1066

by G. K. Holloway

  Skalpi grabbed his sword and shield. ‘This is piracy, my Lord, let’s fight them.’

  The rest of the housecarls scrambled for their war gear but Harold could see resistance would be futile and so made his way from the stern to the bow, moving between the housecarls who lined either side of the ship.

  ‘Everyone stay where they are for now. Let’s see what they want.’

  On shore, a soldier appeared on horseback at the head of his men. He addressed Harold and the crew in impeccable French. ‘I am Guy, Count of Ponthieu,’ then looking down at Harold, ‘You there! Are you the leader of these men?’

  ‘I am Harold, Earl of Wessex and Subregulus of England.’

  ‘Well, here you’re just another shipwrecked mariner.’

  ‘As you can see, my ship is not a wreck and we are victims of those pirates off the shore.’

  Count Guy ignored the protest. ‘What are you doing here in Ponthieu?’

  ‘We’re on a mission to Normandy.’

  ‘This is not Normandy. You have no business here and you will be thrown into the cells at Beaurain, until we decide what to do with you. Now you and your men will disembark.’

  ‘If you would only listen to me, my Lord, I am, as I said, the Earl of Wessex and I am bound for Normandy as a guest of Duke William. If you think either he or the King of England will have nothing to say about this, you are very much mistaken. Do you imagine that if you lead us off as captives and Duke William finds out, you’ll escape with your life? What do you suppose the King of England’s reaction will be when he hears his brother-in-law is being treated as a common criminal? Why not release us now and I’ll overlook the matter? We’ll put it down to youthful exuberance.’

  ‘Get out of that boat, now!’

  As if rehearsed, the count’s men, in unison, raised their shields a little and lowered their spears slightly.

  Harold turned to his crew. ‘We should do as he says. He’ll probably ransom us, so it’s unlikely he’ll do us any harm.’ Then in a whisper, ‘If anyone gets a chance, make a run for it.’

  Addressing his captor, Harold called good humouredly, ‘Very well, Count Guy, as you are so insistent, we’re delighted to be your guests.’ He climbed out of the ship and dropped into the sea, wading up to the beach, his men and the dogs following behind him.

  ‘What are you doing with that?’ said Count Guy, nodding toward the hawk on Harold’s forearm.

  ‘I’m bringing it ashore.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘In case I feel the need to do a little hunting.’

  ‘I don’t think you’ll be doing any hunting on this trip.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ll be here anywhere near as long as you imagine.’

  The Count remained silent for a short time then responded enigmatically, ‘Perhaps you’re right. Bring it along.’

  When all the men were ashore and their weapons had been collected, the Count and his guard led them away in the direction of his castle at Beaurain. Past the sand dunes they filed into a bleak, flat landscape. Tall reeds flourished in the marshy fenland and here and there a shrub, bush or miserable little tree struggled to survive. It was in this bedraggled wilderness that Gauti managed to slip silently away, intending to find Duke William and ask for help. He made the perfect getaway and was long gone when at mid-day his comrades found themselves incarcerated in the cells of Beaurain Castle.

  Gauti travelled swiftly through the fenland. Late in the afternoon of the day following his escape he entered a Norman town. The appearance of the big man with his long blond hair flowing behind him alarmed some of the locals as he ran around the streets demanding in English to see Duke William. He was taken to the castle of Robert, Count of Eu, where, as luck would have it, Duke William was staying, enjoying the hunting in that part of Normandy with one of his oldest and dearest friends. Fortunately, Sir William Malet was there and able to act as interpreter as well as vouch for Gauti. The housecarl told of the events that had led to him seeking help. The Duke listened impassively until Gauti had finished.

  ‘Very well. Tomorrow I shall send some men to deal with the matter. Rest assured, your lord will be released from the hands of Count Guy and he will be enjoying our company before the sun sets.’

  Gauti found the Duke’s confidence reassuring and with lifted spirits allowed himself to be accompanied to the soldiers’ quarters for refreshment.

  The following day, just as Duke William had promised, two dozen riders appeared at the gates of Beaurain Castle with Sir William Malet at their head. He demanded admittance, which was immediately granted without fuss or ceremony. Sir William made his way to Count Guy’s hall, where Count Guy greeted him in restful repose, feet up on a table, a goblet of wine in his hand.

