Transcribed from the 1905 Macmillan and Co. edition by Janet Haselow,Marian Taylor and David Price, email [email protected]
THE LITTLE DUKE
RICHARD THE FEARLESS
BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE HEIR OF REDCLYFFE," ETC.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
London MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1905
_All rights reserved_
RICHARD CLAY AND SONS, LIMITED, BREAD STREET HILL, E.C., AND BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.
_Originally published elsewhere_. _Transferred in_ 1864. _First Edition printed_ (S) _for Macmillan and Co. November_ 1864 (_Pott_ 8_vo_). _Reprinted_ 1869, 1872, 1873, 1876, 1878, 1881 (_Globe_ 8_vo_), 1883,1885, 1886, 1889. _New Edition_ 1891, (_Crown_ 8_vo_), 1892, 1894, 1895, 1897, 1898, 1899, 1900, 1901, 1903, 1905.
CHAPTER I
On a bright autumn day, as long ago as the year 943, there was a greatbustle in the Castle of Bayeux in Normandy.
The hall was large and low, the roof arched, and supported on thick shortcolumns, almost like the crypt of a Cathedral; the walls were thick, andthe windows, which had no glass, were very small, set in such a depth ofwall that there was a wide deep window seat, upon which the rain mightbeat, without reaching the interior of the room. And even if it had comein, there was nothing for it to hurt, for the walls were of rough stone,and the floor of tiles. There was a fire at each end of this great darkapartment, but there were no chimneys over the ample hearths, and thesmoke curled about in thick white folds in the vaulted roof, adding tothe wreaths of soot, which made the 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, with redfaces, bare and grimed arms, and long iron hooks, or pots and pans, werebusied around it. At the other end, which was raised about three stepsabove the floor of the hall, other servants were engaged. Two youngmaidens were strewing fresh rushes on the floor; some men were setting upa long table of rough boards, supported on trestles, and then rangingupon it silver cups, drinking horns, and wooden trenchers.
Benches were placed to receive most of the guests, but in the middle, atthe place of honour, was a high chair with very thick crossing legs, andthe arms curiously carved with lions' faces and claws; a clumsy woodenfootstool was set in front, and the silver drinking-cup on the table wasof far more beautiful workmanship than the others, richly chased withvine leaves and grapes, and figures of little boys with goats' legs. Ifthat cup could have told its story, it would have been a strange one, forit had been made long since, in the old Roman times, and been carried offfrom Italy by some Northman pirate.
From one of these scenes of activity to the other, there moved a statelyold lady: her long thick light hair, hardly touched with grey, was boundround her head, under a tall white cap, with a band passing under herchin: she wore a long sweeping dark robe, with wide hanging sleeves, andthick gold ear-rings and necklace, which had possibly come from the samequarter as the cup. She directed the servants, inspected both thecookery and arrangements of the table, held council with an old steward,now and then looked rather anxiously from the window, as if expectingsome one, and began to say something about fears that these loiteringyouths would not bring home the venison in time for Duke William'ssupper.
Presently, she looked up rejoiced, for a few notes of a bugle-horn weresounded; there was a clattering of feet, and in a few moments therebounded into the hall, a boy of about eight years old, his cheeks andlarge blue eyes bright with air and exercise, and his long light-brownhair streaming behind him, as he ran forward flourishing a bow in hishand, and crying out, "I hit him, I hit him! Dame Astrida, do you hear?'Tis a stag of ten branches, and I hit him in the neck."
"You! my Lord Richard! you killed him?"
"Oh, no, I only struck him. It was Osmond's shaft that took him in theeye, and--Look you, Fru Astrida, he came thus through the wood, and Istood here, it might be, under the great elm with my bow thus"--AndRichard was beginning to act over again the whole scene of the deer-hunt,but Fru, that is to say, Lady Astrida, was too busy to listen, and brokein with, "Have they brought home the haunch?"
"Yes, Walter is bringing it. I had a long arrow--"
[Picture: Richard with Dame Estrida]
A stout forester was at this instant seen bringing in the venison, andDame Astrida hastened to meet it, and gave directions, little Richardfollowing her all the way, and talking as eagerly as if she was attendingto him, showing how he shot, how Osmond shot, how the deer bounded, andhow it fell, and then counting the branches of its antlers, always endingwith, "This is something to tell my father. Do you think he will comesoon?"
