The Little Duke: Richard the Fearless Page 7

  CHAPTER VII

  Osmond de Centeville was soon convinced that no immediate perilthreatened his young Duke at the Court of Laon. Louis seemed to intendto fulfil his oaths to the Normans by allowing the child to be thecompanion of his own sons, and to be treated in every respect as becamehis rank. Richard had his proper place at table, and all due attendance;he learnt, rode, and played with the Princes, and there was nothing tocomplain of, excepting the coldness and inattention with which the Kingand Queen treated him, by no means fulfilling the promise of being asparents to their orphan ward. Gerberge, who had from the first dreadedhis superior strength and his roughness with her puny boys, and who hadbeen by no means won by his manners at their first meeting, wasespecially distant and severe with him, hardly ever speaking to himexcept with some rebuke, which, it must be confessed, Richard oftendeserved.

  As to the boys, his constant companions, Richard was on very friendlyterms with Carlo-man, a gentle, timid, weakly child. Richard looked downupon him; but he was kind, as a generous-tempered boy could not fail tobe, to one younger and weaker than himself. He was so much kinder thanLothaire, that Carloman was fast growing very fond of him, and looked upto his strength and courage as something noble and marvellous.

  It was very different with Lothaire, the person from whom, above allothers, Richard would have most expected to meet with affection, as hisfather's god-son, a relationship which in those times was thought almostas near as kindred by blood. Lothaire had been brought up by anindulgent mother, and by courtiers who never ceased flattering him, asthe heir to the crown, and he had learnt to think that to give way to hisnaturally imperious and violent disposition was the way to prove hispower and assert his rank. He had always had his own way, and nothinghad ever been done to check his faults; somewhat weakly health had madehim fretful and timid; and a latent consciousness of this fearfulnessmade him all the more cruel, sometimes because he was frightened,sometimes because he fancied it manly.

  He treated his little brother in a way which in these times boys wouldcall bullying; and, as no one ever dared to oppose the King's eldest son,it was pretty much the same with every one else, except now and then somedumb creature, and then all Lothaire's cruelty was shown. When his horsekicked, and ended by throwing him, he stood by, and caused it to bebeaten till the poor creature's back streamed with blood; when his dogbit his hand in trying to seize the meat with which he was teazing it, heinsisted on having it killed, and it was worse still when a falcon peckedone of his fingers. It really hurt him a good deal, and, in a furiousrage, he caused two nails to be heated red hot in the fire, intending tohave them thrust into the poor bird's eyes.

  "I will not have it done!" exclaimed Richard, expecting to be obeyed ashe was at home; but Lothaire only laughed scornfully, saying, "Do youthink you are master here, Sir pirate?"

  "I will not have it done!" repeated Richard. "Shame on you, shame onyou, for thinking of such an unkingly deed."

  "Shame on me! Do you know to whom you speak, master savage?" criedLothaire, red with passion.

  "I know who is the savage now!" said Richard. "Hold!" to the servant whowas bringing the red-hot irons in a pair of tongs.

  "Hold?" exclaimed Lothaire. "No one commands here but I and my father.Go on Charlot--where is the bird? Keep her fast, Giles."

  "Osmond. You I can command--"

  "Come away, my Lord," said Osmond, interrupting Richard's order, beforeit was issued. "We have no right to interfere here, and cannot hinder it.Come away from such a foul sight."

  "Shame on you too, Osmond, to let such a deed be done without hinderingit!" exclaimed Richard, breaking from him, and rushing on the man whocarried the hot irons. The French servants were not very willing toexert their strength against the Duke of Normandy, and Richard's onset,taking the man by surprise, made him drop the tongs. Lothaire, bothafraid and enraged, caught them up as a weapon of defence, and, hardlyknowing what he did, struck full at Richard's face with the hot iron.Happily it missed his eye, and the heat had a little abated; but, as ittouched his cheek, it burnt him sufficiently to cause considerable pain.With a cry of passion, he flew at Lothaire, shook him with all his might,and ended by throwing him at his length on the pavement. But this wasthe last of Richard's exploits, for he was at the same moment captured byhis Squire, and borne off, struggling and kicking as if Osmond had beenhis greatest foe; but the young Norman's arms were like iron round him;and he gave over his resistance sooner, because at that moment a whirringflapping sound was heard, and the poor hawk rose high, higher, over theirheads in ever lessening circles, far away from her enemies. The servantwho held her, had relaxed his grasp in the consternation caused byLothaire's fall, and she was mounting up and up, spying, it might be, herway to her native rocks in Iceland, with the yellow eyes which Richardhad saved.

