Chapter I

by Charlotte M. Yonge

　　On a bright autumn day, as long ago as the year 943, there was agreat bustle in the Castle of Bayeux in Normandy.

　　The hall was large and low, the roof arched, and supported on thickshort columns, almost like the crypt of a Cathedral; the walls werethick, and the windows, which had no glass, were very small, set insuch a depth of wall that there was a wide deep window seat, uponwhich the rain might beat, without reaching the interior of the room.And even if it had come in, there was nothing for it to hurt, for thewalls were of rough stone, and the floor of tiles. There was a fireat each end of this great dark apartment, but there were no chimneysover the ample hearths, and the smoke curled about in thick whitefolds in the vaulted roof, adding to the wreaths of soot, which madethe hall look still darker.

　　The fire at the lower end was by far the largest and hottest. Greatblack cauldrons hung over it, and servants, both men and women, withred faces, bare and grimed arms, and long iron hooks, or pots andpans, were busied around it. At the other end, which was raisedabout three steps above the floor of the hall, other servants wereengaged. Two young maidens were strewing fresh rushes on the floor;some men were setting up a long table of rough boards, supported ontrestles, and then ranging upon it silver cups, drinking horns, andwooden trenchers.

　　Benches were placed to receive most of the guests, but in the middle,at the place of honour, was a high chair with very thick crossinglegs, and the arms curiously carved with lions' faces and claws; aclumsy wooden footstool was set in front, and the silver drinking-cupon the table was of far more beautiful workmanship than the others,richly chased with vine leaves and grapes, and figures of little boyswith goats' legs. If that cup could have told its story, it wouldhave been a strange one, for it had been made long since, in the oldRoman times, and been carried off from Italy by some Northman pirate.

　　From one of these scenes of activity to the other, there moved astately old lady: her long thick light hair, hardly touched withgrey, was bound round her head, under a tall white cap, with a bandpassing under her chin: she wore a long sweeping dark robe, withwide hanging sleeves, and thick gold ear-rings and necklace, whichhad possibly come from the same quarter as the cup. She directed theservants, inspected both the cookery and arrangements of the table,held council with an old steward, now and then looked ratheranxiously from the window, as if expecting some one, and began to saysomething about fears that these loitering youths would not bringhome the venison in time for Duke William's supper.

　　Presently, she looked up rejoiced, for a few notes of a bugle-hornwere sounded; there was a clattering of feet, and in a few momentsthere bounded into the hall, a boy of about eight years old, hischeeks and large blue eyes bright with air and exercise, and his longlight-brown hair streaming behind him, as he ran forward flourishinga bow in his hand, and crying out, "I hit him, I hit him! DameAstrida, do you hear? 'Tis a stag of ten branches, and I hit him inthe neck."

　　"You! my Lord Richard! you killed him?"

　　"Oh, no, I only struck him. It was Osmond's shaft that took him inthe eye, and--Look you, Fru Astrida, he came thus through the wood,and I stood here, it might be, under the great elm with my bow thus"--And Richard was beginning to act over again the whole scene of thedeer-hunt, but Fru, that is to say, Lady Astrida, was too busy tolisten, and broke in with, "Have they brought home the haunch?"

　　"Yes, Walter is bringing it. I had a long arrow--"

　　A stout forester was at this instant seen bringing in the venison,and Dame Astrida hastened to meet it, and gave directions, littleRichard following her all the way, and talking as eagerly as if shewas attending to him, showing how he shot, how Osmond shot, how thedeer bounded, and how it fell, and then counting the branches of itsantlers, always ending with, "This is something to tell my father.Do you think he will come soon?"

　　In the meantime two men entered the hall, one about fifty, the other,one or two-and-twenty, both in hunting dresses of plain leather,crossed by broad embroidered belts, supporting a knife, and a bugle-horn. The elder was broad-shouldered, sun-burnt, ruddy, and ratherstern-looking; the younger, who was also the taller, was slightlymade, and very active, with a bright keen grey eye, and merry smile.These were Dame Astrida's son, Sir Eric de Centeville, and hergrandson, Osmond; and to their care Duke William of Normandy hadcommitted his only child, Richard, to be fostered, or brought up. {1}

　　It was always the custom among the Northmen, that young princesshould thus be put under the care of some trusty vassal, instead ofbeing brought up at home, and one reason why the Centevilles had beenchosen by Duke William was, that both Sir Eric and his mother spokeonly the old Norwegian tongue, which he wished young Richard tounderstand well, whereas, in other parts of the Duchy, the Normanshad forgotten their own tongue, and had taken up what was then calledthe Langued'oui, a language between German and Latin, which was thebeginning of French.

　　On this day, Duke William himself was expected at Bayeux, to pay avisit to his son before setting out on a journey to settle thedisputes between the Counts of Flanders and Montreuil, and this wasthe reason of Fru Astrida's great preparations. No sooner had sheseen the haunch placed upon a spit, which a little boy was to turnbefore the fire, than she turned to dress something else, namely, theyoung Prince Richard himself, whom she led off to one of the upperrooms, and there he had full time to talk, while she, great ladythough she was, herself combed smooth his long flowing curls, andfastened his short scarlet cloth tunic, which just reached to hisknee, leaving his neck, arms, and legs bare. He begged hard to beallowed to wear a short, beautifully ornamented dagger at his belt,but this Fru Astrida would not allow.