In the meantime two men entered the hall, one about fifty, the other, oneor two-and-twenty, both in hunting dresses of plain leather, crossed bybroad embroidered belts, supporting a knife, and a bugle-horn. The elderwas broad-shouldered, sun-burnt, ruddy, and rather stern-looking; theyounger, who was also the taller, was slightly made, and very active,with a bright keen grey eye, and merry smile. These were Dame Astrida'sson, Sir Eric de Centeville, and her grandson, Osmond; and to their careDuke William of Normandy had committed his only child, Richard, to befostered, or brought up. {1}
It was always the custom among the Northmen, that young princes shouldthus be put under the care of some trusty vassal, instead of beingbrought up at home, and one reason why the Centevilles had been chosen byDuke William was, that both Sir Eric and his mother spoke only the oldNorwegian tongue, which he wished young Richard to understand well,whereas, in other parts of the Duchy, the Normans had forgotten their owntongue, and had taken up what was then called the Langued'oui, a languagebetween German and Latin, which was the beginning of French.
On this day, Duke William himself was expected at Bayeux, to pay a visitto his son before setting out on a journey to settle the disputes betweenthe Counts of Flanders and Montreuil, and this was the reason of FruAstrida's great preparations. No sooner had she seen the haunch placedupon a spit, which a little boy was to turn before the fire, than sheturned to dress something else, namely, the young Prince Richard himself,whom she led off to one of the upper rooms, and there he had full time totalk, while she, great lady though she was, herself combed smooth hislong flowing curls, and fastened his short scarlet cloth tunic, whichjust reached to his knee, leaving his neck, arms, and legs bare. Hebegged hard to be allowed to wear a short, beautifully ornamented daggerat his belt, but this Fru Astrida would not allow.
"You will have enough to do with steel and dagger before your life is atan end," said she, "without seeking to begin over soon."
"To be sure I shall," answered Richard. "I will be called Richard of theSharp Axe, or the Bold Spirit, I promise you, Fru Astrida. We are asbrave in these days as the Sigurds and Ragnars you sing of! I only wishthere were serpents and dragons to slay here in Normandy."
"Never fear but you will find even too many of them," said Dame Astrida;"there be dragons of wrong here and everywhere, quite as venomous as anyin 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 to thewindow. "They come, they come! There is the banner of Normandy."
Away ran the happy child, and never rested till he stood at the bo
ttom ofthe long, steep, stone stair, leading to the embattled porch. Thithercame the Baron de Centeville, and his son, to receive their Prince.Richard looked up at Osmond, saying, "Let me hold his stirrup," and thensprang up and shouted for joy, as under the arched gateway there came atall black horse, bearing the stately form of the Duke of Normandy. Hispurple robe was fastened round him by a rich belt, sustaining the mightyweapon, from which he was called "William of the long Sword," his legsand feet were cased in linked steel chain-work, his gilded spurs were onhis heels, and his short brown hair was covered by his ducal cap ofpurple, turned up with fur, and a feather fastened in by a jewelledclasp. His brow was grave and thoughtful, and there was something bothof dignity and sorrow in his face, at the first moment of looking at it,recalling the recollection that he had early lost his young wife, theDuchess Emma, 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, for thefirst time, paid him the duty of a pupil in chivalry, by holding thestirrup while he sprung from his horse. Next, Richard knelt to receivehis blessing, which was always the custom when children met theirparents. The Duke laid his hand on his head, saying, "God of His mercybless thee, my son," and lifting him in his arms, held him to his breast,and let him cling to his neck and kiss him again and again, beforesetting him down, while Sir Eric came forward, bent his knee, kissed thehand of his Prince, and welcomed him to his Castle.
It would take too long to tell all the friendly and courteous words thatwere spoken, the greeting of the Duke and the noble old Lady Astrida, andthe reception of the Barons who had come in the train of their Lord.Richard was bidden to greet them, but, though he held out his hand asdesired, he shrank a little to his father's side, gazing at them in dreadand 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 a strangeunnatural tint, his eyes looking fierce and wild under his thickeyebrows, one of them mis-shapen in consequence of a sword cut, which hadleft a broad red and purple scar across both cheek and forehead. There,too, came tall Baron Rainulf, of Ferrieres, cased in a linked steelhauberk, that rang as he walked, and the men-at-arms, with helmets andshields, looking as if Sir Eric's armour that hung in the hail had cometo life and was walking about.
They sat down to Fru Astrida's banquet, the old Lady at the Duke's righthand, and the Count of Harcourt on his left; Osmond carved for the Duke,and Richard handed his cup and trencher. All through the meal, the Dukeand his Lords talked earnestly of the expedition on which they were boundto meet Count Arnulf of Flanders, on a little islet in the river Somme,there to come to some agreement, by which Arnulf might make restitutionto Count Herluin of Montreuil, for certain 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 no selfishadvantage, when called to judge between others.
Richard was rather tired of their grave talk, and thought the supper verylong; but at last it was over, the Grace was said, the boards which hadserved for tables were removed, and as it was still light, some of theguests went to see how their steeds had been bestowed, others to look atSir Eric's horses and hounds, and others collected together in groups.
