CHAPTER IX.
NORWICH.
After the bride-ale the splendid company parted, mainly in three great divisions: Earl Waltheof and his following to the north; Earl Roger to the west; Earl Ralph with his bride, his Norman knights, and Breton vassals and mercenaries, his Anglo-Saxon vassals and sympathisers, to the east; a few minor parties of independent barons, knights, and thegns going their several ways.
The Earl of Norfolk and Suffolk and his train rode forth along the old Roman Ikenield Street, which ran then an uninterrupted course from within a few miles of Exning to Norwich.
De Guader rode beside his young countess on a gentle hacquenée, which paced quietly beside her palfrey, and did not break in upon their converse by any pranks of his own, his squire leading the fiery Oliver, and an attendant following with a mule carrying his armour, lance, and spear.
It may well be supposed that the noble bridegroom spared no pains to make the time pass pleasantly for his young countess, which, under the circumstances, was no difficult task, for the mid-May weather was delightful, and whether they rode over heaths or through the forests, which then spread over the greater part of the country, they were surrounded with flowers and the song of birds. The yellow gorse was gorgeous in the open, filling the air with its almond scent, and the whin-chats fluttered from bush to bush, trying to lure them away from the spot that hid their nests. Overhead the larks carolled and the sparrow-hawks poised motionless, while round and about them darted the busy swallows.
Where they passed a homestead, fruit-trees were gay with blossom, apple and cherry and pear, and the sweet-breathed kine were standing in the meadows, knee-deep in the flower-jewelled grasses, for was it not Tri-milki, the month when cows are milked thrice in the day, according to the quaint old Anglo-Saxon calendar? Now and again they met a shepherd with a flock of ewes and lambs, or, more often, the inevitable Saxon swineherd with his grunting pigs.
But alas! they passed more often the blackened ruins where a homestead had once been, for the curse of war had desolated the land. Over the thatchless rafters hung the white branches of the flowering May, the more like snow, because no girlish fingers had stripped them to deck Maypoles.
They journeyed also through many a mile of forest land, where the great trees interlaced their boughs into the beautiful arches which the Gothic architect imitated so well in stone, and the wild birds thronged in undisturbed security, countless in kind and number, and the antlered stags trotted nimbly down the glades.
The greenwood in those days, however, had its dangers as well as its delights. Wolves and boars and wild cattle shared its shelter with the feathered songsters; and more formidable still were the indomitable Saxons, who had sought refuge in the wilderness, and made war without mercy on such of the conquering race as trespassed on their domain. Many a Saxon thegn, who had lost house and land in the great struggle against the Norman invader, had retired into the woods, and there lived the life of a freebooter, some taking with them not only their families, but their vassals and retainers. To be an outlaw was accounted an honour by these men, who would not acknowledge the right of the law-makers to command. They swarmed even under the walls of the Norman castles, and harassed the conquerors continually. Retaliation was sanguinary, and the unarmed peasants were punished under pretext that they harboured the outlaws. In return, the kings of the forest attacked the English households who favoured the Normans, and every house was fortified to resist a siege, and stores of arms and food were laid in; at night the head of the family read aloud the form of prayer then used at sea in a storm, praying 'The Lord bless and help us,' to which all present answered 'Amen.'
But the strong and well-armed retinue that accompanied the Earl of East Anglia's party assured safety, and the most timid amongst the ladies could fear no harm while surrounded by so many gallant knights in all the pride and panoply of glorious war! They made a goodly sight as they moved along, the sunshine flashing on their mail hauberks and high-peaked steel saddles, and the wind fluttering the gonfalons on their lances, their well-appointed horses snorting and curvetting, a strong body of men-at-arms, bowmen, and slingers following afoot.
Doubtless many a Saxon serf and bordar cursed them as they passed, not knowing that the powerful earl who led them had avowed himself champion of the Saxon cause, and meant once more to raise the standard of revolt.
Doubtless many a stout forester peered at them from behind the shelter of green leaves, and raged with impotent anger at their strength.
Perhaps others greeted them with courtesy and proffers of friendship and offerings of game, for the outlaws contrived to be wonderfully well informed of the march of events, and De Guader was keenly alive to the desirability of making all possible allies amongst the scattered English, and did not neglect the brave spirits who had taken to the wilds rather than submit, and who wielded so strong a weapon in possessing the love of the common people.
However that might have been, they journeyed safely through wood and wold, going slowly to suit the comfort of the ladies, and the capacity of the sumpter mules, and revelling in the bright spring weather.
Amongst the knights who pressed round them Eadgyth looked in vain for the figure of Sir Aimand de Sourdeval. Emma, happy with her bridegroom, took no notice of his absence, till, on the second day of their journey, the earl having left her side to give some necessary orders to his train, she saw that Eadgyth was sad and silent, and remembered that the hero of the tourney had not appeared in the ranks of their escort. She surmised that it was likely he had purposely avoided companionship which could only lead to pain, and had contrived to fulfil some other duty; so, when the earl rode up to her side again, she put some light question to him regarding the knight, and was surprised to see his face grow dark as thunder. He answered briefly, however, that Sir Aimand was detained on business of weight, and Emma, rather perplexed, did not venture to question him further. At the moment the jester Grillonne ambled up, mounted on a piebald nag with a chuckle-head and goose-rump, and cut capers which made both earl and countess laugh, so that the poor Knight of Sourdeval was banished from Emma's thoughts.
