Chapter III

by Charlotte M. Yonge

　　Duke William of the Long Sword was buried the next morning in highpomp and state, with many a prayer and psalm chanted over his grave.

　　When this was over, little Richard, who had all the time stood orknelt nearest the corpse, in one dull heavy dream of wonder andsorrow, was led back to the palace, and there his long, heavy, blackgarments were taken off, and he was dressed in his short scarlettunic, his hair was carefully arranged, and then he came down againinto the hall, where there was a great assembly of Barons, some inarmour, some in long furred gowns, who had all been attending hisfather's burial. Richard, as he was desired by Sir Eric deCenteville, took off his cap, and bowed low in reply to thereverences with which they all greeted his entrance, and he thenslowly crossed the hall, and descended the steps from the door, whilethey formed into a procession behind him, according to their ranks--the Duke of Brittany first, and then all the rest, down to thepoorest knight who held his manor immediately from the Duke ofNormandy.

　　Thus, they proceeded, in slow and solemn order, till they came to thechurch of our Lady. The clergy were there already, ranged in rankson each side of the Choir; and the Bishops, in their mitres and richrobes, each with his pastoral staff in his hand, were standing roundthe Altar. As the little Duke entered, there arose from all thevoices in the Chancel the full, loud, clear chant of Te DeumLaudamus, echoing among the dark vaults of the roof. To that sound,Richard walked up the Choir, to a large, heavy, crossed-legged,carved chair, raised on two steps, just before the steps of the Altarbegan, and there he stood, Bernard de Harcourt and Eric de Centevilleon each side of him, and all his other vassals in due order, in theChoir.

　　After the beautiful chant of the hymn was ended, the service for theHoly Communion began. When the time came for the offering, eachnoble gave gold or silver; and, lastly, Rainulf of Ferrieres came upto the step of the Altar with a cushion, on which was placed acirclet of gold, the ducal coronet; and another Baron, following himclosely, carried a long, heavy sword, with a cross handle. TheArchbishop of Rouen received both coronet and sword, and laid them onthe Altar. Then the service proceeded. At that time the rite ofConfirmation was administered in infancy, and Richard, who had beenconfirmed by his godfather, the Archbishop of Rouen, immediatelyafter his baptism, knelt in solemn awe to receive the other HolySacrament from his hands, as soon as all the clergy had communicated.{8}

　　When the administration was over, Richard was led forward to the stepof the Altar by Count Bernard, and Sir Eric, and the Archbishop,laying one hand upon both his, as he held them clasped together,demanded of him, in the name of God, and of the people of Normandy,whether he would be their good and true ruler, guard them from theirfoes, maintain truth, punish iniquity, and protect the Church.

　　"I will!" answered Richard's young, trembling voice, "So help meGod!" and he knelt, and kissed the book of the Holy Gospels, whichthe Archbishop offered him.

　　It was a great and awful oath, and he dreaded to think that he hadtaken it. He still knelt, put both hands over his face, andwhispered, "O God, my Father, help me to keep it."

　　The Archbishop waited till he rose, and then, turning him with hisface to the people, said, "Richard, by the grace of God, I investthee with the ducal mantle of Normandy!"

　　Two of the Bishops then hung round his shoulders a crimson velvetmantle, furred with ermine, which, made as it was for a grown man,hung heavily on the poor child's shoulders, and lay in heaps on theground. The Archbishop then set the golden coronet on his long,flowing hair, where it hung so loosely on the little head, that SirEric was obliged to put his hand to it to hold it safe; and, lastly,the long, straight, two-handed sword was brought and placed in hishand, with another solemn bidding to use it ever in maintaining theright. It should have been girded to his side, but the great swordwas so much taller than the little Duke, that, as it stood upright byhim, he was obliged to raise his arm to put it round the handle.

　　He then had to return to his throne, which was not done without somedifficulty, encumbered as he was, but Osmond held up the train of hismantle, Sir Eric kept the coronet on his head, and he himself heldfast and lovingly the sword, though the Count of Harcourt offered tocarry it for him. He was lifted up to his throne, and then came thepaying him homage; Alan, Duke of Brittany, was the first to kneelbefore him, and with his hand between those of the Duke, he swore tobe his man, to obey him, and pay him feudal service for his dukedomof Brittany. In return, Richard swore to be his good Lord, and toprotect him from all his foes. Then followed Bernard the Dane, andmany another, each repeating the same formulary, as their largerugged hands were clasped within those little soft fingers. Many akind and loving eye was bent in compassion on the orphan child; manya strong voice faltered with earnestness as it pronounced the vow,and many a brave, stalwart heart heaved with grief for the murderedfather, and tears flowed down the war-worn cheeks which had met thefiercest storms of the northern ocean, as they bent before the youngfatherless boy, whom they loved for the sake of his conqueringgrandfather, and his brave and pious father. Few Normans were therewhose hearts did not glow at the touch of those small hands, with alove almost of a parent, for their young Duke.

