CHAPTER III.

JEST AND EARNEST.

'That means,' said Ralph de Guader thoughtfully, when Emma had left the room, '"Let me consult my ghostly counsellor." Who is the Lady Emma's director, Fitzosbern? Is not Father Theodred of Crowland thine almoner?—he who was the pet of our East Anglian Bishop Æthelmær, and who was recommended to thee by thine English-loving uncle of Exeter?'

'That is so,' assented Hereford; but added impatiently, 'I prithee truce to thy plans and plottings. I am no moonstruck lover, and cannot subsist on air, however well such unsubstantial fare may suit thy humour. Here we have ridden a good thirty miles, and talked a candle to the sconce, and I vow to thee, I had liefer satisfy my hunger than my ambition. What boots a fat earldom to a man if he is to die of starvation before he gets it?'

De Guader glanced rather contemptuously at his companion, but prepared to follow him.

'Let me have speech with thine almoner this night, nevertheless,' he said, 'in my chamber when I retire from the hall. It may make or mar our undertaking.'

'As thou wilt,' answered Roger carelessly; 'but thou canst scarce expect to find the good man in the best of humours if thou hast so little grace as to waken him up in the dead of night. I warrant me he has been snug under his coverlet this two hours.'

'I have that to say which will wake him,' said Ralph grimly. 'But of a truth the hours have sped. It would be better, perhaps, to pray the good father to give me audience with him in the morning, before he sees any other. Wilt thou have such message delivered?'

Earl Roger called a menial and gave the necessary order, and summoned his armourer, whom he bade to attend his guest, and then wait on himself; and they retired to their chambers to be unharnessed of their armour,—a process requiring aid of hammer and tongs,—and to indulge in the refreshment of the bath, a luxury the Normans loved as dearly as the Romans.

The hour was not far past nine, and, to our way of thinking, would not have been late; but the Norman fashion was to begin the day early, dinner being served at nine in the morning, and a second meal only being usual. When a third meal was desired, as on this occasion, it was informal, and consisted usually of cold meats, being called liverie.

Accordingly, when the two earls met again, clad in the flowing robes which replaced their military accoutrements, they had no companions at the table save a couple of fine bloodhounds, which were pets of the Earl of Hereford, and had invited themselves when they smelt the good cheer; the Countess of Hereford remaining in her bower, where her husband had visited her, and delighted her by his unexpected return.

The table was covered with fine linen; tall candles, in golden candlesticks handsomely wrought, gave light to the scene; and the dishes of gold and silver containing the meats were presented on the knee by pages, whose tunics were embroidered with the Hereford cognisance, gules, a bend azure and a fesse or.

Before commencing their meal, a silver basin containing scented water was offered to the earls in which to wash their hands. De Guader called for a napkin on which to dry the fingers he had daintily dipped into the scent, whereat the page opened wide eyes, though he obeyed the order, for the Norman fashion was to wave the hands in the air till they were dry, so that the scent might not be lost, and to wipe them on a cloth was considered Saxon and barbaric.

'I am cultivating English ways, thou seest,' observed the Earl of the East Angles. 'It is well to begin at once.' Whereat Hereford laughed.

The fare was dainty rather than bountiful. A cold venison pasty, and a young heron, larded, roasted, and eaten with ginger, forming the most important dishes; with simnel and wastel cakes, and sundry sweetmeats, and wines rejoicing in the strange names of pigment and moral.

The earls carved for themselves with their daggers, and used neither forks nor spoons.

Hereford, although he had declared himself in such a famished condition, showed no great prowess as a trencherman, but seemed more inclined to help himself from the wine-cup. He was obviously in an unsettled and irritable mood, while his companion inclined to the taciturn.

Suddenly Earl Roger exclaimed,—

'By the mass! this meal is not sprightly. Did I not see thy jester Grillonne amongst thy meinie? Send for the rogue and for my Marlette, and let the twain hold a tourney of wit. Though I wager thy knave will win.'

'If thy sleepy almoner might not be summoned from his slumber to hold converse on a weighty matter, methinks it is somewhat hard that my poor jester should be called upon to cudgel his wits!' said Ralph. 'But as thou wilt.'

'I'll waken the varlet up with a cup of moral,' answered Hereford; and a few moments later the two fools were introduced, in obedience to his order,—Marlette rubbing his eyes and yawning; Grillonne awake and eager-eyed.

Marlette was a poor imbecile, with a heavy face and clumsy figure, who caused laughter more by the incongruity of his short, puzzle-headed interjections, than by any real humour in his sayings. But the Earl of East Anglia's jester was a born buffoon, who would have made a comfortable living, if not a fortune, in the circus in these days. Little, alert, wiry, his lithe body seemed to be always in motion, and the bells on his peaked cap rarely ceased to jingle. He was nearly sixty, and his scant white hair, straggling from under his whimsical headgear, gave him an elfish look, enhanced by the wizened, wrinkled countenance beneath it, and his oblique, twinkling eyes. He was a Breton, who had come over in the train of Ralph the Staller's Breton bride in good King Eadward's days, and he had loved the gentle lady, who was always kind to him, and well pleased to hear him troll French ballads when she grew weary of hearing the strange Saxon tongue, and felt forlorn and homesick. And he had loved her handsome boy, who inherited her dark face and eagle nose, though not her bright dark eyes, and had followed him back to Brittany, when, for some reason the chroniclers do not report, he had suffered banishment and confiscation of his estates. And he had returned with him when he helped the Conqueror to win England. De Guader knew and valued his fidelity, and took him with him whithersoever he went.