On the evening of the fourth day they came in sight of the churches and trees of Norwich, with the newly-built Castle Blauncheflour rising in stately strength above them (for no cathedral spire dwarfed it then), the brilliant beams of the setting sun gilding its snowy towers, and lighting the square mass of the lofty keep, which still, after eight hundred years of war and weather, stands firm and solid on its throne above the city. [2]
Emma exclaimed in delight when she first came in sight of this goodly castle, which brought home to her pleasantly the power and wealth of her noble husband.
'A garrison of five hundred might hold it for ever!' cried Ralph enthusiastically, 'if only manna would fall from the skies to feed them, or that they might be fed by a San Graal. That reminds me, sweet, thou wilt like to hear my minstrel tell the story of Blauncheflour, who was the betrothed of Percivale, the searcher for the Graal. The fair white walls, faced with goodly Caen stone, seemed to me in their invincible dignity to resemble a pure maiden, so I named them after her.'
Norwich in those days was surrounded by broad and deep streams, at least five times as wide as its present modest rivers, and the chroniclers of Edward the Confessor's day record that the fisher-folk suffered terribly through the receding of the waters. A sandbank some distance out at sea was just emerging where Yarmouth now stands, and sea-going vessels could make their way past the walls of Blauncheflour.
The level of the water was many feet above its present mark, and the castle was surrounded, and rendered very strong, by deep ditches of early British construction, on a similar scheme to those traced at Rising, Castleacre, and many other places, where Norman architects had availed themselves of the earthworks constructed by earlier peoples. The castle was surrounded by the circular moat which still exists, while a large horseshoe fosse extended to the south, covering the great gate of the castle, which was at the foot of the existing bridge, which is of Saxon construction, and measures forty feet in the span, being the largest remaining arch raised by that people.
The great gate was a strong and imposing structure, and had four towers, two at the base and two at the top of the bridge, and was the only entrance to the upper ballium, which was guarded by eleven strong towers, and contained various halls and lodgings, beside the great keep, which is all that remains to us.
The fortress might well look imposing, with its moats and earthworks, strengthened by strong palisadings of wood, its formidable walls and gate-houses dominated by the great square tower, with many a pennon waving from the topmost points, and warders marching to and fro on the battlements, their glittering mail shining in the sun.
Norwich was not a city then, the see of the Bishop of East Anglia being at Elmham, but there was a monastic church called Christ's Church where the present cathedral stands, and the bishop had a palace on the site of the well-known Maid's Head Inn of the present, the walls of which were lapped by the river.
Herfast, who held the see from 1070 to 1076, had been chaplain to William the Conqueror when he was Duke of Normandy. It may be that he somewhat favoured Ralph de Guader, or chose to be blind to the doings of the turbulent earl, for, though Norman of the Normans, he bitterly hated Lanfranc, who had once exposed his ignorance to pitiless scorn, and who unsparingly denounced his vices, bidding him 'to give over dice-playing, not to speak of graver misconduct, in which you are said to waste the whole day;' and bade him 'study theology and the decrees of the Roman Pontiffs, and to give especial attention to the sacred canons.' Also to 'dismiss certain monks of evil reputation.' At all events, he does not appear to have been an active opponent to the East Anglian earl, and it may be that he was not sorry that the archbishop he so much disliked should have a little trouble during his time of temporal power.
In the Domesday survey, made eleven years later, 1086, fifty-four churches are recorded, and 1565 burgesses and 480 bordars were among the inhabitants. The town was probably larger in 1075, as it suffered much during the subsequent siege, and many an entry of 'Wasta,' 'wasta,' 'wasta,' bears testimony to the sorrow Ralph de Guader brought upon the place.
Where the busy market-place is now, spread broad meadows for the castle use, called the Magna Crofta or castle fee, and through them ran a stream, having its rise on All Saints' Green, and flowing across the present site of Davey Place to the river. The quiet Quaker burial ground occupies the Jousting Acre, or Gilden Croft, where many a noble knight gave or received a broken head in sheer good fellowship and amiable love of fighting; and many a fair lady encouraged the giver with smiles, or wept for the receiver. So the lovers of peace sleep calmly under the sod that once was trampled by the eager steeds of the men-at-arms.
Such was the Norwich to which Ralph de Guader brought home his bride; and, as they entered it, the knights in their retinue pricked their jaded steeds and stirred their mettle, that they might prance sufficiently gaily. The trumpeters flourished their trumpets, to give notice to the good people that their earl and his bride were approaching, and, though travel-stained and weary, the cavalcade made a brave appearance.
Rich and poor, Normans, Saxons, Danes, Flemings, and Jews, all of which nations were represented in the town,—the last-named having made their first appearance therein at the heels of the Norman invaders, and being hated accordingly,—crowded into the streets to welcome and admire the bride and bridegroom, or, at the least, to render that homage which circumstances rendered politic.
