The Little Duke: Richard the Fearless

Richard thought this no mischance at all, and just then, Alberic, who had run on a little before, came back exclaiming, “They are French.  It is the Frank tongue, not the Norman, that they speak.”

“So please you, my Lord,” said Osmond, stopping short, “we go not rashly into the midst of them.  I would I knew what were best to do.”

Osmond rubbed his forehead and stood considering, while the two boys looked at him anxiously.  In a few seconds, before he had come to any conclusion, there came forth from the gate a Norman Squire, accompanied by two strangers.

“My Lord Duke,” said he to Richard, in French, “Sir Eric has sent me to bring you tidings that the King of France has arrived to receive your homage.”

“The King!” exclaimed Osmond.

“Ay!” proceeded the Norman, in his own tongue, “Louis himself, and with a train looking bent on mischief.  I wish it may portend good to my Lord here.  You see I am accompanied.  I believe from my heart that Louis meant to prevent you from receiving a warning, and taking the boy out of his clutches.”

“Ha! what?” said Richard, anxiously.  “Why is the King come?  What must I do?”

“Go on now, since there is no help for it,” said Osmond.

“Greet the king as becomes you, bend the knee, and pay him homage.”

Richard repeated over to himself the form of homage that he might be perfect in it, and walked on into the court; Alberic, Osmond, and the rest falling back as he entered.  The court was crowded with horses and men, and it was only by calling out loudly, “The Duke, the Duke,” that Osmond could get space enough made for them to pass.  In a few moments Richard had mounted the steps and stood in the great hall.

In the chair of state, at the upper end of the room, sat a small spare man, of about eight or nine-and-twenty, pale, and of a light complexion, with a rich dress of blue and gold.  Sir Eric and several other persons stood respectfully round him, and he was conversing with the Archbishop, who, as well as Sir Eric, cast several anxious glances at the little Duke as he advanced up the hall.  He came up to the King, put his knee to the ground, and was just beginning, “Louis, King of France, I—” when he found himself suddenly lifted from the ground in the King’s arms, and kissed on both cheeks.  Then setting him on his knee, the King exclaimed, “And is this the son of my brave and noble friend, Duke William?  Ah!  I should have known it from his likeness.  Let me embrace you again, dear child, for your father’s sake.”

Richard was rather overwhelmed, but he thought the King very kind, especially when Louis began to admire his height and free-spirited bearing, and to lament that his own sons, Lothaire and Carloman, were so much smaller and more backward.  He caressed Richard again and again, praised every word he said—Fru Astrida was nothing to him; and Richard began to say to himself how strange and unkind it was of Bernard de Harcourt to like to find fault with him, when, on the contrary, he deserved all this praise from the King himself.

CHAPTER V

Duke Richard of Normandy slept in the room which had been his father’s; Alberic de Montémar, as his page, slept at his feet, and Osmond de Centeville had a bed on the floor, across the door, where he lay with his sword close at hand, as his young Lord’s guard and protector.

All had been asleep for some little time, when Osmond was startled by a slight movement of the door, which could not be pushed open without awakening him.  In an instant he had grasped his sword, while he pressed his shoulder to the door to keep it closed; but it was his father’s voice that answered him with a few whispered words in the Norse tongue, “It is I, open.”  He made way instantly, and old Sir Eric entered, treading cautiously with bare feet, and sat down on the bed motioning him to do the same, so that they might be able to speak lower.  “Right, Osmond,” he said.  “It is well to be on the alert, for peril enough is around him—The Frank means mischief!  I know from a sure hand that Arnulf of Flanders was in council with him just before he came hither, with his false tongue, wiling and coaxing the poor child!”

“Ungrateful traitor!” murmured Osmond.  “Do you guess his purpose?”

“Yes, surely, to carry the boy off with him, and so he trusts doubtless to cut off all the race of Rollo!  I know his purpose is to bear off the Duke, as a ward of the Crown forsooth.  Did you not hear him luring the child with his promises of friendship with the Princes?  I could not understand all his French words, but I saw it plain enough.”

“You will never allow it?”

“If he does, it must be across our dead bodies; but taken as we are by surprise, our resistance will little avail.  The Castle is full of French, the hall and court swarm with them.  Even if we could draw our Normans together, we should not be more than a dozen men, and what could we do but die?  That we are ready for, if it may not be otherwise, rather than let our charge be thus borne off without a pledge for his safety, and without the knowledge of the states.”

“The king could not have come at a worse time,” said Osmond.

“No, just when Bernard the Dane is absent.  If he only knew what has befallen, he could raise the country, and come to the rescue.”

“Could we not send some one to bear the tidings to-night?”

“I know not,” said Sir Eric, musingly.  “The French have taken the keeping of the doors; indeed they are so thick through the Castle that I can hardly reach one of our men, nor could I spare one hand that may avail to guard the boy to-morrow.”

“Sir Eric;” a bare little foot was heard on the floor, and Alberic de Montémar stood before him.  “I did not mean to listen, but I could not help hearing you.  I cannot fight for the Duke yet, but I could carry a message.”