  ‘Sir William, welcome to Beaurain. It is a pleasure to see you.’

  ‘Good morning and thank you for your welcome.’

  ‘Have some wine.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Have you journeyed far?’

  ‘No, my Lord. I have just travelled from Eu with an urgent message from Duke William.’

  ‘You’ve not come far then?’

  ‘No, my Lord. Here is the message,’ Malet said, attempting to hand over a scroll he had produced from his tunic.

  ‘Read it to me, Sir William.’

  ‘Certainly, my Lord. The message says, ‘Greetings from Duke William of Normandy to my friend and Lord, Count Guy de Ponhtieu. I understand you have as your prisoners Harold, Earl of Wessex and a number of his men. You will escort them to Eu where you will hand them over to my protection. Until then I expect you to treat them as if they were your most honoured guests. Naturally, you will be amply recompensed for your trouble. I look forward to seeing you in Eu. Yours etc.’

  ‘Thank you. Will you be accompanying us, Sir William?’

  Sir William was taken aback. He had expected denial or some sort of protest. The Count’s acquiescence surprised him.

  ‘Thank you, my Lord, I will.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Might I visit Earl Harold to give him the news?’

  ‘Yes, of course. How remiss of me. I’d forgotten, you’re friends aren’t you? Guard! Release the prisoners. Take the men over to the guardhouse and have them fed. Bring Earl Harold to me.’

  A few minutes later, Harold emerged through a doorway with a guard scurrying behind him. He looked no worse for wear but was obviously not in the best of moods, that is until he saw Malet.

  ‘Will, now this is a pleasant surprise!’ The two men clasped arms around each other in a hug and slapped each other’s backs.

  ‘Harold, I trust you’ve been treated well.’

  ‘No. My men and I have been treated like criminals. That’s a fair enough description of our treatment isn’t it, Count Guy?’

  ‘Sir Harold… ’

  ‘Earl Harold.’

  ‘Earl Harold, you should know none of my actions were personally directed at you. It is the custom here in Ponthieu, to keep salvage and wrecks.’

  ‘And their crews?’

  ‘And their crews.’

  ‘That’s not the custom in England.’

  ‘This isn’t England.’

  ‘But the goods, the ship and the crew are English.’

  ‘Wherever the ships, their crews and cargos are from makes no matter here in Ponthieu; we treat them the same. It would be unfair to do otherwise. If a ship is wrecked on our shores, it is ours.’

  ‘Tell me, Count Guy, those four ships that chased me onto your coast, are they the full complement of your naval forces? Because I own more ships myself. Would you like me to come back later in the year to collect what’s mine?’

  ‘My friend, you lost everything on the beach.’

  ‘Then I’ll be back with a search party.’

  ‘Are you threatening me?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Gentlemen!’ interrupted Sir William. ‘Let’s resolve our differences calmly. I’m sure if Count Guy were to locate
any salvage found along the coast belonging to Earl Harold, he would return it and Duke William would be pleased, as a gesture of goodwill, to compensate you for its loss, Count Guy.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Guy. Then casting a glance to Harold, ‘It pleases me to release your ship and your belongings but that is the only reason I do so.’

  ‘Thank you, Count Guy, I knew you’d understand,’ Sir William replied.

  It was around sunset that Harold and his men, accompanied by Sir William and Count Guy, rode into Eu and made their way to the grand castle. The Englishmen had never seen anything like it, looking as it did like a brilliant jewel set amongst mature beech trees, overlooking the winding River Bresle as it coursed through the city to the nearby sea. There was an awesome beauty about the building which imposed itself on the landscape, beautiful, entrancing, yet hard and cold as ice.

  The huge oak doors of the great hall swung open at the approach of Sir William, Count Guy and Earl Harold. On his feet ready to greet them was Robert, Count d’Eu. On his right, also standing was the Duke.

