Part 9 (1/2)

No subject of England, since the race of Cerdic sate on the throne, ever entered the courtyard of Windsh.o.r.e with such train and such state as Earl G.o.dwin.--Proud of that first occasion, since his return, to do homage to him with whose cause that of England against the stranger was bound, all truly English at heart amongst the thegns of the land swelled his retinue. Whether Saxon or Dane, those who alike loved the laws and the soil, came from north and from south to the peaceful banner of the old Earl. But most of these were of the past generation, for the rising race were still dazzled by the pomp of the Norman; and the fas.h.i.+on of English manners, and the pride in English deeds, had gone out of date with long locks and bearded chins. Nor there were the bishops and abbots and the lords of the Church,--for dear to them already the fame of the Norman piety, and they shared the distaste of their holy King to the strong sense and homely religion of G.o.dwin, who founded no convents, and rode to war with no relics round his neck. But they with G.o.dwin were the stout and the frank and the free, in whom rested the pith and marrow of English manhood; and they who were against him were the blind and willing and fated fathers of slaves unborn.

Not then the stately castle we now behold, which is of the masonry of a prouder race, nor on the same site, but two miles distant on the winding of the river sh.o.r.e (whence it took its name), a rude building partly of timber and partly of Roman brick, adjoining a large monastery and surrounded by a small hamlet, const.i.tuted the palace of the saint-king.

So rode the Earl and his four fair sons, all abreast, into the courtyard of Windsh.o.r.e [127]. Now when King Edward heard the tramp of the steeds and the hum of the mult.i.tudes, as he sate in his closet with his abbots and priests, all in still contemplation of the thumb of St. Jude, the King asked: ”What army, in the day of peace, and the time of Easter, enters the gates of our palace?”

Then an abbot rose and looked out of the narrow window, and said with a groan: ”Army thou mayst well call it, O King!--and foes to us and to thee head the legions----”

”Inprinis,” quoth our abbot the scholar; ”thou speakest, I trow, of the wicked Earl and his sons.”

The King's face changed. ”Come they,” said he, ”with so large a train? This smells more of vaunt than of loyalty; naught--very naught.”

”Alack!” said one of the conclave, ”I fear me that the men of Belial will work us harm; the heathen are mighty, and----”

”Fear not,” said Edward, with benign loftiness, observing that his guests grew pale, and himself, though often weak to childishness, and morally wavering and irresolute,--still so far king and gentleman, that he knew no craven fear of the body. ”Fear not for me, my fathers; humble as I am, I am strong in the faith of heaven and its angels.”

The Churchmen looked at each other, sly yet abashed; it was not precisely for the King that they feared.

Then spoke Alred, the good prelate and constant peacemaker--fair column and lone one of the fast-crumbling Saxon Church. ”It is ill in you, brethren to arraign the truth and good meaning of those who honour your King; and in these days that lord should ever be the most welcome who brings to the halls of his king the largest number of hearts, stout and leal.”

”By your leave, brother Alred,” said Stigand, who, though from motives of policy he had aided those who besought the King not to peril his crown by resisting the return of G.o.dwin, benefited too largely by the abuses of the Church to be sincerely espoused to the cause of the strong-minded Earl; ”By your leave, brother Alred, to every leal heart is a ravenous mouth; and the treasures of the King are well-nigh drained in feeding these hungry and welcomeless visitors. Durst I counsel my lord I would pray him, as a matter of policy, to baffle this astute and proud Earl. He would fain have the King feast in public, that he might daunt him and the Church with the array of his friends.”

”I conceive thee, my father,” said Edward, with more quickness than habitual, and with the cunning, sharp though guileless, that belongs to minds undeveloped, ”I conceive thee; it is good and most politic. This our orgulous Earl shall not have his triumph, and, so fresh from his exile, brave his King with the mundane parade of his power. Our health is our excuse for our absence from the banquet, and, sooth to say, we marvel much why Easter should be held a fitting time for feasting and mirth. Wherefore, Hugoline, my chamberlain, advise the Earl that to-day we keep fast till the sunset, when temperately, with eggs, bread, and fish, we will sustain Adam's nature. Pray him and his sons to attend us--they alone be our guests.” And with a sound that seemed a laugh, or the ghost of a laugh, low and chuckling--for Edward had at moments an innocent humour which his monkish biographer disdained not to note [128],--he flung himself back in his chair. The priests took the cue, and shook their sides heartily, as Hugoline left the room, not ill pleased, by the way, to escape an invitation to the eggs, bread, and fish.

Alred sighed; and said, ”For the Earl and his sons, this is honour; but the other earls, and the thegns, will miss at the banquet him whom they design but to honour, and----”

”I have said,” interrupted Edward, drily, and with a look of fatigue.

”And,” observed another Churchman, with malice, ”at least the young Earls will be humbled, for they will not sit with the King and their father, as they would in the Hall, and must serve my lord with napkin and wine.”

”Inprinis,” quoth our scholar the abbot, ”that will be rare! I would I were by to see. But this G.o.dwin is a man of treachery and wile, and my lord should beware of the fate of murdered Alfred, his brother!”

The King started, and pressed his hands to his eyes.

”How darest thou, Abbot Fatchere,” cried Alred, indignantly; ”How darest thou revive grief without remedy, and slander without proof?”

”Without proof?” echoed Edward, in a hollow voice. ”He who could murder, could well stoop to forswear! Without proof before man; but did he try the ordeals of G.o.d?--did his feet pa.s.s the ploughshare?-- did his hand grasp the seething iron? Verily, verily, thou didst wrong to name to me Alfred my brother! I shall see his sightless and gore-dropping sockets in the face of G.o.dwin, this day, at my board.”