'How now, fool Grillonne!' was the Earl of Hereford's greeting. 'I promised to pour out a full cup of moral to wake thee up withal, but it seems thou art by far too much awake already. I had best give two cups to Marlette here.'

'Nay, good uncle,' cried the jester, 'that would be but sorry sport! I do but walk in my sleep. Give me the wine, and thou wilt see me in my waking state.'

The earl signed to a page to pour out a cup of wine, and handed it to him. He drank it, not hastily, but sipping it, and smacking his lips with the air of a judge; and when he had drained the cup he turned it bottom upwards. He then performed a series of somersaults from one end of the long banqueting-hall to the other, and finished by springing upon the shoulders of Marlette, standing erect with one foot upon the table, and the other on his brother fool's neck.

'Ha! Good nuncles, I am like our lord King William astride of two kingdoms!' he cried, waving his bauble as if it were a sceptre, and aping an air of majesty, rendered most ridiculous by his effort to keep his balance on his unequal and, on one side, unsteady footing.

Marlette, astonished and quite at a nonplus, sought only to free himself from the weight on his shoulder, and with a yell dropped his half-empty goblet of wine, and dashed away, leaving the saucy Grillonne sprawling on his back on the table, while the pages sprang forward to rescue the dishes, and the bloodhounds snarled in fierce surprise.

'Help, help, good nuncles!' cried the jester. 'Mine island gives me the slip. Ah, well, I'll content myself with the continent! It hath good cheer upon it.' So saying, he began to help himself to the dainties in his reach.

The Earl of Hereford burst into a roar of laughter, but the jester's master, smiling grimly, bade him beware of unseemly subjects. 'Crowned heads are no fit themes for thy cracks, Sir Fool!' he said.

'Chide me not, my Earl of earls!' replied the jester, who saw that his lord was not seriously displeased. 'I meant no damage or irreverence. I have too great a respect for my hide, and would fain save it a tanning!' Wherewith he descended from the table with an air of the most sage gravity, calmly filling his pockets the while with simnels.

'Go to! Thou art an impudent knave!' cried De Guader; and Earl Roger, laughing more heartily than before, pulled out a penny (equal to about seventeen shillings and sixpence of our money) and tossed it to him.

'Thou art the prince of fools!' he exclaimed. 'Would I had thee in my following. Thou art of some worth to drive dull care away.'

In explanation of the fool's dangerous jest, we may relate how William of Normandy dealt with the Angevins when they dared to remind him that his mother was the daughter of a tanner, by ornamenting the walls of Alençon with hides, and shouting 'La Pel! à la Pel!' in ridicule, when he came to besiege their town. They had formed a tête-du-pont to cover the passage of the river, from which William dislodged them by filling up the moat with wood and firing it, so that the unfortunate Angevins were surrounded by flames, through which gleamed the swords of the mocking Normans, barring their passage to the river beyond. The half-roasted garrison fought with unavailing valour, but twenty surviving for a still worse fate from their relentless foe. William ordered their hands and feet to be cut off and their eyes to be put out, and despatched an Angevin soldier, who had previously been made prisoner, and who had witnessed the punishment, to tell the garrison how their comrades had fared, and to promise them a similar fate unless they surrendered before night. That they might not doubt the veracity of the messenger, he had the hands and feet which had been struck from the prisoners put into his mangonels, and shot them on to the walls, which so impressed the townsmen that they surrendered at once.

When the two earls had finished their repast, they retired to their sleeping chambers; but as Ralph de Guader reached his apartment, he was met by the Earl of Hereford's almoner.

'I am come, noble earl, in obedience to thy summons,' he said, 'understanding that thy wish was to have speech of me before any other; and I venture to intrude on thee to-night, because the Lady Emma has desired me to attend her at daybreak.'

'Ha! just as I expected,' said the earl to himself. 'I thank thee, reverend father,' he replied. 'It is courteous and kind, and my wish was to have speech with thee to-night, but that I feared to break in upon thy rest. Take me, I pray thee, to thy sanctum, where we may be together without audience.'

Theodred bowed his assent, and the earl, having dismissed his attendants, followed the almoner to his private apartment, a small but snug room in a recess in one of the towers of the castle. In the centre stood a small table bearing a silver crucifix, covered with parchments and materials for writing and illuminating, a page of an unfinished missal lying on the writing-desk, and showing what the occupant's last business had been.

Father Theodred offered to the earl the carved settle which stood before his writing-desk, and De Guader sank into it with a sigh, and for a time was silent. Theodred, meanwhile, acceding with rare delicacy to his guest's mood, turned to a corner of the room in which was fitted up a small shrine of the Virgin, and busied himself by trimming the little lamp of oil which burned before it perpetually.

He was a man of about fifty years of age, strongly built, and of the very fair complexion characteristic of the Anglo-Danes, the ring of hair upon his tonsured head being lighter in colour than the shaven crown, with a ruddy, healthy face, and kind, frank blue eyes.

'Thine occupation, father, reminds me that I am the guest of a holy man,' said the earl, as the almoner turned to him again. 'I prithee give me thy blessing.'

'Thou hast it, my son,' answered the priest, extending his hands and making the sign of the cross over Ralph's bent head, and murmuring a benediction.

'Thou sayest,' Ralph began, after a time, 'that the Lady Emma has expressed her desire to consult thee. The matter on which she desires thy guidance is one of some weight.'

Theodred seated himself on a wooden stool at a short distance from the earl.

