Chapter VII

by Charlotte M. Yonge

　　Osmond de Centeville was soon convinced that no immediate perilthreatened his young Duke at the Court of Laon. Louis seemed tointend to fulfil his oaths to the Normans by allowing the child to bethe companion of his own sons, and to be treated in every respect asbecame his rank. Richard had his proper place at table, and all dueattendance; he learnt, rode, and played with the Princes, and therewas nothing to complain of, excepting the coldness and inattentionwith which the King and Queen treated him, by no means fulfilling thepromise of being as parents to their orphan ward. Gerberge, who hadfrom the first dreaded his superior strength and his roughness withher puny boys, and who had been by no means won by his manners attheir first meeting, was especially distant and severe with him,hardly ever speaking to him except with some rebuke, which, it mustbe confessed, Richard often deserved.

　　As to the boys, his constant companions, Richard was on very friendlyterms with Carlo-man, a gentle, timid, weakly child. Richard lookeddown upon him; but he was kind, as a generous-tempered boy could notfail to be, to one younger and weaker than himself. He was so muchkinder than Lothaire, that Carloman was fast growing very fond ofhim, and looked up to his strength and courage as something noble andmarvellous.

　　It was very different with Lothaire, the person from whom, above allothers, Richard would have most expected to meet with affection, ashis father's god-son, a relationship which in those times was thoughtalmost as near as kindred by blood. Lothaire had been brought up byan indulgent mother, and by courtiers who never ceased flatteringhim, as the heir to the crown, and he had learnt to think that togive way to his naturally imperious and violent disposition was theway to prove his power and assert his rank. He had always had hisown way, and nothing had ever been done to check his faults; somewhatweakly health had made him fretful and timid; and a latentconsciousness of this fearfulness made him all the more cruel,sometimes because he was frightened, sometimes because he fancied itmanly.

　　He treated his little brother in a way which in these times boyswould call bullying; and, as no one ever dared to oppose the King'seldest son, it was pretty much the same with every one else, exceptnow and then some dumb creature, and then all Lothaire's cruelty wasshown. When his horse kicked, and ended by throwing him, he stoodby, and caused it to be beaten till the poor creature's back streamedwith blood; when his dog bit his hand in trying to seize the meatwith which he was teazing it, he insisted on having it killed, and itwas worse still when a falcon pecked one of his fingers. It reallyhurt him a good deal, and, in a furious rage, he caused two nails tobe heated red hot in the fire, intending to have them thrust into thepoor bird's eyes.

　　"I will not have it done!" exclaimed Richard, expecting to be obeyedas he was at home; but Lothaire only laughed scornfully, saying, "Doyou think you are master here, Sir pirate?"

　　"I will not have it done!" repeated Richard. "Shame on you, shame onyou, for thinking of such an unkingly deed."

　　"Shame on me! Do you know to whom you speak, master savage?" criedLothaire, red with passion.

　　"I know who is the savage now!" said Richard. "Hold!" to the servantwho was bringing the red-hot irons in a pair of tongs.

　　"Hold?" exclaimed Lothaire. "No one commands here but I and myfather. Go on Charlot--where is the bird? Keep her fast, Giles."

　　"Osmond. You I can command--"

　　"Come away, my Lord," said Osmond, interrupting Richard's order,before it was issued. "We have no right to interfere here, and cannothinder it. Come away from such a foul sight."

　　"Shame on you too, Osmond, to let such a deed be done withouthindering it!" exclaimed Richard, breaking from him, and rushing onthe man who carried the hot irons. The French servants were not verywilling to exert their strength against the Duke of Normandy, andRichard's onset, taking the man by surprise, made him drop the tongs.Lothaire, both afraid and enraged, caught them up as a weapon ofdefence, and, hardly knowing what he did, struck full at Richard'sface with the hot iron. Happily it missed his eye, and the heat hada little abated; but, as it touched his cheek, it burnt himsufficiently to cause considerable pain. With a cry of passion, heflew at Lothaire, shook him with all his might, and ended by throwinghim at his length on the pavement. But this was the last ofRichard's exploits, for he was at the same moment captured by hisSquire, and borne off, struggling and kicking as if Osmond had beenhis greatest foe; but the young Norman's arms were like iron roundhim; and he gave over his resistance sooner, because at that moment awhirring flapping sound was heard, and the poor hawk rose high,higher, over their heads in ever lessening circles, far away from herenemies. The servant who held her, had relaxed his grasp in theconsternation caused by Lothaire's fall, and she was mounting up andup, spying, it might be, her way to her native rocks in Iceland, withthe yellow eyes which Richard had saved.