　　The ceremony of receiving homage lasted long and Richard, thoughinterested and touched at first, grew very weary; the crown andmantle were so heavy, the faces succeeded each other like figures inan endless dream, and the constant repetition of the same words wasvery tedious. He grew sleepy, he longed to jump up, to lean to theright or left, or to speak something besides that regular form. Hegave one great yawn, but it brought him such a frown from the sternface of Bernard, as quite to wake him for a few minutes, and make himsit upright, and receive the next vassal with as much attention as hehad shown the first, but he looked imploringly at Sir Eric, as if toask if it ever would be over. At last, far down among the Barons,came one at whose sight Richard revived a little. It was a boy onlya few years older than himself, perhaps about ten, with a pleasantbrown face, black hair, and quick black eyes which glanced, with alook between friendliness and respect, up into the little Duke'sgazing face. Richard listened eagerly for his name, and wasrefreshed at the sound of the boyish voice which pronounced, "I,Alberic de Montemar, am thy liegeman and vassal for my castle andbarony of Montemar sur Epte."

　　When Alberic moved away, Richard followed him with his eye as far ashe could to his place in the Cathedral, and was taken by surprisewhen he found the next Baron kneeling before him.

　　The ceremony of homage came to an end at last, and Richard would fainhave run all the way to the palace to shake off his weariness, but hewas obliged to head the procession again; and even when he reachedthe castle hall his toils were not over, for there was a great statebanquet spread out, and he had to sit in the high chair where heremembered climbing on his father's knee last Christmas-day, all thetime that the Barons feasted round, and held grave converse.Richard's best comfort all this time was in watching Osmond deCenteville and Alberic de Montemar, who, with the other youths whowere not yet knighted, were waiting on those who sat at the table.At last he grew so very weary, that he fell fast asleep in the cornerof his chair, and did not wake till he was startled by the roughvoice of Bernard de Harcourt, calling him to rouse up, and bid theDuke of Brittany farewell.

　　"Poor child!" said Duke Alan, as Richard rose up, startled, "he isover-wearied with this day's work. Take care of him, Count Bernard;thou a kindly nurse, but a rough one for such a babe. Ha! my youngLord, your colour mantles at being called a babe! I crave yourpardon, for you are a fine spirit. And hark you, Lord Richard ofNormandy, I have little cause to love your race, and little right, Itrow, had King Charles the Simple to call us free Bretons liegemen toa race of plundering Northern pirates. To Duke Rollo's might, myfather never gave his homage; nay, nor did I yield it for all DukeWilliam's long sword, but I did pay it to his generosity andforbearance, and now I grant it to thy weakness and to his noblememory. I doubt not that the recreant Frank, Louis, whom he restoredto his throne, will strive to profit by thy youth and helplessness,and should that be, remember that thou hast no surer friend than Alanof Brittany. Fare thee well, my young Duke."

　　"Farewell, Sir," said Richard, willingly giving his hand to be shakenby his kind vassal, and watching him as Sir Eric attended him fromthe hall.

　　"Fair words, but I trust not the Breton," muttered Bernard; "hatredis deeply ingrained in them."

　　"He should know what the Frank King is made of," said Rainulf deFerrieres; "he was bred up with him in the days that they were bothexiles at the court of King Ethelstane of England."

　　"Ay, and thanks to Duke William that either Louis or Alan are notexiles still. Now we shall see whose gratitude is worth most, theFrank's or the Breton's. I suspect the Norman valour will be thebest to trust to."

　　"Yes, and how will Norman valour prosper without treasure? Who knowswhat gold is in the Duke's coffers?"

　　There was some consultation here in a low voice, and the next thingRichard heard distinctly was, that one of the Nobles held up a silverchain and key, {9} saying that they had been found on the Duke'sneck, and that he had kept them, thinking that they doubtless led tosomething of importance.

