them.”</p> +<p>“The King of Denmark! Come to my aid!”</p> +<p>“Ay, that he is! Come at Bernard’s secret +call, to right you, and put you on your father’s +seat. Now call honest Harcourt a traitor, because he gave +not up your fair dukedom to the flame and sword!”</p> +<p>“No traitor to me,” said Richard, pausing. +“No, verily, but what more would you say?”</p> +<p>“I think, when I come to my dukedom, I will not be so +politic,” said Richard. “I will be an open +friend or an open foe.”</p> +<p>“The boy grows too sharp for us,” said Sir Eric, +smiling, “but it was spoken like his father.”</p> +<p>“He grows more like his blessed father each day,” +said Fru Astrida.</p> +<p>“But the Danes, father, the Danes!” said +Osmond. “Blows will be passing now. I may join +the host and win my spurs?”</p> +<p>“With all my heart,” returned the Baron, “so +my Lord here gives you leave: would that I could leave him and go +with you. It would do my very spirit good but to set foot +in a Northern keel once more.”</p> +<p>“I would fain see what these men of the North +are,” said Osmond.</p> +<p>“Oh! they are only Danes, not Norsemen, and there are no +Vikings, such as once were when Ragnar laid +waste—”</p> +<p>“Son, son, what talk is this for the child’s +ears?” broke in Fru Astrida, “are these words for a +Christian Baron?”</p> +<p>“Your pardon, mother,” said the grey warrior, in +all humility, “but my blood thrills to hear of a Northern +fleet at hand, and to think of Osmond drawing sword under a +Sea-King.”</p> +<p>The next morning, Osmond’s steed was led to the door, +and such men-at-arms as could be spared from the garrison of +Senlis were drawn up in readiness to accompany him. The +boys stood on the steps, wishing they were old enough to be +warriors, and wondering what had become of him, until at length +the sound of an opening door startled them, and there, in the low +archway of the smithy, the red furnace glowing behind him, stood +Osmond, clad in bright steel, the links of his hauberk reflecting +the light, and on his helmet a pair of golden wings, while the +same device adorned his long pointed kite-shaped shield.</p> +<p>“Your wings! our wings!” cried Richard, “the +bearing of Centeville!”</p> +<p>“May they fly after the foe, not before him,” said +Sir Eric. “Speed thee well, my son—let not our +Danish cousins say we learn Frank graces instead of Northern +blows.”</p> +<p>With such farewells, Osmond quitted Senlis, while the two boys +hastened to the battlements to watch him as long as he remained +in view.</p> +<p>The highest tower became their principal resort, and their +eyes were constantly on the heath where he had disappeared; but +days passed, and they grew weary of the watch, and betook +themselves to games in the Castle court.</p> +<p>One day, Alberic, in the character of a Dragon, was lying on +his back, panting hard so as to be supposed to cast out volumes +of flame and smoke at Richard, the Knight, who with a stick for a +lance, and a wooden sword, was waging fierce war; when suddenly +the Dragon paused, sat up, and pointed towards the warder on the +tower. His horn was at his lips, and in another moment, the +blast rang out through the Castle.</p> +<p>With a loud shout, both boys rushed headlong up the turret +stairs, and came to the top so breathless, that they could not +even ask the warder what he saw. He pointed, and the +keen-eyed Alberic exclaimed, “I see! Look, my Lord, a +speck there on the heath!”</p> +<p>“I do not see! where, oh where?”</p> +<p>“He is behind the hillock now, but—oh, there +again! How fast he comes!”</p> +<p>“It is like the flight of a bird,” said Richard, +“fast, fast—”</p> +<p>“If only it be not flight in earnest,” said +Alberic, a little anxiously, looking into the warder’s +face, for he was a borderer, and tales of terror of the inroad of +the Vicomte du Contentin were rife on the marches of the +Epte.</p> +<p>“No, young Sir,” said the warder, “no fear +of that. I know how men ride when they flee from the +battle.”</p> +<p>“No, indeed, there is no discomfiture in the pace of +that steed,” said Sir Eric, who had by this time joined +them.</p> +<p>“I see him clearer! I see the horse,” cried +Richard, dancing with eagerness, so that Sir Eric caught hold of +him, exclaiming, “You will be over the battlements! hold +still! better hear of a battle lost than that!”</p> +<p>“He bears somewhat in his hand,” said Alberic.</p> +<p>“A banner or pennon,” said the warder; +“methinks he rides like the young Baron.”</p> +<p>“He does! My brave boy! He has done good +service,” exclaimed Sir Eric, as the figure became more +developed. “The Danes have seen how we train our +young men.”</p> +<p>“His wings bring good tidings,” said +Richard. “Let me go, Sir Eric, I must tell Fru +Astrida.”</p> +<p>The drawbridge was lowered, the portcullis raised, and as all +the dwellers in the Castle stood gathered in the court, in rode +the warrior with the winged helm, bearing in his hand a drooping +banner; lowering it as he entered, it unfolded, and displayed, +trailing on the ground at the feet of the little Duke of +Normandy, the golden lilies of France.</p> +<p>A shout of amazement arose, and all gathered round him, asking +hurried questions. “A great victory—the King a +prisoner—Montreuil slain!”</p> +<p>Richard would not be denied holding his hand, and leading him +to the hall, and there, sitting around him, they heard his +tidings. His father’s first question was, what he +thought of their kinsmen, the Danes?</p> +<p>“Rude comrades, father, I must own,” said Osmond, +smiling, and shaking his head. “I could not pledge +them in a skull-goblet—set in gold though it +were.”</p> +<p>“None the worse warriors,” said Sir Eric. +“Ay, ay, and you were dainty, and brooked not the hearty +old fashion of tearing the whole sheep to pieces. You must +needs cut your portion with the fine French knife at your +girdle.”</p> +<p>Osmond could not see that a man was braver for being a savage, +but he held his peace; and Richard impatiently begged to hear how +the battle had gone, and where it had been fought.</p> +<p>“On the bank of the Dive,” said Osmond. +“Ah, father, you might well call old Harcourt +wary—his name might better have been Fox-heart than +Bear-heart! He had sent to the Franks a message of +distress, that the Danes were on him in full force, and to pray +them to come to his aid.”</p> +<p>“I trust there was no treachery. No foul dealing +shall be wrought in my name,” exclaimed Richard, with such +dignity of tone and manner, as made all feel he was indeed their +Duke, and forget his tender years.