The Little Duke: Richard the Fearless

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  CHAPTER III

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

  When this was over, little Richard, who had all the time stood or kneltnearest the corpse, in one dull heavy dream of wonder and sorrow, was ledback to the palace, and there his long, heavy, black garments were takenoff, and he was dressed in his short scarlet tunic, his hair wascarefully arranged, and then he came down again into the hall, wherethere was a great assembly of Barons, some in armour, some in long furredgowns, who had all been attending his father's burial. Richard, as hewas desired by Sir Eric de Centeville, took off his cap, and bowed low inreply to the reverences with which they all greeted his entrance, and hethen slowly crossed the hall, and descended the steps from the door,while they formed into a procession behind him, according to theirranks--the Duke of Brittany first, and then all the rest, down to thepoorest knight who held his manor immediately from the Duke of Normandy.

  Thus, they proceeded, in slow and solemn order, till they came to thechurch of our Lady. The clergy were there already, ranged in ranks oneach side of the Choir; and the Bishops, in their mitres and rich robes,each with his pastoral staff in his hand, were standing round the Altar.As the little Duke entered, there arose from all the voices in theChancel the full, loud, clear chant of _Te Deum Laudamus_, echoing amongthe 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 Altar began, and there he stood, Bernard deHarcourt and Eric de Centeville on each side of him, and all his othervassals in due order, in the Choir.

  After the beautiful chant of the hymn was ended, the service for the HolyCommunion began. When the time came for the offering, each noble gavegold or silver; and, lastly, Rainulf of Ferrieres came up to the step ofthe Altar with a cushion, on which was placed a circlet of gold, theducal coronet; and another Baron, following him closely, carried a long,heavy sword, with a cross handle. The Archbishop of Rouen received bothcoronet and sword, and laid them on the Altar. Then the serviceproceeded. At that time the rite of Confirmation was administered ininfancy, and Richard, who had been confirmed by his godfather, theArchbishop of Rouen, immediately after his baptism, knelt in solemn aweto receive the other Holy Sacrament from his hands, as soon as all theclergy had communicated. {8}

  When the administration was over, Richard was led forward to the step ofthe Altar by Count Bernard, and Sir Eric, and the Archbishop, laying onehand upon both his, as he held them clasped together, demanded of him, inthe name of God, and of the people of Normandy, whether he would be theirgood and true ruler, guard them from their foes, maintain truth, punishiniquity, and protect the Church.

  "I will!" answered Richard's young, trembling voice, "So help me God!"and he knelt, and kissed the book of the Holy Gospels, which theArchbishop offered him.

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

  The Archbishop waited till he rose, and then, turning him with his faceto the people, said, "Richard, by the grace of God, I invest thee withthe ducal mantle of Normandy!"

  Two of the Bishops then hung round his shoulders a crimson velvet mantle,furred with ermine, which, made as it was for a grown man, hung heavilyon the poor child's shoulders, and lay in heaps on the ground. TheArchbishop then set the golden coronet on his long, flowing hair, whereit hung so loosely on the little head, that Sir Eric was obliged to puthis hand to it to hold it safe; and, lastly, the long, straight,two-handed sword was brought and placed in his hand, with another solemnbidding to use it ever in maintaining the right. It should have beengirded to his side, but the great sword was so much taller than thelittle Duke, that, as it stood upright by him, he was obliged to raisehis 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 held fastand lovingly the sword, though the Count of Harcourt offered to carry itfor him. He was lifted up to his throne, and then came the paying himhomage; Alan, Duke of Brittany, was the first to kneel before him, andwith his hand between those of the Duke, he swore to be his man, to obeyhim, and pay him feudal service for his dukedom of Brittany. In return,Richard swore to be his good Lord, and to protect him from all his foes.Then followed Bernard the Dane, and many another, each repeating the sameformulary, as their large rugged hands were clasped within those littlesoft fingers. Many a kind and loving eye was bent in compassion on theorphan child; many a strong voice faltered with earnestness as itpronounced the vow, and many a brave, stalwart heart heaved with grieffor the murdered father, and tears flowed down the war-worn cheeks whichhad met the fiercest storms of the northern ocean, as they bent beforethe young fatherless 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 a lovealmost 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 and mantlewere so heavy, the faces succeeded each other like figures in an endlessdream, and the constant repetition of the same words was very tedious.He grew sleepy, he longed to jump up, to lean to the right or left, or tospeak something besides that regular form. He gave one great yawn, butit brought him such a frown from the stern face of Bernard, as quite towake him for a few minutes, and make him sit upright, and receive thenext vassal with as much attention as he had shown the first, but helooked imploringly at Sir Eric, as if to ask if it ever would be over.At last, far down among the Barons, came one at whose sight Richardrevived a little. It was a boy only a few years older than himself,perhaps about ten, with a pleasant brown face, black hair, and quickblack eyes which glanced, with a look between friendliness and respect,up into the little Duke's gazing face. Richard listened eagerly for hisname, and was refreshed at the sound of the boyish voice whichpronounced, "I, Alberic de Montemar, am thy liegeman and vassal for mycastle and barony of Montemar sur Epte."