  All the men bowed in turn as Sir William introduced them. Everyone there was conscious of the Earl and Duke appraising one another. Each looked the other in the eye and saw modelled before him the set and bearing of a soldier and statesman. Harold noticed the Duke’s build was more compact than his own and somehow ungainly. Something about William hinted at reserve, if not guile. To the Duke, Harold’s natural strength was obvious and this he admired. He noticed the Earl appeared genuinely open and warm hearted but perhaps too trusting.

  ‘Come and join us at my table.’ Count Robert d’Eu was one of William’s most powerful supporters. It was he who had hosted William and Matilda’s wedding celebrations fourteen years previously.

  The men climbed the dais and joined their host at the high table; Harold was seated next to Duke William.

  ‘Welcome, Earl Harold. I’m pleased to meet you.’

  ‘And I you, Duke William.’

  ‘I understand your journey was quite eventful?’ said the Duke, casting a glance in the direction of Count Guy. ‘Well, you’re here now and your little adventure is behind you. I’ll take care of Count Guy and any demands he might make. You are my guest. Whatever you want, it is yours for the asking.’ The Duke’s mouth produced a smile as his eyes moved over Harold’s clothes, inspecting every stitch. They examined his jewellery; he felt inferior by comparison.

  ‘Thank you. For the moment I’m simply glad to be here. My presence is entirely due to your intervention and I am grateful to you.’

  ‘It was my pleasure, Harold, think nothing of it. How is my uncle Edward, by the way? Still dividing his time between saddle and confession?’

  ‘The King is enjoying good health. He hunts at every opportunity and always finds time for prayer and the business of government.’

  ‘Good. I’d hate to think of anything happening to him.’

  ‘Don’t concern yourself, William… ’

  The Duke held up his hand, showing his palm as a sign for Harold to desist. ‘You’ve said all you need to reassure me, Harold and I’m sure you won’t mind addressing me by my correct title.’

  Harold looked surprised.

  ‘It’s for the benefit of my vassals. I think it’s best for everyone to know his place. Don’t you, Harold?’

  ‘In your court, Duke William, you must do as you see fit. Will you address me as Earl Harold?’

  ‘Why? Do you see a need for it?’

  ‘Surely, if we are to observe formalities, when you are addressed by your title, I should be addressed by mine?’

  ‘But Harold, my friend, you’re only an earl.’

  ‘I think you’ll find an earl is the equivalent of a duke.’

  ‘Ah, but I alone rule Normandy.’

  ‘In the name of the King of France?’

  ‘That’s true but you’re forgetting: in this land, only the King is above me.’

  ‘You’re forgetting: in England only the King is above me.’

  ‘But you are only one of many earls. I am the only duke.’

  ‘True, but in England I am Subregulus. Should anything happen to my brother-in-law, the King, I would take charge of the country. Would anyone expect you to take charge of France, if anything happened to your king?’

  ‘Enough of this, Harold! It’s simple. You are the guest; I am the host. This is my court and I make the rules. Is that clear, Harold?’

  The hall was deathly silent now. Everyone’s attention turned to the Earl.

  ‘Perfectly,’ Harold replied calmly.

  ‘Exactly. I knew you’d understand. Ah, here comes the food. Let’s eat.’ William’s mood changed instantly.

  The first course was served up and as everyone began to eat, the atmosphere lost its charge; conversations were resumed but nevertheless, all eyes were upon the Duke, trying to read his exact mood. If he laughed, his court laughed. If he was sad, so were they. There was not one member of the court who did not have to work hard at hiding his true emotions any time he found himself in the company of his lord.

  Through mouthfuls, William conversed. ‘Tomorrow, Harold, we will travel to Rouen where you shall meet my family.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to it. Tell me, will I meet my family too?’

  ‘Your brother and nephew, you mean? We shall see Harold, we shall see. By the way, may I compliment you on your French; you speak the language quite well.’

  ‘Thank you,’ replied Harold.

  Early the next morning, after mass and a hearty breakfast, the party began its journey to Rouen, except for Count Guy, who returned home.

  Because of the lack of horses, most of Harold’s men would have to make the journey on foot. Only Skalpi and Gauti would ride with their earl. When Harold and the two housecarls entered the castle courtyard, they saw a midget waiting with their horses. They talked as they walked over to them.