'Doubtless the matter on which the noble Earl of East Anglia would consult me is one of importance also?' he said.

'The matter on which we twain seek thee, father, is one and the same,' said Ralph, with a smile, 'as thy shrewd wits have doubtless already opined.'

'I had some such notion,' answered the almoner gravely.

'Father Theodred,' said Ralph, grave in his turn, 'thou hast the reputation of an honourable man, and I am about to repose in thee a trust that will put the fortunes, and even the lives, of more than one noble personage, including myself, in thy hands.'

Theodred sprang up hastily.

'Stay thy tongue, noble earl!' said he; 'trust neither thy fortune nor thy life in my hands. Thou knowest my English sympathies, and how thou hast outraged them. How can I bear goodwill to the only English noble who fought beside the Norman on the fatal field where Harold Godwinsson—whom God assoilzie!—lost his precious life?'

The powerful De Guader, famed for his pride and haughtiness, and his impatience of all rebuke, even from his royal master, bore this bold speech from the Earl of Hereford's almoner with bent head and dejected mien.

'What if I repent?' he asked softly, his rich voice quavering as he spoke.

Theodred gazed at him with astonished and doubtful eyes, and came back to his stool and sat down again opposite to him.

The earl raised his head and looked the almoner in the face with a keen, appealing glance.

'What if it is to those very English sympathies that I appeal?' he asked.

Theodred, considerably affected, answered, 'Nay then, speak out.'

'And if thou canst not support me, what I say shall be as unspoken?'

'Even so.'

'Swear thou that on the bones of St. Guthlac!'

'The son of Ralph the Staller should know that an Englishman's word is as good as his oath.'

'I will trust thy good faith. A half confidence is but a fool's wisdom. The point on which the Lady Emma will ask thy guidance is as to whether she shall yet deign to be my wife.'

'Ah!' said Theodred, almost involuntarily, in a low tone; 'hast thou ventured so far? Against the king's veto?'

'By St. Eadward, yes!'

Theodred's face darkened. 'Take not the name of that holy saint, who was world-king and heaven-king also, to witness to thy sin! Thinkest thou I will aid thee in treachery to thy liege lord?'

'Sin or no sin, there are those high in the Church who will aid me. Dost thou esteem thyself holier than these?'

The earl leaned forward and whispered in Theodred's ear the names of several high dignitaries of the English Church, including several abbots and bishops.

Theodred betrayed great astonishment.

'What meanest thou?' he asked.

'I mean that there is more in this matter than is at present understanded of thee,' said De Guader. 'Perhaps some insight into my own standpoint would best help thee to the whole question.'

The almoner assumed an attitude of respectful attention.

'Thou dost me great honour, noble earl,' he said. 'Nevertheless I must protest that as a simple priest I had rather keep to matters more within my province.'

'These matters must be within thy province, since thy guidance will be asked by the noble demoiselle whose part in them is of such import,' urged De Guader; and the priest sighed deeply, for he had a great love for the gentle girl whose adviser he must needs be in this the chief step of her young life. He saw nothing but strife before her, and was sorely perplexed as to whether he should forward her happiness, or, still more, her spiritual welfare, by aiding or hindering the suit of the turbulent man who was thus seeking to win him to his side, and whom he scarcely knew whether to abhor for his part at Senlac, or to love as the son of Ralph the Staller. Certes De Guader's show of contrition had strangely moved him, and the bruised and bleeding patriotism which was his strongest passion waked into painful life at the sight.

'Thou knowest,' said Earl Ralph, 'how, when my noble father, Ralph the Staller, died, Earl Godwin, in his hate of the Normans, or any from across the straits, worked with the blessed King Eadward against my Breton mother and myself, her stripling son, or rather, I should say, so wearied him out with complaints against us, made by his daughter Eadgyth, the king's wife, that at last the good king gave ear to a trumped-up story of treasonable practices on our innocent parts, and took my father's lands from his widow and orphan, so that we had to go beyond the sea to my mother's estates in Bretagne.'

'I have heard a version of the matter,' said Theodred—'somewhat differing!' he added, under his breath.

'Canst thou wonder, then, that my love for Harold Godwinsson was not overflowing? the more so as he claimed for himself those dear lands of Norfolk and Suffolk, where my boyhood had been passed. Canst thou wonder that, when he broke his oath to William of Normandy, whom he had sworn not to hinder in his claims to the English throne,—sworn, as thou knowest, on the most sacred relics'—

Theodred groaned. 'Harold knew not that the relics were there till after he had sworn,' he murmured.

'An Englishman's word should be as good as his oath, thou hast said it,' rejoined the earl. 'Canst thou wonder, I ask, that I ranged myself under the banner of the leader whose accolade had given me knighthood to win back those lands of my father's?'

'How couldst thou? How couldst thou fight thy father's countrymen, even to win back thy father's lands?' cried the priest, with irrepressible emotion.

Ralph sprang up and paced about the room. 'Nay, I would give my right hand I had not done it,' he said; 'but,' he added bitterly, 'I am sufficiently punished! After all my valour and manifold services, the haughty Bastard deems me not good enough to become his kinsman, and insults me by forbidding me the hand of his kinswoman.'

His face was dark with scorn, and the peculiar gleam of green was in his eyes which gave so strange an expression to his anger, while the level brows met above them. Evidently wounded pride had more to do with his repentance than patriotic contrition.

