Part 7 (1/2)
”Must I--and all alone?”
”No, not alone, not without the most trusty guardian that can be found for you. Friend Eric, what say you?” and he laid his hand on the old Baron's shoulder. ”Yet, I know not; true thou art, as a Norwegian mountain, but I doubt me if thy brains are not too dull to see through the French wiles and disguises, sharp as thou didst show thyself last night.”
”That was Osmond, not I,” said Sir Eric. ”He knows their mincing tongue better than I. He were the best to go with the poor child, if go he must.”
”Bethink you, Eric,” said the Count, in an undertone, ”Osmond is the only hope of your good old house--if there is foul play, the guardian will be the first to suffer.”
”Since you think fit to peril the only hope of all Normandy, I am not the man to hold back my son where he may aid him,” said old Eric, sadly.
”The poor child will be lonely and uncared-for there, and it were hard he should not have one faithful comrade and friend with him.”
”It is well,” said Bernard: ”young as he is, I had rather trust Osmond with the child than any one else, for he is ready of counsel, and quick of hand.”
”Ay, and a pretty pa.s.s it is come to,” muttered old Centeville, ”that we, whose business it is to guard the boy, should send him where you scarcely like to trust my son.”
Bernard paid no further attention to him, but, coming forward, required another oath from the King, that Richard should be as safe and free at his court as at Rouen, and that on no pretence whatsoever should he be taken from under the immediate care of his Esquire, Osmond Fitz Eric, heir of Centeville.
After this, the King was impatient to depart, and all was preparation.
Bernard called Osmond aside to give full instructions on his conduct, and the means of communicating with Normandy, and Richard was taking leave of Fru Astrida, who had now descended from her turret, bringing her hostage with her. She wept much over her little Duke, praying that he might safely be restored to Normandy, even though she might not live to see it; she exhorted him not to forget the good and holy learning in which he had been brought up, to rule his temper, and, above all, to say his prayers constantly, never leaving out one, as the beads of his rosary reminded him of their order. As to her own grandson, anxiety for him seemed almost lost in her fears for Richard, and the chief things she said to him, when he came to take leave of her, were directions as to the care he was to take of the child, telling him the honour he now received was one which would make his name forever esteemed if he did but fulfil his trust, the most precious that Norman had ever yet received.
”I will, grandmother, to the very best of my power,” said Osmond; ”I may die in his cause, but never will I be faithless!”
”Alberic!” said Richard, ”are you glad to be going back to Montemar?”
”Yes, my Lord,” answered Alberic, st.u.r.dily, ”as glad as you will be to come back to Rouen.”
”Then I shall send for you directly, Alberic, for I shall never love the Princes Carloman and Lothaire half as well as you!”
”My Lord the King is waiting for the Duke,” said a Frenchman, coming forward.
”Farewell then, Fru Astrida. Do not weep. I shall soon come back.
Farewell, Alberic. Take the bar-tailed falcon back to Montemar, and keep him for my sake. Farewell, Sir Eric--Farewell, Count Bernard. When the Normans come to conquer Arnulf you will lead them. O dear, dear Fru Astrida, farewell again.”
”Farewell, my own darling. The blessing of Heaven go with you, and bring you safe home! Farewell, Osmond. Heaven guard you and strengthen you to be his s.h.i.+eld and his defence!”
CHAPTER VI
Away from the tall narrow gateway of Rollo's Tower, with the cl.u.s.ter of friendly, sorrowful faces looking forth from it, away from the booth-like shops of Rouen, and the stout burghers shouting with all the power of their lungs, ”Long live Duke Richard! Long live King Louis! Death to the Fleming!”--away from the broad Seine--away from home and friends, rode the young Duke of Normandy, by the side of the palfrey of the King of France.
The King took much notice of him, kept him by his side, talked to him, admired the beautiful cattle grazing in security in the green pastures, and, as he looked at the rich dark brown earth of the fields, the Castles towering above the woods, the Convents looking like great farms, the many villages round the rude Churches, and the numerous population who came out to gaze at the party, and repeat the cry of ”Long live the King!
Blessings on the little Duke!” he told Richard, again and again, that his was the most goodly duchy in France and Germany to boot.
When they crossed the Epte, the King would have Richard in the same boat with him, and sitting close to Louis, and talking eagerly about falcons and hounds, the little Duke pa.s.sed the boundary of his own dukedom.
The country beyond was not like Normandy. First they came to a great forest, which seemed to have no path through it. The King ordered that one of the men, who had rowed them across, should be made to serve as guide, and two of the men-at-arms took him between them, and forced him to lead the way, while others, with their swords and battle-axes, cut down and cleared away the tangled branches and briars that nearly choked the path. All the time, every one was sharply on the look-out for robbers, and the weapons were all held ready for use at a moment's notice. On getting beyond the forest a Castle rose before them, and, though it was not yet late in the day, they resolved to rest there, as a marsh lay not far before them, which it would not have been safe to traverse in the evening twilight.
The Baron of the Castle received them with great respect to the King, but without paying much attention to the Duke of Normandy, and Richard did not find the second place left for him at the board. He coloured violently, and looked first at the King, and then at Osmond, but Osmond held up his finger in warning; he remembered how he had lost his temper before, and what had come of it, and resolved to try to bear it better; and just then the Baron's daughter, a gentle-looking maiden of fifteen or sixteen, came and spoke to him, and entertained him so well, that he did not think much more of his offended dignity.--When they set off on their journey again, the Baron and several of his followers came with them to show the only safe way across the mora.s.s, and a very slippery, treacherous, quaking road it was, where the horses' feet left pools of water wherever they trod. The King and the Baron rode together, and the other French n.o.bles closed round them; Richard was left quite in the background, and though the French men-at-arms took care not to lose sight of him, no one offered him any a.s.sistance, excepting Osmond, who, giving his own horse to Sybald, one of the two Norman grooms who accompanied him, led Richard's horse by the bridle along the whole distance of the marshy path, a business that could scarcely have been pleasant, as Osmond wore his heavy hauberk, and his pointed, iron-guarded boots sunk deep at every step into the bog. He spoke little, but seemed to be taking good heed of every stump of willow or stepping-stone that might serve as a note of remembrance of the path.