by M. M. Blake
CHAPTER XI.
THE CASTELLAN OF BLAUNCHEFLOUR.
Ralph de Guader had said little to his bride of the proceedings at themarriage festivities, but a time came when it was necessary for him tobreak in upon their brief honeymoon with rumours of war, for it was notpossible to hide the fact that he must take the field in defence oflife and liberty.
The defection of Waltheof had been a great blow to the conspirators;his untimely betrayal of their plans was more serious still, as theirchance of success lay chiefly in the hope of taking the king's forcesby surprise.
Waltheof himself had supposed that his course would altogether put astop to the undertaking, seeing that his two brother earls hadrepresented that to place him on the throne was its chief object.
But De Guader and Fitzosbern were too proud to give up their hopes ofaggrandisement so easily, and, moreover, their case was desperate. Ifthey submitted at once and unconditionally, they could only lookforward to disgrace and imprisonment, whereas the chances of battlemight still be in their favour. It was not wonderful, therefore, thatthey elected to fight it out, notwithstanding the odds against them.
The Earl of Norfolk and Suffolk had assembled his forces, and held allin readiness for departure on the morrow. The dreaded moment had come,and he sought his wife's bower, feeling that he would much liefer meetWilliam's men-at-arms.
It was a sunny little room on the east side of the palace, looking overthe marshes of the low holme which then bordered the Wensum with awilderness of sedges and white water-lilies, and upon which, someeleven years later, Herbert de Losinga erected the cathedral which isour present pride and joy.
Emma loved to watch the high-prowed galleys passing to and fro upon theriver, with sails spread, and oars flashing, and stout rowers bendingto their work; and to see them lading and unlading at Lovelly'sStaithe, a wharf situated about a third of the distance between thepresent ferry and Foundry Bridge.
Here Eadgyth would entertain her with stories of her girlhood, and tellhow she had seen her cousin, Harold Godwinsson, land at that wharf,when he came to Norwich after his imprisonment in Normandy; and howLeofric, Earl of Mercia, to whom the sainted King Eadward had given theEast Anglian earldom in Harold's absence, met him with all honour; andof the magnanimous strife between the two, when Leofric would give backthe earldom, and Harold would fain have had him keep it; and how Haroldtook it for a time, but returned it on ascending the throne.
And when the white swans came sailing amongst the reeds, bending theirlong necks from side to side, the Saxon maiden would tell her friend ofHarold's beloved, her namesake Eadgyth Swannehals, the most beautifulwoman in Norfolk, or, for the matter of that, in all England, and wouldburst into tears when she thought of the sad ending of that fairromance.
And Emma would smile at her enthusiasm, but yet grew in sympathy withthis English people, the smoke of whose dwellings was rising aroundher, and almost found it in her heart to wish that her hero William hadbeen a little less successful, and to question whether it had not beenmore virtuous of him to stay at home in his native Normandy. Somehowshe had never admired him so freely since he had endeavoured to parther from her betrothed.
In such a mood as this was Emma when her husband sought her, with theintention of telling her the secret of his bold enterprise, but helittle guessed how much her sympathies had turned against William, for,as is often the case when convictions are changing, she had made up forher coldness of feeling by warmth of speech, and had sought so to atonefor her act of rebellion in marrying Ralph against the king's mandate.
Therefore the earl knew not how to begin his explanation, and satbefore her embroidery frame almost as deeply embarrassed as Waltheofhad been before the archbishop. 'Tis true he had told her ere theirwedding that the quarrel must needs be fought out, yet it seemed notthe easier to say,'My standard is lifted.'
His face was ashy pale, for it was to him cruel as death to leave hisyoung bride before a month had passed, although he had known that theparting must come.
Emma, looking at him, dropped her silks in horror, and, throwing herarms round his neck, asked coaxingly what ailed him.
And Ralph turned his head away without speaking.
'Can it be that I have offended thee in aught?' asked the youngcountess anxiously.
'Nay, Emma, I am the offender, if offender there be. Methinks the worstof all ailments is mine, for I must leave thee, and perchance angerthee also.'
'Leave me?' Her breath caught in a sob of terror.
Ralph faced her desperately. 'My love, thou knowest our wedding wasagainst the express mandate of the king. Lanfranc, the king's man, whomhe made Primate of all England,--in place of the holy Stigand, whom heunjustly deprived, and who yet languishes in prison,--hath turnedbitterly against thy brother of Hereford, whom whilom he was wont totreat as a son, and has set a ban of excommunication upon him.'
A low cry of horror escaped from Emma.
Ralph's eyes flashed fire. He caught his wife's white hands as theywere sliding down from his neck, half withdrawn at the fear that herlove had led her into deadly sin, since the brother who hadcountenanced her marriage, and urged her to its fulfilment, was castout by the Church.
He understood the loosening of her clasp, and caught her hands as aprotest.
'Emma,' he cried,'thou hast taken me for better or worse. I hoped tohave made thee the second lady in the land. But alas! I must fight tohold mine own, nay, for dear life,--life which is precious for thysake.'
'I do not regret my choice,' said Emma, meeting his gaze with her frankeyes, her proud Fitzosbern spirit rising to the test. 'Only I fear lestI have sinned in taking thee against the will of my king-lord and thevoice of the Holy Church.'
'Say rather the voice of William's creature,--a Lombard upstart,without a drop of noble blood in his veins. Dost thou forget the holymen who blessed our union and gave it the sanction of the Church? Theyblessed thy brother for taking up the cause of an oppressed people.Shall the curses of the wily Italian have more weight than theirbenedictions? Dost thou throw over thy brother so easily to hisuntender mercies?'