</p> +<p>“No, or should I tell the tale with joy like +this?” said Osmond. “Bernard’s view was +to bring the Kings together, and let Louis see you had friends to +maintain your right. He sought but to avoid +bloodshed.”</p> +<p>“And how chanced it?”</p> +<p>“The Danes were encamped on the Dive, and so soon as the +French came in sight, Blue-tooth sent a messenger to Louis, to +summon him to quit Neustria, and leave it to you, its lawful +owner. Thereupon, Louis, hoping to win him over with wily +words, invited him to hold a personal conference.”</p> +<p>“Where were you, Osmond?”</p> +<p>“Where I had scarce patience to be. Bernard had +gathered all of us honest Normans together, and arranged us +beneath that standard of the King, as if to repel his Danish +inroad. Oh, he was, in all seeming, hand-and-glove with +Louis, guiding him by his counsel, and, verily, seeming his +friend and best adviser! But in one thing he could not +prevail. That ungrateful recreant, Herluin of Montreuil, +came with the King, hoping, it seems, to get his share of our +spoils; and when Bernard advised the King to send him home, since +no true Norman could bear the sight of him, the hot-headed Franks +vowed no Norman should hinder them from bringing whom they +chose. So a tent was set up by the riverside, wherein the +two Kings, with Bernard, Alan of Brittany, and Count Hugh, held +their meeting. We all stood without, and the two hosts +began to mingle together, we Normans making acquaintance with the +Danes. There was a red-haired, wild-looking fellow, who +told me he had been with Anlaff in England, and spoke much of the +doings of Hako in Norway; when, suddenly, he pointed to a Knight +who was near, speaking to a Cotentinois, and asked me his +name. My blood boiled as I answered, for it was Montreuil +himself! ‘The cause of your Duke’s +death!’ said the Dane. ‘Ha, ye Normans are +fallen sons of Odin, to see him yet live!’”</p> +<p>“You said, I trust, my son, that we follow not the laws +of Odin?” said Fru Astrida.</p> +<p>“I had no space for a word, grandmother; the Danes took +the vengeance on themselves. In one moment they rushed on +Herluin with their axes, and the unhappy man was dead. All +was tumult; every one struck without knowing at whom, or for +what. Some shouted, ‘<i>Thor Hulfe</i>!’ some +‘<i>Dieu aide</i>!’ others ‘<i>Montjoie St. +Denis</i>!’ Northern blood against French, that was +all our guide. I found myself at the foot of this standard, +and had a hard combat for it; but I bore it away at +last.”</p> +<p>“And the Kings?”</p> +<p>“They hurried out of the tent, it seems, to rejoin their +men. Louis mounted, but you know of old, my Lord, he is but +an indifferent horseman, and the beast carried him into the midst +of the Danes, where King Harald caught his bridle, and delivered +him to four Knights to keep. Whether he dealt secretly with +them, or whether they, as they declared, lost sight of him whilst +plundering his tent, I cannot say; but when Harald demanded him +of them, he was gone.”</p> +<p>“Gone! is this what you call having the King +prisoner?”</p> +<p>“You shall hear. He rode four leagues, and met one +of the baser sort of Rouennais, whom he bribed to hide him in the +Isle of Willows. However, Bernard made close inquiries, +found the fellow had been seen in speech with a French horseman, +pounced on his wife and children, and threatened they should die +if he did not disclose the secret. So the King was forced +to come out of his hiding-place, and is now fast guarded in +Rollo’s tower—a Dane, with a battle-axe on his +shoulder, keeping guard at every turn of the stairs.”</p> +<p>“Ha! ha!” cried Richard. “I wonder how +he likes it. I wonder if he remembers holding me up to the +window, and vowing that he meant me only good!”</p> +<p>“When you believed him, my Lord,” said Osmond, +slyly.</p> +<p>“I was a little boy then,” said Richard, +proudly. “Why, the very walls must remind him of his +oath, and how Count Bernard said, as he dealt with me, so might +Heaven deal with him.”</p> +<p>“Remember it, my child—beware of broken +vows,” said Father Lucas; “but remember it not in +triumph over a fallen foe. It were better that all came at +once to the chapel, to bestow their thanksgivings where alone +they are due.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<p>After nearly a year’s captivity, the King engaged to pay +a ransom, and, until the terms could be arranged, his two sons +were to be placed as hostages in the hands of the Normans, whilst +he returned to his own domains. The Princes were to be sent +to Bayeux; whither Richard had returned, under the charge of the +Centevilles, and was now allowed to ride and walk abroad freely, +provided he was accompanied by a guard.</p> +<p>“I shall rejoice to have Carloman, and make him +happy,” said Richard; “but I wish Lothaire were not +coming.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps,” said good Father Lucas, “he comes +that you may have a first trial in your father’s last +lesson, and Abbot Martin’s, and return good for +evil.”</p> +<p>The Duke’s cheek flushed, and he made no answer.</p> +<p>He and Alberic betook themselves to the watch-tower, and, by +and by, saw a cavalcade approaching, with a curtained vehicle in +the midst, slung between two horses. “That cannot be +the Princes,” said Alberic; “that must surely be some +sick lady.”</p> +<p>“I only hope it is not the Queen,” exclaimed +Richard, in dismay. “But no; Lothaire is such a +coward, no doubt he was afraid to ride, and she would not trust +her darling without shutting him up like a demoiselle. But +come down, Alberic; I will say nothing unkind of Lothaire, if I +can help it.”</p> +<p>Richard met the Princes in the court, his sunny hair +uncovered, and bowing with such becoming courtesy, that Fru +Astrida pressed her son’s arm, and bade him say if their +little Duke was not the fairest and noblest child in +Christendom.</p> +<p>With black looks, Lothaire stepped from the litter, took no +heed of the little Duke, but, roughly calling his attendant, +Charlot, to follow him, he marched into the hall, vouchsafing +neither word nor look to any as he passed, threw himself into the +highest seat, and ordered Charlot to bring him some wine.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, Richard, looking into the litter, saw Carloman +crouching in a corner, sobbing with fright.</p> +<p>“Carloman!—dear Carloman!—do not cry. +Come out! It is I—your own Richard! Will you +not let me welcome you?”</p> +<p>Carloman looked, caught at the outstretched hand, and clung to +his neck.</p> +<p>“Oh, Richard, send us back! Do not let the savage +Danes kill us!”