“How would that be?” said Osmond, eagerly.  “Once out of the Castle, and in Rouen, he could easily find means of sending to the Count.  He might go either to the Convent of St. Ouen, or, which would be better, to the trusty armourer, Thibault, who would soon find man and horse to send after the Count.”

“Ha! let me see,” said Sir Eric.  “It might be.  But how is he to get out?”

“I know a way,” said Alberic.  “I scrambled down that wide buttress by the east wall last week, when our ball was caught in a branch of the ivy, and the drawbridge is down.”

“If Bernard knew, it would be off my mind, at least!” said Sir Eric.  “Well, my young Frenchman, you may do good service.”

“Osmond,” whispered Alberic, as he began hastily to dress himself, “only ask one thing of Sir Eric—never to call me young Frenchman again!”

Sir Eric smiled, saying, “Prove yourself Norman, my boy.”

“Then,” added Osmond, “if it were possible to get the Duke himself out of the castle to-morrow morning.  If I could take him forth by the postern, and once bring him into the town, he would be safe.  It would be only to raise the burghers, or else to take refuge in the Church of Our Lady till the Count came up, and then Louis would find his prey out of his hands when he awoke and sought him.”

“That might be,” replied Sir Eric; “but I doubt your success.  The French are too eager to hold him fast, to let him slip out of their hands.  You will find every door guarded.”

“Yes, but all the French have not seen the Duke, and the sight of a squire and a little page going forth, will scarcely excite their suspicion.”

“Ay, if the Duke would bear himself like a little page; but that you need not hope for.  Besides, he is so taken with this King’s flatteries, that I doubt whether he would consent to leave him for the sake of Count Bernard.  Poor child, he is like to be soon taught to know his true friends.”

“I am ready,” said Alberic, coming forward.

The Baron de Centeville repeated his instructions, and then undertook to guard the door, while his son saw Alberic set off on his expedition.  Osmond went with him softly down the stairs, then avoiding the hall, which was filled with French, they crept silently to a narrow window, guarded by iron bars, placed at such short intervals apart that only so small and slim a form as Alberic’s could have squeezed out between them.  The distance to the ground was not much more than twice his own height, and the wall was so covered with ivy, that it was not a very dangerous feat for an active boy, so that Alberic was soon safe on the ground, then looking up to wave his cap, he ran on along the side of the moat, and was soon lost to Osmond’s sight in the darkness.

Osmond returned to the Duke’s chamber, and relieved his father’s guard, while Richard slept soundly on, little guessing at the plots of his enemies, or at the schemes of his faithful subjects for his protection.

Osmond thought this all the better, for he had small trust in Richard’s patience and self-command, and thought there was much more chance of getting him unnoticed out of the Castle, if he did not know how much depended on it, and how dangerous his situation was.

When Richard awoke, he was much surprised at missing Alberic, but Osmond said he was gone into the town to Thibault the armourer, and this was a message on which he was so likely to be employed that Richard’s suspicion was not excited.  All the time he was dressing he talked about the King, and everything he meant to show him that day; then, when he was ready, the first thing was as usual to go to attend morning mass.

“Not by that way, to-day, my Lord,” said Osmond, as Richard was about to enter the great hall.  “It is crowded with the French who have been sleeping there all night; come to the postern.”

Osmond turned, as he spoke, along the passage, walking fast, and not sorry that Richard was lingering a little, as it was safer for him to be first.  The postern was, as he expected, guarded by two tall steel-cased figures, who immediately held their lances across the door-way, saying, “None passes without warrant.”

“You will surely let us of the Castle attend to our daily business,” said Osmond.  “You will hardly break your fast this morning if you stop all communication with the town.”

“You must bring warrant,” repeated one of the men-at-arms.  Osmond was beginning to say that he was the son of the Seneschal of the Castle, when Richard came hastily up.  “What?  Do these men want to stop us?” he exclaimed in the imperious manner he had begun to take up since his accession.  “Let us go on, sirs.”

The men-at-arms looked at each other, and guarded the door more closely.  Osmond saw it was hopeless, and only wanted to draw his young charge back without being recognised, but Richard exclaimed loudly, “What means this?”

“The King has given orders that none should pass without warrant,” was Osmond’s answer.  “We must wait.”

“I will pass!” said Richard, impatient at opposition, to which he was little accustomed.  “What mean you, Osmond?  This is my Castle, and no one has a right to stop me.  Do you hear, grooms? let me go.  I am the Duke!”

The sentinels bowed, but all they said was, “Our orders are express.”

“I tell you I am Duke of Normandy, and I will go where I please in my own city!” exclaimed Richard, passionately pressing against the crossed staves of the weapons, to force his way between them, but he was caught and held fast in the powerful gauntlet of one of the men-at-arms.  “Let me go, villain!” cried he, struggling with all his might.  “Osmond, Osmond, help!”

Even as he spoke Osmond had disengaged him from the grasp of the Frenchman, and putting his hand on his arm, said, “Nay, my Lord, it is not for you to strive with such as these.”

“I will strive!” cried the boy.  “I will not have my way barred in my own Castle.  I will tell the King how these rogues of his use me.  I will have them in the dungeon.  Sir Eric! where is Sir Eric?”