  ‘How are they treating you both?’

  ‘Couldn’t be better. Finest hospitality I’ve ever come across.’

  ‘What about you, Gauti? How are they treating you?’

  ‘Ever since I arrived they’ve treated me extremely well.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. They seemed genuinely glad to see me. I’m surprised really, because Normans have such a bad reputation back home.’

  ‘Does anything strike you as odd?’

  ‘No, my Lord. Why, should it?’

  ‘I fear we might have exchanged one prison for another. If I’m right, we’ve got another thirty-nine nights here. You know the rules of hospitality. If a nobleman drops in on you, you’re bound to entertain him for forty days and nights and the visiting nobleman, for his part, if he were to refuse all or part of that hospitality, would be insulting his host. I’m afraid we’re going to have to see this through.’

  The ride to Rouen saw the Duke and the Earl become well acquainted. Both loved hunting and although the Duke was a stranger to hawking, he admired Harold’s skill. Harold was the better horseman but the Duke, through liberal use of whip and spur, stayed at his side. With them were Sir William Malet and Sir Robert d’Eu, followed by Skalpi, Gauti and a small Norman escort. Harold noticed how few people there were in the fields.

  ‘Where is everybody?’ Harold asked.

  ‘Why do you ask?’ enquired the Duke. ‘Do you want to meet some peasants?’ He burst out laughing as though he had heard the funniest joke ever. The Normans in his company followed suit, guffawing with him.

  When the laughter subsided, Sir Robert pointed out for Harold’s benefit, ‘Normandy is not like England. When a man of nobility rides through the land the people go inside as a sign of respect.’

  ‘It’s just as well no one’s bringing in the harvest, then.’

  ‘Ah, you’ve noticed. We’ve had a poor summer here, Earl Harold; as you can see the corn is still green. Anyone would think it was April.’

  Arriving at Rouen castle, the Duke dismounted. ‘Turold, take care of your horses,’ he orde
red brusquely, nodding toward the midget. ‘My man here will show you to your quarters and I’ll see you all in the hall in half an hour.’ He indicated with another nod of his head a man Harold took for a steward of some sort. ‘You will meet my family and we will discuss how you will spend your little sojourn here in Normandy.’

  In the Duke’s castle, rooms were quickly allocated. After an hour there was a knock on Harold’s door. He bade the caller enter and found standing before him a boy who looked about ten years old. He introduced himself as Robert, eldest son of William and he requested that Harold join them for a feast being held in his honour.

  ‘I would be delighted.’

  Robert led him down to the great hall to present him to his father’s court. They passed through the entrance doors and Harold was announced.

  ‘Harold, I’m glad to see you again. Please come up to my table,’ called William.

  Robert led the guest to the dais, past tables crowded with the noblest in the land, to where his father sat. Harold noticed the chill in the air and a strange mustiness familiar in stone buildings. It made him think for a moment of his own hall in Bosham with its fine oak columns and beams with their intricate carvings, a far cry from plain Norman stone. As he approached the high table William stood to greet him. A seat had been especially reserved for him.

  ‘Harold, this is my wife, Duchess Matilda.’

  Harold concealed his shock. The woman before him, offering her hand, was barely four feet tall. He had, at first, taken her for one of William’s children. After bowing and kissing her hand he assured her it was a pleasure to meet her. And it was. Although diminutive she was otherwise exquisitely formed. She was in perfect proportion and quite beautiful. Her skin was pure white, unspoilt by blemish or even a rogue freckle. Her baby-blue eyes Harold found most alluring, especially when she looked up at him. There was no coy innocence those eyes, but intelligence and a wicked humour. There was playful mischief in her smile too.

  William continued introducing him to the other members of his family. ‘Robert you’ve already met,’ he said with a cursory wave of his hand. ‘This is Cecilia, my eldest daughter.’ A blonde, austere looking nine-year-old was presented. ‘This is my second son, William.’ The Duke introduced, with obvious pride, an effeminate looking, red-haired boy, about a year or so younger than Cecilia, ‘And finally, meet my youngest son, Richard. Tomorrow you shall meet Agatha. She’s only four months old but already she has real beauty.’