The Little Duke: Richard the Fearless. Yonge Charlotte Mary

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СКАЧАТЬ hour our good Duke appointed to meet this caitiff, Count of Flanders, in the Isle of Pecquigny, the Duke and Count each bringing twelve men with them, all unarmed.  Duke Alan of Brittany was one on our side, Count Bernard here another, old Count Bothon and myself; we bore no weapon—would that we had—but not so the false Flemings.  Ah me!  I shall never forget Duke William’s lordly presence when he stepped ashore, and doffed his bonnet to the knave Arnulf.”

      “Yes,” interposed Bernard.  “And marked you not the words of the traitor, as they met?  ‘My Lord,’ quoth he, ‘you are my shield and defence.’ 6  Would that I could cleave his treason-hatching skull with my battle-axe.”

      “So,” continued Rainulf, “they conferred together, and as words cost nothing to Arnulf, he not only promised all restitution to the paltry Montreuil, but even was for offering to pay homage to our Duke for Flanders itself; but this our William refused, saying it were foul wrong to both King Louis of France, and Kaiser Otho of Germany, to take from them their vassal.  They took leave of each other in all courtesy, and we embarked again.  It was Duke William’s pleasure to go alone in a small boat, while we twelve were together in another.  Just as we had nearly reached our own bank, there was a shout from the Flemings that their Count had somewhat further to say to the Duke, and forbidding us to follow him, the Duke turned his boat and went back again.  No sooner had he set foot on the isle,” proceeded the Norman, clenching his hands, and speaking between his teeth, “than we saw one Fleming strike him on the head with an oar; he fell senseless, the rest threw themselves upon him, and the next moment held up their bloody daggers in scorn at us!  You may well think how we shouted and yelled at them, and plied our oars like men distracted, but all in vain, they were already in their boats, and ere we could even reach the isle, they were on the other side of the river, mounted their horses, fled with coward speed, and were out of reach of a Norman’s vengeance.”

      “But they shall not be so long!” cried Richard, starting forward; for to his childish fancy this dreadful history was more like one of Dame Astrida’s legends than a reality, and at the moment his thought was only of the blackness of the treason.  “Oh, that I were a man to chastise them!  One day they shall feel—”

      He broke off short, for he remembered how his father had forbidden his denunciations of vengeance, but his words were eagerly caught up by the Barons, who, as Duke William had said, were far from possessing any temper of forgiveness, thought revenge a duty, and were only glad to see a warlike spirit in their new Prince.

      “Ha! say you so, my young Lord?” exclaimed old Count Bernard, rising.  “Yes, and I see a sparkle in your eye that tells me you will one day avenge him nobly!”

      Richard drew up his head, and his heart throbbed high as Sir Eric made answer, “Ay, truly, that will he!  You might search Normandy through, yea, and Norway likewise, ere you would find a temper more bold and free.  Trust my word, Count Bernard, our young Duke will be famed as widely as ever were his forefathers!”

      “I believe it well!” said Bernard.  “He hath the port of his grandfather, Duke Rollo, and much, too, of his noble father!  How say you, Lord Richard, will you be a valiant leader of the Norman race against our foes?”

      “That I will!” said Richard, carried away by the applause excited by those few words of his.  “I will ride at your head this very night if you will but go to chastise the false Flemings.”

      “You shall ride with us to-morrow, my Lord,” answered Bernard, “but it must be to Rouen, there to be invested with your ducal sword and mantle, and to receive the homage of your vassals.”

      Richard drooped his head without replying, for this seemed to bring to him the perception that his father was really gone, and that he should never see him again.  He thought of all his projects for the day of his return, how he had almost counted the hours, and had looked forward to telling him that Father Lucas was well pleased with him!  And now he should never nestle into his breast again, never hear his voice, never see those kind eyes beam upon him.  Large tears gathered in his eyes, and ashamed that they should be seen, he sat down on a footstool at Fru Astrida’s feet, leant his forehead on his hands, and thought over all that his father had done and said the last time they were together.  He fancied the return that had been promised, going over the meeting and the greeting, till he had almost persuaded himself that this dreadful story was but a dream.  But when he looked up, there were the Barons, with their grave mournful faces, speaking of the corpse, which Duke Alan of Brittany was escorting to Rouen, there to be buried beside the old Duke Rollo, and the Duchess Emma, Richard’s mother.  Then he lost himself in wonder how that stiff bleeding body could be the same as the father whose arm was so lately around him, and whether his father’s spirit knew how he was thinking of him; and in these dreamy thoughts, the young orphan Duke of Normandy, forgotten by his vassals in their grave councils, fell asleep, and scarce wakened enough to attend to his prayers, when Fru Astrida at length remembered him, and led him away to bed.

      When Richard awoke the next morning, he could hardly believe that all that had passed in the evening was true, but soon he found that it was but too real, and all was prepared for him to go to Rouen with the vassals; indeed, it was for no other purpose than to fetch him that the Count of Harcourt had come to Bayeux.  Fru Astrida was quite unhappy that “the child,” as she called him, should go alone with the warriors; but Sir Eric laughed at her, and said that it would never do for the Duke of Normandy to bring his nurse with him in his first entry into Rouen, and she must be content to follow at some space behind under the escort of Walter the huntsman.

      So she took leave of Richard, charging both Sir Eric and Osmond to have the utmost care of him, and shedding tears as if the parting was to be for a much longer space; then he bade farewell to the servants of the castle, received the blessing of Father Lucas, and mounting his pony, rode off between Sir Eric and Count Bernard.  Richard was but a little boy, and he did not think so much of his loss, as he rode along in the free morning air, feeling himself a Prince at the head of his vassals, his banner displayed before him, and the people coming out wherever he passed to gaze on him, and call for blessings on his name.  Rainulf de Ferrières carried a large heavy purse filled with silver and gold, and whenever they came to these gazing crowds, Richard was well pleased to thrust his hands deep into it, and scatter handfuls of coins among the gazers, especially where he saw little children.

      They stopped to dine and rest in the middle of the day, at the castle of a Baron, who, as soon as the meal was over, mounted his horse, and joined them in their ride to Rouen.  So far it had not been very different from Richard’s last journey, when he went to keep Christmas there with his father; but now they were beginning to come nearer the town, he knew the broad river Seine again, and saw the square tower of the Cathedral, and he remembered how at that very place his father had met him, and how he had ridden by his side into the town, and had been led by his hand up to the hall.

      His heart was very heavy, as he recollected there was no one now to meet and welcome him; scarcely any one to whom he could even tell his thoughts, for those tall grave Barons had nothing to say to such a little boy, and the very respect and formality with which they treated him, made him shrink from them still more, especially from the grim-faced Bernard; and Osmond, his own friend and playfellow, was obliged to ride far behind, as inferior in rank.

      They entered the town just as it was growing dark.  Count Bernard looked back and arrayed the procession; Eric de Centeville bade Richard sit upright and not look weary, and then all the Knights held back while the little Duke rode alone a little in advance of them through the gateway.  There was a loud shout of “Long live the little Duke!” and crowds of people were standing round to gaze upon his entry, so many that the bag of coins was soon emptied by his largesses.  The whole city was like one great castle, shut in by a wall and moat, and with Rollo’s Tower rising at one end like the keep of a castle, and it was thither that Richard was turning his horse, when the Count of Harcourt said, “Nay, my Lord, to the СКАЧАТЬ