silken ears; now tickling the large cushions of their feet with the end of one of Osmond's feathers; now fairly pulling open the eyes of one of the good-natured sleepy creatures, which only stretched its legs, and remonstrated with a sort of low groan, rather than a growl. The boy's eyes were, all the time, intently fixed on Dame Astrida, as if he would not lose one word of the story she was telling him; how Earl Rollo, his grandfather, had sailed into the mouth of the Seine, and how Archbishop Franco, of Rouen, had come to meet him and brought him the keys of the town, and how not one Neustrian of Rouen had met with harm from the brave Northmen. Then she told him of his grandfather's baptism, and how during the seven days that he wore his white baptismal robes, he had made large gifts to all the chief churches in his dukedom of Normandy.
'Oh, but tell of the paying homage!' said Richard; 'and how Sigurd Bloodaxe threw down simple King Charles! Ah! how would I have laughed to see it!'
'Nay, nay, Lord Richard,' said the old lady, 'I love not that tale. That was ere the Norman learnt courtesy, and rudeness ought rather to be forgotten than remembered, save for the sake of amending it. No, I will rather tell you of our coming to Centeville, and how dreary I thought these smooth meads, and broad soft gliding streams, compared with mine own father's fiord in Norway, shut in with the tall black rocks, and dark pines above them, and far away the snowy mountains rising into the sky. Ah! how blue the waters were in the long summer days when I sat in my father's boat in the little fiord, and--'
Dame Astrida was interrupted. A bugle note rang out at the castle gate; the dogs started to their feet, and uttered a sudden deafening bark; Osmond sprung up, exclaiming, 'Hark!' and trying to silence the hounds; and Richard running to Sir Eric, cried, 'Wake, wake, Sir Eric, my father is come! Oh, haste to open the gate, and admit him.'
'Peace, dogs!' said Sir Eric, slowly rising, as the blast of the horn was repeated. 'Go, Osmond, with the porter, and see whether he who comes at such an hour be friend or foe. Stay you here, my Lord,' he added, as Richard was running after Osmond; and the little boy obeyed, and stood still, though quivering all over with impatience.
'Tidings from the Duke, I should guess,' said Fru Astrida. 'It can scarce be himself at such an hour.'
'Oh, it must be, dear Fru Astrida!' said Richard. 'He said he would come again. Hark, there are horses' feet in the court! I am sure that is his black charger's tread! And I shall not be there to hold his stirrup! Oh! Sir Eric, let me go.'
Sir Eric, always a man of few words, only shook his head, and at that moment steps were heard on the stone stairs. Again Richard was about to spring forward, when Osmond returned, his face showing, at a glance, that something was amiss; but all that he said was, 'Count Bernard of Harcourt, and Sir Rainulf de Ferrieres,' and he stood aside to let them pass.
Richard stood still in the midst of the hall, disappointed. Without greeting to Sir Eric, or to any within the hall, the Count of Harcourt came forward to Richard, bent his knee before him, took his hand, and said with a broken voice and heaving breast, 'Richard, Duke of Normandy, I am thy liegeman and true vassal;' then rising from his knees while Rainulf de Ferrieres went through the same form, the old man covered his face with his hands and wept aloud.
'Is it even so?' said the Baron de Centeville; and being answered by a mournful look and sigh from Ferrieres, he too bent before the boy, and repeated the words, 'I am thy liegeman and true vassal, and swear fealty to thee for my castle and barony of Centeville.'
'Oh, no, no!' cried Richard, drawing back his hand in a sort of agony, feeling as if he was in a frightful dream from which he could not awake. 'What means it? Oh! Fru Astrida, tell me what means it? Where is my father?'
'Alas, my child!' said the old lady, putting her arm round him, and drawing him close to her, whilst her tears flowed fast, and Richard stood, reassured by her embrace, listening with eyes open wide, and deep oppressed breathing, to what was passing between the four nobles, who spoke earnestly among themselves, without much heed of him.
'The Duke dead!' repeated Sir Eric de Centeville, like one stunned and stupefied.
'Even so,' said Rainulf, slowly and sadly, and the silence was only broken by the long-drawn sobs of old Count Bernard.