　　"You will have enough to do with steel and dagger before your life isat an end," said she, "without seeking to begin over soon."

　　"To be sure I shall," answered Richard. "I will be called Richard ofthe Sharp Axe, or the Bold Spirit, I promise you, Fru Astrida. Weare as brave in these days as the Sigurds and Ragnars you sing of! Ionly wish there were serpents and dragons to slay here in Normandy."

　　"Never fear but you will find even too many of them," said DameAstrida; "there be dragons of wrong here and everywhere, quite asvenomous as any in my Sagas."

　　"I fear them not," said Richard, but half understanding her, "if youwould only let me have the dagger! But, hark! hark!" he darted tothe window. "They come, they come! There is the banner ofNormandy."

　　Away ran the happy child, and never rested till he stood at thebottom of the long, steep, stone stair, leading to the embattledporch. Thither came the Baron de Centeville, and his son, to receivetheir Prince. Richard looked up at Osmond, saying, "Let me hold hisstirrup," and then sprang up and shouted for joy, as under the archedgateway there came a tall black horse, bearing the stately form ofthe Duke of Normandy. His purple robe was fastened round him by arich belt, sustaining the mighty weapon, from which he was called"William of the long Sword," his legs and feet were cased in linkedsteel chain-work, his gilded spurs were on his heels, and his shortbrown hair was covered by his ducal cap of purple, turned up withfur, and a feather fastened in by a jewelled clasp. His brow wasgrave and thoughtful, and there was something both of dignity andsorrow in his face, at the first moment of looking at it, recallingthe recollection that he had early lost his young wife, the DuchessEmma, and that he was beset by many cares and toils; but the nextglance generally conveyed encouragement, so full of mildness were hiseyes, and so kind the expression of his lips.

　　And now, how bright a smile beamed upon the little Richard, who, forthe first time, paid him the duty of a pupil in chivalry, by holdingthe stirrup while he sprung from his horse. Next, Richard knelt toreceive his blessing, which was always the custom when children mettheir parents. The Duke laid his hand on his head, saying, "God ofHis mercy bless thee, my son," and lifting him in his arms, held himto his breast, and let him cling to his neck and kiss him again andagain, before setting him down, while Sir Eric came forward, bent hisknee, kissed the hand of his Prince, and welcomed him to his Castle.

　　It would take too long to tell all the friendly and courteous wordsthat were spoken, the greeting of the Duke and the noble old LadyAstrida, and the reception of the Barons who had come in the train oftheir Lord. Richard was bidden to greet them, but, though he heldout his hand as desired, he shrank a little to his father's side,gazing at them in dread and shyness.

　　There was Count Bernard, of Harcourt, called the "Dane," {2} with hisshaggy red hair and beard, to which a touch of grey had given astrange unnatural tint, his eyes looking fierce and wild under histhick eyebrows, one of them mis-shapen in consequence of a sword cut,which had left a broad red and purple scar across both cheek andforehead. There, too, came tall Baron Rainulf, of Ferrieres, casedin a linked steel hauberk, that rang as he walked, and the men-at-arms, with helmets and shields, looking as if Sir Eric's armour thathung in the hail had come to life and was walking about.

　　They sat down to Fru Astrida's banquet, the old Lady at the Duke'sright hand, and the Count of Harcourt on his left; Osmond carved forthe Duke, and Richard handed his cup and trencher. All through themeal, the Duke and his Lords talked earnestly of the expedition onwhich they were bound to meet Count Arnulf of Flanders, on a littleislet in the river Somme, there to come to some agreement, by whichArnulf might make restitution to Count Herluin of Montreuil, forcertain wrongs which he had done him.

　　Some said that this would be the fittest time for requiring Arnulf toyield up some towns on his borders, to which Normandy had long laidclaim, but the Duke shook his head, saying that he must seek noselfish advantage, when called to judge between others.

　　Richard was rather tired of their grave talk, and thought the suppervery long; but at last it was over, the Grace was said, the boardswhich had served for tables were removed, and as it was still light,some of the guests went to see how their steeds had been bestowed,others to look at Sir Eric's horses and hounds, and others collectedtogether in groups.

　　The Duke had time to attend to his little boy, and Richard sat uponhis knee and talked, told about all his pleasures, how his arrow hadhit the deer to-day, how Sir Eric let him ride out to the chase onhis little pony, how Osmond would take him to bathe in the coolbright river, and how he had watched the raven's nest in the top ofthe old tower.

　　Duke William listened, and smiled, and seemed as well pleased to hearas the boy was to tell. "And, Richard," said he at last, "have younought to tell me of Father Lucas, and his great book? What, not aword? Look up, Richard, and tell me how it goes with the learning."{3}

　　"Oh, father!" said Richard, in a low voice, playing with the clasp ofhis father's belt, and looking down, "I don't like those crabbedletters on the old yellow parchment."