</p> +<p>“No one will hurt you. There are no Danes +here. You are my guest, my friend, my brother. Look +up! here is my own Fru Astrida.”</p> +<p>“But my mother said the Northmen would kill us for +keeping you captive. She wept and raved, and the cruel men +dragged us away by force. Oh, let us go back!”</p> +<p>“I cannot do that,” said Richard; “for you +are the King of Denmark’s captives, not mine; but I will +love you, and you shall have all that is mine, if you will only +not cry, dear Carloman. Oh, Fru Astrida, what shall I +do? You comfort him—” as the poor boy clung +sobbing to him.</p> +<p>Fru Astrida advanced to take his hand, speaking in a soothing +voice, but he shrank and started with a fresh cry of +terror—her tall figure, high cap, and wrinkled face, were +to him witch-like, and as she knew no French, he understood not +her kind words. However, he let Richard lead him into the +hall, where Lothaire sat moodily in the chair, with one leg +tucked under him, and his finger in his mouth.</p> +<p>“I say, Sir Duke,” said he, “is there +nothing to be had in this old den of yours? Not a drop of +Bordeaux?”</p> +<p>Richard tried to repress his anger at this very uncivil way of +speaking, and answered, that he thought there was none, but there +was plenty of Norman cider.</p> +<p>“As if I would taste your mean peasant drinks! I bade +them bring my supper—why does it not come?”</p> +<p>“Because you are not master here,” trembled on +Richard’s lips, but he forced it back, and answered that it +would soon be ready, and Carloman looked imploringly at his +brother, and said, “Do not make them angry, +Lothaire.”</p> +<p>“What, crying still, foolish child?” said +Lothaire. “Do you not know that if they dare to cross +us, my father will treat them as they deserve? Bring +supper, I say, and let me have a pasty of ortolans.”</p> +<p>“There are none—they are not in season,” +said Richard.</p> +<p>“Do you mean to give me nothing I like? I tell you +it shall be the worse for you.”</p> +<p>“There is a pullet roasting,” began Richard.</p> +<p>“I tell you, I do not care for pullets—I will have +ortolans.”</p> +<p>“If I do not take order with that boy, my name is not +Eric,” muttered the Baron.</p> +<p>“What must he not have made our poor child +suffer!” returned Fru Astrida, “but the little one +moves my heart. How small and weakly he is, but it is worth +anything to see our little Duke so tender to him.”</p> +<p>“He is too brave not to be gentle,” said Osmond; +and, indeed, the high-spirited, impetuous boy was as soft and +kind as a maiden, with that feeble, timid child. He coaxed +him to eat, consoled him, and, instead of laughing at his fears, +kept between him and the great bloodhound Hardigras, and drove it +off when it came too near.</p> +<p>“Take that dog away,” said Lothaire, +imperiously. No one moved to obey him, and the dog, in +seeking for scraps, again came towards him.</p> +<p>“Take it away,” he repeated, and struck it with +his foot. The dog growled, and Richard started up in +indignation.</p> +<p>“Prince Lothaire,” he said, “I care not what +else you do, but my dogs and my people you shall not +maltreat.”</p> +<p>“I tell you I am Prince! I do what I will! +Ha! who laughs there?” cried the passionate boy, stamping +on the floor.</p> +<p>“It is not so easy for French Princes to scourge +free-born Normans here,” said the rough voice of Walter the +huntsman: “there is a reckoning for the stripe my Lord Duke +bore for me.”</p> +<p>“Hush, hush, Walter,” began Richard; but Lothaire +had caught up a footstool, and was aiming it at the huntsman, +when his arm was caught.</p> +<p>Osmond, who knew him well enough to be prepared for such +outbreaks, held him fast by both hands, in spite of his +passionate screams and struggles, which were like those of one +frantic.</p> +<p>Sir Eric, meanwhile, thundered forth in his Norman patois, +“I would have you to know, young Sir, Prince though you be, +you are our prisoner, and shall taste of a dungeon, and bread and +water, unless you behave yourself.”</p> +<p>Either Lothaire did not hear, or did not believe, and fought +more furiously in Osmond’s arms, but he had little chance +with the stalwart young warrior, and, in spite of Richard’s +remonstrances, he was carried from the hall, roaring and kicking, +and locked up alone in an empty room.</p> +<p>“Let him alone for the present,” said Sir Eric, +putting the Duke aside, “when he knows his master, we shall +have peace.”</p> +<p>Here Richard had to turn, to reassure Carloman, who had taken +refuge in a dark corner, and there shook like an aspen leaf, +crying bitterly, and starting with fright, when Richard touched +him.</p> +<p>“Oh, do not put me in the dungeon. I cannot bear +the dark.”</p> +<p>Richard again tried to comfort him, but he did not seem to +hear or heed. “Oh! they said you would beat and hurt +us for what we did to you! but, indeed, it was not I that burnt +your cheek!”</p> +<p>“We would not hurt you for worlds, dear Carloman; +Lothaire is not in the dungeon—he is only shut up till he +is good.”</p> +<p>“It was Lothaire that did it,” repeated Carloman, +“and, indeed, you must not be angry with me, for my mother +was so cross with me for not having stopped Osmond when I met him +with the bundle of straw, that she gave me a blow, that knocked +me down. And were you really there, Richard?”</p> +<p>Richard told his story, and was glad to find Carloman could +smile at it; and then Fru Astrida advised him to take his little +friend to bed. Carloman would not lie down without still +holding Richard’s hand, and the little Duke spared no pains +to set him at rest, knowing what it was to be a desolate captive +far from home.</p> +<p>“I thought you would be good to me,” said +Carloman. “As to Lothaire, it serves him right, that +you should use him as he used you.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no, Carloman; if I had a brother I would never +speak so of him.”</p> +<p>“But Lothaire is so unkind.”</p> +<p>“Ah! but we must be kind to those who are unkind to +us.”</p> +<p>The child rose on his elbow, and looked into Richard’s +face. “No one ever told me so before.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Carloman, not Brother Hilary?”</p> +<p>“I never heed Brother Hilary—he is so lengthy, and +wearisome; besides, no one is ever kind to those that hate +them.”</p> +<p>“My father was,” said Richard.</p> +<p>“And they killed him!” said Carloman.</p> +<p>“Yes,” said Richard, crossing himself, “but +he is gone to be in peace.”