　　"Safe! safe!" cried Richard, joyfully, ceasing his struggles. "Oh,how glad I am! That young villain should never have hurt her. Putme down, Osmond, what are you doing with me?"

　　"Saving you from your--no, I cannot call it folly,--I would hardlyhave had you stand still to see such--but let me see your face."

　　"It is nothing. I don't care now the hawk is safe," said Richard,though he could hardly keep his lips in order, and was obliged towink very hard with his eyes to keep the tears out, now that he hadleisure to feel the smarting; but it would have been far beneath aNorthman to complain, and he stood bearing it gallantly, and pinchinghis fingers tightly together, while Osmond knelt down to examine thehurt. "'Tis not much," said he, talking to himself, "half bruise,half burn--I wish my grandmother was here--however, it can't lastlong! 'Tis right, you bear it like a little Berserkar, and it is nobad thing that you should have a scar to show, that they may not beable to say you did ALL the damage."

　　"Will it always leave a mark?" said Richard. "I am afraid they willcall me Richard of the scarred cheek, when we get back to Normandy."

　　"Never mind, if they do--it will not be a mark to be ashamed of, evenif it does last, which I do not believe it will."

　　"Oh, no, I am so glad the gallant falcon is out of his reach!"replied Richard, in a somewhat quivering voice.

　　"Does it smart much? Well, come and bathe it with cold water--orshall I take you to one of the Queen's women?"

　　"No--the water," said Richard, and to the fountain in the court theywent; but Osmond had only just begun to splash the cheek with thehalf-frozen water, with a sort of rough kindness, afraid at once ofteaching the Duke to be effeminate, and of not being as tender to himas Dame Astrida would have wished, when a messenger came in hastefrom the King, commanding the presence of the Duke of Normandy andhis Squire.

　　Lothaire was standing between his father and mother on their throne-like seat, leaning against the Queen, who had her arm round him; hisface was red and glazed with tears, and he still shook with subsidingsobs. It was evident he was just recovering from a passionate cryingfit.

　　"How is this?" began the King, as Richard entered. "What means thisconduct, my Lord of Normandy? Know you what you have done instriking the heir of France? I might imprison you this instant in adungeon where you would never see the light of day."

　　"Then Bernard de Harcourt would come and set me free," fearlesslyanswered Richard.

　　"Do you bandy words with me, child? Ask Prince Lothaire's pardoninstantly, or you shall rue it."

　　"I have done nothing to ask his pardon for. It would have been crueland cowardly in me to let him put out the poor hawk's eyes," saidRichard, with a Northman's stern contempt for pain, disdaining tomention his own burnt cheek, which indeed the King might have seenplainly enough.

　　"Hawk's eyes!" repeated the King. "Speak the truth, Sir Duke; do notadd slander to your other faults."

　　"I have spoken the truth--I always speak it!" cried Richard."Whoever says otherwise lies in his throat."

　　Osmond here hastily interfered, and desired permission to tell thewhole story. The hawk was a valuable bird, and Louis's face darkenedwhen he heard what Lothaire had purposed, for the Prince had, intelling his own story, made it appear that Richard had been theaggressor by insisting on letting the falcon fly. Osmond finished bypointing to the mark on Richard's cheek, so evidently a burn, as tobe proof that hot iron had played a part in the matter. The Kinglooked at one of his own Squires and asked his account, and he withsome hesitation could not but reply that it was as the young Sieur deCenteville had said. Thereupon Louis angrily reproved his own peoplefor having assisted the Prince in trying to injure the hawk, calledfor the chief falconer, rated him for not better attending to hisbirds, and went forth with him to see if the hawk could yet berecaptured, leaving the two boys neither punished nor pardoned.

