Chapter VI

by Charlotte M. Yonge

　　Away from the tall narrow gateway of Rollo's Tower, with the clusterof friendly, sorrowful faces looking forth from it, away from thebooth-like shops of Rouen, and the stout burghers shouting with allthe power of their lungs, "Long live Duke Richard! Long live KingLouis! Death to the Fleming!"--away from the broad Seine--away fromhome and friends, rode the young Duke of Normandy, by the side of thepalfrey of the King of France.

　　The King took much notice of him, kept him by his side, talked tohim, admired the beautiful cattle grazing in security in the greenpastures, and, as he looked at the rich dark brown earth of thefields, the Castles towering above the woods, the Convents lookinglike great farms, the many villages round the rude Churches, and thenumerous population who came out to gaze at the party, and repeat thecry of "Long live the King! Blessings on the little Duke!" he toldRichard, again and again, that his was the most goodly duchy inFrance and Germany to boot.

　　When they crossed the Epte, the King would have Richard in the sameboat with him, and sitting close to Louis, and talking eagerly aboutfalcons and hounds, the little Duke passed the boundary of his owndukedom.

　　The country beyond was not like Normandy. First they came to a greatforest, which seemed to have no path through it. The King orderedthat one of the men, who had rowed them across, should be made toserve as guide, and two of the men-at-arms took him between them, andforced him to lead the way, while others, with their swords andbattle-axes, cut down and cleared away the tangled branches andbriars that nearly choked the path. All the time, every one wassharply on the look-out for robbers, and the weapons were all heldready for use at a moment's notice. On getting beyond the forest aCastle rose before them, and, though it was not yet late in the day,they resolved to rest there, as a marsh lay not far before them,which it would not have been safe to traverse in the eveningtwilight.

　　The Baron of the Castle received them with great respect to the King,but without paying much attention to the Duke of Normandy, andRichard did not find the second place left for him at the board. Hecoloured violently, and looked first at the King, and then at Osmond,but Osmond held up his finger in warning; he remembered how he hadlost his temper before, and what had come of it, and resolved to tryto bear it better; and just then the Baron's daughter, a gentle-looking maiden of fifteen or sixteen, came and spoke to him, andentertained him so well, that he did not think much more of hisoffended dignity.--When they set off on their journey again, theBaron and several of his followers came with them to show the onlysafe way across the morass, and a very slippery, treacherous, quakingroad it was, where the horses' feet left pools of water wherever theytrod. The King and the Baron rode together, and the other FrenchNobles closed round them; Richard was left quite in the background,and though the French men-at-arms took care not to lose sight of him,no one offered him any assistance, excepting Osmond, who, giving hisown horse to Sybald, one of the two Norman grooms who accompaniedhim, led Richard's horse by the bridle along the whole distance ofthe marshy path, a business that could scarcely have been pleasant,as Osmond wore his heavy hauberk, and his pointed, iron-guarded bootssunk deep at every step into the bog. He spoke little, but seemed tobe taking good heed of every stump of willow or stepping-stone thatmight serve as a note of remembrance of the path.

　　At the other end of the morass began a long tract of dreary-looking,heathy waste, without a sign of life. The Baron took leave of theKing, only sending three men-at-arms, to show him the way to amonastery, which was to be the next halting-place. He sent three,because it was not safe for one, even fully armed, to ride alone, forfear of the attacks of the followers of a certain marauding Baron,who was at deadly feud with him, and made all that border a mostperilous region. Richard might well observe that he did not like theVexin half as well as Normandy, and that the people ought to learnFru Astrida's story of the golden bracelets, which, in hisgrandfather's time, had hung untouched for a year, in a tree in aforest.