</p> +<p>“I wonder if it is happier there, than here,” said +Carloman. “I am not happy. But tell me why +should we be good to those that hate us?”</p> +<p>“Because the holy Saints were—and look at the +Crucifix, Carloman. That was for them that hated Him. +And, don’t you know what our Pater Noster says?”</p> +<p>Poor little Carloman could only repeat the Lord’s Prayer +in Latin—he had not the least notion of its +meaning—in which Richard had been carefully instructed by +Father Lucas. He began to explain it, but before many words +had passed his lips, little Carloman was asleep.</p> +<p>The Duke crept softly away to beg to be allowed to go to +Lothaire; he entered the room, already dark, with a pine torch in +his hand, that so flickered in the wind, that he could at first +see nothing, but presently beheld a dark lump on the floor.</p> +<p>“Prince Lothaire,” he said, “here +is—”</p> +<p>Lothaire cut him short. “Get away,” he +said. “If it is your turn now, it will be mine by and +by. I wish my mother had kept her word, and put your eyes +out.”</p> +<p>Richard’s temper did not serve for such a reply. +“It is a foul shame of you to speak so, when I only came +out of kindness to you—so I shall leave you here all night, +and not ask Sir Eric to let you out.”</p> +<p>And he swung back the heavy door with a resounding +clang. But his heart smote him when he told his beads, and +remembered what he had said to Carloman. He knew he could +not sleep in his warm bed when Lothaire was in that cold gusty +room. To be sure, Sir Eric said it would do him good, but +Sir Eric little knew how tender the French Princes were.</p> +<p>So Richard crept down in the dark, slid back the bolt, and +called, “Prince, Prince, I am sorry I was angry. Come +out, and let us try to be friends.”</p> +<p>“What do you mean?” said Lothaire.</p> +<p>“Come out of the cold and dark. Here am I. I +will show you the way. Where is your hand? Oh, how +cold it is. Let me lead you down to the hall +fire.”</p> +<p>Lothaire was subdued by fright, cold, and darkness, and +quietly allowed Richard to lead him down. Round the fire, +at the lower end of the hall, snored half-a-dozen men-at-arms; at +the upper hearth there was only Hardigras, who raised his head as +the boys came in. Richard’s whisper and soft pat +quieted him instantly, and the two little Princes sat on the +hearth together, Lothaire surprised, but sullen. Richard +stirred the embers, so as to bring out more heat, then spoke: +“Prince, will you let us be friends?”</p> +<p>“I must, if I am in your power.”</p> +<p>“I wish you would be my guest and comrade.”</p> +<p>“Well, I will; I can’t help it.”</p> +<p>Richard thought his advances might have been more graciously +met, and, having little encouragement to say more, took Lothaire +to bed, as soon as he was warm.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<p>As the Baron had said, there was more peace now that Lothaire +had learnt to know that he must submit, and that no one cared for +his threats of his father’s or his mother’s +vengeance. He was very sulky and disagreeable, and severely +tried Richard’s forbearance; but there were no fresh +outbursts, and, on the whole, from one week to another, there +might be said to be an improvement. He could not always +hold aloof from one so good-natured and good-humoured as the +little Duke; and the fact of being kept in order could not but +have some beneficial effect on him, after such spoiling as his +had been at home.</p> +<p>Indeed, Osmond was once heard to say, it was a pity the boy +was not to be a hostage for life; to which Sir Eric replied, +“So long as we have not the training of him.”</p> +<p>Little Carloman, meanwhile, recovered from his fears of all +the inmates of the Castle excepting Hardigras, at whose approach +he always shrank and trembled.</p> +<p>He renewed his friendship with Osmond, no longer started at +the entrance of Sir Eric, laughed at Alberic’s merry ways, +and liked to sit on Fru Astrida’s lap, and hear her sing, +though he understood not one word; but his especial love was +still for his first friend, Duke Richard. Hand-in-hand they +went about together, Richard sometimes lifting him up the steep +steps, and, out of consideration for him, refraining from rough +play; and Richard led him to join with him in those lessons that +Father Lucas gave the children of the Castle, every Friday and +Sunday evening in the Chapel. The good Priest stood on the +Altar steps, with the children in a half circle round +him—the son and daughter of the armourer, the +huntsman’s little son, the young Baron de Montémar, +the Duke of Normandy, and the Prince of France, all were equal +there—and together they learnt, as he explained to them the +things most needful to believe; and thus Carloman left off +wondering why Richard thought it right to be good to his enemies; +and though at first he had known less than even the little +leather-coated huntsman, he seemed to take the holy lessons in +faster than any of them—yes, and act on them, too. +His feeble health seemed to make him enter into their comfort and +meaning more than even Richard; and Alberic and Father Lucas soon +told Fru Astrida that it was a saintly-minded child.</p> +<p>Indeed, Carloman was more disposed to thoughtfulness, because +he was incapable of joining in the sports of the other +boys. A race round the court was beyond his strength, the +fresh wind on the battlements made him shiver and cower, and loud +shouting play was dreadful to him. In old times, he used to +cry when Lothaire told him he must have his hair cut, and be a +priest; now, he only said quietly, he should like it very much, +if he could be good enough.</p> +<p>Fru Astrida sighed and shook her head, and feared the poor +child would never grow up to be anything on this earth. +Great as had been the difference at first between him and +Richard, it was now far greater. Richard was an unusually +strong boy for ten years old, upright and broad-chested, and +growing very fast; while Carloman seemed to dwindle, stooped +forward from weakness, had thin pinched features, and sallow +cheeks, looking like a plant kept in the dark.