Part 5 (2/2)

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?”

Away he rushed to the stairs, Osmond hurrying after him, lest he should throw himself into some fresh danger, or by his loud calls attract the French, who might then easily make him prisoner. However, on the very first step of the stairs stood Sir Eric, who was too anxious for the success of the attempt to escape, to be very far off. Richard, too angry to heed where he was going, dashed up against him without seeing him, and as the old Baron took hold of him, began, ”Sir Eric, Sir Eric, those French are villains! they will not let me pa.s.s--”

”Hush, hus.h.!.+ my Lord,” said Sir Eric. ”Silence! come here.”

However imperious with others, Richard from force of habit always obeyed Sir Eric, and now allowed himself to be dragged hastily and silently by him, Osmond following closely, up the stairs, up a second and a third winding flight, still narrower, and with broken steps, to a small round, thick-walled turret chamber, with an extremely small door, and loop-holes of windows high up in the tower. Here, to his great surprise, he found Dame Astrida, kneeling and telling her beads, two or three of her maidens, and about four of the Norman Squires and men-at-arms.

”So you have failed, Osmond?” said the Baron.

”But what is all this? How did Fru Astrida come up here? May I not go to the King and have those insolent Franks punished?”

”Listen to me, Lord Richard,” said Sir Eric: ”that smooth-spoken King whose words so charmed you last night is an ungrateful deceiver. The Franks have always hated and feared the Normans, and not being able to conquer us fairly, they now take to foul means. Louis came hither from Flanders, he has brought this great troop of French to surprise us, claim you as a ward of the crown, and carry you away with him to some prison of his own.”

”You will not let me go?” said Richard.

”Not while I live,” said Sir Eric. ”Alberic is gone to warn the Count of Harcourt, to call the Normans together, and here we are ready to defend this chamber to our last breath, but we are few, the French are many, and succour may be far off.”

”Then you meant to have taken me out of their reach this morning, Osmond?”

”Yes, my Lord.”

”And if I had not flown into a pa.s.sion and told who I was, I might have been safe! O Sir Eric! Sir Eric! you will not let me be carried off to a French prison!”

”Here, my child,” said Dame Astrida, holding out her arms, ”Sir Eric will do all he can for you, but we are in G.o.d's hands!”

Richard came and leant against her. ”I wish I had not been in a pa.s.sion!” said he, sadly, after a silence; then looking at her in wonder--”But how came you up all this way?”

”It is a long way for my old limbs,” said Fru Astrida, smiling, ”but my son helped me, and he deems it the only safe place in the Castle.”

”The safest,” said Sir Eric, ”and that is not saying much for it.”

”Hark!” said Osmond, ”what a tramping the Franks are making. They are beginning to wonder where the Duke is.”

”To the stairs, Osmond,” said Sir Eric. ”On that narrow step one man may keep them at bay a long time. You can speak their jargon too, and hold parley with them.”

”Perhaps they will think I am gone,” whispered Richard, ”if they cannot find me, and go away.”

Osmond and two of the Normans were, as he spoke, taking their stand on the narrow spiral stair, where there was just room for one man on the step. Osmond was the lowest, the other two above him, and it would have been very hard for an enemy to force his way past them.

Osmond could plainly hear the sounds of the steps and voices of the French as they consulted together, and sought for the Duke. A man at length was heard clanking up these very stairs, till winding round, he suddenly found himself close upon young de Centeville.

”Ha! Norman!” he cried, starting back in amazement, ”what are you doing here?”

”My duty,” answered Osmond, shortly. ”I am here to guard this stair;”

and his drawn sword expressed the same intention.

The Frenchman drew back, and presently a whispering below was heard, and soon after a voice came up the stairs, saying, ”Norman--good Norman--”

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