　　It was pretty much the same through the whole journey, waste lands,marshes, and forests alternated. The Castles stood on high moundsfrowning on the country round, and villages were clustered roundthem, where the people either fled away, driving off their cattlewith them at the first sight of an armed band, or else, if theyremained, proved to be thin, wretched-looking creatures, with wastedlimbs, aguish faces, and often iron collars round their necks.Wherever there was anything of more prosperous appearance, such as afew cornfields, vineyards on the slopes of the hills, fat cattle, andpeasantry looking healthy and secure, there was sure to be seen arange of long low stone buildings, surmounted with crosses, with ashort square Church tower rising in the midst, and interspersed withgnarled hoary old apple-trees, or with gardens of pot-herbs spreadingbefore them to the meadows. If, instead of two or three men-at-armsfrom a Castle, or of some trembling serf pressed into the service,and beaten, threatened, and watched to prevent treachery, the Kingasked for a guide at a Convent, some lay brother would take hisstaff; or else mount an ass, and proceed in perfect confidence andsecurity as to his return homewards, sure that his poverty and hissacred character would alike protect him from any outrage from themost lawless marauder of the neighbourhood.

　　Thus they travelled until they reached the royal Castle of Laon,where the Fleur-de-Lys standard on the battlements announced thepresence of Gerberge, Queen of France, and her two sons. The Kingrode first into the court with his Nobles, and before Richard couldfollow him through the narrow arched gateway, he had dismounted,entered the Castle, and was out of sight. Osmond held the Duke'sstirrup, and followed him up the steps which led to the Castle Hall.It was full of people, but no one made way, and Richard, holding hisSquire's hand, looked up in his face, inquiring and bewildered.

　　"Sir Seneschal," said Osmond, seeing a broad portly old man, withgrey hair and a golden chain, "this is the Duke of Normandy--I prayyou conduct him to the King's presence."

　　Richard had no longer any cause to complain of neglect, for theSeneschal instantly made him a very low bow, and calling "Place--place for the high and mighty Prince, my Lord Duke of Normandy!"ushered him up to the dais or raised part of the floor, where theKing and Queen stood together talking. The Queen looked round, asRichard was announced, and he saw her face, which was sallow, andwith a sharp sour expression that did not please him, and he backedand looked reluctant, while Osmond, with a warning hand pressed onhis shoulder, was trying to remind him that he ought to go forward,kneel on one knee, and kiss her hand.

　　"There he is," said the King.

　　"One thing secure!" said the Queen; "but what makes that northerngiant keep close to his heels?"

　　Louis answered something in a low voice, and, in the meantime, Osmondtried in a whisper to induce his young Lord to go forward and performhis obeisance.

　　"I tell you I will not," said Richard. "She looks cross, and I donot like her."

　　Luckily he spoke his own language; but his look and air expressed agood deal of what he said, and Gerberge looked all the moreunattractive.

　　"A thorough little Norwegian bear," said the King; "fierce and unrulyas the rest. Come, and perform your courtesy--do you forget whereyou are?" he added, sternly.

　　Richard bowed, partly because Osmond forced down his shoulder; but hethought of old Rollo and Charles the Simple, and his proud heartresolved that he would never kiss the hand of that sour-lookingQueen. It was a determination made in pride and defiance, and hesuffered for it afterwards; but no more passed now, for the Queenonly saw in his behaviour that of an unmannerly young Northman: andthough she disliked and despised him, she did not care enough abouthis courtesy to insist on its being paid. She sat down, and so didthe King, and they went on talking; the King probably telling her hisadventures at Rouen, while Richard stood on the step of the dais,swelling with sullen pride.

　　Nearly a quarter of an hour had passed in this manner when theservants came to set the table for supper, and Richard, in spite ofhis indignant looks, was forced to stand aside. He wondered that allthis time he had not seen the two Princes, thinking how strange heshould have thought it, to let his own dear father be in the house solong without coming to welcome him. At last, just as the supper hadbeen served up, a side door opened, and the Seneschal called, "Placefor the high and mighty Princes, my Lord Lothaire and my LordCarloman!" and in walked two boys, one about the same age as Richard,the other rather less than a year younger. They were both thin,pale, sharp-featured children, and Richard drew himself up to hisfull height, with great satisfaction at being so much taller thanLothaire.

　　They came up ceremoniously to their father and kissed his hand, whilehe kissed their foreheads, and then said to them, "There is a newplay-fellow for you."

　　"Is that the little Northman?" said Carloman, turning to stare atRichard with a look of curiosity, while Richard in his turn feltconsiderably affronted that a boy so much less than himself shouldcall him little.