</p> +<p>The old Baron said that hardy, healthy habits would restore +the puny children; and Lothaire improved in health, and therewith +in temper; but his little brother had not strength enough to bear +the seasoning. He pined and drooped more each day; and as +the autumn came on, and the wind was chilly, he grew worse, and +was scarcely ever off the lap of the kind Lady Astrida. It +was not a settled sickness, but he grew weaker, and wasted +away. They made up a little couch for him by the fire, with +the high settle between it and the door, to keep off the +draughts; and there he used patiently to lie, hour after hour, +speaking feebly, or smiling and seeming pleased, when any one of +those he loved approached. He liked Father Lucas to come +and say prayers with him; and he never failed to have a glad +look, when his dear little Duke came to talk to him, in his +cheerful voice, about his rides and his hunting and hawking +adventures. Richard’s sick guest took up much of his +thoughts, and he never willingly spent many hours at a distance +from him, softening his step and lowering his voice, as he +entered the hall, lest Carloman should be asleep.</p> +<p>“Richard, is it you?” said the little boy, as the +young figure came round the settle in the darkening twilight.</p> +<p>“Yes. How do you feel now, Carloman; are you +better?”</p> +<p>“No better, thanks, dear Richard;” and the little +wasted fingers were put into his.</p> +<p>“Has the pain come again?”</p> +<p>“No; I have been lying still, musing; Richard, I shall +never be better.”</p> +<p>“Oh, do not say so! You will, indeed you will, +when spring comes.”</p> +<p>“I feel as if I should die,” said the little boy; +“I think I shall. But do not grieve, Richard. I +do not feel much afraid. You said it was happier there than +here, and I know it now.”</p> +<p>“Where my blessed father is,” said Richard, +thoughtfully. “But oh, Carloman, you are so young to +die!”</p> +<p>“I do not want to live. This is a fighting, hard +world, full of cruel people; and it is peace there. You are +strong and brave, and will make them better; but I am weak and +fearful—I could only sigh and grieve.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Carloman! Carloman! I cannot spare +you. I love you like my own brother. You must not +die—you must live to see your father and mother +again!”</p> +<p>“Commend me to them,” said Carloman. +“I am going to my Father in heaven. I am glad I am +here, Richard; I never was so happy before. I should have +been afraid indeed to die, if Father Lucas had not taught me how +my sins are pardoned. Now, I think the Saints and Angels +are waiting for me.”</p> +<p>He spoke feebly, and his last words faltered into sleep. +He slept on; and when supper was brought, and the lamps were +lighted, Fru Astrida thought the little face looked unusually +pale and waxen; but he did not awake. At night, they +carried him to his bed, and he was roused into a half conscious +state, moaning at being disturbed. Fru Astrida would not +leave him, and Father Lucas shared her watch.</p> +<p>At midnight, all were wakened by the slow notes, falling one +by one on the ear, of the solemn passing-bell, calling them to +waken, that their prayers might speed a soul on its way. +Richard and Lothaire were soon at the bedside. Carloman lay +still asleep, his hands folded on his breast, but his breath came +in long gasps. Father Lucas was praying over him, and +candles were placed on each side of the bed. All was still, +the boys not daring to speak or move. There came a longer +breath—then they heard no more. He was, indeed, gone +to a happier home—a truer royalty than ever had been his on +earth.</p> +<p>Then the boys’ grief burst out. Lothaire screamed +for his mother, and sobbed out that he should die too—he +must go home. Richard stood by the bed, large silent tears +rolling down his cheeks, and his chest heaving with suppressed +sobs.</p> +<p>Fru Astrida led them from the room, back to their beds. +Lothaire soon cried himself to sleep. Richard lay awake, +sorrowful, and in deep thought; while that scene in St. +Mary’s, at Rouen, returned before his eyes, and though it +had passed nearly two years ago, its meaning and its teaching had +sunk deep into his mind, and now stood before him more +completely.</p> +<p>“Where shall I go, when I come to die, if I have not +returned good for evil?” And a resolution was taken +in the mind of the little Duke.</p> +<p>Morning came, and brought back the sense that his gentle +little companion was gone from him; and Richard wept again, as if +he could not be consoled, as he beheld the screened couch where +the patient smile would never again greet him. He now knew +that he had loved Carloman all the more for his weakness and +helplessness; but his grief was not like Lothaire’s, for +with the Prince’s was still joined a selfish fear: his cry +was still, that he should die too, if not set free, and violent +weeping really made him heavy and ill.</p> +<p>The little corpse, embalmed and lapped in lead, was to be sent +back to France, that it might rest with its forefathers in the +city of Rheims; and Lothaire seemed to feel this as an additional +stroke of desertion. He was almost beside himself with +despair, imploring every one, in turn, to send him home, though +he well knew they were unable to do so.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<p>“Sir Eric,” said Richard, “you told me there +was a Parlement to be held at Falaise, between Count Bernard and +the King of Denmark. I mean to attend it. Will you +come with me, or shall Osmond go, and you remain in charge of the +Prince?”</p> +<p>“How now, Lord Richard, you were not wont to love a +Parlement?”</p> +<p>“I have something to say,” replied Richard. +The Baron made no objection, only telling his mother that the +Duke was a marvellous wise child, and that he would soon be fit +to take the government himself.</p> +<p>Lothaire lamented the more when he found that Richard was +going away; his presence seemed to him a protection, and he +fancied, now Carloman was dead, that his former injuries were +about to be revenged. The Duke assured him, repeatedly, +that he meant him nothing but kindness, adding, “When I +return, you will see, Lothaire;” then, commending him to +the care and kindness of Fru Astrida, Osmond, and Alberic, +Richard set forth upon his pony, attended by Sir Eric and three +men-at-arms.</p> +<p>Richard felt sad when he looked back at Bayeux, and thought +that it no longer contained his dear little friend; but it was a +fresh bright frosty morning, the fields were covered with a +silvery-white coating, the flakes of hoar-frost sparkled on every +bush, and the hard ground rung cheerily to the tread of the +horses’ feet. As the yellow sun fought his way +through the grey mists that dimmed his brightness, and shone out +merrily in the blue heights of the sky, Richard’s spirits +rose, and he laughed and shouted, as hare or rabbit rushed across +the heath, or as the plover rose screaming above his head, +flapping her broad wings across the wintry sky.