The Siege of Norwich Castle: A story of the last struggle against the Conqueror

by M. M. Blake

  CHAPTER XVI.

  WIFE OR WIDOW?

  The Castellan of Blauncheflour swept hastily from the chamber where shehad held council with the two knights, doubting lest her power ofself-control should fail her, and that the desperate grief which wasgnawing at her heart should gain the upper hand, and mar the statelyboldness of mien which she saw affected them not a little, by bringingthe weak tears which are accounted a woman's privilege.

  She remembered bitterly that almost the last day which she had spentwith her dear lord had been clouded for him by her weeping, and shefelt as if by maintaining firmness now she was carrying out his wishes.

  'I vexed him with my tears,' she said to herself. 'Ah! now I will bethe very hero's daughter he bade me to be. I will be bolder than hismailed retainers. While I can get one soldier to fight for me, onewarder to pace the walls, I will hold his castle ready to receive him!'

  By such brave words she tried to stifle the awful terror that assailedher secret heart that the tidings of Stephen le Hareau were indeedtrue.

  Leaving the room hastily, she nearly fell over the fair figure ofEadgyth, who was kneeling on the threshold.

  'Eadgyth! what dost thou here? Is this obeying my behests? I bade theetend the wounded, from whom other duties called me.'

  'Pardon, dear Emma! I feared lest thou shouldst need my service. I havenot forgotten the day when I found thee senseless in thy chamber; andthese news be so dire.'

  'Faint heart!' cried Emma contemptuously, taking refuge in indignation.'Dost thou then credit the wild stories of these runaways? How but bytelling of slain leader and ruined cause could they excuse their owncowardice? The cousin of Harold Godwinsson should despise them for_nodings_!'

  Her eyes blazed with the light of fierce determination, as she hissedout the word which in the ears of Saxon or Dane was the most degradingthat could be applied to a warrior.

  The mild-natured Eadgyth, whose courage was of the moral order, andwith whom fortitude and fidelity were greater than high spirit, gazedwonderingly at her friend. She had seen Emma cry over a fawn the dogshad lacerated, or over the dead body of a pet bird, when her own eyeshad been tearless, and this strange strength of Emma's made her shiver,for she fully believed that the earl was slain.

  Emma looked in her startled face and laughed. 'Tend them, bonnibell,and ease the pain of their wounds; but credit them not. Let my lorddeal with them when he comes back at the head of a victorious army.'

  Eadgyth, like the knights, thought that the countess was going mad.Perhaps she was; but her madness saved the garrison.

  Yet, to say truth, her high spirit quailed when she re-entered thespital. The draggled, blood-stained, dejected warriors who lay, andleaned, and stood around, with every variety of wound to be dressed,were no cheering sight. Nor, when she saw their pale, stern faces,grave with defeat and haggard from fatigue, did she stigmatise them inher heart, as she had stigmatised them in words, as cowards--_nodings_.Her woman's heart went out in sympathy to the suffering humanity aroundher. She did not pause to settle the question whether they had fledprematurely or stood by their leader--in whom was all her joy--to thelast bitter gasp, as brave men should. She dared not investigate tooclosely, lest they should convince her that she had wronged them, andso daunt the hope that was her only comfort.

  With tireless industry she busied herself in the manual labour of theleech, in such crude forms as the medical science of the day allowed.How rudimentary they were may be guessed from the story told us by oldRobert of Gloucester, of the Duke of Austria in Coeur de Lion's time,some fifty years later, a patient who doubtless had at his commandwhatever skill the times afforded. The duke fell from his palfrey andhurt his foot, which mortified, and the doctors advised him that hisonly hope lay in having it taken off. Nobody, however, could be foundbold enough to undertake the operation, and the poor duke at last helda keen axe with his own hands upon his ankle, and bade his chamberlainsmite upon it with all his strength, the foot being severed at thethird blow.

  Such being the best surgical aid that a royal duke could obtain, it maybe imagined that little could be done to ease the pangs of humbler men.

  A stream of fugitives came straggling in before the day was done, and,alas! all told the same tale. They were mostly Bretons or Normans, forthe Saxons and Anglo-Danes who had followed the earl sought refuge, notin the Norman stronghold, but in the forest retreats where theircountrymen had already found shelter, and in the fastnesses of wold andfen, which were familiar to their steps.

  The bride of a month before tended them with feverish assiduity,refusing rest and food, dreading that time for thought should force herto yield belief to the tidings they all brought--that she was a widow.

  When evening came, Sir Alain de Gourin demanded another audience, atwhich he appeared alone, averring that Sir Hoel could not leave thedirection of the defence at the same time as himself.

