Books: The Little Duke
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Charlotte M. Yonge >> The Little Duke
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"Your wings! our wings!" cried Richard, "the bearing of Centeville!"
"May they fly after the foe, not before him," said Sir Eric. "Speed
thee well, my son--let not our Danish cousins say we learn Frank
graces instead of Northern blows."
With such farewells, Osmond quitted Senlis, while the two boys
hastened to the battlements to watch him as long as he remained in
view.
The highest tower became their principal resort, and their eyes were
constantly on the heath where he had disappeared; but days passed,
and they grew weary of the watch, and betook themselves to games in
the Castle court.
One day, Alberic, in the character of a Dragon, was lying on his
back, panting hard so as to be supposed to cast out volumes of flame
and smoke at Richard, the Knight, who with a stick for a lance, and a
wooden sword, was waging fierce war; when suddenly the Dragon paused,
sat up, and pointed towards the warder on the tower. His horn was at
his lips, and in another moment, the blast rang out through the
Castle.
With a loud shout, both boys rushed headlong up the turret stairs,
and came to the top so breathless, that they could not even ask the
warder what he saw. He pointed, and the keen-eyed Alberic exclaimed,
"I see! Look, my Lord, a speck there on the heath!"
"I do not see! where, oh where?"
"He is behind the hillock now, but--oh, there again! How fast he
comes!"
"It is like the flight of a bird," said Richard, "fast, fast--"
"If only it be not flight in earnest," said Alberic, a little
anxiously, looking into the warder's face, for he was a borderer, and
tales of terror of the inroad of the Vicomte du Contentin were rife
on the marches of the Epte.
"No, young Sir," said the warder, "no fear of that. I know how men
ride when they flee from the battle."
"No, indeed, there is no discomfiture in the pace of that steed,"
said Sir Eric, who had by this time joined them.
"I see him clearer! I see the horse," cried Richard, dancing with
eagerness, so that Sir Eric caught hold of him, exclaiming, "You will
be over the battlements! hold still! better hear of a battle lost
than that!"
"He bears somewhat in his hand," said Alberic.
"A banner or pennon," said the warder; "methinks he rides like the
young Baron."
"He does! My brave boy! He has done good service," exclaimed Sir
Eric, as the figure became more developed. "The Danes have seen how
we train our young men."
"His wings bring good tidings," said Richard. "Let me go, Sir Eric,
I must tell Fru Astrida."
The drawbridge was lowered, the portcullis raised, and as all the
dwellers in the Castle stood gathered in the court, in rode the
warrior with the winged helm, bearing in his hand a drooping banner;
lowering it as he entered, it unfolded, and displayed, trailing on
the ground at the feet of the little Duke of Normandy, the golden
lilies of France.
A shout of amazement arose, and all gathered round him, asking
hurried questions. "A great victory--the King a prisoner--Montreuil
slain!"
Richard would not be denied holding his hand, and leading him to the
hall, and there, sitting around him, they heard his tidings. His
father's first question was, what he thought of their kinsmen, the
Danes?
"Rude comrades, father, I must own," said Osmond, smiling, and
shaking his head. "I could not pledge them in a skull-goblet--set in
gold though it were."
"None the worse warriors," said Sir Eric. "Ay, ay, and you were
dainty, and brooked not the hearty old fashion of tearing the whole
sheep to pieces. You must needs cut your portion with the fine
French knife at your girdle."
Osmond could not see that a man was braver for being a savage, but he
held his peace; and Richard impatiently begged to hear how the battle
had gone, and where it had been fought.
"On the bank of the Dive," said Osmond. "Ah, father, you might well
call old Harcourt wary--his name might better have been Fox-heart
than Bear-heart! He had sent to the Franks a message of distress,
that the Danes were on him in full force, and to pray them to come to
his aid."
"I trust there was no treachery. No foul dealing shall be wrought in
my name," exclaimed Richard, with such dignity of tone and manner, as
made all feel he was indeed their Duke, and forget his tender years.
"No, or should I tell the tale with joy like this?" said Osmond.
"Bernard's view was to bring the Kings together, and let Louis see
you had friends to maintain your right. He sought but to avoid
bloodshed."
"And how chanced it?"
"The Danes were encamped on the Dive, and so soon as the French came
in sight, Blue-tooth sent a messenger to Louis, to summon him to quit
Neustria, and leave it to you, its lawful owner. Thereupon, Louis,
hoping to win him over with wily words, invited him to hold a
personal conference."
"Where were you, Osmond?"