　　"So you have escaped for this once," said Gerberge, coldly, toRichard; "you had better beware another time. Come with me, my poordarling Lothaire." She led her son away to her own apartments, andthe French Squires began to grumble to each other complaints of theimpossibility of pleasing their Lords, since, if they contradictedPrince Lothaire, he was so spiteful that he was sure to set the Queenagainst them, and that was far worse in the end than the King'sdispleasure. Osmond, in the meantime, took Richard to re-commencebathing his face, and presently Carloman ran out to pity him, wonderat him for not crying, and say he was glad the poor hawk had escaped.

　　The cheek continued inflamed and painful for some time, and there wasa deep scar long after the pain had ceased, but Richard thoughtlittle of it after the first, and would have scorned to bear ill-willto Lothaire for the injury.

　　Lothaire left off taunting Richard with his Norman accent, andcalling him a young Sea-king. He had felt his strength, and wasafraid of him; but he did not like him the better--he never playedwith him willingly--scowled, and looked dark and jealous, if hisfather, or if any of the great nobles took the least notice of thelittle Duke, and whenever he was out of hearing, talked against himwith all his natural spitefulness.

　　Richard liked Lothaire quite as little, contemning almost equally hiscowardly ways and his imperious disposition. Since he had been Duke,Richard had been somewhat inclined to grow imperious himself, thoughalways kept under restraint by Fru Astrida's good training, and CountBernard's authority, and his whole generous nature would haverevolted against treating Alberic, or indeed his meanest vassal, asLothaire used the unfortunate children who were his playfellows.Perhaps this made him look on with great horror at the tyranny whichLothaire exercised; at any rate he learnt to abhor it more, and tomake many resolutions against ordering people about uncivilly whenonce he should be in Normandy again. He often interfered to protectthe poor boys, and generally with success, for the Prince was afraidof provoking such another shake as Richard had once given him, andthough he generally repaid himself on his victim in the end, heyielded for the time.

　　Carloman, whom Richard often saved from his brother's unkindness,clung closer and closer to him, went with him everywhere, tried to doall he did, grew very fond of Osmond, and liked nothing better thanto sit by Richard in some wide window-seat, in the evening, aftersupper, and listen to Richard's version of some of Fru Astrida'sfavourite tales, or hear the never-ending history of sports atCenteville, or at Rollo's Tower, or settle what great things theywould both do when they were grown up, and Richard was rulingNormandy--perhaps go to the Holy Land together, and slaughter anunheard-of host of giants and dragons on the way. In the meantime,however, poor Carloman gave small promise of being able to performgreat exploits, for he was very small for his age and often ailing;soon tired, and never able to bear much rough play. Richard, who hadnever had any reason to learn to forbear, did not at first understandthis, and made Carloman cry several times with his roughness andviolence, but this always vexed him so much that he grew careful toavoid such things for the future, and gradually learnt to treat hispoor little weakly friend with a gentleness and patience at whichOsmond used to marvel, and which he would hardly have been taught inhis prosperity at home.

　　Between Carloman and Osmond he was thus tolerably happy at Laon, buthe missed his own dear friends, and the loving greetings of hisvassals, and longed earnestly to be at Rouen, asking Osmond almostevery night when they should go back, to which Osmond could onlyanswer that he must pray that Heaven would be pleased to bring themhome safely.

　　Osmond, in the meantime, kept a vigilant watch for anything thatmight seem to threaten danger to his Lord; but at present there wasno token of any evil being intended; the only point in which Louisdid not seem to be fulfilling his promises to the Normans was, thatno preparations were made for attacking the Count of Flanders.

　　At Easter the court was visited by Hugh the White, the great Count ofParis, the most powerful man in France, and who was only prevented byhis own loyalty and forbearance, from taking the crown from thefeeble and degenerate race of Charlemagne. He had been a firm friendof William Longsword, and Osmond remarked how, on his arrival, theKing took care to bring Richard forward, talk of him affectionately,and caress him almost as much as he had done at Rouen. The Counthimself was really kind and affectionate to the little Duke; he kepthim by his side, and seemed to like to stroke down his long flaxenhair, looking in his face with a grave mournful expression, as ifseeking for a likeness to his father. He soon asked about the scarwhich the burn had left, and the King was obliged to answer hastily,it was an accident, a disaster that had chanced in a boyish quarrel.Louis, in fact, was uneasy, and appeared to be watching the Count ofParis the whole time of his visit, so as to prevent him from havingany conversation in private with the other great vassals assembled atthe court. Hugh did not seem to perceive this, and acted as if hewas entirely at his ease, but at the same time he watched hisopportunity. One evening, after supper, he came up to the windowwhere Richard and Carloman were, as usual, deep in story telling; hesat down on the stone seat, and taking Richard on his knee, he askedif he had any greetings for the Count de Harcourt.