</p> +<p>One night they slept at a Convent, where they heard that Hugh +of Paris had passed on to join the conference at Falaise. +The next day they rode on, and, towards the afternoon, the Baron +pointed to a sharp rocky range of hills, crowned by a tall solid +tower, and told Richard, yonder was his keep of Falaise, the +strongest Castle in Normandy.</p> +<p>The country was far more broken as they advanced—narrow +valleys and sharp hills, each little vale full of wood, and +interspersed with rocks. “A choice place for +game,” Sir Eric said and Richard, as he saw a herd of deer +dash down a forest glade, exclaimed, “that they must come +here to stay, for some autumn sport.”</p> +<p>There seemed to be huntsmen abroad in the woods; for through +the frosty air came the baying of dogs, the shouts and calls of +men, and, now and then, the echoing, ringing notes of a +bugle. Richard’s eyes and cheeks glowed with +excitement, and he pushed his brisk little pony on faster and +faster, unheeding that the heavier men and horses of his suite +were not keeping pace with him on the rough ground and through +the tangled boughs.</p> +<p>Presently, a strange sound of growling and snarling was heard +close at hand: his pony swerved aside, and could not be made to +advance; so Richard, dismounting, dashed through some briars, and +there, on an open space, beneath a precipice of dark ivy-covered +rock, that rose like a wall, he beheld a huge grey wolf and a +large dog in mortal combat. It was as if they had fallen or +rolled down the precipice together, not heeding it in their +fury. Both were bleeding, and the eyes of both glared like +red fiery glass in the dark shadow of the rock. The dog lay +undermost, almost overpowered, making but a feeble resistance; +and the wolf would, in another moment, be at liberty to spring on +the lonely child.</p> +<p>But not a thought of fear passed through his breast; to save +the dog was Richard’s only idea. In one moment he had +drawn the dagger he wore at his girdle, ran to the two struggling +animals, and with all his force, plunged it into the throat of +the wolf, which, happily, was still held by the teeth of the +hound.</p> +<p>The struggles relaxed, the wolf rolled heavily aside, dead; +the dog lay panting and bleeding, and Richard feared he was +cruelly torn. “Poor fellow! noble dog! what shall I +do to help you?” and he gently smoothed the dark brindled +head.</p> +<p>A voice was now heard shouting aloud, at which the dog raised +and crested his head, as a figure in a hunting dress was coming +down a rocky pathway, an extremely tall, well-made man, of noble +features. “Ha! holla! Vige! Vige! +How now, my brave hound?” he said in the Northern tongue, +though not quite with the accent Richard was accustomed to hear +“Art hurt?”</p> +<p>“Much torn, I fear,” Richard called out, as the +faithful creature wagged his tail, and strove to rise and meet +his master.</p> +<p>“Ha, lad! what art thou?” exclaimed the hunter, +amazed at seeing the boy between the dead wolf and wounded +dog. “You look like one of those Frenchified Norman +gentilesse, with your smooth locks and gilded baldrick, yet your +words are Norse. By the hammer of Thor! that is a dagger in +the wolf’s throat!”</p> +<p>“It is mine,” said Richard. “I found +your dog nearly spent, and I made in to the rescue.”</p> +<p>“You did? Well done! I would not have lost +Vige for all the plunder of Italy. I am beholden to you, my +brave young lad,” said the stranger, all the time examining +and caressing the hound. “What is your name? +You cannot be Southern bred?”</p> +<p>As he spoke, more shouts came near; and the Baron de +Centeville rushed through the trees holding Richard’s pony +by the bridle. “My Lord, my Lord!—oh, thank +Heaven, I see you safe!” At the same moment a party +of hunters also approached by the path, and at the head of them +Bernard the Dane.</p> +<p>“Ha!” exclaimed he, “what do I see? My +young Lord! what brought you here?” And with a hasty +obeisance, Bernard took Richard’s outstretched hand.</p> +<p>“I came hither to attend your council,” replied +Richard. “I have a boon to ask of the King of +Denmark.”</p> +<p>“Any boon the King of Denmark has in his power will be +yours,” said the dog’s master, slapping his hand on +the little Duke’s shoulder, with a rude, hearty +familiarity, that took him by surprise; and he looked up with a +shade of offence, till, on a sudden flash of perception, he took +off his cap, exclaiming, “King Harald himself! Pardon +me, Sir King!”</p> +<p>“Pardon, Jarl Richart! What would you have me +pardon?—your saving the life of Vige here? No French +politeness for me. Tell me your boon, and it is +yours. Shall I take you a voyage, and harry the fat monks +of Ireland?”</p> +<p>Richard recoiled a little from his new friend.</p> +<p>“Oh, ha! I forgot. They have made a +Christian of you—more’s the pity. You have the +Northern spirit so strong. I had forgotten it. Come, +walk by my side, and let me hear what you would ask. Holla, +you Sweyn! carry Vige up to the Castle, and look to his +wounds. Now for it, young Jarl.”</p> +<p>“My boon is, that you would set free Prince +Lothaire.”</p> +<p>“What?—the young Frank? Why they kept you +captive, burnt your face, and would have made an end of you but +for your clever Bonder.”</p> +<p>“That is long past, and Lothaire is so wretched. +His brother is dead, and he is sick with grief, and he says he +shall die, if he does not go home.”</p> +<p>“A good thing too for the treacherous race to die out in +him! What should you care for him? he is your +foe.”</p> +<p>“I am a Christian,” was Richard’s +answer.</p> +<p>“Well, I promised you whatever you might ask. All +my share of his ransom, or his person, bond or free, is +yours. You have only to prevail with your own Jarls and +Bonders.”</p> +<p>Richard feared this would be more difficult; but Abbot Martin +came to the meeting, and took his part. Moreover, the idea +of their hostage dying in their hands, so as to leave them +without hold upon the King, had much weight with them; and, after +long deliberation, they consented that Lothaire should be +restored to his father, without ransom but only on condition that +Louis should guarantee to the Duke the peaceable possession of +the country, as far as St. Clair sur Epte, which had been long in +dispute; so that Alberic became, indisputably, a vassal of +Normandy.</p> +<p>Perhaps it was the happiest day in Richard’s life when +he rode back to Bayeux, to desire Lothaire to prepare to come +with him to St. Clair, there to be given back into the hands of +his father.