  "Safe! safe!" cried Richard, joyfully, ceasing his struggles. "Oh, howglad I am! That young villain should never have hurt her. Put me down,Osmond, what are you doing with me?"

  "Saving you from your--no, I cannot call it folly,--I would hardly havehad you stand still to see such--but let me see your face."

  "It is nothing. I don't care now the hawk is safe," said Richard, thoughhe could hardly keep his lips in order, and was obliged to wink very hardwith his eyes to keep the tears out, now that he had leisure to feel thesmarting; but it would have been far beneath a Northman to complain, andhe stood bearing it gallantly, and pinching his fingers tightly together,while Osmond knelt down to examine the hurt. "'Tis not much," said he,talking to himself, "half bruise, half burn--I wish my grandmother washere--however, it can't last long! 'Tis right, you bear it like a littleBerserkar, and it is no bad thing that you should have a scar to show,that they may not be able to say you did _all_ the damage."

  "Will it always leave a mark?" said Richard. "I am afraid they will callme Richard of the scarred cheek, when we get back to Normandy."

  "Never mind, if they do--it will not be a mark to be ashamed of, even ifit does last, which I do not believe it will."

  "Oh, no, I am so glad the gallant falcon is out of his reach!" repliedRichard, in a somewhat quivering voice.

  "Does it smart much? Well, come and bathe it with cold water--or shall Itake you to one of the Queen's women?"

  "No--the water," said Richard, and to the fountain in the court theywent; but Osmond had only just begun to splash the cheek with thehalf-frozen water, with a sort of rough kindness, afraid at once ofteaching the Duke to be effeminate, and of not being as tender to him asDame Astrida would have wished, when a messenger came in haste from theKing, commanding the presence of the Duke of Normandy and his Squire.

  Lothaire was standing between his father and mother on their throne-likeseat, leaning against the Queen, who had her arm round him; his face wasred and glazed with tears, and he still shook with subsiding sobs. Itwas evident he was just recovering from a passionate crying fit.

  "How is this?" began the King, as Richard entered. "What means thisconduct, my Lord of Normandy? Know you what you have done in strikingthe heir of France? I might imprison you this instant in a dungeon whereyou would never see the light of day."

  "Then Bernard de Harcourt would come and set me free," fearlesslyanswered Richard.

  "Do you bandy words with me, child? Ask Prince Lothaire's pardoninstantly, or you shall rue it."

  "I have done nothing to ask his pardon for. It would have been cruel andcowardly in me to let him put out the poor hawk's eyes," said Richard,with a Northman's stern contempt for pain, disdaining to mention his ownburnt cheek, which indeed the King might have seen plainly enough.

  "Hawk's eyes!" repeated the King. "Speak the truth, Sir Duke; do not addslander to your other faults."

  [Picture: False accusation]

  "I have spoken the truth--I always speak it!" cried Richard. "Whoeversays otherwise lies in his throat."

  Osmond here hastily interfered, and desired permission to tell the wholestory. The hawk was a valua
ble bird, and Louis's face darkened when heheard what Lothaire had purposed, for the Prince had, in telling his ownstory, made it appear that Richard had been the aggressor by insisting onletting the falcon fly. Osmond finished by pointing to the mark onRichard's cheek, so evidently a burn, as to be proof that hot iron hadplayed a part in the matter. The King looked at one of his own Squiresand asked his account, and he with some hesitation could not but replythat it was as the young Sieur de Centeville had said. Thereupon Louisangrily reproved his own people for having assisted the Prince in tryingto injure the hawk, called for the chief falconer, rated him for notbetter attending to his birds, and went forth with him to see if the hawkcould yet be recaptured, leaving the two boys neither punished norpardoned.