For it must be remembered that the dignity of the powerful Earl of East Anglia was almost royal. The feudal king was 'first among peers,' and the earls came next to him; even so late as the reign of Queen Elizabeth the parliamentary formula of royal speeches was, 'My right loving Lords, and you, my right faithful and obedient subjects.'
The 'Ykenilde weie' entered Norwich where afterwards stood the Brazen Doors, passing by All Saints' Green to the Castle Hill; the cavalcade so entering what was called the New Burg, consisting of Norman dwellings erected since the Conquest, which, then as now, took its name from the Chapel in the Field, and included the parishes of St. Giles and St. Stephen's. Here the enthusiasm was effusive, and a well-dressed populace waved caps of rich fur in the air, while silken hangings and gay banners waved from the windows.
It was with mingled feelings that Eadgyth of Norwich re-entered her birthplace in the train of the Norman lady. All her loving recollections were embittered by the sight of changes that reminded her of the sufferings of her people and the ruin of their cause, and the tears came into her eyes when she compared the welcoming crowd of foreigners that shouted around her with the scenes stamped on her childish memory, when she had seen the stalwart Danes and Saxons gather to greet Harold Godwinsson, and heard their loud 'Waes hael!'
Storms of anger and jealous misery moved her as she passed through the New Burg, for the smart dwellings on each side of the street had all been built since the Conquest, and showed the wealth of the invader. As they approached the castle, her heart sank more and more. It seemed to her as if its heavy foundations had been laid upon her breast, so cruelly did it bring home to her the strength of the yoke which was riveted upon the necks of her people. For in architecture more than in any art did the Normans excel the people they conquered, and though the moats had been there when Harold was earl, the fortress within them was but a rude structure.
When they reached the castle gate, a lively scene was enacted. The garrison marched down to salute the earl and his bride, led by the castellan on a prancing charger, and forming in glittering lines on either side the Bale. There were companies of archers clad in mail coats reaching halfway to the knee, over which they wore jerkins of stout leather, their ell-long shafts stuck through their belts, and their bows of yew, ash, witch-hazel, or elm, held in their right hands, and capable of despatching the arrows to a distance of from 200 to 300 yards, with little steel-caps on their heads shaped much like the prim head-coverings worn by the Puritan maidens of later times; and men-at-arms, shining from head to foot in chain mail, or with little steel rings sewn thickly upon leather, armed with straight swords about a yard in length, and wearing helms like upset saucers; others less heavily armed, bearing oval shields and long lances, their shoulders and chests protected by glittering capes of scale armour; and others again, still more slightly armed, with lighter lances, and small round shields not larger than dinner-plates, with which to baulk a lance thrust; slingers, with light tunics reaching to the knee, and little or no armour, their weapon a long pole provided with a loop, from which the practised hand could sling stones with great force and precision. A good two-thirds of the archers and slingers were Bretons; for the men of Bretagne were famed bowmen, and furnished the chief contingent of the archers who did so much execution at Senlac.
Besides these there were the engineers, who worked the mangonels and catapults, and a large troop of smiths and armourers, whose duty it was to repair with hammer and anvil the damage done by wear and war to the accoutrements of these various gentry,—in all some two to three hundred men.
They rent the air with a great cheer, as they formed in line before the earl and countess and their retinue; and the castellan, Sir Hoël de St. Brice, a knight who had grown grey in the service of the Lords of Guader and Montfort, and who had fought under the father of Ralph's Breton mother, gave the cue, with a compliment to the bride.
'Long live the daughter of William Fitzosbern!' he cried, whereat the soldiers cheered again.
Emma smiled and bowed, and tried to pay them equal compliments in return.
'With such a castle, and such gallant defenders,' she said, 'fear would be impossible, even if the blood of the veriest coward ran in her veins instead of that of a hero.'
Whereat they gave still louder cheers, and vowed that they would spend every drop of their blood to defend her if need were.
Then the earl treated them to a little harangue.
'He knew they meant what they said,' he told them, 'for he had seen them fight, not only from behind stone walls, but hand to hand on the field of Hastings;' and added, 'that he was glad he knew their metal, for perhaps it would be rung sooner than they looked for.' An announcement received with vociferous delight by the wild men of war, who scarce thought life worth living in time of peace, and looked to the giving and taking of shrewd blows both for amusement and fortune, caring little in what cause they were bestowed.
While this took place, Eadgyth had turned her eyes to the south-east, the old portion of the town looking over to the Thorpe marshes, where the bright Mary buds 'had oped their golden eyes,' and the willows were white with catkins, and the Thorpe woods were in their fresh verdure. An overwhelming sense of desolation came upon her as she marked the old familiar objects among which her childhood had been passed—and more forcibly as she noted the absence of others. She drew her veil across her face, lest it should be seen that she was weeping.
The cavalcade moved on again, Sir Hoël riding by the earl's side. They passed into the northern end of King Street, and so to the ancient palace of the East Anglian earls, which stood where the St. Ethelbert Gate is now, and had a chapel dedicated to that saint, who had been a king of the East Angles. He was murdered by Offa, King of Mercia, at the instigation of his wife Quendrida. The head of the victimised prince rolled down as his body was being carried away; a blind man stumbled over it, and, accidentally touching his eyeballs with the blood, received his sight again. A well sprang up where the head fell. So runs the legend.
