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

by M. M. Blake

  CHAPTER XXIV.

  FAMINE.

  When the besiegers attacked the walls of Blauncheflour on the morningfollowing, they found them undefended, and took possession with shoutsand jubilation.

  The besieged, sheltered behind the strong ramparts of the keep, feltmuch as shipwrecked mariners, who, from the present safety of somerocky islet, watch the rising of the tide, knowing that their livesdepend upon the height to which the shining water will attain,--unlessindeed some friendly vessel come to the rescue and carry them off.

  The hope of the imprisoned garrison was in the coming of the earl, andas Earl Warrenne and Robert Malet rode round the keep, and saw howstrong and flawless was the masonry, they had a shrewd fear that DeGuader would yet bring the Danes and Bretons upon them before they hadtime to complete their victory, and that, after all their hard fightingand expenditure of lives and time and money, the quarry would escapethem.

  So they determined to call a parley, and endeavour to cajole thecountess into resigning the fortress.

  Needless to say, their summons was eagerly responded to by thegarrison.

  Emma trembled with hope that was almost pain, as she inquired whatterms the envoy was empowered to grant.

  'Safe-conduct to herself, her ladies, and a reasonable escort, if shewould give her parole to leave the country within a month--no more.'

  She realised then that her hope had been despair; that she had not hadcourage to hope at all.

  'Safe-conduct for myself, my ladies, and every soul in the garrison,'replied the countess proudly. 'I will yield for no less.'

  The envoy was not empowered to grant it.

  'Dear lady, it were better to accept the terms. We cannot insure thesafety even of thyself and thy ladies in the end,' advised Sir Hoelprivately. 'Nought lies before us but quick starvation; the provisionsare very short.'

  'Desert you and all who have fought so nobly for us, and braved everyperil for us, to insure our own safety? Never! Remember Stephen leHareau! They would deal with you likewise,' cried Emma. 'I have givenmy answer. Convey it to thy lords!' she told the envoy.

  Then the messenger said there was a further matter. It was understoodthat a loyal knight, Sir Aimand de Sourdeval, was in the castle, aprisoner, and, the gallant Childe Leofric Ealdredsson having falleninto their hands on the previous day, they proposed an exchange.

  This was, of course, accepted, and Sir Aimand was sent for.

  Eadgyth had begged to attend the countess to the council-chamber, andEmma turned to her. 'I am glad, Eadgyth. I feared a worse fate for thykinsman.' The poor girl turned to her with a white face, well knowingthat the words were spoken to cover her agitation. She tried to smile.

  'It is a happy thing for him,' she said.

  'Thy presence here is no longer needed,' said the countess. 'Let SirAimand wait upon me in my bower before he goes.'

  'Poor child, thou shalt have a comfortable leave-taking at least!' shesaid, as Eadgyth followed to her private chamber. 'It is good for himto go, donzelle; he is eating his heart out in misery here.'

  'Good for him to go that he may be free to slay my people!' criedEadgyth bitterly. 'Ah, wretched me! that I should love my country'sfoe!'

  Emma had no time to answer, for De Sourdeval's mailed step was clankingup the passage. A moment later he entered the bower. His eyes wereshining and his cheeks flushed. He threw himself on his knee before thecountess.

  'Ah, noble lady,' he exclaimed, 'would that thy cause were one withthat of my liege-lord William, so I might fight for thee, and show mygratitude for all thy kindness and generosity! I will seek service farfrom here; my sword shall not be against thee!'

  'The generosity has not been all on my side, Sir Knight!' replied thecountess, with moistening eyes. 'I would indeed that my cause were onewith that of William of Normandy; that all this turmoil was at an end,and that no more brave lives were to be sacrificed for me and mine.' Adeep, quivering sigh followed her speech.

  'Lady Eadgyth,' said Sir Aimand, with a voice not quite so steady asbefore, as he turned to the Saxon maiden, 'I am glad thy kinsmanprofits by my freedom. It will comfort me that if I cannot myselflabour in thy defence, my poor life has served to restore one who canto the garrison--far more valiantly and worthily than I.'

