The Little Duke: Richard the Fearless

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  CHAPTER VI

  Away from the tall narrow gateway of Rollo's Tower, with the cluster offriendly, sorrowful faces looking forth from it, away from the booth-likeshops of Rouen, and the stout burghers shouting with all the power oftheir lungs, "Long live Duke Richard! Long live King Louis! Death tothe Fleming!"--away from the broad Seine--away from home and friends,rode the young Duke of Normandy, by the side of the palfrey of the Kingof France.

  The King took much notice of him, kept him by his side, talked to him,admired the beautiful cattle grazing in security in the green pastures,and, as he looked at the rich dark brown earth of the fields, the Castlestowering above the woods, the Convents looking like great farms, the manyvillages round the rude Churches, and the numerous population who cameout to gaze at the party, and repeat the cry of "Long live the King!Blessings on the little Duke!" he told Richard, again and again, that hiswas the most goodly duchy in France and Germany to boot.

  When they crossed the Epte, the King would have Richard in the same boatwith him, and sitting close to Louis, and talking eagerly about falconsand hounds, the little Duke passed the boundary of his own dukedom.

  The country beyond was not like Normandy. First they came to a greatforest, which seemed to have no path through it. The King ordered thatone of the men, who had rowed them across, should be made to serve asguide, and two of the men-at-arms took him between them, and forced himto lead the way, while others, with their swords and battle-axes, cutdown and cleared away the tangled branches and briars that nearly chokedthe path. All the time, every one was sharply on the look-out forrobbers, and the weapons were all held ready for use at a moment'snotice. On getting beyond the forest a Castle rose before them, and,though it was not yet late in the day, they resolved to rest there, as amarsh lay not far before them, which it would not have been safe totraverse in the evening twilight.

  The Baron of the Castle received them with great respect to the King, butwithout paying much attention to the Duke of Normandy, and Richard didnot find the second place left for him at the board. He colouredviolently, and looked first at the King, and then at Osmond, but Osmondheld up his finger in warning; he remembered how he had lost his temperbefore, and what had come of it, and resolved to try to bear it better;and just then the Baron's daughter, a gentle-looking maiden of fifteen orsixteen, came and spoke to him, and entertained him so well, that he didnot think much more of his offended dignity.--When they set off on theirjourney again, the Baron and several of his followers came with them toshow the only safe way across the morass, and a very slippery,treacherous, quaking road it was, where the horses' feet left pools ofwater wherever they trod. The King and the Baron rode together, and theother French Nobles closed round them; Richard was left quite in thebackground, and though the French men-at-arms took care not to lose sightof him, no one offered him any assistance, excepting Osmond, who, givinghis own horse to Sybald, one of the two Norman grooms who accompaniedhim, led Richard's horse by the bridle along the whole distance of themarshy path, a business that could scarcely have been pleasant, as Osmondwore his heavy hauberk, and his pointed, iron-guarded boots sunk deep atevery step into the bog. He spoke little, but seemed to be taking goodheed of every stump of willow or stepping-stone that might serve as anote 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 the King,only sending three men-at-arms, to show him the way to a monastery, whichwas to be the next halting-place. He sent three, because it was not safefor one, even fully armed, to ride alone, for fear of the attacks of thefollowers of a certain marauding Baron, who was at deadly feud with him,and made all that border a most perilous region. Richard might wellobserve that he did not like the Vexin half as well as Normandy, and thatthe people ought to learn Fru Astrida's story of the golden bracelets,which, in his grandfather's time, had hung untouched for a year, in atree in a forest.

  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 round them,where the people either fled away, driving off their cattle with them atthe first sight of an armed band, or else, if they remained, proved to bethin, wretched-looking creatures, with wasted limbs, aguish faces, andoften iron collars round their necks. Wherever there was anything ofmore prosperous appearance, such as a few cornfields, vineyards on theslopes of the hills, fat cattle, and peasantry looking healthy andsecure, there was sure to be seen a range of long low stone buildings,surmounted with crosses, with a short square Church tower rising in themidst, and interspersed with gnarled hoary old apple-trees, or withgardens of pot-herbs spreading before them to the meadows. If, insteadof two or three men-at-arms from a Castle, or of some trembling serfpressed into the service, and beaten, threatened, and watched to preventtreachery, the King asked for a guide at a Convent, some lay brotherwould take his staff; or else mount an ass, and proceed in perfectconfidence and security as to his return homewards, sure that his povertyand his sacred character would alike protect him from any outrage fromthe most lawless marauder of the neighbourhood.