The Duke had time to attend to his little boy, and Richard sat upon hisknee and talked, told about all his pleasures, how his arrow had hit thedeer to-day, how Sir Eric let him ride out to the chase on his littlepony, how Osmond would take him to bathe in the cool bright river, andhow he had watched the raven's nest in the top of the old tower.
Duke William listened, and smiled, and seemed as well pleased to hear asthe boy was to tell. "And, Richard," said he at last, "have you noughtto tell me of Father Lucas, and his great book? What, not a word? Lookup, Richard, and tell me how it goes with the learning." {3}
"Oh, father!" said Richard, in a low voice, playing with the clasp of hisfather's belt, and looking down, "I don't like those crabbed letters onthe 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 so long,and Father Lucas will always come when the sun is so bright, and the woodso green, that I know not how to bear to be kept poring over those blackhooks and strokes."
"Poor little fellow," said Duke William, smiling and Richard, ratherencouraged, went on more boldly. "You do not know this reading, noblefather?"
"To my sorrow, no," said the Duke.
"And Sir Eric cannot read, nor Osmond, nor any one, and why must I read,and cramp my fingers with writing, just as if I was a clerk, instead of ayoung Duke?" Richard looked up in his father's face, and then hung hishead, as if half-ashamed of questioning his will, but the Duke answeredhim without displeasure.
"It is hard, no doubt, my boy, to you now, but it will be the better foryou in the end. I would give much to be able myself to read those holybooks which I must now only hear read to me by a clerk, but since I havehad the wish, I have had no time to learn as you have now."
"But Knights and Nobles never learn," said Richard.
"And do you think it a reason they never should? But you are wrong, myboy, for the Kings of France and England, the Counts of Anjou, ofProvence, and Paris, yes, even King Hako of Norway, {4} can all read."
"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 Duke William;"but far better and wiser might I have been, had I been taught by suchmasters as you may be. And hark, Richard, not only can all Princes hereread, but in England, King Ethelstane would have every Noble taught; theystudy in his own palace, with his brothers, and read the good words thatKing Alfred the truth-teller put into their 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! Fru Astridasings his death-song, which he chanted when the vipers were gnawing himto death, and he gloried to think how his sons would bring the ravens tofeast upon the Saxon. Oh! had I been his son, how I would have carriedon the feud! How I would have laughed when I cut down the falsetraitors, and burnt their palaces!" Richard's eye kindled, and hiswords, as he spoke the old Norse language, flowed into the sort of wildverse in which the Sagas or legendary songs were composed, and which,perhaps, he was unconsciously repeating.
Duke William looked grave.
"Fru Astrida must sing you no more such Sagas," said he, "if they fillyour mind with these revengeful thoughts, fit only for the worshippers ofOdin and Thor. Neither Ragnar nor his sons knew better than to rejoicein this deadly vengeance, but we, who are Christians, know that it is forus 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 to usit has been said, 'Forgive, and ye shall be forgiven.' Listen to me, myson, Christian as is this nation of ours, this duty of forgiveness is toooften neglected, but let it not be so with you. Bear in mind, wheneveryou see the Cross {5} marked on our banner, or carved in stone on theChurches, that it speaks of forgiveness to us; but of that pardon weshall never taste if we forgive not our enemies. Do you mark me, boy?"
Richard hesitated a little, and then said, "Yes, father, but I couldnever have pardoned, had I b
een one of Ragnar's sons."
"It may be that you will be in their case, Richard," said the Duke, "andshould I fall, as it may well be I shall, in some of the contests thattear to pieces this unhappy Kingdom of France, then, remember what I saynow. I charge you, on your duty to God and to your father, that you keepup no feud, no hatred, but rather that you should deem me best revenged,when you have with heart and hand, given the fullest proof of forgivenessto your enemy. Give me your word that you will."
"Yes, father," said Richard, with rather a subdued tone, and resting hishead on his father's shoulder. There was a silence for a little space,during which he began to revive into playfulness, to stroke the Duke'sshort curled beard, and play with his embroidered collar.
In so doing, his fingers caught hold of a silver chain, and pulling itout with a jerk, he saw a silver key attached to it. "Oh, what is that?"he asked eagerly. "What does that key unlock?"
"My greatest treasure," replied Duke William, as he replaced the chainand key within his robe.
"Your greatest treasure, father! Is that your coronet?"
"You will know one day," said his father, putting the little hand downfrom its too busy investigations; and some of the Barons at that momentreturning into the hall, he had no more leisure to bestow on his littleson.
The next day, after morning service in the Chapel, and breakfast in thehall, the Duke again set forward on his journey, giving Richard hopes hemight return in a fortnight's time, and obtaining from him a promise thathe would be very attentive to Father Lucas, and very obedient to Sir Ericde Centeville.
The Little Duke: Richard the Fearless Page 1