"Where I had scarce patience to be. Bernard had gathered all of us
honest Normans together, and arranged us beneath that standard of the
King, as if to repel his Danish inroad. Oh, he was, in all seeming,
hand-and-glove with Louis, guiding him by his counsel, and, verily,
seeming his friend and best adviser! But in one thing he could not
prevail. That ungrateful recreant, Herluin of Montreuil, came with
the King, hoping, it seems, to get his share of our spoils; and when
Bernard advised the King to send him home, since no true Norman could
bear the sight of him, the hot-headed Franks vowed no Norman should
hinder them from bringing whom they chose. So a tent was set up by
the riverside, wherein the two Kings, with Bernard, Alan of Brittany,
and Count Hugh, held their meeting. We all stood without, and the
two hosts began to mingle together, we Normans making acquaintance
with the Danes. There was a red-haired, wild-looking fellow, who
told me he had been with Anlaff in England, and spoke much of the
doings of Hako in Norway; when, suddenly, he pointed to a Knight who
was near, speaking to a Cotentinois, and asked me his name. My blood
boiled as I answered, for it was Montreuil himself! 'The cause of
your Duke's death!' said the Dane. 'Ha, ye Normans are fallen sons
of Odin, to see him yet live!'"
"You said, I trust, my son, that we follow not the laws of Odin?"
said Fru Astrida.
"I had no space for a word, grandmother; the Danes took the vengeance
on themselves. In one moment they rushed on Herluin with their axes,
and the unhappy man was dead. All was tumult; every one struck
without knowing at whom, or for what. Some shouted, 'Thor Hulfe!'
some 'Dieu aide!' others 'Montjoie St. Denis!' Northern blood
against French, that was all our guide. I found myself at the foot
of this standard, and had a hard combat for it; but I bore it away at
last."
"And the Kings?"
"They hurried out of the tent, it seems, to rejoin their men. Louis
mounted, but you know of old, my Lord, he is but an indifferent
horseman, and the beast carried him into the midst of the Danes,
where King Harald caught his bridle, and delivered him to four
Knights to keep. Whether he dealt secretly with them, or whether
they, as they declared, lost sight of him whilst plundering his tent,
I cannot say; but when Harald demanded him of them, he was gone."
"Gone! is this what you call having the King prisoner?"
"You shall hear. He rode four leagues, and met one of the baser sort
of Rouennais, whom he bribed to hide him in the Isle of Willows.
However, Bernard made close inquiries, found the fellow had been seen
in speech with a French horseman, pounced on his wife and children,
and threatened they should die if he did not disclose the secret. So
the King was forced to come out of his hiding-place, and is now fast
guarded in Rollo's tower--a Dane, with a battle-axe on his shoulder,
keeping guard at every turn of the stairs."
"Ha! ha!" cried Richard. "I wonder how he likes it. I wonder if he
remembers holding me up to the window, and vowing that he meant me
only good!"
"When you believed him, my Lord," said Osmond, slyly.
"I was a little boy then," said Richard, proudly. "Why, the very
walls must remind him of his oath, and how Count Bernard said, as he
dealt with me, so might Heaven deal with him."
"Remember it, my child--beware of broken vows," said Father Lucas;
"but remember it not in triumph over a fallen foe. It were better
that all came at once to the chapel, to bestow their thanksgivings
where alone they are due."
CHAPTER X
After nearly a year's captivity, the King engaged to pay a ransom,
and, until the terms could be arranged, his two sons were to be
placed as hostages in the hands of the Normans, whilst he returned to
his own domains. The Princes were to be sent to Bayeux; whither
Richard had returned, under the charge of the Centevilles, and was
now allowed to ride and walk abroad freely, provided he was
accompanied by a guard.
"I shall rejoice to have Carloman, and make him happy," said Richard;
"but I wish Lothaire were not coming."
"Perhaps," said good Father Lucas, "he comes that you may have a
first trial in your father's last lesson, and Abbot Martin's, and
return good for evil."
The Duke's cheek flushed, and he made no answer.
He and Alberic betook themselves to the watch-tower, and, by and by,
saw a cavalcade approaching, with a curtained vehicle in the midst,
slung between two horses. "That cannot be the Princes," said
Alberic; "that must surely be some sick lady."
"I only hope it is not the Queen," exclaimed Richard, in dismay.
"But no; Lothaire is such a coward, no doubt he was afraid to ride,
and she would not trust her darling without shutting him up like a
demoiselle. But come down, Alberic; I will say nothing unkind of
Lothaire, if I can help it."
Richard met the Princes in the court, his sunny hair uncovered, and
bowing with such becoming courtesy, that Fru Astrida pressed her
son's arm, and bade him say if their little Duke was not the fairest
and noblest child in Christendom.