　　How Richard's face lighted up! "Oh, Sir," he cried, "are you goingto Normandy?"

　　"Not yet, my boy, but it may be that I may have to meet old Harcourtat the Elm of Gisors."

　　"Oh, if I was but going with you."

　　"I wish I could take you, but it would scarcely do for me to stealthe heir of Normandy. What shall I tell him?"

　　"Tell him," whispered Richard, edging himself close to the Count, andtrying to reach his ear, "tell him that I am sorry, now, that I wassullen when he reproved me. I know he was right. And, sir, if hebrings with him a certain huntsman with a long hooked nose, whosename is Walter, {12} tell him I am sorry I used to order him about sounkindly. And tell him to bear my greetings to Fru Astrida and SirEric, and to Alberic."

　　"Shall I tell him how you have marked your face?"

　　"No," said Richard, "he would think me a baby to care about such athing as that!"

　　The Count asked how it happened, and Richard told the story, for hefelt as if he could tell the kind Count anything--it was almost likethat last evening that he had sat on his father's knee. Hugh endedby putting his arm round him, and saying, "Well, my little Duke, I amas glad as you are the gallant bird is safe--it will be a tale for myown little Hugh and Eumacette {13} at home--and you must one day befriends with them as your father has been with me. And now, do youthink your Squire could come to my chamber late this evening when thehousehold is at rest?"

　　Richard undertook that Osmond should do so, and the Count, settinghim down again, returned to the dais. Osmond, before going to theCount that evening, ordered Sybald to come and guard the Duke's door.It was a long conference, for Hugh had come to Laon chiefly for thepurpose of seeing how it went with his friend's son, and was anxiousto know what Osmond thought of the matter. They agreed that atpresent there did not seem to be any evil intended, and that itrather appeared as if Louis wished only to keep him as a hostage forthe tranquillity of the borders of Normandy; but Hugh advised thatOsmond should maintain a careful watch, and send intelligence to himon the first token of mischief.

　　The next morning the Count of Paris quitted Laon, and everything wenton in the usual course till the feast of Whitsuntide, when there wasalways a great display of splendour at the French court. The crownvassals generally came to pay their duty and go with the King toChurch; and there was a state banquet, at which the King and Queenwore their crowns, and every one sat in great magnificence accordingto their rank.

　　The grand procession to Church was over. Richard had walked withCarloman, the Prince richly dressed in blue, embroidered with goldenfleur-de-lys, and Richard in scarlet, with a gold Cross on hisbreast; the beautiful service was over, they had returned to theCastle, and there the Seneschal was marshalling the goodly and noblecompany to the banquet, when horses' feet were heard at the gateannouncing some fresh arrival. The Seneschal went to receive theguests, and presently was heard ushering in the noble Prince, Arnulf,Count of Flanders.

　　Richard's face became pale--he turned from Carloman by whose side hehad been standing, and walked straight out of the hall and up thestairs, closely followed by Osmond. In a few minutes there was aknock at the door of his chamber, and a French Knight stood theresaying, "Comes not the Duke to the banquet?"

　　"No," answered Osmond: "he eats not with the slayer of his father."

　　"The King will take it amiss; for the sake of the child you hadbetter beware," said the Frenchman, hesitating.

　　"He had better beware himself," exclaimed Osmond, indignantly, "howhe brings the treacherous murderer of William Longsword into thepresence of a free-born Norman, unless he would see him slain wherehe stands. Were it not for the boy, I would challenge the traitorthis instant to single combat."

　　"Well, I can scarce blame you," said the Knight, "but you had besthave a care how you tread. Farewell."

　　Richard had hardly time to express his indignation, and his wishesthat he was a man, before another message came through a groom ofLothaire's train, that the Duke must fast, if he would not consent tofeast with the rest.

　　"Tell Prince Lothaire," replied Richard, "that I am not such aglutton as he--I had rather fast than be choked with eating withArnulf."