At the palace they were received by a gaily-clad host of servants and retainers. Brave squires and smart pages, portly bursar and anxious steward, cellarers, cooks, and scullions; stately dames and pretty bower-maidens, tirewomen, dairy and grinding-maids (for in those days windmills had not been invented, so 'woman's sphere' included the grinding of flour in a hand-mill),—these, and many more, stood waiting in order of their rank, and dressed in their bravest apparel.
Behind the earl's household was a still larger company of socmen and slaves from the nine manors which William of Normandy had bestowed on Ralph de Guader when he gave him the East Anglian earldom, making altogether a goodly crowd of retainers; and we may guess how they all strained forward to catch the first glimpse of the noble young bride their lord was bringing home, and how Emma, though well used to homage, was glad to bow her fair head under excuse of courtesy, and so hide her glowing face from so many curious eyes.
On the plain before the palace, opposite St. Michael's Chapel (Tombland), six fine beeves were roasting whole for the entertainment of the populace, and a tun of wine and several fat barrels of ale were broached, wherewith throats that had grown hoarse with shouting welcome should be refreshed.
So came Emma, Countess of Norfolk and Suffolk, to her new home in Norwich, where she was to spend but a few short months full of terror, suffering, and sorrow, and by her bearing under misfortune to prove herself the worthy daughter of her noble sire, and to be known in the pages of history as the heroine of the most romantic incident in the annals of Norwich Castle.
CHAPTER X.
LANFRANC, PRIMATE OF ALL ENGLAND.
Waltheof, instead of continuing his journey northward, left his retinue privily, and, with as small a following as the state of the country rendered imperative, made his way to Canterbury and craved audience of the Primate, appealing to him in the double capacity of a spiritual father, and, for the time, while King William should be absent, as a temporal superior also, the archbishop having been appointed justiciary of the kingdom in conjunction with Robert, Earl of Morton, and Geoffry, Bishop of Coutances.
After certain ceremonious delays, he was received. Lanfranc, Archbishop of Canterbury and Primate of all England, was a man of high character and subtle intellect, uniting the business capacities and breadth of view of the man of the world, to the piety and earnestness of a sincere churchman.
A Lombard by birth, he had attained eminence in his youth as a law student at Pavia. His birth was not noble, but his parents were said to have been of senatorial rank, which indicated a good social position. His eloquence as a lawyer was so great, that he triumphed over veteran opponents, and soon became famous. Italy, however, was at that time torn by dissensions, and he was early involved in political quarrels, so that he deemed it wise to quit the arena of his forensic triumphs, and to seek the less genial but safer climate of Normandy. Here he soon attained high eminence, and opened a school at Avranches, to which scholars came in crowds; but suddenly the illustrious advocate disappeared, and no one knew whither.
He was discovered, some three years later, living the life of a penitent in the secluded monastery of Bec, a small establishment founded by his countryman Herluin, but which afterwards became famous through having supplied Canterbury with three archbishops. After a time, Lanfranc became the prior of Bec, and was as much sought as a religious teacher as he had hitherto been as a lawyer.
In his newly-awakened zeal, Lanfranc took it upon him to denounce the intended marriage of the Duke of Normandy with Matilda of Flanders; the Pope having threatened excommunication, as the couple were within the prohibited degrees of relationship.
One fine day, the quiet monks of Bec, working in their garden amongst their cabbages and onions, were surprised by the advent of a gay company of knights in holiday attire, surrounding an ecclesiastic who rode pompously upon a fine white mule. The excitement increased to boiling point when the visitor was found to be the duke's chaplain Herfast, whom we have already introduced to the reader as holding the Bishopric of Elmham in 1075, and that his retinue was composed of nobles high in favour at the court; and the much-impressed monks hastened to tell their prior of the honour shown him. But the prior was giving audience to a beggar, and made the duke's emissaries wait till his conference was leisurely concluded. He understood perfectly well that William wished to bribe him, by this display of favour, into giving his assent to the wedding, and he had a mind to assert his independence.
Herfast was as ignorant as he was pompous, and the accomplished prior took every opportunity of exposing his guest's ignorance, even placing in his hands an abcdarium, or spelling-book, to the great amusement of the spectators and the huge wrath of Herfast, who rode back to his royal master with a fine tale of the insolence of the Lombard upstart.
William was so incensed, that he fell into a paroxysm of rage, ordered Lanfranc out of the country, and sent a band of soldiers to burn one of the granges of the monastery to the ground, as a practical witness to his anger at the way in which his courtiers had been treated.
Imagine the consternation amongst the monks of Bec. Lanfranc, however, was equal to the occasion. William had ordered him to quit the country. But the brethren of Bec were poor, and there were no parliamentary trains in those dark ages to carry passengers from one end of a country to the other for a penny a mile. They must travel in the saddle or on foot. Churchmen, for the most part, patronised mules of considerable size and high breeding, and journeyed in no small state. But the only animal the stables of Bec could boast was a sorry steed, angular of joint and far from sound. None the less the prior mounted it, and set off for Rouen, where he had been bidden to appear before the duke ere he quitted the country.