  "So you have escaped for this once," said Gerberge, coldly, to Richard;"you had better beware another time. Come with me, my poor darlingLothaire." She led her son away to her own apartments, and the FrenchSquires began to grumble to each other complaints of the impossibility ofpleasing their Lords, since, if they contradicted Prince Lothaire, he wasso spiteful that he was sure to set the Queen against them, and that wasfar worse in the end than the King's displeasure. Osmond, in themeantime, took Richard to re-commence bathing his face, and presentlyCarloman ran out to pity him, wonder at him for not crying, and say hewas glad the poor hawk had escaped.

  The cheek continued inflamed and painful for some time, and there was adeep scar long after the pain had ceased, but Richard thought little ofit after the first, and would have scorned to bear ill-will to Lothairefor the injury.

  Lothaire left off taunting Richard with his Norman accent, and callinghim a young Sea-king. He had felt his strength, and was afraid of him;but he did not like him the better--he never played with himwillingly--scowled, and looked dark and jealous, if his father, or if anyof the great nobles took the least notice of the little Duke, andwhenever he was out of hearing, talked against him with all his naturalspitefulness.

  Richard liked Lothaire quite as little, contemning almost equally hiscowardly ways and his imperious disposition. Since he had been Duke,Richard had been somewhat inclined to grow imperious himself, thoughalways kept under restraint by Fru Astrida's good training, and CountBernard's authority, and his whole generous nature would have revoltedagainst treating Alberic, or indeed his meanest vassal, as Lothaire usedthe unfortunate children who were his playfellows. Perhaps this made himlook on with great horror at the tyranny which Lothaire exercised; at anyrate he learnt to abhor it more, and to make many resolutions againstordering people about uncivilly when once he should be in Normandy again.He often interfered to protect the poor boys, and generally with success,for the Prince was afraid of provoking such another shake as Richard hadonce given him, and though he generally repaid himself on his victim inthe end, he yielded for the time.

  Carloman, whom Richard often saved from his brother's unkindness, clungcloser and closer to him, went with him everywhere, tried to do all hedid, grew very fond of Osmond, and liked nothing better than to sit byRichard in some wide window-seat, in the evening, after supper, andlisten to Richard's version of some of Fru Astrida's favourite tales, orhear the never-ending history of sports at Centeville, or at Rollo'sTower, or settle what great things they would both do when they weregrown up, and Richard was ruling Normandy--perhaps go to the Holy Landtogether, and slaughter an unheard-of host of giants and dragons on theway. In the meantime, however, poor Carloman gave small promise of beingable to perform great exploits, for he was very small for his age andoften ailing; soon tired, and never able to bear much rough play.Richard, who had never had any reason to learn to forbear, did not atfirst understand this, and made Carloman cry several times with hisroughness and violence, but this always vexed him so much that he grewcareful to avoid such things for the future, and gradually learnt totreat his poor little weakly friend with a gentleness and patience atwhich Osmond used to marvel, and which he would hardly have been taughtin his prosperity at home.

  Between Carloman and Osmond he was thus tolerably happy at Laon, but hemissed his own dear friends, and the loving greetings of his vassals, andlonged earnestly to be at Rouen, asking Osmond almost every night whenthey should go back, to which Osmond could only answer that he must praythat Heaven would be pleased to bring them home safely.

  Osmond, in the meantime, kept a vigilant watch for anything that mightseem to threaten danger to his Lord; but at present there was no token ofany evil being intended; the only point in which Louis did not seem to befulfilling his promises to the Normans was, that no preparations weremade for attacking the Count of Flanders.

  At Easter the court was visited by Hugh the White, the great Count ofParis, the most powerful man in France, and who was only prevented by hisown loyalty and forbearance, from taking the crown from the feeble anddegenerate race of Charlemagne. He had been a firm friend of WilliamLongsword, and Osmond remarked how, on his arrival, the King took care tobring Richard forward, talk of him affectionately, and caress him almostas much as he had done at Rouen. The Count himself was really kind andaffectionate to the little Duke; he kept him by his side, and seemed tolike to stroke down his long flaxen hair, looking in his face with agrave mournful expression, as if seeking for a likeness to his father.He soon asked about the scar which the burn had left, and the King wasobliged to answer hastily, it was an accident, a disaster that hadchanced in a boyish quarrel. Louis, in fact, was uneasy, and appeared tobe watching the Count of Paris the whole time of his visit, so as toprevent him from having any conversation in private with the other greatvassals assembled at the court. Hugh did not seem to perceive this, andacted as if he was entirely at his ease, but at the same time he watchedhis opportunity. One evening, after supper, he came up to the windowwhere Richard and Carloman were, as usual, deep in story telling; he satdown on the stone seat, and taking Richard on his knee, he asked if hehad any greetings for the Count de Harcourt.