</p> +<p>And then they met King Louis, grave and sorrowful for the loss +of his little Carloman, and, for the time, repenting of his +misdeeds towards the orphan heir of Normandy.</p> +<p>He pressed the Duke in his arms, and his kiss was a genuine +one as he said, “Duke Richard, we have not deserved this of +you. I did not treat you as you have treated my +children. We will be true lord and vassal from +henceforth.”</p> +<p>Lothaire’s last words were, “Farewell, +Richard. If I lived with you, I might be good like +you. I will never forget what you have done for +me.”</p> +<p>When Richard once more entered Rouen in state, his subjects +shouting round him in transports of joy, better than all his +honour and glory was the being able to enter the Church of our +Lady, and kneel by his father’s grave, with a clear +conscience, and the sense that he had tried to keep that last +injunction.</p> +<h2>CONCLUSION</h2> +<p>Years had passed away. The oaths of Louis, and promises +of Lothaire, had been broken; and Arnulf of Flanders, the +murderer of Duke William, had incited them to repeated and +treacherous inroads on Normandy; so that Richard’s life, +from fourteen to five or six-and-twenty, had been one long war in +defence of his country. But it had been a glorious war for +him, and his gallant deeds had well earned for him the title of +“Richard the Fearless”—a name well deserved; +for there was but one thing he feared, and that was, to do +wrong.</p> +<p>By and by, success and peace came; and then Arnulf of +Flanders, finding open force would not destroy him, three times +made attempts to assassinate him, like his father, by +treachery. But all these had failed; and now Richard had +enjoyed many years of peace and honour, whilst his enemies had +vanished from his sight.</p> +<p>King Louis was killed by a fall from his horse; Lothaire died +in early youth, and in him ended the degenerate line of +Charlemagne; Hugh Capet, the son of Richard’s old friend, +Hugh the White, was on the throne of France, his sure ally and +brother-in-law, looking to him for advice and aid in all his +undertakings.</p> +<p>Fru Astrida and Sir Eric had long been in their quiet graves; +Osmond and Alberic were among Richard’s most trusty +councillors and warriors; Abbot Martin, in extreme old age, still +ruled the Abbey of Jumièges, where Richard, like his +father, loved to visit him, hold converse with him, and refresh +himself in the peaceful cloister, after the affairs of state and +war.</p> +<p>And Richard himself was a grey-headed man, of lofty stature +and majestic bearing. His eldest son was older than he had +been himself when he became the little Duke, and he had even +begun to remember his father’s project, of an old age to be +spent in retirement and peace.</p> +<p>It was on a summer eve, that Duke Richard sat beside the +white-bearded old Abbot, within the porch, looking at the sun +shining with soft declining beams on the arches and +columns. They spoke together of that burial at Rouen, and +of the silver key; the Abbot delighting to tell, over and over +again, all the good deeds and good sayings of William +Longsword.</p> +<p>As they sat, a man, also very old and shrivelled and bent, +came up to the cloister gate, with the tottering, feeble step of +one pursued beyond his strength, coming to take sanctuary.</p> +<p>“What can be the crime of one so aged and feeble?” +said the Duke, in surprise.</p> +<p>At the sight of him, a look of terror shot from the old +man’s eye. He clasped his hands together, and turned +as if to flee; then, finding himself incapable of escape, he +threw himself on the ground before him.</p> +<p>“Mercy, mercy! noble, most noble Duke!” was all he +said.</p> +<p>“Rise up—kneel not to me. I cannot brook +this from one who might be my father,” said Richard, trying +to raise him; but at those words the old man groaned and crouched +lower still.</p> +<p>“Who art thou?” said the Duke. “In +this holy place thou art secure, be thy deed what it may. +Speak!—who art thou?”</p> +<p>“Dost thou not know me?” said the suppliant. +“Promise mercy, ere thou dost hear my name.”</p> +<p>“I have seen that face under a helmet,” said the +Duke. “Thou art Arnulf of Flanders!”</p> +<p>There was a deep silence.</p> +<p>“And wherefore art thou here?”</p> +<p>“I delayed to own the French King Hugh. He has +taken my towns and ravaged my lands. Each Frenchman and +each Norman vows to slay me, in revenge for your wrongs, Lord +Duke. I have been driven hither and thither, in fear of my +life, till I thought of the renown of Duke Richard, not merely +the most fearless, but the most merciful of Princes. I +sought to come hither, trusting that, when the holy Father Abbot +beheld my bitter repentance, he would intercede for me with you, +most noble Prince, for my safety and forgiveness. Oh, +gallant Duke, forgive and spare!”</p> +<p>“Rise up, Arnulf,” said Richard. +“Where the hand of the Lord hath stricken, it is not for +man to exact his own reckoning. My father’s death has +been long forgiven, and what you may have planned against myself +has, by the blessing of Heaven, been brought to nought. +From Normans at least you are safe; and it shall be my work to +ensure your pardon from my brother the King. Come into the +refectory: you need refreshment. The Lord Abbot makes you +welcome.” <a name="citation17"></a><a href="#footnote17" +class="citation">[17]</a></p> +<p>Tears of gratitude and true repentance choked Arnulf’s +speech, and he allowed himself to be raised from the ground, and +was forced to accept the support of the Duke’s arm.</p> +<p>The venerable Abbot slowly rose, and held up his hand in an +attitude of blessing: “The blessing of a merciful God be +upon the sinner who turneth from his evil way; and ten thousand +blessings of pardon and peace are already on the head of him who +hath stretched out his hand to forgive and aid him who was once +his most grievous foe!”</p> +<h2>Footnotes:</h2> +<p><a name="footnote1"></a><a href="#citation1" +class="footnote">[1]</a> Richard’s place of education +was Bayeaux; for, as Duke William says in the rhymed Chronicle of +Normandy,—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Si à Roem le faz garder<br /> +E norir, gaires longement<br /> +Il ne saura parlier neiant<br /> +Daneis, kar nul n l’i parole.<br /> +Si voil qu’il seit à tele escole<br /> +Qù l’en le sache endoctriner<br /> +Que as Daneis sache parler.<br /> +Ci ne sevent riens fors Romanz<br /> +Mais à Baieux en à tanz<br /> +Qui ne sevent si Daneis non.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p><a name="footnote2"></a><a href="#citation2" +class="footnote">[2]</a> Bernard was founder of the family +of Harcourt of Nuneham. Ferrières, the ancestor of +that of Ferrars.