William came forth to meet the haughty churchman, who had dared to thwart and condemn him, and to make fun of his chaplain, accompanied by a gallant train of knights and squires. He expected to meet a cavalcade almost as numerous and magnificent as his own.
His face was dark with anger, and he wrapped himself in thoughtful taciturnity, meditating a rebuke befitting the insolence with which his condescension and favour had been met.
He grew impatient when along the straight level road nothing could be seen but a single horseman on a lame jade, whose nose almost touched the ground at every step, and whose pace was easily kept up with by a follower on foot.
As this sorry trio approached, however, he saw that the men were habited as monks, and Herfast, who rode beside his royal master on his sleek white mule, flushed deeply red.
''Tis Lanfranc himself!' he exclaimed.
Lanfranc jests with the Conqueror.
'What new mummery is this?' demanded William, his keen eyes straying over the comical figure of the prior and his wretched mount, and a smile gleaming over his stern face, brief but irrepressible, for William was a lover of horseflesh, and spared no pains or expense in the importation of fine horses from Spain for his own use. The creature he bestrode was a splendid animal, and the strongest of contrasts to the prior's pitiful nag.
Slight as the smile was, and hastily repressed, Lanfranc saw it, and took instant advantage.
'By your commands,' said the audacious prior airily, 'I am leaving your dominions, but it is only at a foot's pace that I can proceed on such a wretched beast as this; give me a better horse, and I shall be better able to obey your commands.'
William had a keen sense of humour, and perhaps felt that the clever Lombard would be a formidable foe.
He laughed a royal laugh of magnificent amusement. 'Who ever heard before,' he asked, 'of an offender venturing to ask a donation from the very judge he has offended?'
Herfast grew redder than ever with chagrin and mortification, for he saw very plainly that the subtle prior had mollified the duke by his intrepid joke. And so it was, and from this strange meeting resulted no less a matter than the establishment of a friendship which lasted till William's death.
Not long afterwards, Lanfranc went to Rome to plead with the Pope, and urge him to give his sanction to that marriage which the prior had hitherto opposed so bitterly. And this he did without inconsistency, for his opposition had been based upon William's defiance of the Holy See; when, therefore, he persuaded the haughty duke to humble himself, and plead meekly for a dispensation, with promises that he and his bride would bind themselves to many duties in return, amongst others, to endow each an abbey and two hospitals, the seeming submission of Lanfranc was really a triumph.
After a while, though much against his will, Lanfranc was induced to leave Normandy, and assume the onerous post of Primate of William's newly-conquered kingdom of England. He even appealed to Pope Alexander II. to extricate him from the difficulties of such high office, and to permit him to return to the monastic life, which above all things delighted him. But the Pope refused to interfere, and Lanfranc accepted the inevitable, and set to work with courageous zeal to make the best of his manifold duties. And he acquitted himself like a brave and good man, steering a wise course amongst the jealous Normans and aggrieved Saxons, selecting virtuous men to fill the posts which became vacant; and though, no doubt, partaking the prejudices of the conquerors, yet securing good men amongst the Saxon clergy as friends. The Church of England owes much to him, for he was distinctly an imperialist, and stoutly resisted papal aggression, laying the seeds of that nationality which has saved us from so many evils.
It may be imagined that the simple-minded and gentle Waltheof, much more adept at wielding a seax than at chopping logic, and who was as wax in the hands of his clever wife, was as water under the treatment of this subtle Lombard, who could mould to his wishes even the self-willed and astute William.
The archbishop received the Earl of Northumberland with much pomp and circumstance, giving him the ceremonious honour due to his high rank and his position as husband of the king's niece, so that Waltheof had to beg for a private interview.
This being granted, the unhappy hero knew not how to begin his forced confession, and the keen black eyes with which Lanfranc searched his face did not lessen his confusion.
But the archbishop had no intent to deal harshly with his illustrious penitent.
His features softened with a winning smile. 'What hast thou to say to me, my son?' he asked in a gentle voice. 'Why hesitate? Dost thou not know me for a true friend?'
'Alas, father! I have a sad tale of sin and weakness to reveal to thine ears,' said the son of Siward at length. 'But I pray thee advise me. I have taken an oath, and since then, heated with wine, and somewhat overawed by numbers, I have taken a second contrary thereto. By which am I bound? Am I forsworn in that, notwithstanding this second oath, I sent the messenger to thee, who, if nought mischanced, reached Canterbury some four days agone?'
'Thou hast sinned, my son, answered the archbishop gravely; 'but not so heavily but that, after due penance, the offence may be pardoned. An unwilling oath, taken under the compulsion of an excited crowd, can scarce bind as that which was the fruit of calm reflection and sober judgment. Rather must it be accounted evil in thee, that thou didst consort with a man who was anathema of the Holy Church.' His mobile face grew stern, but it was a sternness not unmixed with sorrow.
'Nay,' answered Waltheof eagerly, 'I knew not of that till the banquet was well-nigh ended, when it was impossible to turn back.'
He was relieved at the tone of the archbishop, yet could not keep reflecting bitterly in his heart, that this light treatment of a forced oath when taken by the son of Siward against William, was very different to the view taken of that made by the son of Godwin for William. Harold had been branded a perjurer for abjuring a forced oath.