　　"But you try to learn them, I hope!" said the Duke.

　　"Yes, father, I do, but they are very hard, and the words are solong, and Father Lucas will always come when the sun is so bright,and the wood so green, that I know not how to bear to be kept poringover those black hooks and strokes."

　　"Poor little fellow," said Duke William, smiling and Richard, ratherencouraged, went on more boldly. "You do not know this reading,noble father?"

　　"To my sorrow, no," said the Duke.

　　"And Sir Eric cannot read, nor Osmond, nor any one, and why must Iread, and cramp my fingers with writing, just as if I was a clerk,instead of a young Duke?" Richard looked up in his father's face,and then hung his head, as if half-ashamed of questioning his will,but the Duke answered him without displeasure.

　　"It is hard, no doubt, my boy, to you now, but it will be the betterfor you in the end. I would give much to be able myself to readthose holy books which I must now only hear read to me by a clerk,but since I have had the wish, I have had no time to learn as youhave now."

　　"But Knights and Nobles never learn," said Richard.

　　"And do you think it a reason they never should? But you are wrong,my boy, for the Kings of France and England, the Counts of Anjou, ofProvence, and Paris, yes, even King Hako of Norway, {4} can allread."

　　"I tell you, Richard, when the treaty was drawn up for restoring thisKing Louis to his throne, I was ashamed to find myself one of the fewcrown vassals who could not write his name thereto."

　　"But none is so wise or so good as you, father," said Richard,proudly. "Sir Eric often says so."

　　"Sir Eric loves his Duke too well to see his faults," said DukeWilliam; "but far better and wiser might I have been, had I beentaught by such masters as you may be. And hark, Richard, not onlycan all Princes here read, but in England, King Ethelstane would haveevery Noble taught; they study in his own palace, with his brothers,and read the good words that King Alfred the truth-teller put intotheir own tongue for them."

　　"I hate the English," said Richard, raising his head and looking veryfierce.

　　"Hate them? and wherefore?"

　　"Because they traitorously killed the brave Sea King Ragnar! FruAstrida sings his death-song, which he chanted when the vipers weregnawing him to death, and he gloried to think how his sons wouldbring the ravens to feast upon the Saxon. Oh! had I been his son,how I would have carried on the feud! How I would have laughed whenI cut down the false traitors, and burnt their palaces!" Richard'seye kindled, and his words, as he spoke the old Norse language,flowed into the sort of wild verse in which the Sagas or legendarysongs were composed, and which, perhaps, he was unconsciouslyrepeating.

　　Duke William looked grave.

　　"Fru Astrida must sing you no more such Sagas," said he, "if theyfill your mind with these revengeful thoughts, fit only for theworshippers of Odin and Thor. Neither Ragnar nor his sons knewbetter than to rejoice in this deadly vengeance, but we, who areChristians, know that it is for us to forgive."

　　"The English had slain their father!" said Richard, looking up withwondering dissatisfied eyes.

　　"Yes, Richard, and I speak not against them, for they were even as weshould have been, had not King Harold the fair-haired driven yourgrandfather from Denmark. They had not been taught the truth, but tous it has been said, 'Forgive, and ye shall be forgiven.' Listen tome, my son, Christian as is this nation of ours, this duty offorgiveness is too often neglected, but let it not be so with you.Bear in mind, whenever you see the Cross {5} marked on our banner, orcarved in stone on the Churches, that it speaks of forgiveness to us;but of that pardon we shall never taste if we forgive not ourenemies. Do you mark me, boy?"

　　Richard hesitated a little, and then said, "Yes, father, but I couldnever have pardoned, had I been one of Ragnar's sons."

　　"It may be that you will be in their case, Richard," said the Duke,"and should I fall, as it may well be I shall, in some of thecontests that tear to pieces this unhappy Kingdom of France, then,remember what I say now. I charge you, on your duty to God and toyour father, that you keep up no feud, no hatred, but rather that youshould deem me best revenged, when you have with heart and hand,given the fullest proof of forgiveness to your enemy. Give me yourword that you will."

　　"Yes, father," said Richard, with rather a subdued tone, and restinghis head on his father's shoulder. There was a silence for a littlespace, during which he began to revive into playfulness, to strokethe Duke's short curled beard, and play with his embroidered collar.

　　In so doing, his fingers caught hold of a silver chain, and pullingit out with a jerk, he saw a silver key attached to it. "Oh, what isthat?" he asked eagerly. "What does that key unlock?"

　　"My greatest treasure," replied Duke William, as he replaced thechain and key within his robe.

　　"Your greatest treasure, father! Is that your coronet?"

　　"You will know one day," said his father, putting the little handdown from its too busy investigations; and some of the Barons at thatmoment returning into the hall, he had no more leisure to bestow onhis little son.

　　The next day, after morning service in the Chapel, and breakfast inthe hall, the Duke again set forward on his journey, giving Richardhopes he might return in a fortnight's time, and obtaining from him apromise that he would be very attentive to Father Lucas, and veryobedient to Sir Eric de Centeville.