The King rose in great disorder; and, after pacing the room some moments, disregardful of the silent and scared looks of his Churchmen, waved his hand, in sign to them to depart. All took the hint at once save Alred; but he, lingering the last, approached the King with dignity in his step and compa.s.sion in his eyes.

”Banish from thy breast, O King and son, thoughts unmeet, and of doubtful charity! All that man could know of G.o.dwin's innocence or guilt--the suspicion of the vulgar--the acquittal of his peers--was known to thee before thou didst seek his aid for thy throne, and didst take his child for thy wife. Too late is it now to suspect; leave thy doubts to the solemn day, which draws nigh to the old man, thy wife's father!”

”Ha!” said the king, seeming not to heed, or wilfully to misunderstand the prelate, ”Ha! leave him to G.o.d;--I will!”

He turned away impatiently; and the prelate reluctantly departed.

CHAPTER IV.

Tostig chafed mightily at the King's message; and, on Harold's attempt to pacify him, grew so violent that nothing short of the cold stern command of his father, who carried with him that weight of authority never known but to those in whom wrath is still and pa.s.sion noiseless, imposed sullen peace on his son's rugged nature. But the taunts heaped by Tostig upon Harold disquieted the old Earl, and his brow was yet sad with prophetic care when he entered the royal apartments. He had been introduced into the King's presence but a moment before Hugoline led the way to the chamber of repast, and the greeting between King and Earl had been brief and formal.

Under the canopy of state were placed but two chairs, for the King and the Queen's father; and the four sons, Harold, Tostig, Leofwine, and Gurth, stood behind. Such was the primitive custom of ancient Teutonic kings; and the feudal Norman monarchs only enforced, though with more pomp and more rigour, the ceremonial of the forest patriarchs--youth to wait on age, and the ministers of the realm on those whom their policy had made chiefs in council and war.

The Earl's mind, already embittered by the scene with his sons, was chafed yet more by the King's unloving coldness; for it is natural to man, however worldly, to feel affection for those he has served, and G.o.dwin had won Edward his crown; nor, despite his warlike though bloodless return, could even monk or Norman, in counting up the old Earl's crimes, say that he had ever failed in personal respect to the King he had made; nor over-great for subject, as the Earl's power must be confessed, will historian now be found to say that it had not been well for Saxon England if G.o.dwin had found more favour with his King, and monk and Norman less. [129]

So the old Earl's stout heart was stung, and he looked from those deep, impenetrable eyes, mournfully upon Edward's chilling brow.

And Harold, with whom all household ties were strong, but to whom his great father was especially dear, watched his face and saw that it was very flushed. But the practised courtier sought to rally his spirits, and to smile and jest.

From smile and jest, the King turned and asked for wine. Harold, starting, advanced with the goblet; as he did so, he stumbled with one foot, but lightly recovered himself with the other; and Tostig laughed scornfully at Harold's awkwardness.

The old Earl observed both stumble and laugh, and willing to suggest a lesson to both his sons, said--laughing pleasantly--”Lo, Harold, how the left foot saves the right!--so one brother, thou seest, helps the other!” [130]

King Edward looked up suddenly.

”And so, G.o.dwin, also, had my brother Alfred helped me, hadst thou permitted.”

The old Earl, galled to the quick, gazed a moment on the King, and his cheek was purple, and his eyes seemed bloodshot.

”O Edward!” he exclaimed, ”thou speakest to me hardly and unkindly of thy brother Alfred, and often hast thou thus more than hinted that I caused his death.”

The King made no answer.

”May this crumb of bread choke me,” said the Earl, in great emotion, ”if I am guilty of thy brother's blood!” [131] But scarcely had the bread touched his lips, when his eyes fixed, the long warning symptoms were fulfilled. And he fell to the ground, under the table, sudden and heavy, smitten by the stroke of apoplexy.

Harold and Gurth sprang forward; they drew their father from the ground. His face, still deep-red with streaks of purple, rested on Harold's breast; and the son, kneeling, called in anguish on his father: the ear was deaf.

Then said the King, rising: ”It is the hand of G.o.d: remove him!” and he swept from the room, exulting.

CHAPTER V.

For five days and five nights did G.o.dwin lie speechless [132]. And Harold watched over him night and day. And the leaches [133] would not bleed him, because the season was against it, in the increase of the moon and the tides; but they bathed his temples with wheat flour boiled in milk, according to a prescription which an angel in a dream [134] had advised to another patient; and they placed a plate of lead on his breast, marked with five crosses, saying a paternoster over each cross; together with other medical specifics in great esteem [135]. But, nevertheless, five days and five nights did G.o.dwin lie speechless; and the leaches then feared that human skill was in vain.

The effect produced on the court, not more by the Earl's death-stroke than the circ.u.mstances preceding it, was such as defies description. With G.o.dwin's old comrades in arms it was simple and honest grief; but with all those under the influence of the priests, the event was regarded as a direct punishment from Heaven. The previous words of the King, repeated by Edward to his monks, circulated from lip to lip, with sundry exaggerations as it travelled: and the superst.i.tion of the day had the more excuse, inasmuch as the speech of G.o.dwin touched near upon the defiance of one of the most popular ordeals of the accused,-- viz. that called the ”corsned,” in which a piece of bread was given to the supposed criminal; if he swallowed it with ease he was innocent; if it stuck in his throat, or choked him, nay, if he shook and turned pale, he was guilty. G.o.dwin's words had appeared to invite the ordeal, G.o.d had heard and stricken down the presumptuous perjurer!

Unconscious, happily, of these attempts to blacken the name of his dying father, Harold, towards the grey dawn succeeding the fifth night, thought that he heard G.o.dwin stir in his bed. So he put aside the curtain, and bent over him. The old Earl's eyes were wide open, and the red colour had gone from his cheeks, so that he was pale as death.