　　"Yes," said the Queen; "your father has brought him home with him."

　　Carloman stepped forward, shyly holding out his hand to the stranger,but his brother pushed him rudely aside. "I am the eldest; it is mybusiness to be first. So, young Northman, you are come here for usto play with."

　　Richard was too much amazed at being spoken to in this imperious wayto make any answer. He was completely taken by surprise, and onlyopened his great blue eyes to their utmost extent.

　　"Ha! why don't you answer? Don't you hear? Can you speak only yourown heathen tongue?" continued Lothaire.

　　"The Norman is no heathen tongue!" said Richard, at once breakingsilence in a loud voice. "We are as good Christians as you are--ay,and better too."

　　"Hush! hush! my Lord!" said Osmond.

　　"What now, Sir Duke," again interfered the King, in an angry tone,"are you brawling already? Time, indeed, I should take you from yourown savage court. Sir Squire, look to it, that you keep your chargein better rule, or I shall send him instantly to bed, supperless."

　　"My Lord, my Lord," whispered Osmond, "see you not that you arebringing discredit on all of us?"

　　"I would be courteous enough, if they would be courteous to me,"returned Richard, gazing with eyes full of defiance at Lothaire, who,returning an angry look, had nevertheless shrunk back to his mother.She meanwhile was saying, "So strong, so rough, the young savage is,he will surely harm our poor boys!"

　　"Never fear," said Louis; "he shall be watched. And," he added in alower tone, "for the present, at least, we must keep up appearances.Hubert of Senlis, and Hugh of Paris, have their eyes on us, and werethe boy to be missed, the grim old Harcourt would have all thepirates of his land on us in the twinkling of an eye. We have him,and there we must rest content for the present. Now to supper."

　　At supper, Richard sat next little Carloman, who peeped at him everynow and then from under his eyelashes, as if he was afraid of him;and presently, when there was a good deal of talking going on, sothat his voice could not be heard, half whispered, in a very gravetone, "Do you like salt beef or fresh?"

　　"I like fresh," answered Richard, with equal gravity, "only we eatsalt all the winter."

　　There was another silence, and then Carloman, with the samesolemnity, asked, "How old are you?"

　　"I shall be nine on the eve of St. Boniface. How old are you?"

　　"Eight. I was eight at Martinmas, and Lothaire was nine three dayssince."

　　Another silence; then, as Osmond waited on Richard, Carloman returnedto the charge, "Is that your Squire?"

　　"Yes, that is Osmond de Centeville."

　　"How tall he is!"

　　"We Normans are taller than you French."

　　"Don't say so to Lothaire, or you will make him angry."

　　"Why? it is true."

　　"Yes; but--" and Carloman sunk his voice--"there are some thingswhich Lothaire will not hear said. Do not make him cross, or he willmake my mother displeased with you. She caused Thierry de Lincourtto be scourged, because his ball hit Lothaire's face."

　　"She cannot scourge me--I am a free Duke," said Richard. "But why?Did he do it on purpose?"

　　"Oh, no!"

　　"And was Lothaire hurt?"

　　"Hush! you must say Prince Lothaire. No; it was quite a soft ball."

　　"Why?" again asked Richard--"why was he scourged?"

　　"I told you, because he hit Lothaire."

　　"Well, but did he not laugh, and say it was nothing? Alberic quiteknocked me down with a great snowball the other day, and Sir Ericlaughed, and said I must stand firmer."

　　"Do you make snowballs?"

　　"To be sure I do! Do not you?"

　　"Oh, no! the snow is so cold."

　　"Ah! you are but a little boy," said Richard, in a superior manner.Carloman asked how it was done; and Richard gave an animateddescription of the snowballing, a fortnight ago, at Rouen, whenOsmond and some of the other young men built a snow fortress, anddefended it against Richard, Alberic, and the other Squires.Carloman listened with delight, and declared that next time itsnowed, they would have a snow castle; and thus, by the time supperwas over, the two little boys were very good friends.