With black looks, Lothaire stepped from the litter, took no heed of
the little Duke, but, roughly calling his attendant, Charlot, to
follow him, he marched into the hall, vouchsafing neither word nor
look to any as he passed, threw himself into the highest seat, and
ordered Charlot to bring him some wine.
Meanwhile, Richard, looking into the litter, saw Carloman crouching
in a corner, sobbing with fright.
"Carloman!--dear Carloman!--do not cry. Come out! It is I--your own
Richard! Will you not let me welcome you?"
Carloman looked, caught at the outstretched hand, and clung to his
neck.
"Oh, Richard, send us back! Do not let the savage Danes kill us!"
"No one will hurt you. There are no Danes here. You are my guest,
my friend, my brother. Look up! here is my own Fru Astrida."
"But my mother said the Northmen would kill us for keeping you
captive. She wept and raved, and the cruel men dragged us away by
force. Oh, let us go back!"
"I cannot do that," said Richard; "for you are the King of Denmark's
captives, not mine; but I will love you, and you shall have all that
is mine, if you will only not cry, dear Carloman. Oh, Fru Astrida,
what shall I do? You comfort him--" as the poor boy clung sobbing to
him.
Fru Astrida advanced to take his hand, speaking in a soothing voice,
but he shrank and started with a fresh cry of terror--her tall
figure, high cap, and wrinkled face, were to him witch-like, and as
she knew no French, he understood not her kind words. However, he
let Richard lead him into the hall, where Lothaire sat moodily in the
chair, with one leg tucked under him, and his finger in his mouth.
"I say, Sir Duke," said he, "is there nothing to be had in this old
den of yours? Not a drop of Bordeaux?"
Richard tried to repress his anger at this very uncivil way of
speaking, and answered, that he thought there was none, but there was
plenty of Norman cider.
"As if I would taste your mean peasant drinks! I bade them bring my
supper--why does it not come?"
"Because you are not master here," trembled on Richard's lips, but he
forced it back, and answered that it would soon be ready, and
Carloman looked imploringly at his brother, and said, "Do not make
them angry, Lothaire."
"What, crying still, foolish child?" said Lothaire. "Do you not know
that if they dare to cross us, my father will treat them as they
deserve? Bring supper, I say, and let me have a pasty of ortolans."
"There are none--they are not in season," said Richard.
"Do you mean to give me nothing I like? I tell you it shall be the
worse for you."
"There is a pullet roasting," began Richard.
"I tell you, I do not care for pullets--I will have ortolans."
"If I do not take order with that boy, my name is not Eric," muttered
the Baron.
"What must he not have made our poor child suffer!" returned Fru
Astrida, "but the little one moves my heart. How small and weakly he
is, but it is worth anything to see our little Duke so tender to
him."
"He is too brave not to be gentle," said Osmond; and, indeed, the
high-spirited, impetuous boy was as soft and kind as a maiden, with
that feeble, timid child. He coaxed him to eat, consoled him, and,
instead of laughing at his fears, kept between him and the great
bloodhound Hardigras, and drove it off when it came too near.
"Take that dog away," said Lothaire, imperiously. No one moved to
obey him, and the dog, in seeking for scraps, again came towards him.
"Take it away," he repeated, and struck it with his foot. The dog
growled, and Richard started up in indignation.
"Prince Lothaire," he said, "I care not what else you do, but my dogs
and my people you shall not maltreat."
"I tell you I am Prince! I do what I will! Ha! who laughs there?"
cried the passionate boy, stamping on the floor.
"It is not so easy for French Princes to scourge free-born Normans
here," said the rough voice of Walter the huntsman: "there is a
reckoning for the stripe my Lord Duke bore for me."
"Hush, hush, Walter," began Richard; but Lothaire had caught up a
footstool, and was aiming it at the huntsman, when his arm was
caught.
Osmond, who knew him well enough to be prepared for such outbreaks,
held him fast by both hands, in spite of his passionate screams and
struggles, which were like those of one frantic.
Sir Eric, meanwhile, thundered forth in his Norman patois, "I would
have you to know, young Sir, Prince though you be, you are our
prisoner, and shall taste of a dungeon, and bread and water, unless
you behave yourself."
Either Lothaire did not hear, or did not believe, and fought more
furiously in Osmond's arms, but he had little chance with the
stalwart young warrior, and, in spite of Richard's remonstrances, he
was carried from the hall, roaring and kicking, and locked up alone
in an empty room.
"Let him alone for the present," said Sir Eric, putting the Duke
aside, "when he knows his master, we shall have peace."