But it was not convenient to admit so much even to himself. 'Blood is stronger than water, in good sooth,' he continued, 'and my father's blood rebels in my veins when I see the hungry Normans ousting staunch English families from their holdings, and revelling in the fat of the land. I had not thought of all that must follow the setting of William on the throne, for I dreamt not that Harold's following had been so strong, or that the tussle would be so bitter. And now that William is away, the curs snuffle and snarl and tear the quarry like hounds without a huntsman, while Hereford and I, through his silly jealousy, have our hands tied, and are powerless to keep order in the land. I tell thee it is galling beyond endurance to see the base churls, whom never a knight would have spoken to in Normandy but to give them an order, ruffling it with the best, and strutting as they had been born nobles, lording it over high-born English dames and damsels, whose fathers and husbands they have slain, and whose fortunes they are wasting in riot!'

'Galling beyond endurance!' repeated Theodred, springing up with a gesture of anguish. 'Christ grant me pardon for the hate that springeth in my heart for the doers of such wrong, for it bids fair to overflow the barriers of my control whenever I let my thoughts wander from the comfort of heavenly things to earthly miseries!'

De Guader's eyes gleamed with triumph as he saw his companion so deeply moved. Stopping in his tiger walk up and down the room, he laid his strong hand upon Theodred's arm.

'Then help me to redress the wrong and repair the mistake!' he said.

Theodred turned on him fiercely. 'Repair the mistake! Canst thou bring then the dead to life, or gather from the soil one drop of the noble blood that has been poured forth upon it like water, the dark stains of which still scare the traveller, and call to Heaven for vengeance?'

'Nay, St. Nicholas defend me!' answered the earl, 'I can do neither of these things. There is that which cannot be undone, and can only be atoned by bitter penance and humble contrition. But there is that which may be restored. Ruined men may have their own again. Prisoners can be set free. Doth not Archbishop Stigand still languish in durance? Is not thine own beloved bishop and Stigand's brother, Æthelmær, living in poverty and shame, since William's tyrannical deprivation of his see on false and scandalous charges?'

'Alas, yes!' admitted the priest.

Then the earl, bending towards him, and fixing his piercing eyes on the good-humoured and yielding eyes of Theodred, said in a low, clear voice, every syllable of every word thrilling the silent night,—

'An English king may yet fill the throne. Waltheof Siwardsson lives!'

Theodred covered his face with his hands, and staggered into his chair. After a while he murmured, 'And doth the holy Frithic, Abbot of St. Albans, favour this, and Thurstan, Abbot of Ely?'

'Ay; nor is Fitzosbern, Bishop of Exeter, opposed. He groans for the woes of the English people, whose ways he has always loved, and whose manners he has adopted; neither brooks he tamely this insult of William's to his nephew. When such favour me, wilt not thou?'

Theodred extended his palm without uncovering his face. 'I cannot answer thee thus at a moment's notice. The issues are too great.'

'Waltheof, Hereford, and I,' the earl continued, his face lighted with a lofty pride, and his gesture such as might have befitted the Conqueror himself, 'William absent. Who could withstand our combination?'

'I pray thee mercy! This matter needeth meditation and prayer. Leave me. Whether I help or hinder thee, be sure I will not betray thee. The Holy Virgin have both thee and me in her keeping!'

'Amen,' said the earl, and left the apartment. As he walked down the passage, stepping softly lest he should disturb those who had slumbered while he plotted, he heard the strokes of the flagellum with which Father Theodred was lacerating his shoulders.

CHAPTER IV.

HORSE, HAWK, AND HOUND.

On the morrow, a goodly company rode forth over the drawbridges of Hereford Castle, with clatter of prancing horses and barking of dogs and jingle of hawks' jesses; falconers carrying the birds, and huntsmen leading the well-trained dogs, spaniels, cockers, and here and there a wolf or boar hound, in case larger game should be started; a party of men-at-arms to protect them from wild beasts, outlaws, and Welsh, with a few knights in harness to head them, and the ladies and gentlemen of the hunt themselves.

In the place of honour amongst these rode the Earl of East Anglia, mounted on his splendid Spanish barb Oliver, whose fine points had drawn forth praise from that lover of good horse-flesh, William the Conqueror himself, when De Guader had ridden the steed in his presence; a bright red-roan with fox-coloured mane and tail, fine of limb, but of greater strength and endurance than the heavier Norman warhorse, and full of spirit and docility.

By his side ambled Emma Fitzosbern, on a white palfrey, bearing on her wrist a noble 'tassel-gentle,' whose broad shoulders and large nares and long black spurs proclaimed him of the bluest blood of hawk aristocracy.

'Certes, he is a glorious tierce,' said Emma, looking with admiration at the hawk, 'and seemeth well re-claimed, though, knowing me not, he is by nature shy.'

'I hope well he may sustain the reputation accorded him by those from whom I had him,' said the earl, 'and prove his worth by deeds when we reach the waters. He comes straight from Denmark, and is accounted equal to any King Sweyn at present hath in his mews. He will bind a mallard with his beak, nor needeth he any lure save the voice of the falconer. None exceed the Danes for skill in training a hawk.'

The Earl of Hereford, who had been riding ahead with his countess, fell back and reined his horse beside his sister's palfrey, that he might examine and criticise this much-extolled bird. But his criticism also took the form of admiration.

'If he performs as well as he looks,' quoth he, 'I would think him cheap at a hundred marks.'

When they reached the marshy ground to north-west the castle, at which they had been aiming, the spaniels soon put up a heronshaw, and Emma, who had no mean skill at falconry, slipped off the hood from the Danish hawk, and cast him deftly from her little fist into the air at what was called the jette serré, that is to say, as quickly after the quarry had taken flight as possible.