  He forced out the words. He himself tried to believe that he was glad,but, in truth, the bitterest sting of parting lay for him in thethought that the man whom he regarded as his rival should be in thecastle, favoured by daily and hourly intercourse under circumstancesthat must needs draw the hardest-hearted together. He remembered withrenewed anguish all the tortures of Tantalus he had endured during hisenforced inactivity; burning to distinguish himself before his lady'seyes, and forced to remain a drone in the hive, while Leofric had beenfree to show himself the hero he was, and would now have still faireropportunity.

  His eyes sought hers, therefore, full of a sadness which belied hiswords.

  Eadgyth longed to tear a favour from her dress, and bid him wear it inhis helm against all comers, for that no other knight, stranger or kin,should ever carry it. But she thought, 'Who knows that we shall evermeet again? Why should I bind him?' So she answered, bowing her head tohide the springing tears, 'Mary Mother have thee in her keeping!'

  She gave him her hand, which he kissed reverently, and so departed, andhalf-an-hour later Leofric Ealdredsson was borne into the keep on alitter.

  When Eadgyth saw her kinsman, her heart smote her that his fate hadmoved her so little; for his brow was damp with pain, and his brawnyarms dropped feebly by his side, and all his strength was fled fromhim. She pansed and bound his wounds with tender care, and washed theclotted blood from his long yellow curls, wondering if indeed it weretrue that he was Sir Aimand's rival, or if it were only a figment oflove's self-torturing jealousy.

  From time to time Leofric moaned as she ministered to him, but scarcelyopened his eyes. Did he know who it was, she wondered, or, if he knew,did he care?

  When the last bandage was fastened, and she stood for a moment to seeif aught more could be done for her patient, Leofric raised his wearyhead and looked in her face.

  He did not speak, he had scarce strength for that; his eyes were fullof gratitude, and spoke his thanks, but they told her something more.

  Then Eadgyth knew that Sir Aimand had said sooth, and her heart smoteher, and her breath caught with an inward sob.

  Leofric lifted his hand feebly and held it for hers. Had she given it,he would have pressed it to his lips; she could not,--but an hourbefore Aimand de Sourdeval had kissed it!

  Leofric let his great nerveless hand fall listlessly beside him again.

  'Thou art the best leech in the world, cousin,' he murmured, and closedhis eyes again.

  Eadgyth hurried away to the bower.

  The days that followed were like an evil dream for all in the castle.The deadly monotony let them note clearly how, hour by hour, death wascreeping nearer.

  The mangonels and warrewolves were busy at their work, and the din oftheir projectiles was ever in the ears of the besieged. But these werenot what they feared. These could but splinter a fragment off a stonehere and there, but could make no dangerous breach in walls thirteenfeet thick; besides, wooden galleries had been projected from thebattlements, through which the defenders poured scalding rain ofboiling water and molten lead upon the engineers, and so prevented anylengthened attack upon a given spot.

  No; the enemy they feared was _Famine_! She stared them in the face.Day by day more nearly her awful ghoulish eyes came nearer, and thegrip of her bony hands was at their throats.

  And still the warders scanned the horizon vainly, in hope to see theglimmer of friendly armour, still vainly watched the river for theflash of friendly oars.

  Day after day dragged its slow length along, and yet the positionremained unchanged, save that the assailants had almost given upeffort, and quietly surrounded them, biding their time, knowing wellthat it must come if only no relief appeared.

  The garrison had lo
ng been reduced to the barest rations on which itwas possible to sustain life, and the few poor horses which had beentaken into the keep, in the hope of some happy chance making theirservices available, had shared the fate of their brethren.