  He faced the countess doggedly, with a defiant gleam in his bulgingblue eyes which she did not find it pleasant to meet. His cheeks weremore purple than ever, and it seemed to Emma that his red moustachealmost quivered with flame, while his brawny figure was adorned with anunusual display of finery, the flashing jewels on his baldricattracting her eyes even in that moment of distress.

  He urged that what had seemed a doubtful rumour in the morning hadbecome certain news by night, since fugitive after fugitive hadconfirmed the tidings first brought by Stephen le Hareau, and beggedher once more to think of her own safety, and allow himself and histrusty Bretons to escort her to Bretagne.

  'Is it but to repeat to mine ears the idle plaints of these runawaysthat thou hast summoned me to solemn conclave, good knight? My answerof the morning stands.'

  She broke into a laugh that was low and silvery enough, but whichcaused even the thick-skinned mercenary to shiver, and she would haveswept from the room, but, recovering himself, De Gourin steppedforward, and, laying his mailed hand on her arm, detained her.

  'By the Rood!' he exclaimed, 'thou shalt not go! Thou alone in all thiscastle dost refuse to believe the inevitable. I tell thee, knights ofmy following, whose word is sacred as my own, saw Ralph de Guaderstruck down by the mace of Odo of Bayeux; none could live after such ablow, were his harness sevenfold thick! Besides, the press of battlewas upon the spot where he fell, and the feet of the horses must haveachieved what Odo began, if his mace completed it not.'

  Eadgyth, who attended the countess, uttered a scream of horror, andendeavoured to stop his speech. 'Wouldst thou kill her?' she cried.

  Emma shook herself free from his grasp, and faced him with flashingeyes of scorn.

  'By the mass, noble lady, pardon me! I would have spared thee theserude details, but perforce I must have thee comprehend.'

  'If the earl indeed be perished,' said Emma bitterly, 'life will not beso sweet to me that I should take such care to save it. Save thyselfand thy Bretons if thou wilt. If ye go, there will be less to man thewalls, but fewer mouths to feed.'

  The last words were uttered with a careless contempt that wasabsolutely sublime, and the blustering mercenary no longer ventured todetain her.

  'Certes, the donzelle is mad!' he asserted, with a round oath, when shehad left the chamber, for her absolute refusal to leave Blauncheflourhad thrown to the winds his plan for becoming her second husband, andbecoming lord of her fair manors.

  Outside the chamber door Emma turned to her loving bower-maiden like acreature of the woods at bay. Eadgyth's sympathy was more dreadful toher than the Breton's brutal frankness. 'I would be alone, Eadgyth. Iam going to the oratory,' she forced her white lips to murmur, andalmost fled from her side down the circling stairway.

  Eadgyth followed at a distance, and, when Emma had disappeared withinthe sacred portal, threw herself prostrate at the threshold, like afaithful hound, as she had thrown herself at the door of thecouncil-chamber in the morning.

  Emma, alone at last, knelt before the shrine of the Virgin. She chosethat rather than the one dedicated to St. Nicholas, for it seeme
d toher in her anguish that her husband's patron saint had forsaken hisvotaries in their distress.

  The grief she had so long held at bay shook her from head to foot witha long quivering sob that held her speechless, and almost stopped herbreath. She stretched out her arms in mute supplication to Heaven.Scalding tears formed slowly in her eyes, and rolled one by one downher bloodless cheeks.

  Then a fresh gust of agony shook her like a leaf. 'Ah, _Dieu merci_!'she moaned; 'the horses! the horses! They achieved if Odo failed, hesaid! Oh, Christ! it cannot be! That dear head that has pillowed on mybosom!'

  Quivering and shuddering, she sank upon the cold flags of the floor.The grey light of morning creeping through the narrow oriel found herstill there.

  * * * * *

  'Oh, countess! sweet countess! one waits without who will not deliverhis message to any but thee, and _he bears the earl's signet_!'

  Eadgyth was in the oratory, bending over the stiffened form of theunhappy Chatelaine of Blauncheflour.

  Emma passed her hands across her brow in blank bewilderment, andEadgyth cried to her again.

  'Oh, Heaven be praised!' cried Emma, a great light of joy springinginto her eyes; and, rising from her knees, 'Where is he? where is he?'she asked. 'Take me to him without delay. What manner of man is thiswhose advent doth so raise my hopes? The earl's signet, sayest thou?'

  'He wears a Danish helm, and looks as if he had travelled over land andthrough water,' said Eadgyth. 'Our Lady and good St. Nicholas grantthat our hopes be well founded!'

  'Fetch me my golden torc, which was my wedding gift from the falseWaltheof,' said Emma; 'I will meet this Dane as one who knows somewhatof his race.'

