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

by M. M. Blake

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  BESIEGED.

  'Methinks, Emma, my foes will say that Ralph de Guader was a recreantknight, who fled from his devoir and left his lady to fight for him!Beshrew me, but it mislikes me to leave thee!'

  So quoth the earl, when, after a few days of rest and rehabilitation atBlauncheflour, he was making ready to go on board a Danish galley,which lay moored at Lovelly's Staithe, her brightly coloured sailsflapping idly in the summer wind; the heads of the oarsmen, with theirlong light hair and long light moustaches, showing in even ranks alongher bulwarks, and her high dragon-carved prow gleaming in the sun.

  Emma, upright and determined, with the keys of the castle at hergirdle, and wearing her steel-cap and mail gorget, forced back thetears that sprang to her eyes, and turned proudly to the warrior besideher, who, dressed in complete mail, with his long cross-handled swordsuspended from a jewelled baldric, _looked_ the perfect figure of ahero.

  'Nay, my Ralph! whatever hard things they may say of thee, they willnever be so mad as to accuse _thee_ of aught that savours of cowardice.Thy valour has been too well proven on many a well-fought field! Didnot William see thee fight at Hastings, and give thee thine earldom forthy prowess? Didst thou not defend his conquest from the Danishinvaders, and win fresh honours and lands? Who could withstand thee inthe tourney? Oh, it is preposterous! Rebel they may call thee, recreantnever!'

  Ralph de Guader, however, gauged the justice of the makers of historybetter than his warm-hearted countess.[7]

  [7] See Appendix, Note D.

  He looked at the waiting galley with a sigh, wondering if he shouldever again be lord in his English earldom.

  He had not been idle during his short stay in his capital. Withoutwaiting for his wounds to heal, he had been up and doing as soon as afew days of rest had made it possible. He had summoned his localsupporters, who--if we may judge from the number of estates entered inDomesday as '_Wasta_' later on--were numerous, to more than onecouncil, and had done much to restore their confidence in his arms andtheir belief in his ultimate success.

  His own heart had grown lighter as he went the round of his magnificentnew castle, which William had munitioned with every improvement thenknown, and truly it seemed well-nigh impregnable, with its high towersand battlemented walls, and deep, sullen moats.

  Preparations for the siege had been going merrily forward. Fat beeveswere driven up from the meadows; the bleating of sheep mingledstrangely with the clangor of arms, and the large herds of swine sodear to Saxon housekeeping contributed their quota of victims, whilenot a little fun was caused among the laughter-loving soldiery by theexciting difficulties of persuading the squeaking porkers to cross thedrawbridge, and many were the tussles and, in some cases, dire themisfortunes incurred in the sport.

  Barrels of salt meat and flour and ale were rolled up the ballium bythe stalwart arms of the bows and bills; arms destined, alas! to be butbare skin and bone when they should issue again from the walls of thefortress.

  All was bustle and plenty. Sinews of war of every kind were there insuperfluity.

  De Guader saw clearly that to shut himself up in the castle was to makehimself helpless; but that to leave its defence to his vassals, and goforth to collect reinforcements in Denmark and Bretagne, and take thebesiegers in rear, was a plan that promised all success; and every manamong his counsellors agreed with him.

  Yet it was hard to leave the fair bride for whom he had risked so much,and whose noble sympathy in his misfortunes had endeared her to him athousandfold.

  No wonder that his heart failed him at the last, when the moment forparting had arrived, and the time and tide that wait for no man wereripe for departure.

  'It mislikes me to leave thee!' he said.

  'Sweet my lord, "he that putteth his hand to the plough must not lookback,"' said Emma, meeting his wistful eyes firmly. 'An thou standestquavering for my poor sake, while yon oarsmen are broiling on theirbenches, I myself shall accuse thee for a recreant! Dost doubt thecourage of thy Castellan?'

  'No, by St. Nicholas! Thou art the true daughter of a noble sire!' saidthe earl. A group of knights, Saxon, Breton, and Norman, stood aroundhim, some half-dozen in readiness to accompany him, while the rest weregathered from the neighbourhood, or formed part of the garrison;amongst these last, Sir Alain and Sir Hoel and Leofric Ealdredsson wereconspicuous.