  Thus they travelled until they reached the royal Castle of Laon, wherethe Fleur-de-Lys standard on the battlements announced the presence ofGerberge, Queen of France, and her two sons. The King rode first intothe court with his Nobles, and before Richard could follow him throughthe narrow arched gateway, he had dismounted, entered the Castle, and wasout of sight. Osmond held the Duke's stirrup, and followed him up thesteps which led to the Castle Hall. It was full of people, but no onemade way, and Richard, holding his Squire's hand, looked up in his face,inquiring and bewildered.

  "Sir Seneschal," said Osmond, seeing a broad portly old man, with greyhair and a golden chain, "this is the Duke of Normandy--I pray youconduct him to the King's presence."

  Richard had no longer any cause to complain of neglect, for the Seneschalinstantly made him a very low bow, and calling "Place--place for the highand mighty Prince, my Lord Duke of Normandy!" ushered him up to the daisor raised part of the floor, where the King and Queen stood togethertalking. The Queen looked round, as Richard was announced, and he sawher face, which was sallow, and with a sharp sour expression that did notplease him, and he backed and looked reluctant, while Osmond, with awarning hand pressed on his shoulder, was trying to remind him that heought 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 northern giantkeep 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 perform hisobeisance.

  "I tell you I will not," said Richard. "She looks cross, and I do notlike her."

  Luckily he spoke his own language; but his look and air expressed a gooddeal of what he said, and Gerberge looked all the more unattractive.

  "A thorough little Norwegian bear," said the King; "fierce and unruly asthe rest. Come, and perform your courtesy--do you forget where you 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 heart resolvedthat he would never kiss the hand of that sour-looking Queen. It was adetermination made in pride and defiance, and he suffered for itafterwards; but no more passed now, for the Queen only saw in hisbehaviour that of an unmannerly young Northman: and though she dislikedand despised him, she did not care enough about his courtesy to insist onits being paid. She sat down, and so did the King, and they went ontalking; the King probably telling her his adventures at Rouen, whileRichard stood on the step of the dais, swelling with sullen pride.

  Nearly a quarter of an hour had passed in this manner when the servantscame to set the table for supper, and Richard, in spite of his indignantlooks, was forced to stand aside. He wondered that all this time
he hadnot seen the two Princes, thinking how strange he should have thought it,to let his own dear father be in the house so long without coming towelcome him. At last, just as the supper had been served up, a side dooropened, and the Seneschal called, "Place for the high and mighty Princes,my Lord Lothaire and my Lord Carloman!" and in walked two boys, one aboutthe same age as Richard, the other rather less than a year younger. Theywere both thin, pale, sharp-featured children, and Richard drew himselfup to his full height, with great satisfaction at being so much tallerthan Lothaire.

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

  "Is that the little Northman?" said Carloman, turning to stare at Richardwith a look of curiosity, while Richard in his turn felt considerablyaffronted that a boy so much less than himself should call 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, buthis brother pushed him rudely aside. "I am the eldest; it is my businessto be first. So, young Northman, you are come here for us to play with."

  Richard was too much amazed at being spoken to in this imperious way tomake any answer. He was completely taken by surprise, and only openedhis great blue eyes to their utmost extent.

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

  "The Norman is no heathen tongue!" said Richard, at once breaking silencein a loud voice. "We are as good Christians as you are--ay, and bettertoo."

  "Hush! hush! my Lord!" said Osmond.