  How Richard's face lighted up! "Oh, Sir," he cried, "are you going toNormandy?"

  "Not yet, my boy, but it may be that I may have to meet old Harcourt atthe Elm of Gisors."

  "Oh, if I was but going with you."

  "I wish I could take you, but it would scarcely do for me to steal theheir of Normandy. What shall I tell him?"

  "Tell him," whispered Richard, edging himself close to the Count, andtrying to reach his ear, "tell him that I am sorry, now, that I wassullen when he reproved me. I know he was right. And, sir, if he bringswith him a certain huntsman with a long hooked nose, whose name isWalter, {12} tell him I am sorry I used to order him about so unkindly.And tell him to bear my greetings to Fru Astrida and Sir Eric, and toAlberic."

  "Shall I tell him how you have marked your face?"

  "No," said Richard, "he would think me a baby to care about such a thingas that!"

  The Count asked how it happened, and Richard told the story, for he feltas if he could tell the kind Count anything--it was almost like that lastevening that he had sat on his father's knee. Hugh ended by putting hisarm round him, and saying, "Well, my little Duke, I am as glad as you arethe gallant bird is safe--it will be a tale for my own little Hugh andEumacette {13} at home--and you must one day be friends with them as yourfather has been with me. And now, do you think your Squire could come tomy chamber late this evening when the household is at rest?"

  Richard undertook that Osmond should do so, and the Count, setting himdown again, returned to the dais. Osmond, before going to the Count thatevening, ordered Sybald to come and guard the Duke's door. It was a longconference, for Hugh had come to Laon chiefly for the purpose of seeinghow it went with his friend's son, and was anxious to know what Osmondthought of the matter. They agreed that at present there did not seem tobe any evil intended, and that it rather appeared as if Louis wished onlyto keep him as a hostage for the tranquillity of the borders of Normandy;but Hugh advised that Osmond should maintain a careful watch, and sendintelligence to him on the first token of mischief.

  The next morning
the Count of Paris quitted Laon, and everything went onin the usual course till the feast of Whitsuntide, when there was alwaysa great display of splendour at the French court. The crown vassalsgenerally came to pay their duty and go with the King to Church; andthere was a state banquet, at which the King and Queen wore their crowns,and every one sat in great magnificence according to their rank.

  The grand procession to Church was over. Richard had walked withCarloman, the Prince richly dressed in blue, embroidered with goldenfleur-de-lys, and Richard in scarlet, with a gold Cross on his breast;the beautiful service was over, they had returned to the Castle, andthere the Seneschal was marshalling the goodly and noble company to thebanquet, when horses' feet were heard at the gate announcing some fresharrival. The Seneschal went to receive the guests, and presently washeard ushering in the noble Prince, Arnulf, Count of Flanders.

  Richard's face became pale--he turned from Carloman by whose side he hadbeen standing, and walked straight out of the hall and up the stairs,closely followed by Osmond. In a few minutes there was a knock at thedoor of his chamber, and a French Knight stood there saying, "Comes notthe Duke to the banquet?"

  "No," answered Osmond: "he eats not with the slayer of his father."

  "The King will take it amiss; for the sake of the child you had betterbeware," said the Frenchman, hesitating.

  "He had better beware himself," exclaimed Osmond, indignantly, "how hebrings the treacherous murderer of William Longsword into the presence ofa free-born Norman, unless he would see him slain where he stands. Wereit not for the boy, I would challenge the traitor this instant to singlecombat."

  "Well, I can scarce blame you," said the Knight, "but you had best have acare how you tread. Farewell."

  Richard had hardly time to express his indignation, and his wishes thathe was a man, before another message came through a groom of Lothaire'strain, that the Duke must fast, if he would not consent to feast with therest.

  "Tell Prince Lothaire," replied Richard, "that I am not such a glutton ashe--I had rather fast than be choked with eating with Arnulf."