'Nevertheless,' said the archbishop, not yet relaxing his face, 'thou hadst knowledge that the men whose bread was broken for thee were acting in direct opposition to the mandate of thy king-lord and kinsman, whose clemency had pardoned thy former misdeeds against him, whose hand had been reached to thee in fellowship, and whose niece had been given to thee to be bone of thy bone, flesh of thy flesh.'
'In good sooth, father,' replied Waltheof reluctantly, and with the air of a schoolboy repeating a lesson by rote, 'I thought mine uncle and king-lord was playing a somewhat tyrannical part in dividing two true lovers. I see now that he had reasons which I little suspected.'
This defence had been suggested by Judith.
Lanfranc's fine sensitive face grew sad. Speaking in a low, sorrowful voice, as though the subject caused him inexpressible pain, he said, 'My son, it was not for light or frivolous reasons that William our king-lord interfered to thwart the wishes of his earls. Nor was it without cause, or, in truth, without grievous necessity, that I declared the anathema of the Holy Church against the son of the man who did more than any other to crown our Norman duke an English king. Had it been but a question of a marriage,' the archbishop continued in the same strain, but in a still softer tone, and rather as if speaking to himself than to the earl, 'God forbid that I should have parted whom He had elected in His all-seeing wisdom to unite!' He sighed deeply, for in his youth he had been the husband of a much-loved wife, whose death had taken all flavour from earthly joy for him, and had been the cause of his precipitate retreat from a position of wealth and fame, to seek consolation in the cloister. 'I have loved Roger Fitzosbern as a son! I have striven with him in affection! But, alas! in vain. One folly was added to another, until at last foolishness swelled into crime. He denied justice to the injured. He invaded the property of his king-lord, and of his peers; and now he has crowned all by this attempted treason, brought to the light at the unholy banquet at which thou wert thyself tempted to evil, Waltheof! Ah! I have wept tears of blood over this lost sheep. Would that my efforts had recalled him to the fold! But the time is past.'
He stretched out his thin, transparent hands before him, his dark eyes fixed upon space, as if contemplating a vision of the bloodshed to come.
He was silent, and Waltheof, being a man of few words, was silent also.
Suddenly the Lombard turned his gleaming eyes upon the Northumbrian earl. Waltheof started, for in his heart was no repentance for having attended the banquet, nor for any of his treasonable designs, but only a fierce wrath against the Norman wife who had defeated his plans, and brought him more tightly under the yoke he hated, and it seemed to him as if those dark eyes could read his most secret thoughts. He shifted his huge frame uneasily, so that the bracelets which ringed his tattooed arms almost to the elbow, clanged together, and his large fingers sought the jewelled haft of the hunting-knife which hung at his baldric, not threateningly, but from habit.
Yet if his thoughts were read, they were ignored.
'But thou at least art here!' Lanfranc exclaimed, his mobile features lighted by a brilliant smile. 'Thy better angel has prevailed, and, by the mercy of Our Lady, has brought thee back to the fold at the eleventh hour.'
Waltheof looked relieved, and he lifted his head and tossed back the yellow mane which had fallen over his face.
'I pray thee, father,' he said earnestly, encouraged by the Primate's smile; 'stand by me in my trouble, and plead my cause with William of Normandy. Thou hast the power to influence him. Advise me how I may best act to win his pardon for my transgression; how best assure him of the sincerity of my return to allegiance.'
Waltheof's Humiliation.
'I will stand by thee, my son,' replied the archbishop, clasping Waltheof's great hand in his slender fingers. And he fulfilled his promise with unswerving fidelity, even to the last, when the unfortunate son of Siward lay doomed to death in prison; nor, if Lanfranc could have prevented it, would William have consummated that greatest blot upon his reign, the execution of the Northumbrian earl. 'Thou art impulsive, my son, and simple-minded, and therefore easily snared. But I believe not that thy heart is evil, or that thou wouldst be other than a pious son of our Holy Mother Church.'
'No, indeed!' said Waltheof, much affected by the appeal, which roused all the natural piety and humility of his nature. He crossed himself with much fervour. 'Tell me what to do, father. Whatever thou wilt command I will perform.'
'My son, I would bid thee cross the sea to Normandy and seek William in person, confessing all frankly, and throwing thyself on his mercy. Nor would it be detrimental to thy suit if thy hands bore somewhat of the produce of the lands and honours he has bestowed upon thee with so lavish a generosity.'
Waltheof shuddered. It was no pleasant prospect to the powerful earl, whose head had of late been so filled with schemes of ambition, thus to humble himself a second time to the conqueror of his people.
But Waltheof's courage was more of the physical order than the moral. He was, besides, of gentle disposition, and sincerely desired to avert bloodshed, and he thought that his defection from the ranks of the conspirators would prevent any attempt to meet William in the field.
Therefore he bowed his head. 'Thine advice is meet, father,' he said; 'I will cross the seas and seek William, bearing rich presents to testify my regret for the past, and present goodwill.'
CHAPTER XI.
THE CASTELLAN OF BLAUNCHEFLOUR.
Ralph de Guader had said little to his bride of the proceedings at the marriage festivities, but a time came when it was necessary for him to break in upon their brief honeymoon with rumours of war, for it was not possible to hide the fact that he must take the field in defence of life and liberty.