　　Bedtime came not long after supper. Richard's was a smaller roomthan he had been used to at Rouen; but it amazed him exceedingly whenhe first went into it: he stood gazing in wonder, because, as hesaid, "It was as if he had been in a church."

　　"Yes, truly!" said Osmond. "No wonder these poor creatures of Frenchcannot stand before a Norman lance, if they cannot sleep withoutglass to their windows. Well! what would my father say to this?"

　　"And see! see, Osmond! they have put hangings up all round the walls,just like our Lady's church on a great feast-day. They treat us justas if we were the holy saints; and here are fresh rushes strewn aboutthe floor, too. This must be a mistake--it must be an oratory,instead of my chamber."

　　"No, no, my Lord; here is our gear, which I bade Sybald and Henry seebestowed in our chamber. Well, these Franks are come to a pass,indeed! My grandmother will never believe what we shall have to tellher. Glass windows and hangings to sleeping chambers! I do not likeit I am sure we shall never be able to sleep, closed up from the freeair of heaven in this way: I shall be always waking, and fancying Iam in the chapel at home, hearing Father Lucas chanting his matins.Besides, my father would blame me for letting you be made as tenderas a Frank. I'll have out this precious window, if I can."

　　Luxurious as the young Norman thought the King, the glazing of Laonwas not permanent. It consisted of casements, which could be put upor removed at pleasure; for, as the court possessed only one set ofglass windows, they were taken down, and carried from place to place,as often as Louis removed from Rheims to Soissons, Laon, or any otherof his royal castles; so that Osmond did not find much difficulty indisplacing them, and letting in the sharp, cold, wintry breeze. Thenext thing he did was to give his young Lord a lecture on his want ofcourtesy, telling him that "no wonder the Franks thought he had nomore culture than a Viking (or pirate), fresh caught from Norway. Afine notion he was giving them of the training he had at Centeville,if he could not even show common civility to the Queen--a lady! Wasthat the way Alberic had behaved when he came to Rouen?"

　　"Fru Astrida did not make sour faces at him, nor call him a youngsavage," replied Richard.

　　"No, and he gave her no reason to do so; he knew that the firstteaching of a young Knight is to be courteous to ladies--never mindwhether fair and young, or old and foul of favour. Till you learnand note that, Lord Richard, you will never be worthy of your goldenspurs."

　　"And the King told me she would treat me as a mother," exclaimedRichard. "Do you think the King speaks the truth, Osmond?"

　　"That we shall see by his deeds," said Osmond.

　　"He was very kind while we were in Normandy. I loved him so muchbetter than the Count de Harcourt; but now I think that the Count isbest! I'll tell you, Osmond, I will never call him grim old Bernardagain."

　　"You had best not, sir, for you will never have a more true-heartedvassal."

　　"Well, I wish we were back in Normandy, with Fru Astrida and Alberic.I cannot bear that Lothaire. He is proud, and unknightly, and cruel.I am sure he is, and I will never love him."

　　"Hush, my Lord!--beware of speaking so loud. You are not in your ownCastle."

　　"And Carloman is a chicken-heart," continued Richard, unheeding. "Hedoes not like to touch snow, and he cannot even slide on the ice, andhe is afraid to go near that great dog--that beautiful wolf-hound."

　　"He is very little," said Osmond.

　　"I am sure I was not as cowardly at his age, now was I, Osmond?Don't you remember?"

　　"Come, Lord Richard, I cannot let you wait to remember everything;tell your beads and pray that we may be brought safe back to Rouen;and that you may not forget all the good that Father Lucas and holyAbbot Martin have laboured to teach you."

　　So Richard told the beads of his rosary--black polished wood, withamber at certain spaces--he repeated a prayer with every bead, andOsmond did the same; then the little Duke put himself into a narrowcrib of richly carved walnut; while Osmond, having stuck his daggerso as to form an additional bolt to secure the door, and examined thehangings that no secret entrance might be concealed behind them,gathered a heap of rushes together, and lay down on them, wrapped inhis mantle, across the doorway. The Duke was soon asleep; but theSquire lay long awake, musing on the possible dangers that surroundedhis charge, and on the best way of guarding against them.