　　All the rest of the day, Richard remained in his own chamber,resolved not to run the risk of meeting with Arnulf. The Squireremained with him, in this voluntary imprisonment, and they occupiedthemselves, as best they could, with furbishing Osmond's armour, andhelping each other out in repeating some of the Sagas. They onceheard a great uproar in the court, and both were very anxious tolearn its cause, but they did not know it till late in the afternoon.

　　Carloman crept up to them--"Here I am at last!" he exclaimed. "Here,Richard, I have brought you some bread, as you had no dinner: it wasall I could bring. I saved it under the table lest Lothaire shouldsee it."

　　Richard thanked Carloman with all his heart, and being very hungrywas glad to share the bread with Osmond. He asked how long thewicked Count was going to stay, and rejoiced to hear he was goingaway the next morning, and the King was going with him.

　　"What was that great noise in the court?" asked Richard.

　　"I scarcely like to tell you," returned Carloman.

　　Richard, however, begged to hear, and Carloman was obliged to tellthat the two Norman grooms, Sybald and Henry, had quarrelled with theFlemings of Arnulf's train; there had been a fray, which had ended inthe death of three Flemings, a Frank, and of Sybald himself--Andwhere was Henry? Alas! there was more ill news--the King hadsentenced Henry to die, and he had been hanged immediately.

　　Dark with anger and sorrow grew young Richard's face; he had beenfond of his two Norman attendants, he trusted to their attachment,and he would have wept for their loss even if it had happened in anyother way; but now, when it had been caused by their enmity to hisfather's foes, the Flemings,--when one had fallen overwhelmed bynumbers, and the other been condemned hastily, cruelly, unjustly, itwas too much, and he almost choked with grief and indignation. Whyhad he not been there, to claim Henry as his own vassal, and if hecould not save him, at least bid him farewell? Then he would havebroken out in angry threats, but he felt his own helplessness, andwas ashamed, and he could only shed tears of passionate grief,refusing all Carloman's attempts to comfort him. Osmond was evenmore concerned; he valued the two Normans extremely for their courageand faithfulness, and had relied on sending intelligence by theirmeans to Rouen, in case of need. It appeared to him as if the firstopportunity had been seized of removing these protectors from thelittle Duke, and as if the designs, whatever they might be, which hadbeen formed against him, were about to take effect. He had littledoubt that his own turn would be the next; but he was resolved toendure anything, rather than give the smallest opportunity ofremoving him, to bear even insults with patience, and to rememberthat in his care rested the sole hope of safety for his charge.

　　That danger was fast gathering around them became more evident everyday, especially after the King and Arnulf had gone away together. Itwas very hot weather, and Richard began to weary after the broad coolriver at Rouen, where he used to bathe last summer; and one eveninghe persuaded his Squire to go down with him to the Oise, which flowedalong some meadow ground about a quarter of a mile from the Castle;but they had hardly set forth before three or four attendants camerunning after them, with express orders from the Queen that theyshould return immediately. They obeyed, and found her standing inthe Castle hall, looking greatly incensed.

　　"What means this?" she asked, angrily. "Knew you not that the Kinghas left commands that the Duke quits not the Castle in his absence?"

　　"I was only going as far as the river--" began Richard, but Gerbergecut him short. "Silence, child--I will hear no excuses. Perhaps youthink, Sieur de Centeville, that you may take liberties in the King'sabsence, but I tell you that if you are found without the wallsagain, it shall be at your peril; ay, and his! I'll have thosehaughty eyes put out, if you disobey!"

　　She turned away, and Lothaire looked at them with his air ofgratified malice. "You will not lord it over your betters muchlonger, young pirate!" said he, as he followed his mother, afraid tostay to meet the anger he might have excited by the taunt he couldnot deny himself the pleasure of making; but Richard, who, six monthsago could not brook a slight disappointment or opposition, had, inhis present life of restraint, danger, and vexation, learnt to curbthe first outbreak of temper, and to bear patiently instead ofbreaking out into passion and threats, and now his only thought wasof his beloved Squire.

　　"Oh, Osmond! Osmond!" he exclaimed, "they shall not hurt you. Iwill never go out again. I will never speak another hasty word. Iwill never affront the Prince, if they will but leave you with me!"