The defection of Waltheof had been a great blow to the conspirators; his untimely betrayal of their plans was more serious still, as their chance of success lay chiefly in the hope of taking the king's forces by surprise.
Waltheof himself had supposed that his course would altogether put a stop to the undertaking, seeing that his two brother earls had represented that to place him on the throne was its chief object.
But De Guader and Fitzosbern were too proud to give up their hopes of aggrandisement so easily, and, moreover, their case was desperate. If they submitted at once and unconditionally, they could only look forward to disgrace and imprisonment, whereas the chances of battle might still be in their favour. It was not wonderful, therefore, that they elected to fight it out, notwithstanding the odds against them.
The Earl of Norfolk and Suffolk had assembled his forces, and held all in readiness for departure on the morrow. The dreaded moment had come, and he sought his wife's bower, feeling that he would much liefer meet William's men-at-arms.
It was a sunny little room on the east side of the palace, looking over the marshes of the low holme which then bordered the Wensum with a wilderness of sedges and white water-lilies, and upon which, some eleven years later, Herbert de Losinga erected the cathedral which is our present pride and joy.
Emma loved to watch the high-prowed galleys passing to and fro upon the river, with sails spread, and oars flashing, and stout rowers bending to their work; and to see them lading and unlading at Lovelly's Staithe, a wharf situated about a third of the distance between the present ferry and Foundry Bridge.
Here Eadgyth would entertain her with stories of her girlhood, and tell how she had seen her cousin, Harold Godwinsson, land at that wharf, when he came to Norwich after his imprisonment in Normandy; and how Leofric, Earl of Mercia, to whom the sainted King Eadward had given the East Anglian earldom in Harold's absence, met him with all honour; and of the magnanimous strife between the two, when Leofric would give back the earldom, and Harold would fain have had him keep it; and how Harold took it for a time, but returned it on ascending the throne.
And when the white swans came sailing amongst the reeds, bending their long necks from side to side, the Saxon maiden would tell her friend of Harold's beloved, her namesake Eadgyth Swannehals, the most beautiful woman in Norfolk, or, for the matter of that, in all England, and would burst into tears when she thought of the sad ending of that fair romance.
And Emma would smile at her enthusiasm, but yet grew in sympathy with this English people, the smoke of whose dwellings was rising around her, and almost found it in her heart to wish that her hero William had been a little less successful, and to question whether it had not been more virtuous of him to stay at home in his native Normandy. Somehow she had never admired him so freely since he had endeavoured to part her from her betrothed.
In such a mood as this was Emma when her husband sought her, with the intention of telling her the secret of his bold enterprise, but he little guessed how much her sympathies had turned against William, for, as is often the case when convictions are changing, she had made up for her coldness of feeling by warmth of speech, and had sought so to atone for her act of rebellion in marrying Ralph against the king's mandate.
Therefore the earl knew not how to begin his explanation, and sat before her embroidery frame almost as deeply embarrassed as Waltheof had been before the archbishop. 'Tis true he had told her ere their wedding that the quarrel must needs be fought out, yet it seemed not the easier to say,'My standard is lifted.'
His face was ashy pale, for it was to him cruel as death to leave his young bride before a month had passed, although he had known that the parting must come.
Emma, looking at him, dropped her silks in horror, and, throwing her arms round his neck, asked coaxingly what ailed him.
And Ralph turned his head away without speaking.
'Can it be that I have offended thee in aught?' asked the young countess anxiously.
'Nay, Emma, I am the offender, if offender there be. Methinks the worst of all ailments is mine, for I must leave thee, and perchance anger thee also.'
'Leave me?' Her breath caught in a sob of terror.
Ralph faced her desperately. 'My love, thou knowest our wedding was against the express mandate of the king. Lanfranc, the king's man, whom he made Primate of all England,—in place of the holy Stigand, whom he unjustly deprived, and who yet languishes in prison,—hath turned bitterly against thy brother of Hereford, whom whilom he was wont to treat as a son, and has set a ban of excommunication upon him.'
A low cry of horror escaped from Emma.
Ralph's eyes flashed fire. He caught his wife's white hands as they were sliding down from his neck, half withdrawn at the fear that her love had led her into deadly sin, since the brother who had countenanced her marriage, and urged her to its fulfilment, was cast out by the Church.
He understood the loosening of her clasp, and caught her hands as a protest.
'Emma,' he cried,'thou hast taken me for better or worse. I hoped to have made thee the second lady in the land. But alas! I must fight to hold mine own, nay, for dear life,—life which is precious for thy sake.'
'I do not regret my choice,' said Emma, meeting his gaze with her frank eyes, her proud Fitzosbern spirit rising to the test. 'Only I fear lest I have sinned in taking thee against the will of my king-lord and the voice of the Holy Church.'
'Say rather the voice of William's creature,—a Lombard upstart, without a drop of noble blood in his veins. Dost thou forget the holy men who blessed our union and gave it the sanction of the Church? They blessed thy brother for taking up the cause of an oppressed people. Shall the curses of the wily Italian have more weight than their benedictions? Dost thou throw over thy brother so easily to his untender mercies?'