  The earl turned to them: 'Obey your lady loyally, guard her zealously;and may the saints have mercy on the man who is untrue to his trust!'he cried, 'for I will have none.'

  'Thy threat touches no man here, good my lord,' blustered De Gourin. 'Iwill warrant every soul in the garrison ready to die for that trust.'

  'Ay, ay!' cried the rest; but a strange quiver of doubt ran through thebosom of the valorous Castellan, as to whether one man there was honestand leal, and the man she doubted was the Breton protester.

  Then the earl mounted and rode down to the waiting galley; and soon thelong oars were sweeping rhythmically through the blue water andshedding simultaneous showers of pearly drops from their glitteringblades; the gay sails swelled fairly in the breeze, so that thedragon-prow moved swiftly down the shining reaches of the Yare.

  But Emma did not watch it; she had slipped away to the oratory, andknelt before the altar in speechless but passionate prayer, while thetears she had repressed so long chased each other down her cheeks.

  A terrible fear was gnawing at her heart, that her husband had but lefther to die in that wild Denmark, amongst the rough Norsemen, for sheknew how sore and desperate were his unhealed wounds, and by whateffort his high spirit forced his body into action.

  She had steeled herself to serve him as he wished to be served, but ithad been liefer to her woman's heart to tend and leech him into perfecthealth, than to command and urge his vassals to hurt others as sorely.

  Meanwhile the king's forces were not so far away as Ralph supposed.

  On the eve of the third day after the earl's embarkation, the warderson the battlements of Blauncheflour heard afar off the thunderous trampof steeds and the jingle and clang of harness and arms, and, as the sunsank in a splendour of golden clouds, his last rays gilded the hastilypitched pavilions of Bishop Geoffrey of Coutances, Earl William ofWarrenne, and Robert Malet, who led the investing army to the attack.

  The Bishop of Bayeux, though not dead, as the fugitives supposed whohad seen the combat between Odo and Earl Ralph, with its catastrophe ofmutual unhorsing, was _hors-de-combat_ for the time being, and unableto seek retrieval of his knightly prowess in person.

  The Countess Emma, with Eadgyth and her ladies, ascended to thebattlements of the keep to view the encampment of the foe, and in sooththe sight would have been gay enough if it had not borne so dire ameaning.

  Groups of glittering horsemen, their long lances decked withmany-coloured pennons gleaming in the golden light, their horsescurveting and prancing, were riding hither and thither, directing andsuperintending. Long lines of bowmen and slingers were advancing inorder at a quick march, wheeling and breaking into companies as theyreached the camping ground. Trains of sumpter mules and squires withled horses mingled with the infantry; and shouts and laughter, thebraying of trumpets and neighing of horses, mixed fitfully in the softsouth wind. Sometimes even the words were audible as some man-at-armsshouted to his followers, and the blows of the mallets with which thepoles of the pavilions were being driven into the ground came sharplythrough the air. The tents themselves were decked with richly-huedsilks, and soon displayed the banners of their noble owners. As thetwilight deepened, some hundreds of watchfires threw out bright flamesinto the dusk, and made the air fragrant with their sweet wood smoke,seeming to blaze the brighter as the curfew boomed forth from thechurch towers in Norwich, to bid all the inhabitants of humble rankrake out their cheerful hearths.

  All 'the pomp and circumstance of glorious war,' as it was known inthose days, was spread out before Blauncheflour, and, as Emma watchedthe doings of her foe, there rose in her spirit that
wild andmysterious 'rapture of battle,' which modern Darwinians explain bytracing back our lineage to tiger forefathers,--that strange yearningto dare all and spend life itself in one great effort, which some havesaid is but the endeavour to satisfy our instinct to grapple withabstract evil by personifying it in the form of a human foe; but whichothers define, perhaps more truly, as the final efflorescence ofegotism run riot, which satisfies its lust of power even at the cost ofdestruction to itself.