  All the rest of the day, Richard remained in his own chamber, resolvednot to run the risk of meeting with Arnulf. The Squire remained withhim, in this voluntary imprisonment, and they occupied themselves, asbest they could, with furbishing Osmond's armour, and helping each otherout in repeating some of the Sagas. They once heard a great uproar inthe court, and both were very anxious to learn its cause, but they didnot know it till late in the afternoon.

  Carloman crept up to them--"Here I am at last!" he exclaimed. "Here,Richard, I have brought you some bread, as you had no dinner: it was allI could bring. I saved it under the table lest Lothaire should see it."

  Richard thanked Carloman with all his heart, and being very hungry wasglad to share the bread with Osmond. He asked how long the wicked Countwas going to stay, and rejoiced to hear he was going away the nextmorning, and the King was going with him.

  "What was that great noise in the court?" asked Richard.

  "I scarcely like to tell you," returned Carloman.

  Richard, however, begged to hear, and Carloman was obliged to tell thatthe two Norman grooms, Sybald and Henry, had quarrelled with the Flemingsof Arnulf's train; there had been a fray, which had ended in the death ofthree Flemings, a Frank, and of Sybald himself--And where was Henry?Alas! there was more ill news--the King had sentenced Henry to die, andhe had been hanged immediately.

  Dark with anger and sorrow grew young Richard's face; he had been fond ofhis two Norman attendants, he trusted to their attachment, and he wouldhave wept for their loss even if it had happened in any other way; butnow, when it had been caused by their enmity to his father's foes, theFlemings,--when one had fallen overwhelmed by numbers, and the other beencondemned hastily, cruelly, unjustly, it was too much, and he almostchoked with grief and indignation. Why had he not been there, to claimHenry as his own vassal, and if he could not save him, at least bid himfarewell? Then he would have broken out in angry threats, but he felthis own helplessness, and was ashamed, and he could only shed tears ofpassionate grief, refusing all Carloman's attempts to comfort him.Osmond was even more concerned; he valued the two Normans extremely fortheir courage and faithfulness, and had relied on sending intelligence bytheir means to Rouen, in case of need. It appeared to him as if thefirst opportunity had been seized of removing these protectors from thelittle Duke, and as if the designs, whatever they might be, which hadbeen formed against him, were about to take effect. He had little doubtthat his own turn would be the next; but he was resolved to endureanything, rather than give the smallest opportunity of removing him, tobear even insults with patience, and to remember that in his care restedthe sole hope of safety for his charge.

  That danger was fast gathering around them became more evident every day,especially after the King and Arnulf had gone away together. It was veryhot weather, and Richard began to weary after the broad cool river atRouen, where he used to bathe last summer; and one evening he persuadedhis Squire to go down with him to the Oise, which flowed along somemeadow ground about a quarter of a mile from the Castle; but they hadhardly set forth before three or four attendants came running after them,with express orders from the Queen that they should return immediately.They obeyed, and found her standing in the Castle hall, looking greatlyincensed.

  "What means this?" she asked, angrily. "Knew you not that the King hasleft commands that the Duke quits not the Castle in his absence?"

  "I was only going as far as the river--" began Richard, but Gerberge cuthim short. "Silence, child--I will hear no excuses. Perhaps you think,Sieur de Centeville, that you may take liberties in the King's absence,but I tell you that if you are found without the walls again, it shall beat your peril; ay, and his! I'll have those haughty eyes put out, if youdisobey!"

  She turned away, and Lothaire looked at them with his air of gratifiedmalice. "You will not lord it over your betters much longer, youngpirate!" said he, as he followed his mother, afraid to stay to meet theanger he might have excited by the taunt he could not deny himself thepleasure of making; but Richard, who, six months ago could not brook aslight disappointment or opposition, had, in his present life ofrestraint, danger, and vexation, learnt to curb the first outbreak oftemper, and to bear patiently instead of breaking out into passion andthreats, and now his only thought was of his beloved Squire.

  "Oh, Osmond! Osmond!" he exclaimed, "they shall not hurt you. I willnever go out again. I will never speak another hasty word. I will neveraffront the Prince, if they will but leave you with me!" {14}