'Alas! I am bewildered amid so many conflicting counsels,' Emma sighed.
'This poor land and all who are in it are so bewildered, my sweet lady,' Ralph answered, kissing the hands he still held. 'None can see the right clearly. William—the Conqueror, as he proudly styles himself—hath gone mad with his success, and the luckless people groan under his tyranny. Would I had never helped him to leave his duchy of Normandy! But it is useless to groan over the past, nor can I stop to chop logic over the present. The point is this: The king's men are marching to attack me. My only course is to fight for it, and, if possible, make a junction with thy brother Roger, when it may be that the oppressed Saxons will strike a blow to regain their freedom, and, with my trusty Bretons, I may still gain the day.'
Emma clasped her hands in sore distress.
'Is it in good sooth come to this, that thou must go forth against the king? Alas! my foolish face tempted thee to wrong. 'Tis I that am to blame.'
Ralph caught her to him and kissed her. 'Nay, by the heart of Our Lady. 'Tis William's mad pride that is to blame, and that alone. Speak no slander against my wife, or it will go ill with thee, for I will not brook to hear it.'
Emma drooped her head against his shoulder, smiling through her tears. 'Oh, Ralph,' she said, 'if thou wert but going in a good cause, the parting would not be so bitter.'
Ralph, having no good argument to proffer in reply, lost his temper. He sprang up and paced the room, making his golden spurs jingle at each impatient stride.
'I thought when I wedded a Fitzosbern I should escape the lot of most men, to be wept and wailed over at every crinkle in the rose-leaves of fate. But it seems thou art but of the same stuff as other women, after all.'
Emma flushed over neck and brow. She drew herself proudly erect, and hastily wiped away the tears that were rolling down her cheeks.
'Naught but dread of guilt and a too fond love could have drawn tears from a Fitzosbern,' she answered haughtily. 'Thou shalt not need to complain again, my lord.'
'Nay, my sweet lady, pardon me,' pleaded the earl, turning to her with entreating eyes. 'In good sooth, I am well-nigh distracted, and the sight of thy tears makes me too bitterly conscious of my own lack of worth. But what wouldst thou have me do? If it were but a question of my own poor life, I would submit, and let William do his worst, if such a course would pleasure thee; but I cannot desert thy brother, nor my own poor Bretons, and the Saxons who have thrown in their lot with mine. Thou knowest William is not gentle with such as cross his will. It would mean loss of lands and lifelong imprisonment to thy brother and myself, and the lopping off a hand and a foot for each of my Bretons, at the least, while hanging would be too mild a measure in his eyes for the Saxons.'
Emma's hands were tightly clenched together. The momentary flush had faded from her face, and it was pale as death, but she neither sobbed nor flinched.
'I have made my choice, and I will abide by it,' she said in a low, firm voice. 'Nor will I quail before the consequences of our deed. We have chosen each other against the whole world. Perhaps if thou hadst trusted me more fully, thou hadst not been vexed with tears. Thy announcement was somewhat sudden.'
'Let that ill-grained speech rest in its grave, dear love. Thou hast spoken like a Fitzosbern now,' said the earl, taking her hands again in his and drawing her back to his shoulder. 'I want thee to be of good courage, for I have treated thee as a hero's daughter, and appointed thee Castellan of Blauncheflour in my absence. I have vested in thee the supreme and sole command. Thine it shall be, in case of siege while I am away,—which God forfend,—to surrender or defend the castle on whatsoever terms may seem good to thee. Sir Alain de Gourin and Sir Hoël de St. Brice will act under thine orders and be thine advisers. Wilt thou take the office?'
'Yes, I will take it,' answered Emma, without a moment's hesitation, although her whole soul trembled within her at the prospect of being left in her young feebleness to command the turbulent De Gourin, for whom she had a strong aversion, and the veteran Sir Hoël, who was a total stranger to her, albeit he had been so long in her husband's train.
'Thou art indeed a fit bride for a warrior,' cried Ralph, gazing with admiration at her determined face.
Emma longed to throw her arms around his neck and sob, but conquered the impulse, answering only with a smile.
'Thou saidest I was sudden, sweet,' resumed Ralph. 'Methinks an agony that must be sharp had best be short. To that end I would not poison for thee the brief time we had together with the shadow of parting. That is why I told thee naught till now, upon the eve of my going forth.'
Emma could not repress a slight start.
'Dost go so soon? To-morrow?' she said.
'To-morrow thou wilt enter on thy new office,' answered the earl gaily, kissing her forehead. And then he slipped from the apartment, congratulating himself that the mischief was out, and full of admiration for his bride, in that she had borne the tidings so bravely.
Emma listened to his footfall as he strode down the long corridor till its echo was lost in the distance. Then the emotion she had violently repressed had its way.
She stretched out her arms after him as if to call him back, and threw herself on her knees near the door.
'Oh, Ralph!' she sobbed,—'oh, Ralph, my husband! Saints and angels protect thee! Guard him, St. Nicholas, thou under whose patronage he has placed himself. I vow seven candlesticks of pure gold to thine altar in Blauncheflour.'
Her voice died away, a strange sensation of numb oppression succeeded her violent anguish, and she sank in a dead faint by the door her husband had just passed through.