  Gaunt faces and spectre forms dragged wearily from post to post, andstrange thoughts flitted across hungry brains when slain men had to beburied in the donjon vaults. If one were to eat a body now, what wouldhappen at the last day? Would it be more difficult for the soul thatneeded it again than for those whose flesh had been food for worms inthe usual way? Would the men who had partaken of the flesh, andincorporated it into their own bodies, have to give it up again whenthe time of resurrection had arrived, and go scant themselves? Thenthey shuddered and crossed themselves, and muttered an ave or apaternoster, shunning the hungry eyes of their neighbour, lest heshould guess their thoughts, or be thinking like horribleness himself,while they buckled their belts tighter to stay their pangs.

  The countess, worn to a shadow, with her arm still bandaged,--for theworry and care she had undergone had hurt her health and kept her woundfrom healing,--was ever among them, consoling, entreating, commanding,inventing all manner of comforts for their souls and their bodies. Sheit was who prompted the cooks to make dainty dishes out of mostunlikely materials; who sang the song of Rollo as she passed on herway, and kept up their hearts with gay jests.

  One day an archer had the good fortune to shoot a heron that wasflapping with evenly beating wings across the sky, so that it fellfluttering upon the roof of the keep, and was soon killed and presentedby the lucky marksman to the countess, as a fit tribute to her privatetable, the fare on which, as all knew, had been poor enough for sometime past.

  She thanked the stout bowman heartily, but bade him follow her, and ledthe way to the great kitchen. Then she bade the scullions pluck thenoble bird; and, after that was done, put it with her own white handsinto the great cauldron which was cooking for the men.

  'Share and share alike,' she said; and the soldiers cheered her, sothat the king's men heard it outside the walls, and wondered what goodluck could have come to their prisoners.

  One morning Eadgyth met her kinsman, Leofric Ealdredsson, who had sofar recovered from his wounds as to be able to keep watch and ward, andto see that the sentinels did their duty. His face bore traces ofviolent agitation.

  'Well met, coosine,' cried he; 'I wanted to see thee. Keep thy lady offthe battlements to-day, and go not thither thyself.'

  Eadgyth looked in his face, and trembled. 'Thou hast bad news. I willheed thy warning. But wherefore? Is aught more terrible than we dailywitness to be seen?'

  'By Odin and Thor, yes! It bears not the telling.'

  'Oh, Leofric, invoke not those dreadful pagan names in such an hour!Pray rather to the holy saints.'

  'If thou wouldst take me in hand, a good man might perchance be made ofme, coosine,' said the wild Leofric, with a laugh half tender and halfbitter.

  Eadgyth shook her head.

  'But thou hast sorely alarmed me, Leofric. I would rather know theworst.'

  'Well, the countess must know some time; perhaps it were better toldthrough thee. This, then, is the sight to be seen from the battlements,and it is ugly as sin.' The veins on his forehead swelled, and hisstrong throat gathered into knots, while his fingers clenched on thehilt of his dagger. 'A tall gallows, right close under our noses, andthree men hanged thereon; with an inscription over them, "The traitorBreton's traitor messengers."'

  Eadgyth clasped her hands. 'The earl has sent, and they have caught hismen!'

  'That's it;' and Leofric murmured a few wishes regarding the king's menthat at the least were uncharitable. 'Further, one of the men is thepoor fool Grillonne--a quick-witted rascal as ever was called wise--hewho saved his master so cleverly after the battle.'

  'Grillonne! What! Grillonne so entreated?' exclaimed Eadgyth, with ashudder. 'But that will be a sore blow to the earl when he comes toknow it. Art thou sure?'

  'Ay; the knave's face was one not easily mistaken,' said Leofric.

  Eadgyth hurried to the bower, and told the countess what she had heard.

  'But it is good news, it is great news!' cried Emma, with sparklingeyes. 'Ralph is alive, and trying to help us! Alacke! I grieve for thepoor envoys and Grillonne. Ah, 'tis sad such a fate has befallen him,the poor honest fool! his quick wits have not saved him after all.'

