The Little Duke: Richard the Fearless by Charlotte M. Yonge (classic fiction .TXT) 📕

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?”

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 pass—”

“Hush, hush! 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 passion 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 God’s hands!”

Richard came and leant against her.  “I wish I had not been in a passion!” 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—”

“What would you say?” replied Osmond, and the head of another Frank appeared.  “What means all this, my friend?” was the address.  “Our King comes as a guest to you, and you received him last evening as loyal vassals.  Wherefore have you now drawn out of the way, and striven to bear off your young