'Alas! I am bewildered amid so many conflicting counsels,' Emma sighed.
'This poor land and all who are in it are so bewildered, my sweetlady,' Ralph answered, kissing the hands he still held. 'None can seethe right clearly. William--the Conqueror, as he proudly styleshimself--hath gone mad with his success, and the luckless people groanunder his tyranny. Would I had never helped him to leave his duchy ofNormandy! But it is useless to groan over the past, nor can I stop tochop logic over the present. The point is this: The king's men aremarching to attack me. My only course is to fight for it, and, ifpossible, make a junction with thy brother Roger, when it may be thatthe oppressed Saxons will strike a blow to regain their freedom, and,with my trusty Bretons, I may still gain the day.'
Emma clasped her hands in sore distress.
'Is it in good sooth come to this, that thou must go forth against theking? Alas! my foolish face tempted thee to wrong. 'Tis I that am toblame.'
Ralph caught her to him and kissed her. 'Nay, by the heart of Our Lady.'Tis William's mad pride that is to blame, and that alone. Speak noslander against my wife, or it will go ill with thee, for I will notbrook to hear it.'
Emma drooped her head against his shoulder, smiling through her tears.'Oh, Ralph,' she said, 'if thou wert but going in a good cause, theparting would not be so bitter.'
Ralph, having no good argument to proffer in reply, lost his temper. Hesprang up and paced the room, making his golden spurs jingle at eachimpatient stride.
'I thought when I wedded a Fitzosbern I should escape the lot of mostmen, to be wept and wailed over at every crinkle in the rose-leaves offate. But it seems thou art but of the same stuff as other women, afterall.'
Emma flushed over neck and brow. She drew herself proudly erect, andhastily wiped away the tears that were rolling down her cheeks.
'Naught but dread of guilt and a too fond love could have drawn tearsf
rom a Fitzosbern,' she answered haughtily. 'Thou shalt not need tocomplain again, my lord.'
'Nay, my sweet lady, pardon me,' pleaded the earl, turning to her withentreating eyes. 'In good sooth, I am well-nigh distracted, and thesight of thy tears makes me too bitterly conscious of my own lack ofworth. But what wouldst thou have me do? If it were but a question ofmy own poor life, I would submit, and let William do his worst, if sucha course would pleasure thee; but I cannot desert thy brother, nor myown poor Bretons, and the Saxons who have thrown in their lot withmine. Thou knowest William is not gentle with such as cross his will.It would mean loss of lands and lifelong imprisonment to thy brotherand myself, and the lopping off a hand and a foot for each of myBretons, at the least, while hanging would be too mild a measure in hiseyes for the Saxons.'
Emma's hands were tightly clenched together. The momentary flush hadfaded from her face, and it was pale as death, but she neither sobbednor flinched.
'I have made my choice, and I will abide by it,' she said in a low,firm voice. 'Nor will I quail before the consequences of our deed. Wehave chosen each other against the whole world. Perhaps if thou hadsttrusted me more fully, thou hadst not been vexed with tears. Thyannouncement was somewhat sudden.'
'Let that ill-grained speech rest in its grave, dear love. Thou hastspoken like a Fitzosbern now,' said the earl, taking her hands again inhis and drawing her back to his shoulder. 'I want thee to be of goodcourage, for I have treated thee as a hero's daughter, and appointedthee Castellan of Blauncheflour in my absence. I have vested in theethe supreme and sole command. Thine it shall be, in case of siege whileI am away,--which God forfend,--to surrender or defend the castle onwhatsoever terms may seem good to thee. Sir Alain de Gourin and SirHoel de St. Brice will act under thine orders and be thine advisers.Wilt thou take the office?'
'Yes, I will take it,' answered Emma, without a moment's hesitation,although her whole soul trembled within her at the prospect of beingleft in her young feebleness to command the turbulent De Gourin, forwhom she had a strong aversion, and the veteran Sir Hoel, who was atotal stranger to her, albeit he had been so long in her husband'strain.
'Thou art indeed a fit bride for a warrior,' cried Ralph, gazing withadmiration at her determined face.
Emma longed to throw her arms around his neck and sob, but conqueredthe impulse, answering only with a smile.
'Thou saidest I was sudden, sweet,' resumed Ralph. 'Methinks an agonythat must be sharp had best be short. To that end I would not poisonfor thee the brief time we had together with the shadow of parting.That is why I told thee naught till now, upon the eve of my goingforth.'
Emma could not repress a slight start.
'Dost go so soon? To-morrow?' she said.
'To-morrow thou wilt enter on thy new office,' answered the earl gaily,kissing her forehead. And then he slipped from the apartment,congratulating himself that the mischief was out, and full ofadmiration for his bride, in that she had borne the tidings so bravely.
Emma listened to his footfall as he strode down the long corridor tillits echo was lost in the distance. Then the emotion she had violentlyrepressed had its way.
She stretched out her arms after him as if to call him back, and threwherself on her knees near the door.
'Oh, Ralph!' she sobbed,--'oh, Ralph, my husband! Saints and angelsprotect thee! Guard him, St. Nicholas, thou under whose patronage hehas placed himself. I vow seven candlesticks of pure gold to thinealtar in Blauncheflour.'
Her voice died away, a strange sensation of numb oppression succeededher violent anguish, and she sank in a dead faint by the door herhusband had just passed through.