  She went to her chamber to wash away the signs of her night's vigilfrom her cheeks, and, when her hasty toilette was made, Eadgyth sawwith surprise the change in her: hope had brought back the bloom to hercheek and the elasticity to her step, and she looked well fit to be thebride of one who aspired to the third of a kingdom for his earldom.

  She swept from the lodge to the great tower, and entered thecouncil-chamber, where Sir Hoel and Sir Alain awaited her, curiousenough to know the contents of the missive guarded by the fair-haired,long-limbed Dane with such jealous care, Sir Alain eyeing him as hestood before them with no very gracious countenance.

  When Emma came into the room, the Dane saluted her profoundly, histow-coloured locks almost touching his knee, and his formidabledouble-edged axe rattling on the floor as he bent; then he put into thehands of the countess a packet tied with a slender silken cord.

  Emma started with joy, for her quick eyes noted the many joins in thatsilken cord, and recognised it as composed of the fringe with whichRalph's surcoat had been decked.

  The Dane then drew from his finger a ring, and handed it to her, and,truly enough, it was De Guader's signet.

  Emma's fingers trembled so violently that she could scarce read thesuperscripture, endorsed with a clerkly scroll,--

  'To the fair hands of Emma de Guader, Castellan of our Castell of Blauncheflour in Norowic.'

  She drew the little _misericorde_ at her girdle and severed the silk.

  'Bid the chaplain hither,' she said, for in truth she had littlelearning, and her literary attainments did not extend far beyond thereading of her own name; notwithstanding which, her eyes questionedeagerly the fairly illumined page before her, which was the work of themonk who has been mentioned as sitting by the hearth of EaldredGodwinsson in his Fenland refuge, for the earl's clerkly skill waslittle greater than that of his wife.

  Impatiently she awaited the coming of the chaplain, and, when he came,thrust the cherished parchment into his hand, and followed his reading,word by word, with hungry avidity.

  'Fair and dear Lady and Countess,' said the missive, 'ill news has thy unfortunate knight wherewith to vex thine heart. The battle went against me. By little less than a miracle was my life, dear for thy sweet sake, preserved to me. A long story which some day I yet hope to relate to thee. I am sore wounded, but not dangerously'--

  'The holy saints be praised!' ejaculated Sir Hoel fervently.

  'Ay!--the holy saints be praised!, echoed Sir Alain, with somewhathalting zeal, for this resuscitated earl put an end to all his schemes.

  'Therefore,' resumed the chaplain, continuing his reading, 'vex not thyself with fears. But for my wounds only, I had been with thee by now, but could not mount steed or _hacquenee_. The messenger will tell thee my retreat, and the plan by which I yet hope to prevail, and to win fame for thee. Defend my Castell of Blauncheflour, sweet my Castellan, and, by the aid of good St. Nicholas, I will come back to thee at the head of such an host as will put all our foes to rout. I count the daies till I see thee again. The Blessed Virgin have thee in her keeping.

  'These from thy leal and loving husband,

  'RALPH DE GUADER AND MONTFORT,

  'Earl of Norfolk and Suffolk.'

  The missive was signed by the earl's own hand, and sealed with hiswedding ring, on which was graven the cognisance of Hereford.

  'Ah, fair sirs,' cried Emma exultingly, looking, however, at Sir Alain,and with contemptuous defiance in her flashing eyes, 'ye see theinstinct of the true wife was more trustworthy than the eye-witness ofbelted knights! Let us charitably suppose that their poor heads weresomewhat flustered with the hurly-burly of battle. Methinks they wereover quick to believe their leader slain.'

  Then, turning to the messenger, she questioned him regarding the battleand the retreat, and the manner of the earl's escape; and heard thestory we already know of Grillonne's ready wit, and the refuge in thefens.

  The Dane was one of those who had helped to carry the wounded earl, andhad been chosen as a messenger because he was trustworthy, renowned asa swift runner, and could carry messages of importance to such Danishseamen as might be with their vessels at Norwich for trading purposes,besides his message to the countess. Dependence had not been placed onhim alone; other messengers had been despatched from the Fenland camp,in case he fell into the hands of the enemy, but he had outstripped hiscompetitors.

  He said that the earl had desired to return to Norwich, but had beenoverpersuaded by those about him that it would be a wiser course totake ship at Wells by the sea, which he could do privily by aid ofEaldred Godwinsson, and those over whom the thegn had influence. So itwas agreed that the earl should make sail for Denmark, where, withoutdoubt, he would be nobly welcomed by King Sweyn, who had alreadypromised him men and vessels. From thence he would go with all speed toBretagne, and arm his retainers, and gather all help he might among theBreton nobles; and with the host thus gathered would haste to therelief of Blauncheflour, which would thus be rendered sure and certain.