  When Alberic moved away, Richard followed him with his eye as far as hecould to his place in the Cathedral, and was taken by surprise when hefound 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 he wasobliged to head the procession again; and even when he reached the castlehall his toils were not over, for there was a great state banquet spreadout, and he had to sit in the high chair where he remembered climbing onhis father's knee last Christmas-day, all the time that the Baronsfeasted round, and held grave converse. Richard's best comfort all thistime was in watching Osmond de Centeville and Alberic de Montemar, who,with the other youths who were not yet knighted, were waiting on thosewho sat at the table. At last he grew so very weary, that he fell fastasleep in the corner of his chair, and did not wake till he was startledby the rough voice of Bernard de Harcourt, calling him to rouse up, andbid the Duke 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; thoua kindly nurse, but a rough one for such a babe. Ha! my young Lord, yourcolour mantles at being called a babe! I crave your pardon, for you area fine spirit. And hark you, Lord Richard of Normandy, I have littlecause to love your race, and little right, I trow, had King Charles theSimple to call us free Bretons liegemen to a race of plundering Northernpirates. To Duke Rollo's might, my father never gave his homage; nay,nor did I yield it for all Duke William's long sword, but I did pay it tohis generosity and forbearance, and now I grant it to thy weakness and tohis noble memory. I doubt not that the recreant Frank, Louis, whom herestored to his throne, will striv
e to profit by thy youth andhelplessness, and should that be, remember that thou hast no surer friendthan Alan of Brittany. Fare thee well, my young Duke."

  "Farewell, Sir," said Richard, willingly giving his hand to be shaken byhis kind vassal, and watching him as Sir Eric attended him from the hall.

  "Fair words, but I trust not the Breton," muttered Bernard; "hatred isdeeply 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 not exilesstill. Now we shall see whose gratitude is worth most, the Frank's orthe Breton's. I suspect the Norman valour will be the best 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's neck,and that he had kept them, thinking that they doubtless led to somethingof importance.

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

  The Normans heard this with great interest, and it was resolved thatseveral of the most trusted persons, among whom were the Archbishop ofRouen, Abbot Martin of Jumieges, and the Count of Harcourt, should goimmediately in search of this precious hoard. Richard accompanied themup the narrow rough stone stairs, to the large dark apartment, where hisfather had slept. Though a Prince's chamber, it had little furniture; alow uncurtained bed, a Cross on a ledge near its head, a rude table, afew chairs, and two large chests, were all it contained. Harcourt triedthe lid of one of the chests: it opened, and proved to be full of wearingapparel; he went to the other, which was smaller, much more carved, andornamented with very handsome iron-work. It was locked, and putting inthe key, it fitted, the lock turned, and the chest was opened. TheNormans pressed eagerly to see their Duke's greatest treasure.

  It was a robe of serge, and a pair of sandals, such as were worn in theAbbey 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 William hadbeen hunting in the forest of Jumieges, when he had suddenly come on theruins of the Abbey, which had been wasted thirty or forty yearspreviously by the Sea-King, Hasting. Two old monks, of the originalbrotherhood, still survived, and came forth to greet the Duke, and offerhim their hospitality.

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

  William, then an eager, thoughtless young man, turned with disgust fromthis wretched fare, and throwing the old men some gold, galloped on toenjoy his hunting. In the course of the sport, he was left alone, andencountered a wild boar, which threw him down, trampled on him, and lefthim stretched senseless on the ground, severely injured. His companionscoming up, carried him, as the nearest place of shelter, to the ruins ofJumieges, where the two old monks gladly received him in the remainingportion of their house. As soon as he recovered his senses, he earnestlyasked their pardon for his pride, and the scorn he had shown to thepoverty and patient suffering which he should have reverenced.

  William had always been a man who chose the good and refused the evil,but this accident, and the long illness that followed it, made him farmore thoughtful and serious than he had ever been before; he madepreparing for death and eternity his first object, and thought less ofhis worldly affairs, his wars, and his ducal state. He rebuilt the oldAbbey, endowed it richly, and sent for Martin himself from France, tobecome the Abbot; he delighted in nothing so much as praying there,conversing with the Abbot, and hearing him read holy books; and he felthis temporal affairs, and the state and splendour of his rank, so great atemptation, that he had one day come to the Abbot, and entreated to beallowed to lay them aside, and become a brother of the order. But Martinhad refused to receive his vows. He had told him that he had no right toneglect or forsake the duties of the station which God had appointed him;that it would be a sin to leave the post which had been given him todefend; and that the way marked out for him to serve God was by doingjustice among his people, and using his power to defend the right. Nottill he had done his allotted work, and his son was old enough to takehis place as ruler of the Normans, might he cease from his active duties,quit the turmoil of the world, and seek the repose of the cloister. Itwas in this hope of peaceful retirement, that William had delighted totreasure up the humble garments that he hoped one day to wear in peaceand holiness.

  "And oh! my noble Duke!" exclaimed Abbot Martin, bursting into tears, ashe finished his narration, "the Lord hath been very gracious unto thee!He has taken thee home to thy rest, long before thou didst dare to hopefor it."

  Slowly, and with subdued feelings, the Norman Barons left the chamber;Richard, whom they seemed to have almost forgotten, wandered to thestairs, to find his way to the room where he had slept last night. Hehad not made many steps before he heard Osmond's voice say, "Here, myLord;" he looked up, saw a white cap at a doorway a little above him, hebounded up and flew into Dame Astrida's outstretched arms.

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