　　"Oh, yes!" said Richard, eagerly, "I know it. He told me it was thekey to his greatest treasure."

　　The Normans heard this with great interest, and it was resolved thatseveral of the most trusted persons, among whom were the Archbishopof Rouen, Abbot Martin of Jumieges, and the Count of Harcourt, shouldgo immediately in search of this precious hoard. Richard accompaniedthem up the narrow rough stone stairs, to the large dark apartment,where his father had slept. Though a Prince's chamber, it had littlefurniture; a low uncurtained bed, a Cross on a ledge near its head, arude table, a few chairs, and two large chests, were all itcontained. Harcourt tried the lid of one of the chests: it opened,and proved to be full of wearing apparel; he went to the other, whichwas smaller, much more carved, and ornamented with very handsomeiron-work. It was locked, and putting in the key, it fitted, thelock turned, and the chest was opened. The Normans pressed eagerlyto see their Duke's greatest treasure.

　　It was a robe of serge, and a pair of sandals, such as were worn inthe Abbey of Jumieges.

　　"Ha! is this all? What didst say, child?" cried Bernard the Dane,hastily.

　　"He told me it was his greatest treasure!" repeated Richard.

　　"And it was!" said Abbot Martin.

　　Then the good Abbot told them the history, part of which was alreadyknown to some of them. About five or six years before, Duke Williamhad been hunting in the forest of Jumieges, when he had suddenly comeon the ruins of the Abbey, which had been wasted thirty or fortyyears previously by the Sea-King, Hasting. Two old monks, of theoriginal brotherhood, still survived, and came forth to greet theDuke, and offer him their hospitality.

　　"Ay!" said Bernard, "well do I remember their bread; we asked if itwas made of fir-bark, like that of our brethren of Norway."

　　William, then an eager, thoughtless young man, turned with disgustfrom this wretched fare, and throwing the old men some gold, gallopedon to enjoy his hunting. In the course of the sport, he was leftalone, and encountered a wild boar, which threw him down, trampled onhim, and left him stretched senseless on the ground, severelyinjured. His companions coming up, carried him, as the nearest placeof shelter, to the ruins of Jumieges, where the two old monks gladlyreceived him in the remaining portion of their house. As soon as herecovered his senses, he earnestly asked their pardon for his pride,and the scorn he had shown to the poverty and patient suffering whichhe should have reverenced.

　　William had always been a man who chose the good and refused theevil, but this accident, and the long illness that followed it, madehim far more thoughtful and serious than he had ever been before; hemade preparing for death and eternity his first object, and thoughtless of his worldly affairs, his wars, and his ducal state. Herebuilt the old Abbey, endowed it richly, and sent for Martin himselffrom France, to become the Abbot; he delighted in nothing so much aspraying there, conversing with the Abbot, and hearing him read holybooks; and he felt his temporal affairs, and the state and splendourof his rank, so great a temptation, that he had one day come to theAbbot, and entreated to be allowed to lay them aside, and become abrother of the order. But Martin had refused to receive his vows.He had told him that he had no right to neglect or forsake the dutiesof the station which God had appointed him; that it would be a sin toleave the post which had been given him to defend; and that the waymarked out for him to serve God was by doing justice among hispeople, and using his power to defend the right. Not till he haddone his allotted work, and his son was old enough to take his placeas ruler of the Normans, might he cease from his active duties, quitthe turmoil of the world, and seek the repose of the cloister. Itwas in this hope of peaceful retirement, that William had delightedto treasure up the humble garments that he hoped one day to wear inpeace and holiness.

　　"And oh! my noble Duke!" exclaimed Abbot Martin, bursting into tears,as he finished his narration, "the Lord hath been very gracious untothee! He has taken thee home to thy rest, long before thou didstdare to hope for it."

　　Slowly, and with subdued feelings, the Norman Barons left thechamber; Richard, whom they seemed to have almost forgotten, wanderedto the stairs, to find his way to the room where he had slept lastnight. He had not made many steps before he heard Osmond's voicesay, "Here, my Lord;" he looked up, saw a white cap at a doorway alittle above him, he bounded up and flew into Dame Astrida'soutstretched arms.

　　How glad he was to sit in her lap, and lay his wearied head on herbosom, while, with a worn-out voice, he exclaimed, "Oh, Fru Astrida!I am very, very tired of being Duke of Normandy!"