  The countess listened with kindling eyes and glowing cheeks.

  'A device worthy of a hero!' she exclaimed. 'Let the garrison besummoned to the courtyard of the castle, and I will tell them thesebrave news. I would they should receive them from mine own lips. Seealso that this worthy messenger enjoys all hospitality the castle mayafford.'

  She unfastened a golden collar from her neck, and added it to the manybracelets which already glittered upon the Dane's muscular arms.

  The warrior thanked her earnestly, with the frank reverence whichcharacterised the wild sea-kings in their behaviour to women.

  Half-an-hour later, the countess, arrayed in her richest robes, withsteel-cap on her head, and her gorget glistening in the morning sun asit rose and fell with the swift heaving of her bosom, stood at thegreat east portal, with the Danish messenger at her side, and lookeddown upon the eager faces of the hastily assembled garrison.

  A rumour had gone forth that the earl had escaped, and would yet returnin triumph, and a glow of excitement lighted every eye. As Emma saw thestalwart forms and the strong determined countenances before her, athrill of pride swelled her heart at the thought that her warriorhusband should have given her command over them. The
spirit of WilliamFitzosbern lived again in the breast of his daughter. 'I will be worthyof the honour that Ralph's choice bestowed on me,' she thought. 'Ifaught a woman can say or do may inspire men to gallant deeds, these menshall not fail their lord.'

  Emotion brought high words to her lips and fire to her eyes. Her heartverily shouted with delight for the joyful message which she had todeliver. 'Brave knights and soldiers!' she cried, and her voice rangthrough the fresh morning air like the clang of a silver trumpet, 'gladnews have I for loyal ears. Earl Ralph yet lives! See, this missive issigned by his own noble hand! His signet blazes on my finger!'

  She held the scroll aloft in her hands, and the sunshine flashed on thering.

  'A Guader! a Guader!' shouted the assembled host; and arms were raisedand weapons clashed, while some three hundred stout throats echoed theshout, 'St. Nicholas for Guader!'

  'Yesterday your countess and her counsellors were sore distressed,'Emma went on; 'for, as ye know, the unfortunate squire, Stephen leHareau, and those who followed him, believed that the earl was slain;but we would not vex ye with our grief till doubt was changed intocertainty. Doubt _is_ changed into certainty;--but a certainty of life,not death!'

  A roar of cheers rent the air again.

  'Yes, your lord lives!' cried Emma. 'His first field is lost, but itwill not be his last! He is wounded, sorely, but not dangerously. See!so the letter says! His way is open to Denmark. This gallant Dane hasborne his message across field and over flood, faithfully, as he helpedto carry the earl himself from the battlefield.'

  She turned to the messenger beside her, who clashed his great axe uponhis round wooden shield, with its strange embossing of iron nails, andshouted 'Waes hael!'

  Then Emma told again the story of the earl's rescue, though she did notreveal his hiding-place, lest there should be traitors in the camp, andhow he intended to take ship for Denmark to ask aid of King Sweyn,'who,' she said,'has already promised it. Then the earl will seek hisown fair lands in Bretagne, and he will call his vassals to hisstandard, and come across the sea at the head of a great host torelieve his faithful garrison in Blauncheflour. Is any man so mean ofheart that he will not vow to good St. Nicholas to do his best to keepthe castle to that hour? If so, let him declare himself a _noding_, andquit the company of gallant men!'

  'Not one! Not one!' rang round the castle yard, and echoed back fromthe high stone tower of the keep, reverberating in tumultuous thunderfrom base to summit.

  Then old Sir Hoel de St. Brice took off his plumed barret, and waved itin the air, where he stood behind his lady, his eyes humid and his lipsquivering, as he echoed, 'Not one!'

  Sir Alain de Gourin, listening with a strange expression of satiricaldisdain on his florid countenance, rattled his sword from its sheathand waved it in the air, where he stood behind his lady, and shoutedwith a lusty voice, 'Not one!'

  'I thank ye, friends!' cried the countess. 'To your strong arms andyour loyal hearts I commit my fate and that of my lord. St. Nicholasgive ye fortitude!'

  Turning to a page who stood beside her with a silver tray, she took avelvet purse from it, and scattered broad pieces amongst the soldiery.

  'A largesse! a largesse!' they cried; and all was joy and hilarity.

  'Ye shall taste a vintage better than ever grew even in the vineyardsof Hereford or Kent,' cried the countess; and she gave orders to thesteward to broach a cask of French wine which had been amongst herbrother's gifts at the bride-ale; an order which called forth a freshburst of applause.

  'Drink it,' cried Emma, 'to the safe return of your lord!'