The heron soared into the air on his strong wings, with his slender legs stretched straight behind him, till he was almost lost in the clouds, but the tassel-gentle pursued him swiftly, scaling the air by small circles ascending higher and higher like the steps of a spiral staircase.

Emma clapped her hands in delight.

'By the mass! a magnificent mount!' exclaimed Hereford, and his praise was echoed amongst the ladies and gentlemen round, nor did the falconers refuse their meed of honour to the foreign bird, jealous though they might be for the fame of their own particular pets, whom they had tended since they took them from the eyrie at the stage of eyass-down, and lured and re-claimed with daily care and patient skill.

'The tassel-gentle hath the uppermost,' cried Emma, after a few seconds of eager watching.

'Thine eyes are as keen as the hawk's!' cried De Guader. 'At that height I could not tell one from the other.'

But Emma saw truly. In a moment more the tassel-gentle stooped upon his quarry, and the struggling birds came tumbling from the sky together, leaving a long trail of fluttering feathers to mark the course of their passage through the air.

Hereford pressed forward to the spot at which they promised to touch earth, and was ready to despatch the heron ere he could do mischief with his long wings, measuring upwards of five feet from tip to tip. He shook the hawk's hood, and the well-trained bird flew at once upon his wrist. Bravely had he maintained his reputation by deeds.

Other hawks were then flown at various game, mallard and crane and bittern. Sometimes the quarry escaped; on one occasion a falcon failed to win the upper hand, and the heron at which she was cast transfixed her on his long beak and killed her, at which misfortune there was much ado. Others acquitted themselves well, but none rivalled the prowess of the Danish hawk, and when the gay company had turned their horses' heads homewards, and had leisure to discuss the matter, he was acclaimed by all the hero of the day in falcon-world.

'Since thou hast a good opinion of the tassel-gentle,' said De Guader, who had reined his horse again to the side of Emma's palfrey, 'and art pleased to say that I gave no overdrawn picture of his high qualities, I pray thee, noble demoiselle, to pleasure me by taking him for thine own from this day forward; for, in sooth, I obtained him from Denmark for no other purpose, having heard of the death of thy favourite falcon. See, he takes to thee by instinct, and sits thy slender wrist as if he knew it as that of his own lady.'

'Thou art too generous, Sir Earl,' replied Emma, the quick blood flushing cheek and forehead,—partly through delight, for she was a keen huntress, and appreciated fully the joys of possessing such a bird; but more through confusion, for she felt that she could not accept such a gift from a suitor whom she intended to reject, and that virtually to take the beautiful creature would be to answer Ralph's weighty question of the night before—for in those days a good hawk was of more value than diamonds. To make matters worse, her brother was watching her pitilessly, with a quizzical smile in his eyes, and evident curiosity as to what she would say.

But fortune was kinder than her friends. The company was riding at the moment through a belt of woodland, and, just as Emma was casting about in her mind for an answer to Ralph's speech that might postpone her difficulty, and toying somewhat lovingly with the bird, a lank grey beast trotted silently across the pathway a few yards ahead of the foremost horseman.

The dogs gave tongue and the men also.

'Wolf! wolf!' cried the huntsmen, and half-a-dozen knights of the meinie who carried hauberk and lance dashed forward in pursuit.

All was excitement and commotion. Steeds chafed and curveted, and kept their riders from requiring answers to inconvenient questions, and Emma Fitzosbern felt grateful exceedingly to the fiery Oliver for the trouble he gave his master, and the excuse which his antics afforded her to slip behind to the side of her bower-maiden, Eadgyth of Norwich, who was following on a sober-minded brown palfrey, being but an indifferent horsewoman, and always desirous of a quiet mount.

De Guader gave Oliver the rein and galloped forward.

'I am in sore distress, Emma,' said Eadgyth, as she joined her, 'for my foolish Freya has rushed off after the rest of them, as if a gazehound could pull down a wolf, forsooth! I much fear me she will be hurt.'

Almost as she spoke, the knights returned, one holding aloft the wolfs head as a trophy; but another, a young Norman in De Guader's following, Sir Aimand de Sourdeval by name, carried a wounded hound in his arms.

'It is Freya!' exclaimed Eadgyth, and, riding forward towards the knight, she asked if her favourite was much wounded.

'Nothing dangerously, sweet donzelle,' replied Sir Aimand, looking up with a bright smile, and evidently pleased to have so cheerful an answer to give, both for the hound's sake and the lady's. 'A bite in the forearm, nothing worse, though it lames her. I will bind it, with your permission, when we reach the castle; I have a salve reckoned most healing for the wounds of hounds, and I hope it may prove its worth in the healing of thine.'

Eadgyth thanked the young knight for his courtesy with much sincerity, for she had brought up the greyhound to her own hand, and the creature was full of gentle ways and pretty tricks, which her mistress had taught her, besides being exceptionally beautiful, with a satin skin as white as milk and a body as lithe as any eel's.

It was a great relief to Eadgyth also to note how tenderly Sir Aimand handled her favourite, so that the hound lay quite passive in his hold, and she felt content to leave her to the knight's tender mercies.

When they reached the castle, Emma Fitzosbern found herself still carrying the tassel-gentle on her wrist, and thought with a half sigh that it would be hard to relinquish him, even if she were quite prepared to renounce all that she must take with him. Nor did De Guader give her opportunity to restore the bird to his keeping.

