Chapter XI

by Charlotte M. Yonge

　　As the Baron had said, there was more peace now that Lothaire hadlearnt to know that he must submit, and that no one cared for histhreats of his father's or his mother's vengeance. He was very sulkyand disagreeable, and severely tried Richard's forbearance; but therewere no fresh outbursts, and, on the whole, from one week to another,there might be said to be an improvement. He could not always holdaloof from one so good-natured and good-humoured as the little Duke;and the fact of being kept in order could not but have somebeneficial effect on him, after such spoiling as his had been athome.

　　Indeed, Osmond was once heard to say, it was a pity the boy was notto be a hostage for life; to which Sir Eric replied, "So long as wehave not the training of him."

　　Little Carloman, meanwhile, recovered from his fears of all theinmates of the Castle excepting Hardigras, at whose approach healways shrank and trembled.

　　He renewed his friendship with Osmond, no longer started at theentrance of Sir Eric, laughed at Alberic's merry ways, and liked tosit on Fru Astrida's lap, and hear her sing, though he understood notone word; but his especial love was still for his first friend, DukeRichard. Hand-in-hand they went about together, Richard sometimeslifting him up the steep steps, and, out of consideration for him,refraining from rough play; and Richard led him to join with him inthose lessons that Father Lucas gave the children of the Castle,every Friday and Sunday evening in the Chapel. The good Priest stoodon the Altar steps, with the children in a half circle round him--theson and daughter of the armourer, the huntsman's little son, theyoung Baron de Montemar, the Duke of Normandy, and the Prince ofFrance, all were equal there--and together they learnt, as heexplained to them the things most needful to believe; and thusCarloman left off wondering why Richard thought it right to be goodto his enemies; and though at first he had known less than even thelittle leather-coated huntsman, he seemed to take the holy lessons infaster than any of them--yes, and act on them, too. His feeblehealth seemed to make him enter into their comfort and meaning morethan even Richard; and Alberic and Father Lucas soon told Fru Astridathat it was a saintly-minded child.

　　Indeed, Carloman was more disposed to thoughtfulness, because he wasincapable of joining in the sports of the other boys. A race roundthe court was beyond his strength, the fresh wind on the battlementsmade him shiver and cower, and loud shouting play was dreadful tohim. In old times, he used to cry when Lothaire told him he musthave his hair cut, and be a priest; now, he only said quietly, heshould like it very much, if he could be good enough.

　　Fru Astrida sighed and shook her head, and feared the poor childwould never grow up to be anything on this earth. Great as had beenthe difference at first between him and Richard, it was now fargreater. Richard was an unusually strong boy for ten years old,upright and broad-chested, and growing very fast; while Carlomanseemed to dwindle, stooped forward from weakness, had thin pinchedfeatures, and sallow cheeks, looking like a plant kept in the dark.

　　The old Baron said that hardy, healthy habits would restore the punychildren; and Lothaire improved in health, and therewith in temper;but his little brother had not strength enough to bear the seasoning.He pined and drooped more each day; and as the autumn came on, andthe wind was chilly, he grew worse, and was scarcely ever off the lapof the kind Lady Astrida. It was not a settled sickness, but he grewweaker, and wasted away. They made up a little couch for him by thefire, with the high settle between it and the door, to keep off thedraughts; and there he used patiently to lie, hour after hour,speaking feebly, or smiling and seeming pleased, when any one ofthose he loved approached. He liked Father Lucas to come and sayprayers with him; and he never failed to have a glad look, when hisdear little Duke came to talk to him, in his cheerful voice, abouthis rides and his hunting and hawking adventures. Richard's sickguest took up much of his thoughts, and he never willingly spent manyhours at a distance from him, softening his step and lowering hisvoice, as he entered the hall, lest Carloman should be asleep.

　　"Richard, is it you?" said the little boy, as the young figure cameround the settle in the darkening twilight.

　　"Yes. How do you feel now, Carloman; are you better?"

　　"No better, thanks, dear Richard;" and the little wasted fingers wereput into his.

　　"Has the pain come again?"

　　"No; I have been lying still, musing; Richard, I shall never bebetter."

　　"Oh, do not say so! You will, indeed you will, when spring comes."

　　"I feel as if I should die," said the little boy; "I think I shall.But do not grieve, Richard. I do not feel much afraid. You said itwas happier there than here, and I know it now."

　　"Where my blessed father is," said Richard, thoughtfully. "But oh,Carloman, you are so young to die!"

　　"I do not want to live. This is a fighting, hard world, full ofcruel people; and it is peace there. You are strong and brave, andwill make them better; but I am weak and fearful--I could only sighand grieve."

　　"Oh, Carloman! Carloman! I cannot spare you. I love you like myown brother. You must not die--you must live to see your father andmother again!"

　　"Commend me to them," said Carloman. "I am going to my Father inheaven. I am glad I am here, Richard; I never was so happy before.I should have been afraid indeed to die, if Father Lucas had nottaught me how my sins are pardoned. Now, I think the Saints andAngels are waiting for me."

　　He spoke feebly, and his last words faltered into sleep. He slepton; and when supper was brought, and the lamps were lighted, FruAstrida thought the little face looked unusually pale and waxen; buthe did not awake. At night, they carried him to his bed, and he wasroused into a half conscious state, moaning at being disturbed. FruAstrida would not leave him, and Father Lucas shared her watch.

　　At midnight, all were wakened by the slow notes, falling one by oneon the ear, of the solemn passing-bell, calling them to waken, thattheir prayers might speed a soul on its way. Richard and Lothairewere soon at the bedside. Carloman lay still asleep, his handsfolded on his breast, but his breath came in long gasps. FatherLucas was praying over him, and candles were placed on each side ofthe bed. All was still, the boys not daring to speak or move. Therecame a longer breath--then they heard no more. He was, indeed, goneto a happier home--a truer royalty than ever had been his on earth.

　　Then the boys' grief burst out. Lothaire screamed for his mother,and sobbed out that he should die too--he must go home. Richardstood by the bed, large silent tears rolling down his cheeks, and hischest heaving with suppressed sobs.

　　Fru Astrida led them from the room, back to their beds. Lothairesoon cried himself to sleep. Richard lay awake, sorrowful, and indeep thought; while that scene in St. Mary's, at Rouen, returnedbefore his eyes, and though it had passed nearly two years ago, itsmeaning and its teaching had sunk deep into his mind, and now stoodbefore him more completely.

　　"Where shall I go, when I come to die, if I have not returned goodfor evil?" And a resolution was taken in the mind of the littleDuke.

　　Morning came, and brought back the sense that his gentle littlecompanion was gone from him; and Richard wept again, as if he couldnot be consoled, as he beheld the screened couch where the patientsmile would never again greet him. He now knew that he had lovedCarloman all the more for his weakness and helplessness; but hisgrief was not like Lothaire's, for with the Prince's was still joineda selfish fear: his cry was still, that he should die too, if notset free, and violent weeping really made him heavy and ill.

　　The little corpse, embalmed and lapped in lead, was to be sent backto France, that it might rest with its forefathers in the city ofRheims; and Lothaire seemed to feel this as an additional stroke ofdesertion. He was almost beside himself with despair, imploringevery one, in turn, to send him home, though he well knew they wereunable to do so.