  Good or bad, the feeling flooded Emma's heart. At sight of real danger,menacing and close, she who had fainted at the thought of it grew boldas any of the belted knights in the hostile host below. The blood ofher hero father coursed swiftly through her veins, and the wildbattle-song of Rollo, which had served her ancestors so often as anational hymn, haunted her brain.

  She had ascended one of the small flights of steps at the angle of thebattlements, which served to raise the sentinel above the merlons.

  Eadgyth stood beside her, and the ladies and knights in attendance wereall busily watching the encamping foe through the embrasures, and wereout of earshot.

  Emma stretched out her right hand with its small fingers tightlyclenched, and shook it at the beleaguering host.

  Emma's first sight of the Foe.]

  'Methinks, Eadgyth, these haught chevaliers with their baldrics andtheir golden spurs, and above all my Lord Bishop of Coutances, cut asorry figure assembling their forces thus to crush a woman,' she cried,with an excited laugh. 'How wrathful will they be, when the braveger-falcon they deem to be mewed up within these towers swoops downupon them as from the skies, with a gallant army of bold Bretons,backed by some of Sweyn Ulfsson's best warriors. Do your worst, yetools of my tyrant kinsman! I fear ye not. My lord is safe--my lord yewould fain have hindered from being mine. And I am safe also, whateverbetide--my _misericorde_ assures that.'

  'Holy Mary preserve thee from such a desperate safety!' exclaimedEadgyth, whose sad, still face contrasted strongly with the flushedexcitement of the impulsive Norman.

  'Thou art down-hearted, Eadgyth!' said Emma, after a piercing glanceinto her bower-maiden's eyes. 'I know thee too well to believe that thydepression comes from vulgar fear. Tell me thy grief. We are as privatehere as in my bower. None can hear our speech.'

  'Seest thou yon star shining between two bars of cloud, noble Emma? Itreminds me of one who bore a painted star between two clouds for hiscognisance. A dire doubt haunts me lest he be in the ranks of the foe;for I well remember his heart was always with the Duke of Normandy.'

  'Sir Aimand de Sourdeval? Nay, surely he would not lift his handagainst his lord. Besides, the earl told me that he had sent him on along journey.'

  Through Eadgyth's heart passed a quiver of pain.

  'Not surely the longest journey of all,' her anxious affectionwhispered, but she was silent.

  'Poor child, I feel for thee!' said the countess, laying her handcaressingly on the flaxen head of the Saxon, which her elevatedposition on the stone steps enabled her to do comfortably. She hadassumed a very matronly manner since the gold ring had been slippedupon her finger by her heart's chosen, and, in truth, she felt as ifyears of experience had gone over her head since the day when herbrother had come to her and told her 'that her broken troth should soonbe mended.'

  Sir Alain de Gourin approached with an obsequious air, and the countesssaid to him gaily, 'I hope, fair sir, the gentlemen yonder are wellsatisfied with the quarters they have chosen, for methinks it will besomewhat long e'er they change them for the hospitable shelter ofBlauncheflour.'

  At which De Gourin laughed applaudingly, and swore that if the garrisonhad half the spirit of their Castellan, they would send them to bidestill farther from their doors.

  Then the countess led her ladies down to the chapel, where the chaplainperformed a special mass, praying the protection of the heavenly powersfor the beleaguered garrison and for all who fought on their side, athome or abroad, and offering prayers for the safety and success of theearl.

  The tears rolled down Emma's cheeks as she repeated these last, andmany of the ladies sobbed audibly, partly for the woes of theircountess and partly through fears or sorrows of their own.

  When the service was over, Emma dismissed her attendants, even Eadgyth,and followed Father Pierre into his sacristy.

  'I would have a mass performed, father,' she said, 'for the soul'swelfare of a knight whom I regard for the sake of one who loves himwell, and also in that he did always seem to me an honest wight, but ofwhom I know not whether he be fighting for my dear lord, or if he be inthe opposing host without. There is no reason why I should make mysteryof his name--Sir Aimand de Sourdeval.'

  'Sir Aimand de Sourdeval!' repeated Father Pierre, gazing at the ladywith startled eyes. 'Knowest thou not, noble countess, that he is aprisoner in the dungeons of this keep?'