Later in the day, when the May sun was drawing nigh to the summits of the Welsh hills, Emma, her riding garb exchanged for a silken robe of pale blue, embroidered with pearls and silver and edged with vair, very brave to look upon, swept down the long alleys that led from the ladies' bower to the orchard, in company with her young sister-in-law, the Countess of Hereford, and Dame Amicia de Reviers, a venerable lady, who had been Emma's 'guide, philosopher, and governante' since the daughter of Fitzosbern had first opened her grey-blue eyes upon this wicked world, and who now found her aged infirmity soothed by the love and trust of her whilom pupil.

Hereford is, and was, a famous apple country, and in those days it was celebrated for both cider and grape wine. Just then, in the sweet spring weather, the orchard was a pleasant place in which to while away an hour. The insecurity of life making the protection of stone walls imperative, prevented any extensive cultivation of garden flowers, and gardens within castle precincts were necessarily circumscribed. But the orchard was somewhat more free, though lofty walls surrounded it, over which the trained branches of the vines spread in orderly growth, and were putting forth tufts of tender bronze-green leaves at every spur. Gillyflowers bloomed between their roots, and their wild yellow brothers found space for their impudent needs on the crown of the walls. Across the centre of the orchard ran a chattering brook, along the banks of which kingcups made a golden line, and over which a little bridge with toy battlements was built. The pear trees were covered with snow-white flowers and the apples with rosy buds, and under the netted shadows of their straggling boughs the rich green turf was gemmed with primroses and daisies and buttercups; while merles and mavises sat amongst the blossoms, striving which should sing the sweetest songs. From the meadows and pastures beyond the walls came the lowing of cows and the mellow voice of the cuckoo.

Emma carried the tassel-gentle on her wrist, and a page followed her with a lure and dainty morsels wherewith to tempt the proud bird's appetite; and when the countess and Dame Amicia sat down upon a bench in a small arbour near the stream, she went forward to the bridge, and bade the page set down his burden upon the wall. Then, leaning on the parapet, she amused herself by casting off the bird for short flights, and luring him back, teaching him to recognise the sound of her voice. The other ladies, who were in view of the performance, applauded when he obeyed her quickly.

Yet Emma had not fully accepted the gift of the bird, or decided what her course should be. She was in great perplexity. In the morning, jubilant with exercise, the glow and excitement of the chase upon her, all difficulties had seemed light save that of renunciation, and the qualified permission which Father Theodred had given her, to follow her own heart in the matter, seemed to move all obstacles from her path. Now, in cooler mood, her anxious spirit conjured up visions of distress.

To defy the king was both sinful and dangerous. If she dwelt more on the danger than the sin, she must not be judged by the standard of later days. The idea of kingly divinity had scarcely blossomed into flower in the chaos of those dark ages. Every powerful noble was a sovereign on his own estate, and his followers fought his battles with little scruple whether against king or peer. The feudal king-lord was but first among peers, and very few noble houses could display a scutcheon free from the blot of treason.

Vows of fealty and the sanctity of knightly honour notwithstanding, the turbulent barons thought less of it than a modern politician of changing his party. Indeed, they watched all kingly encroachments on the power of their order with jealous eyes, and deemed it a duty to stand by each other. Not till Warwick, 'the Kingmaker,' was laid low on Barnet field, did the kingly ideal become paramount.

So Emma thought more of the blood that would flow if William were defied, than of the heinousness of the defiance. Earl Ralph and her brother would both be involved in trouble and sorrow. And all for her foolish face! Oh, why had she not been born some plain, poor damsel, over whose fate none would concern themselves?

She would not be a centre of strife and confusion! No, she would retire into a convent and lead a life of penitence and prayer; and Ralph would find another bride whom William would not grudge him.

But this pious resolution was accompanied by a deep sigh, and a look of wistful longing at the hawk, as he came fluttering his strong, sharp-pointed wings to her call. Perhaps he typified worldly joys to her at the moment.

Just then two goodly gentlemen came striding across the greensward to the arbour by the bridge, and Emma's heart gave a great leap, for she felt that the time had come when, for weal or woe, she must make her choice.

And the Earl of Hereford went into the arbour and sat down by his wife, but the Earl of East Anglia came straight on to the bridge where Emma stood. 'The tassel-gentle acknowledges the authority of his own liege lady,' Ralph said, with a meaning smile, as he stopped beside her and leaned his arm on the low parapet of the little bridge.

'I fear he learned not his loyalty from his master,' Emma replied, looking in his face with earnest eyes.

'Nay, flout me not, dear lady,' pleaded De Guader. 'Give me an answer to my question of yesternight. It is not like thee to prolong my torture.'

Emma FitzOsbern accepts the Tassel-gentle.

'Indeed, I know not what to answer thee,' said Emma in sad seriousness. 'My heart is torn with doubt. I cannot bear,' she said, laying her hand upon his arm, as if to restrain his eagerness for combat, 'to be the cause of strife. And strife it must mean, if thou shouldst marry me against the king's will. William is not the man to take such defiance smoothly.'

'Nor am I, nor is Hereford, the man to take his insult smoothly,' answered Ralph, with blazing eyes. 'See'st thou not, the strife must be? The insult is given, and can only be wiped out with blood!'

'Ah!'

'See'st thou not, my dove,' asked De Guader, taking the hand she had laid upon his arm in both his own, 'thy decision has nought to do with the strife? Indeed, thy refusal to have me now would but make mine anger against William the more bitter, as I shall in that case owe him the loss of my happiness as well as the affront to mine honour. No, the point is this: I cannot urge thee to share strife and sorrow with me, though,' and his eyes flashed fresh fires, 'the saints might favour me that I won thee but higher honours in the end. If thy heart fails thee, Hereford will send thee over-sea to thy brother in Normandy, where thou canst dwell in peace and safety, while we fight our quarrel out. Fight it out we must! 'Tis not William's first insult, but it shall be his last.'