Here Richard had to turn, to reassure Carloman, who had taken refuge
in a dark corner, and there shook like an aspen leaf, crying
bitterly, and starting with fright, when Richard touched him.
"Oh, do not put me in the dungeon. I cannot bear the dark."
Richard again tried to comfort him, but he did not seem to hear or
heed. "Oh! they said you would beat and hurt us for what we did to
you! but, indeed, it was not I that burnt your cheek!"
"We would not hurt you for worlds, dear Carloman; Lothaire is not in
the dungeon--he is only shut up till he is good."
"It was Lothaire that did it," repeated Carloman, "and, indeed, you
must not be angry with me, for my mother was so cross with me for not
having stopped Osmond when I met him with the bundle of straw, that
she gave me a blow, that knocked me down. And were you really there,
Richard?"
Richard told his story, and was glad to find Carloman could smile at
it; and then Fru Astrida advised him to take his little friend to
bed. Carloman would not lie down without still holding Richard's
hand, and the little Duke spared no pains to set him at rest, knowing
what it was to be a desolate captive far from home.
"I thought you would be good to me," said Carloman. "As to Lothaire,
it serves him right, that you should use him as he used you."
"Oh, no, Carloman; if I had a brother I would never speak so of him."
"But Lothaire is so unkind."
"Ah! but we must be kind to those who are unkind to us."
The child rose on his elbow, and looked into Richard's face. "No one
ever told me so before."
"Oh, Carloman, not Brother Hilary?"
"I never heed Brother Hilary--he is so lengthy, and wearisome;
besides, no one is ever kind to those that hate them."
"My father was," said Richard.
"And they killed him!" said Carloman.
"Yes," said Richard, crossing himself, "but he is gone to be in
peace."
"I wonder if it is happier there, than here," said Carloman. "I am
not happy. But tell me why should we be good to those that hate us?"
"Because the holy Saints were--and look at the Crucifix, Carloman.
That was for them that hated Him. And, don't you know what our Pater
Noster says?"
Poor little Carloman could only repeat the Lord's Prayer in Latin--he
had not the least notion of its meaning--in which Richard had been
carefully instructed by Father Lucas. He began to explain it, but
before many words had passed his lips, little Carloman was asleep.
The Duke crept softly away to beg to be allowed to go to Lothaire; he
entered the room, already dark, with a pine torch in his hand, that
so flickered in the wind, that he could at first see nothing, but
presently beheld a dark lump on the floor.
"Prince Lothaire," he said, "here is--"
Lothaire cut him short. "Get away," he said. "If it is your turn
now, it will be mine by and by. I wish my mother had kept her word,
and put your eyes out."
Richard's temper did not serve for such a reply. "It is a foul shame
of you to speak so, when I only came out of kindness to you--so I
shall leave you here all night, and not ask Sir Eric to let you out."
And he swung back the heavy door with a resounding clang. But his
heart smote him when he told his beads, and remembered what he had
said to Carloman. He knew he could not sleep in his warm bed when
Lothaire was in that cold gusty room. To be sure, Sir Eric said it
would do him good, but Sir Eric little knew how tender the French
Princes were.
So Richard crept down in the dark, slid back the bolt, and called,
"Prince, Prince, I am sorry I was angry. Come out, and let us try to
be friends."
"What do you mean?" said Lothaire.
"Come out of the cold and dark. Here am I. I will show you the way.
Where is your hand? Oh, how cold it is. Let me lead you down to the
hall fire."
Lothaire was subdued by fright, cold, and darkness, and quietly
allowed Richard to lead him down. Round the fire, at the lower end
of the hall, snored half-a-dozen men-at-arms; at the upper hearth
there was only Hardigras, who raised his head as the boys came in.
Richard's whisper and soft pat quieted him instantly, and the two
little Princes sat on the hearth together, Lothaire surprised, but
sullen. Richard stirred the embers, so as to bring out more heat,
then spoke: "Prince, will you let us be friends?"
"I must, if I am in your power."
"I wish you would be my guest and comrade."
"Well, I will; I can't help it."
Richard thought his advances might have been more graciously met,
and, having little encouragement to say more, took Lothaire to bed,
as soon as he was warm.
CHAPTER XI
As the Baron had said, there was more peace now that Lothaire had
learnt to know that he must submit, and that no one cared for his
threats of his father's or his mother's vengeance. He was very sulky
and disagreeable, and severely tried Richard's forbearance; but there
were no fresh outbursts, and, on the whole, from one week to another,
there might be said to be an improvement. He could not always hold
aloof from one so good-natured and good-humoured as the little Duke;
and the fact of being kept in order could not but have some
beneficial effect on him, after such spoiling as his had been at
home.