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

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

  "I would be courteous enough, if they would be courteous to me," returnedRichard, gazing with eyes full of defiance at Lothaire, who, returning anangry look, had nevertheless shrunk back to his mother. She meanwhilewas saying, "So strong, so rough, the young savage is, he will surelyharm 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 were theboy to be missed, the grim old Harcourt would have all the pirates of hisland on us in the twinkling of an eye. We have him, and there we mustrest content for the present. Now to supper."

  At supper, Richard sat next little Carloman, who peeped at him every nowand then from under his eyelashes, as if he was afraid of him; andpresently, when there was a good deal of talking going on, so that hisvoice could not be heard, half whispered, in a very grave tone, "Do youlike salt beef or fresh?"

  "I like fresh," answered Richard, with equal gravity, "only we eat saltall the winter."

  There was another silence, and then Carloman, with the same solemnity,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 returned tothe 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 things whichLothaire will not hear said. Do not make him cross, or he will make mymother displeased with you. She caused Thierry de Lincourt to bescourged, because his ball hit Lothaire's face."

  "She cannot scourge me--I am a free Duke," said Richard. "But why? Didhe 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 animated descriptionof the snowballing, a fortnight ago, at Rouen, when Osmond and some ofthe other young men built a snow fortress, and defended it againstRichard, Alberic, and the other Squires. Carloman listened with delight,and declared that next time it snowed, they would have a snow castle; andthus, by the time supper was over, the two little boys were very goodfriends.

  Bedtime came not long after supper. Richard's was a smaller room than hehad been used to at Rouen; but it amazed him exceedingly when he firstwent into it: he stood gazing in wonder, because, as he said, "It was asif 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 without glass totheir 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 just asif we were the holy saints; and here are fresh rushes strewn about thefloor, too. This must be a mistake--it must be an oratory, instead of mychamber."

  "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 tell her. Glasswindows and hangings to sleeping chambers! I do not like it I am sure weshall never be able to sleep, closed up from the free air of heaven inthis way: I shall be always waking, and fancying I am in the chapel athome, hearing Father Lucas chanting his matins. Besides, my father wouldblame me for letting you be made as tender as a Frank. I'll have outthis precious window, if I can."

  Luxurious as the young Norman thought the King, the glazing of Laon wasnot permanent. It consisted of casements, which could be put up orremoved at pleasure; for, as the court possessed only one set of glasswindows, they were taken down, and carried from place to place, as oftenas Louis removed from Rheims to Soissons, Laon, or any other of his royalcastles; so that Osmond did not find much difficulty in displacing them,and letting in the sharp, cold, wintry breeze. The next thing he did wasto give his young Lord a lecture on his want of courtesy, telling himthat "no wonder the Franks thought he had no more culture than a Viking(or pirate), fresh caught from Norway. A fine notion he was giving themof the training he had at Centeville, if he could not even show commoncivility to the Queen--a lady! Was that the way Alberic had behaved whenhe 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 first teachingof a young Knight is to be courteous to ladies--never mind whether fairand young, or old and foul of favour. Till you learn and note that, LordRichard, you will never be worthy of your golden spurs."

  "And the King told me she would treat me as a mother," exclaimed Richard."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 much betterthan the Count de Harcourt; but now I think that the Count is best! I'lltell you, Osmond, I will never call him grim old Bernard again."

  "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 Alber
ic. Icannot bear that Lothaire. He is proud, and unknightly, and cruel. I amsure 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, and heis 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'tyou remember?"

  "Come, Lord Richard, I cannot let you wait to remember everything; tellyour beads and pray that we may be brought safe back to Rouen; and thatyou may not forget all the good that Father Lucas and holy Abbot Martinhave laboured to teach you."

  So Richard told the beads of his rosary--black polished wood, with amberat certain spaces--he repeated a prayer with every bead, and Osmond didthe same; then the little Duke put himself into a narrow crib of richlycarved walnut; while Osmond, having stuck his dagger so as to form anadditional bolt to secure the door, and examined the hangings that nosecret entrance might be concealed behind them, gathered a heap of rushestogether, and lay down on them, wrapped in his mantle, across thedoorway. The Duke was soon asleep; but the Squire lay long awake, musingon the possible dangers that surrounded his charge, and on the best wayof guarding against them.