'Nay, if I cannot stay the strife, I will share it!' cried Emma, touched to the quick. 'Thou dost me wrong to deem, even for an instant, that I shrink for my own welfare's sake! 'Tis not in the nature of a Fitzosbern!' Then, turning to the hawk, she said, 'Thou may'st know me for thy liege lady, my brave tassel-gentle! I take thee, and thy master with thee, but I fear he is by far less well reclaimed than thee!'

CHAPTER V.

SAXON AND NORMAN.

The little village of Exning in Suffolk was once an important place, the seat of the royal palace of the kings and queens of East Anglia, wherein was born the celebrated St. Etheldreda, who was the foundress of the monastery of Ely; and its state did not entirely disappear till A.D. 1200, when a plague broke out which desolated the population, and a New Market was set up a few miles from it, which still bears that name, and is the well-known racing centre.

Ralph de Guader, as Earl of East Anglia, became the lord of this ancient palace of the East Anglian royal family, and, as it was in his day the fashion for weddings to take place at the house of the bridegroom, it was here that preparations were made for his union with Emma Fitzosbern.

It was in every way convenient for Ralph's purposes. Situated on the extreme verge of his estates, jutting out towards the west, whence his bride must come, it was the very nearest point at which she could enter his domain; near also to Northampton and Huntingdon, over which Waltheof Siwardsson was earl, regarding whom, as we know, De Guader had deep-laid schemes. The celebrity it bore as the time-honoured residence of the East Anglian royalty, and the birthplace of one of the best-beloved of Saxon saints, endeared it to the hearts of the Saxon nobles and thegns, whom it was Ralph's policy to conciliate, and of whom he had invited to the banquet all who still possessed any remnant of their former wealth, and many who had little left but names to conjure with.

Divers Breton nobles and knights also held manors in the neighbourhood, and De Guader had in his own following a strong body of Breton mercenaries, and took care to bid the leading men amongst them, and all he could gather of his mother's countrymen having settlements in England, to the feast. Many Normans also were invited, men who were known to be discontented with their share of the spoil of fair lands and deer forests and riches of various kinds distributed after the Conquest, or who, like De Guader and Hereford, were smarting under William's tyrannous whims. Last, but most important amongst the guests, were the members of the Saxon Church, many of whom came to the bridal, including several of the high positions of bishop and abbot.

Only the highest in rank of such a large assembly could be sheltered under the roof of the palace, built though it had been to suit Anglo-Saxon notions of hospitality, which were on a bounteous scale.

The knights and thegns of humbler degree were encamped in the neighbourhood in every variety of tent and hut that would serve for temporary shelter, while each noble or chief brought with him a goodly train of house-carles, squires, and pages, and a motley following of attendants and grooms, with horses and hounds and sumpter mules laden with baggage. For miles around the air was rent with the neighing of horses and shouting of men, the barking of dogs and clashing of arms, and the braying of trumpets, while above each gay tent floated a silken banner bearing the arms of the occupant, or, at least, tall lances stuck in the ground beside it fluttered their pennoncelles around it. All was merry clamour and confusion, and doubtless Newmarket Heath itself was as gay as it now is on the morning of the Two Thousand Guineas.

The East Anglian earl had elected to have the festivities arranged according to Saxon fashions. Nevertheless, he had endeavoured to satisfy the tastes of all his guests, and a variety of entertainments was provided. A magnificent pavilion had been erected for the many who could not be accommodated with seats in the banqueting-hall of the palace, over which waved richly-coloured flags embroidered with the arms of the three great earls,—the azure lion rampant which Waltheof had assumed as his emblem, the red, blue, and golden arms of Hereford, and De Guader's own cognisance, party per pale or and sable, with a bend vairy.

To one side of it were spacious lists hung with scarlet cloth, one hundred yards long by forty broad, having benches for spectators in tiers along the length of the barriers, and in the centre, on each side, a canopy, one destined for the three earls, who were to be judges of the combat, the other for Emma Fitzosbern,—from whose hands as Queen of Beauty the victors were to receive their prizes,—the noble ladies who were her guests, and the maidens of her train. The tourney was to take place a full day before the wedding, so that the combatants might be rested, and fit for the labour of feasting. The combats were in no case to be à outrance, but merely a trial of strength and skill.

On the opposite side of the pavilion a large space of ground was marked out for sports of a less aristocratic character, and set with targets for archery, a quintain,—not the knightly quintain supplied with a full suit of good armour, such as chivalric aspirants tried their skill on, the providing of which was a serious item in the expenses of a feudal castle, but a mere ring and sand-bag,—leaping bars, racecourses both for horse and foot racing, a bear-pit, and other sports to please the various tastes of the soldiery,—the socmen or tenants holding land by service other than knightly,—the bordars or cottagers holding portions of land on condition of supplying the lord of the manor with poultry, eggs, and other small provisions,—and such other freemen as De Guader deemed it well to conciliate.

A richly-decked bower had been prepared for Emma Fitzosbern in the old Anglo-Saxon palace, and in this she sat with her favourite, Eadgyth of Norwich, on the evening of their arrival at Exning. Eadgyth was to be her chief bridemaid, and the policy of the bridegroom was not ill-served by this honour paid to the relative of the great English earl. Emma's face was radiant with happiness, for she loved Ralph de Guader deeply, and her buoyant disposition did not tempt her to meet difficulties half way; so she was able to throw to the winds all foreboding as to sinister results from the bold step she and her bridegroom were about to take in opposing the Conqueror's will.