</p> +<p><a name="footnote3"></a><a href="#citation3" +class="footnote">[3]</a> In the same Chronicle, William +Longsword directs that,—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Tant seit apris qu’il lise un bref<br +/> +Kar ceo ne li ert pas trop gref.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p><a name="footnote4"></a><a href="#citation4" +class="footnote">[4]</a> Hako of Norway was educated by +Ethelstane of England. It was Foulques le Bon, the +contemporary Count of Anjou, who, when derided by Louis IV. for +serving in the choir of Tours, wrote the following retort: +“The Count of Anjou to the King of France. Apprenez, +Monseigneur, qu’un roi sans lettres est une âne +couronné.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote5"></a><a href="#citation5" +class="footnote">[5]</a> The Banner of Normandy was a cross +till William the Conqueror adopted the lion.</p> +<p><a name="footnote6"></a><a href="#citation6" +class="footnote">[6]</a></p> +<blockquote><p>“Sire, soiés mon escus, soiés +mes defendemens.”</p> +<p><i>Histoire des Ducs de Normandie</i> (<span +class="smcap">Michel</span>).</p> +</blockquote> +<p><a name="footnote7"></a><a href="#citation7" +class="footnote">[7]</a> The Cathedral was afterwards built +by Richard himself.</p> +<p><a name="footnote8"></a><a href="#citation8" +class="footnote">[8]</a> Sus le maistre autel del iglise<br +/> +Li unt sa feauté jurée.</p> +<p><a name="footnote9"></a><a href="#citation9" +class="footnote">[9]</a></p> +<blockquote><p>Une clef d’argent unt trovee<br /> +A sun braiol estreit noee.<br /> +Tout la gent se merveillont<br /> +Que cete clef signifiont.<br /> +* * * *<br /> +Ni la cuoule e l’estamine<br /> +En aveit il en un archete,<br /> +Que disfermeront ceste clavete<br /> +De sol itant ert tresorier<br /> +Kar nul tresor n’vait plus cher.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The history of the adventures of Jumièges is literally +true, as is Martin’s refusal to admit the Duke to the +cloister:—</p> +<blockquote><p>Dun ne t’a Deus mis e posé<br /> +Prince gardain de sainte iglise<br /> +E cur tenir leial justise.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><a name="footnote10"></a><a href="#citation10" +class="footnote">[10]</a> An attack, in which Riouf, +Vicomte du Cotentin, placed Normandy in the utmost danger. +He was defeated on the banks of the Seine, in a field still +called the “Pré de Battaille,” on the very day +of Richard’s birth; so that the <i>Te Deum</i> was sung at +once for the victory and the birth of the heir of Normandy.</p> +<p><a name="footnote11"></a><a href="#citation11" +class="footnote">[11]</a> “Biaus Segnors, vées +chi vo segneur, je ne le vous voel tolir, mais je estoie venus en +ceste ville, prendre consel a vous, comment je poroie vengier la +mort son père, qui me rapiela +d’Engletière. Il me fist roi, il me fist avoir +l’amour le roi d’Alemaigne, il leva mon fil de fons, +il me fist toz les biens, et jou en renderai au fill le guerredon +se je puis.”—<span class="smcap">Michel</span>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote12"></a><a href="#citation12" +class="footnote">[12]</a> In a battle fought with Lothaire +at Charmenil, Richard saved the life of Walter the huntsman, who +had been with him from his youth.</p> +<p><a name="footnote13"></a><a href="#citation13" +class="footnote">[13]</a> At fourteen years of age, Richard +was betrothed to Eumacette of Paris, then but eight years +old. In such esteem did Hugues la Blanc hold his +son-in-law, that, on his death-bed, he committed his son Hugues +Capet to his guardianship, though the Duke was then scarcely +above twenty, proposing him as the model of wisdom and of +chivalry.</p> +<p><a name="footnote14"></a><a href="#citation14" +class="footnote">[14]</a> “Osmons, qui l’enfant +enseognoit l’eu mena i jour en riviere, et quant il revint, +la reine Gerberge dist que se il jamais l’enmenait fors des +murs, elle li ferait les jeix crever.”—<span +class="smcap">Michel</span>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote15"></a><a href="#citation15" +class="footnote">[15]</a> “Gules, two wings conjoined +in lure, or,” is the original coat of St. Maur, or Seymour, +said to be derived from Osmond de Centeville, who assumed them in +honour of his flight with Duke Richard. His direct +descendants in Normandy were the Marquises of Osmond, whose arms +were gules, two wings ermine. In 1789 there were two +survivors of the line of Centeville, one a Canon of Notre Dame, +the other a Chevalier de St. Louis, who died childless.</p> +<p><a name="footnote16"></a><a href="#citation16" +class="footnote">[16]</a> Harald of Norway, who made a vow +never to trim his hair till he had made himself sole king of the +country. The war lasted ten years, and he thus might well +come to deserve the title of Horrid-locks, which was changed to +that of Harfagre, or fair-haired, when he celebrated his final +victory, by going into a bath at Möre, and committing his +shaggy hair to be cut and arranged by his friend Jarl Rognwald, +father of Rollo.</p> +<p><a name="footnote17"></a><a href="#citation17" +class="footnote">[17]</a> Richard obtained for Arnulf the +restitution of Arras, and several other Flemish towns. He +died eight years afterwards, in 996, leaving several children, +among whom his daughter Emma is connected with English history, +by her marriage, first, with Ethelred the Unready, and secondly, +with Knute, the grandson of his firm friend and ally, Harald +Blue-tooth. His son was Richard, called the Good; his +grandson, Robert the Magnificent; his great-grandson, William the +Conqueror, who brought the Norman race to England. Few +names in history shine with so consistent a lustre as that of +Richard; at first the little Duke, afterwards Richard aux longues +jambes, but always Richard sans peur. This little sketch +has only brought forward the perils of his childhood, but his +early manhood was likewise full of adventures, in which he always +proved himself brave, honourable, pious, and forbearing. +But for these our readers must search for themselves into early +French history, where all they will find concerning our hero will +only tend to exalt his character.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE DUKE***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 3048-h.htm or 3048-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/0/4/3048 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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