Indeed, Osmond was once heard to say, it was a pity the boy was not
to be a hostage for life; to which Sir Eric replied, "So long as we
have not the training of him."
Little Carloman, meanwhile, recovered from his fears of all the
inmates of the Castle excepting Hardigras, at whose approach he
always shrank and trembled.
He renewed his friendship with Osmond, no longer started at the
entrance of Sir Eric, laughed at Alberic's merry ways, and liked to
sit on Fru Astrida's lap, and hear her sing, though he understood not
one word; but his especial love was still for his first friend, Duke
Richard. Hand-in-hand they went about together, Richard sometimes
lifting him up the steep steps, and, out of consideration for him,
refraining from rough play; and Richard led him to join with him in
those lessons that Father Lucas gave the children of the Castle,
every Friday and Sunday evening in the Chapel. The good Priest stood
on the Altar steps, with the children in a half circle round him--the
son and daughter of the armourer, the huntsman's little son, the
young Baron de Montemar, the Duke of Normandy, and the Prince of
France, all were equal there--and together they learnt, as he
explained to them the things most needful to believe; and thus
Carloman left off wondering why Richard thought it right to be good
to his enemies; and though at first he had known less than even the
little leather-coated huntsman, he seemed to take the holy lessons in
faster than any of them--yes, and act on them, too. His feeble
health seemed to make him enter into their comfort and meaning more
than even Richard; and Alberic and Father Lucas soon told Fru Astrida
that it was a saintly-minded child.
Indeed, Carloman was more disposed to thoughtfulness, because he was
incapable of joining in the sports of the other boys. A race round
the court was beyond his strength, the fresh wind on the battlements
made him shiver and cower, and loud shouting play was dreadful to
him. In old times, he used to cry when Lothaire told him he must
have his hair cut, and be a priest; now, he only said quietly, he
should like it very much, if he could be good enough.
Fru Astrida sighed and shook her head, and feared the poor child
would never grow up to be anything on this earth. Great as had been
the difference at first between him and Richard, it was now far
greater. Richard was an unusually strong boy for ten years old,
upright and broad-chested, and growing very fast; while Carloman
seemed to dwindle, stooped forward from weakness, had thin pinched
features, and sallow cheeks, looking like a plant kept in the dark.
The old Baron said that hardy, healthy habits would restore the puny
children; and Lothaire improved in health, and therewith in temper;
but his little brother had not strength enough to bear the seasoning.
He pined and drooped more each day; and as the autumn came on, and
the wind was chilly, he grew worse, and was scarcely ever off the lap
of the kind Lady Astrida. It was not a settled sickness, but he grew
weaker, and wasted away. They made up a little couch for him by the
fire, with the high settle between it and the door, to keep off the
draughts; and there he used patiently to lie, hour after hour,
speaking feebly, or smiling and seeming pleased, when any one of
those he loved approached. He liked Father Lucas to come and say
prayers with him; and he never failed to have a glad look, when his
dear little Duke came to talk to him, in his cheerful voice, about
his rides and his hunting and hawking adventures. Richard's sick
guest took up much of his thoughts, and he never willingly spent many
hours at a distance from him, softening his step and lowering his
voice, as he entered the hall, lest Carloman should be asleep.
"Richard, is it you?" said the little boy, as the young figure came
round the settle in the darkening twilight.
"Yes. How do you feel now, Carloman; are you better?"
"No better, thanks, dear Richard;" and the little wasted fingers were
put into his.
"Has the pain come again?"
"No; I have been lying still, musing; Richard, I shall never be
better."
"Oh, do not say so! You will, indeed you will, when spring comes."
"I feel as if I should die," said the little boy; "I think I shall.
But do not grieve, Richard. I do not feel much afraid. You said it
was happier there than here, and I know it now."
"Where my blessed father is," said Richard, thoughtfully. "But oh,
Carloman, you are so young to die!"
"I do not want to live. This is a fighting, hard world, full of
cruel people; and it is peace there. You are strong and brave, and
will make them better; but I am weak and fearful--I could only sigh
and grieve."
"Oh, Carloman! Carloman! I cannot spare you. I love you like my
own brother. You must not die--you must live to see your father and
mother again!"
"Commend me to them," said Carloman. "I am going to my Father in
heaven. I am glad I am here, Richard; I never was so happy before.
I should have been afraid indeed to die, if Father Lucas had not
taught me how my sins are pardoned. Now, I think the Saints and
Angels are waiting for me."
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