Eadgyth, however, though evidently trying to be as gay as beseemed the occasion, was unable to hide from Emma's quick eyes the fact that she was herself in low spirits, betrayed by a tinge of sadness in her tone, and half-stifled sighs that would make way between her merry speeches.

'Eadgyth, something hath vexed thee,' said Emma earnestly. 'Be frank with me, and tell me thy sorrow, by the memory of the freedom with which I have reposed my woes with thee.'

'Nay,' replied Eadgyth, with a forced smile, a faint one, it must be said, like December sunshine, 'it would be a sin to talk to thee of sorrow on thy bridal eve.'

'Thou canst not hide it, Eadgyth; thou wouldst do more kindly to tell me all.'

'Thou knowest the young knight, Sir Aimand de Sourdeval, who rides in thy bridegroom's meinie?' said Eadgyth in a low hesitating tone.

She had taken Emma's hand in her own, and was twisting the betrothal ring which circled the slender third finger round and round, but, though her face was averted, her white neck and forehead grew pink under Emma's gaze.

'A gallant knight and of good lineage,' said Emma quietly. 'My brother said but the other day that he counted him amongst the best lances he knows.'

'Thou wilt remember he rescued my poor gazehound Freya from the fangs of the wolf the day thy Danish hawk was first flown, and leeched her tenderly after, even using on her a talisman which had been given to him by a holy palmer from the East, nursing the poor beast as gently as if she had been a human child.'

''Tis a good sign in a man to show tenderness to the poor beasts who cannot make their wrongs public,' said Emma. 'He who will suffer inconvenience to save a beast pain, will not do less for weak women or feeble children that come under his charge.'

Eadgyth looked up with sparkling agreement in her eyes, but bent her head again as she continued,—

'This evening, as we drew near the goal of our journey, he took advantage of his duty as escort to ride his destrier close to the side of my palfrey, and asked me what colours I meant to wear at the tourney, and to give him a favour to wear in his helm, with many compliments, saying my good renown was such that the noble Godfrey de Bouillon himself would not disdain to break a lance in my honour.'

'And what was thine answer, sweet friend?' asked Emma. 'I know not what in this can find thee food for grief.'

Eadgyth continued in a grave and measured voice,—

'I thanked him that he should do me such compliment, and said I doubted not his lance and sword would well defend my favour, being plied by a God-fearing knight, and in the cause of a maiden who hath nought to conceal; but I could give no favour, for I had ever held that she who lets a good man risk life and limb in her service, should be ready to guerdon the victor, and that I could not do.'

'Now, Eadgyth, why shouldst thou have given such an answer?' asked Emma vehemently. 'Read me thy riddle, I pray thee, for, in good sooth, I deem not thou hast the knight in ill-favour.'

'Surely the riddle is plain to read,' answered Eadgyth, 'and thou shouldest know enough of my mind to answer it. Is not Sir Aimand a Norman, and am I not the cousin of Harold Godwinsson?'

'I tell thee truly I am sick of thy eternal Harold Godwinsson!' cried Emma, springing up and pacing the room. 'His name is dragged forth in season or out of season. It must be hard for the poor man to rest in his grave! Here are eight years the Normans and the Saxons—if Saxon thou wilt own thyself, sometimes thou wilt correct me that thou art an Anglo-Dane!—have been living in peace, and marrying and giving in marriage, and thou wouldst wake up old quarrels, and part them in sunder again. As well might I refuse to marry Ralph de Guader because of his English blood.'

'But the earl fought with thy people. How know I but that my kinsfolk fell by Sir Aimand's hand? He was at Senlac, though but a young squire. The gulf that yawns between us is impassable!' and Eadgyth's shoulders shook with an irrepressible shudder.

'Even so,' said Emma, 'it was in fair fight on a hardly-contested field, and Sir Aimand would be in no way blood-guilty therefor. When a quarrel is ended, generous foes shake hands.'

'So said Sir Aimand. For he asked me if any reason were behind my answer that he might know, and I told him frankly that my heart still bled for my country's wounds, and that I could not forget that the lance he offered to ply in mine honour had tilted against my countrymen, had perhaps been dyed with the blood of those dear to me. He answered and said, that it had been a fair fight, with no ill blood between the combatants; that God had made the Norman arms prevail, and that I ought to accede to His holy will. But I cannot feel it so,' Eadgyth ended, with a sigh.

'Then I must try to comfort thee some other way,' said Emma, resuming her seat, and taking the face of her friend in both her hands, and turning it up and kissing it, for Eadgyth was sitting on a low stool at her feet, as was her wont. 'Remember thou art on thy way to thy dear Norwich, where some of thy kin may still be found; nay, some may be amongst the invited guests to the banquet, and encamped near thee even now. We know, at least, that more than one noble thegn will be present. Who can say what fate may have in store for thee?'

Eadgyth shook her head.

'Alas, Emma! I shall not find comfort so. There was that in the face of the poor knight as he turned away that I fear me will haunt my memory to my dying day.'

'Nay then, if that be thy mood, I will waste no pity on thee,' said Emma. 'Shame on thee, that thou shouldst send my countryman away with a sad face, and doubtless an aching heart, for such a fantastic whim!'

But the soft tones of her voice somewhat belied her declaration that she would bestow no pity on her wayward friend.