  Emma was right, it proved to be good news, for Earl Warrenne and hiscolleagues, before hanging the messengers, had extracted from them theintelligence that Ralph de Guader had collected a great force inBretagne and amongst the Danes, and that he was coming to the relief ofhis beleaguered castle. A day or two later they called a parley, andoffered safe-conduct to the whole garrison, without exception, oncondition that they left England within forty days, counting from theday on which they surrendered the castle.

  Emma would fain have held out still, hoping that the earl was on hisway to relieve them; but she had no certain knowledge of his movements,and the famine was so direful that even the fire-eating Leofric wasobliged to counsel her to accept the terms.

  'It is a victory!' exclaimed Sir Hoel, moved almost to tears; 'and weowe it to thy haught spirit and determined courage, noble countess. Thyname shall be famous in days to come.'

  So the garrison were called together into the great hall, and told howthat their lives were saved, and that they were to march out of CastleBlauncheflour with banners flying, and all the honours of war, insteadof having their feet cut off like poor Stephen le Hareau and the otherprisoners the king's men had taken; and the men, who had looked forwardto certain ill-fortune for themselves, whatever might betide theirsuperiors, thought it a victory also.

  How the hall rang with cheers, and congratulations, and praise of thecountess! Norman and Breton, Saxon and Dane, raised what voices hungerhad left them, and verily they shouted lustily, notwithstanding a lightbreakfast.

  The countess stood amongst them, sobbing like a child.

  'No praise is due to me; it is all to you, my gallant defenders.'

  So the answer went back to Earl William de Warrenne that the keys ofCastle Blauncheflour should be surrendered on the morrow.

  Then all the garrison attended a 'Te Deum' in the chapel of St.Nicholas.

  Afterwards, when the knights had again assembled in the great hall, thecountess said,--

  'Leofric Ealdredsson, these gentlemen, thy comrades in arms, shamethemselves that they should wear the belt and spurs while one who hasfought so knightly should not claim them. We well know thou hast themnot solely because thou wert too careless to claim them, but I wouldnot have thee leave Blauncheflour undubbed.'

  Leofric's pale hunger-eaten cheeks turned red with pleasure.

  'If the men who have fought with me here esteem me peer, I will notreject the honour,' he answered; at which the hall rang with cheers.

  Then said the countess, smiling, 'Wilt thou have thine accolade in ourNorman fashion, from the hands of a knight, and take Sir Hoel de St.Brice for thy sponsor, or, in the way of thine own people, at the handsof Father Pierre?'

  'Nay,' quoth the turbulent hero, 'there is a better way than either.Many a good man has taken his knighthood from the hands of a maiden.Let my fair kinswoman, thy bower-maiden, stand sponsor to me;' and heturned appealingly to Eadgyth.

  'A truce to thy jests, Leofric Ealdredsson, this is no time for them!'answered Eadgyth sharply, fingering the bracelet she always wore uponher arm.

  'By the Rood, I mean no jest, coosine! Jourdain took his knighthoodfrom the hands of his lady; why not I from thee?'

  'Keep to the old Saxon custom, Leofric; take it from the hands ofFather Pierre.'

  And so he did; and his last night within the walls of Blauncheflour wasspent in vigil and prayer before the altar of the chapel, whereon layhis armour.

  On the morrow, the brave defenders of Norwich Castle marched forth fromits sheltering walls, with all the honours of war; carrying their arms,and fully equipped, with flags flying and bann
ers waving.

  The leaders of the royal forces sent palfreys for the countess and herladies, and came in state to meet the woman who had held them all atbay so long, armed _cap-a-pie_, their horses prancing and curveting,and plumes dancing in the breeze. Many a courtly compliment they paidto their fair foe, and Earl Warrenne took the keys himself from herwhite hands.

  Then Bishop Geoffrey, and Earl Warrenne, and Robert Malet tookpossession of Castle Blauncheflour formally, and threw into it agarrison of three hundred men-at-arms, and a body of balistarii andother engineers.

  And Archbishop Lanfranc wrote to King William, in terms more forciblethan polite, 'Glory be to God on high! your kingdom is at last purgedfrom the filth of these Bretons.'