'But how? when? where?' broke forth Sir Eric, presently. 'There was no note of battle when you went forth. Oh, why was not I at his side?'
'He fell not in battle,' gloomily replied Sir Rainulf.
'Ha! could sickness cut him down so quickly?'
'It was not sickness,' answered Ferrieres. 'It was treachery. He fell in the Isle of Pecquigny, by the hand of the false Fleming!'
'Lives the traitor yet?' cried the Baron de Centeville, grasping his good sword.
'He lives and rejoices in his crime,' said Ferrieres, 'safe in his own merchant towns.'
'I can scarce credit you, my Lords!' said Sir Eric. 'Our Duke slain, and his enemy safe, and you here to tell the tale!'
'I would I were stark and stiff by my Lord's side!' said Count Bernard, 'but for the sake of Normandy, and of that poor child, who is like to need all that ever were friends to his house. I would that mine eyes had been blinded for ever, ere they had seen that sight! And not a sword lifted in his defence! Tell you how it passed, Rainulf! My tongue will not speak it!'
He threw himself on a bench and covered his face with his mantle, while Rainulf de Ferrieres proceeded: 'You know how in an evil hour our good Duke appointed to meet this caitiff, Count of Flanders, in the Isle of Pecquigny, the Duke and Count each bringing twelve men with them, all unarmed. Duke Alan of Brittany was one on our side, Count Bernard here another, old Count Bothon and myself; we bore no weapon--would that we had--but not so the false Flemings. Ah me! I shall never forget Duke William's lordly presence when he stepped ashore, and doffed his bonnet to the knave Arnulf.'
'Yes,' interposed Bernard. 'And marked you not the words of the traitor, as they met? 'My Lord,' quoth he, 'you are my shield and defence.' {6} Would that I could cleave his treason-hatching skull with my battle-axe.'
'So,' continued Rainulf, 'they conferred together, and as words cost nothing to Arnulf, he not only promised all restitution to the paltry Montreuil, but even was for offering to pay homage to our Duke for Flanders itself; but this our William refused, saying it were foul wrong to both King Louis of France, and Kaiser Otho of Germany, to take from them their vassal. They took leave of each other in all courtesy, and we embarked again. It was Duke William's pleasure to go alone in a small boat, while we twelve were together in another. Just as we had nearly reached our own bank, there was a shout from the Flemings that their Count had somewhat further to say to the Duke, and forbidding us to follow him, the Duke turned his boat and went back again. No sooner had he set foot on the isle,' proceeded the Norman, clenching his hands, and speaking between his teeth, 'than we saw one Fleming strike him on the head with an oar; he fell senseless, the rest threw themselves upon him, and the next moment held up their bloody daggers in scorn at us! You may well think how we shouted and yelled at them, and plied our oars like men distracted, but all in vain, they were already in their boats, and ere we could even reach the isle, they were on the other side of the river, mounted their horses, fled with coward speed, and were out of reach of a Norman's vengeance.'
'But they shall not be so long!' cried Richard, starting forward; for to his childish fancy this dreadful history was more like one of Dame Astrida's legends than a reality, and at the moment his thought was only of the blackness of the treason. 'Oh, that I were a man to chastise them! One day they shall feel--'
He broke off short, for he remembered how his father had forbidden his denunciations of vengeance, but his words were eagerly caught up by the Barons, who, as Duke William had said, were far from possessing any temper of forgiveness, thought revenge a duty, and were only glad to see a warlike spirit in their new Prince.
'Ha! say you so, my young Lord?' exclaimed old Count Bernard, rising. 'Yes, and I see a sparkle in your eye that tells me you will one day avenge him nobly!'
Richard drew up his head, and his heart throbbed high as Sir Eric made answer, 'Ay, truly, that will he! You might search Normandy through, yea, and Norway likewise, ere you would find a temper more bold and free. Trust my word, Count Bernard, our young Duke will be famed as widely as ever were his forefathers!'
'I believe it well!' said Bernard. 'He hath the port of his grandfather, Duke Rollo, and much, too, of his noble father! How say you, Lord Richard, will you be a valiant leader of the Norman race against our foes?'
'That I will!' said Richard, carried away by the applause excited by those few words of his. 'I will ride at your head this very night if you will but go to chastise the false Flemings.'
