The Little Duke by Charlotte Mary Yonge (snow like ashes TXT) 📕

keep that last injunction.

 

CONCLUSION

 

Years had passed away. The oaths of Louis, and promises of Lothaire,

had been broken; and Arnulf of Flanders, the murderer of Duke

William, had incited them to repeated and treacherous inroads on

Normandy; so that Richard’s life, from fourteen to five or six-and-twenty, had been one long war in defence of his country. But it had

been a glorious war for him, and his gallant deeds had well earned

for him the title of “Richard the Fearless”—a name well deserved;

for there was but one thing he feared, and that was, to do wrong.

 

By and by, success and peace came; and then Arnulf of Flanders,

finding open force would not destroy him, three times made attempts

to assassinate him, like his father, by treachery. But all these had

failed; and now Richard had enjoyed many years of peace and honour,

whilst his enemies had vanished from his sight.

 

King Louis was killed by a fall from his horse; Lothaire died in

early youth, and in him ended the degenerate line of Charlemagne;

Hugh Capet, the son of Richard’s old friend, Hugh the White, was on

the throne of France, his sure ally and brother-in-law, looking to

him for advice and aid in all his undertakings.

 

Fru Astrida and Sir Eric had long been in their quiet graves; Osmond

and Alberic were among Richard’s most trusty councillors and

warriors; Abbot Martin, in extreme old age, still ruled the Abbey of

Jumieges, where Richard, like his father, loved to visit him, hold

converse with him, and refresh himself in the peaceful cloister,

after the affairs of state and war.

 

And Richard himself was a grey-headed man, of lofty stature and

majestic bearing. His eldest son was older than he had been himself

when he became the little Duke, and he had even begun to remember his

father’s project, of an old age to be spent in retirement and peace.

 

It was on a summer eve, that Duke Richard sat beside the white-bearded old Abbot, within the porch, looking at the sun shining with

soft declining beams on the arches and columns. They spoke together

of that burial at Rouen, and of the silver key; the Abbot delighting

to tell, over and over again, all the good deeds and good sayings of

William Longsword.

 

As they sat, a man, also very old and shrivelled and bent, came up to

the cloister gate, with the tottering, feeble step of one pursued

beyond his strength, coming to take sanctuary.

 

“What can be the crime of one so aged and feeble?” said the Duke, in

surprise.

 

At the sight of him, a look of terror shot from the old man’s eye.

He clasped his hands together, and turned as if to flee; then,

finding himself incapable of escape, he threw himself on the ground

before him.

 

“Mercy, mercy! noble, most noble Duke!” was all he said.

 

“Rise up—kneel not to me. I cannot brook this from one who might be

my father,” said Richard, trying to raise him; but at those words the

old man groaned and crouched lower still.

 

“Who art thou?” said the Duke. “In this holy place thou art secure,

be thy deed what it may. Speak!—who art thou?”

 

“Dost thou not know me?” said the suppliant. “Promise mercy, ere

thou dost hear my name.”

 

“I have seen that face under a helmet,” said the Duke. “Thou art

Arnulf of Flanders!”

 

There was a deep silence.

 

“And wherefore art thou here?”

 

“I delayed to own the French King Hugh. He has taken my towns and

ravaged my lands. Each Frenchman and each Norman vows to slay me, in

revenge for your wrongs, Lord Duke. I have been driven hither and

thither, in fear of my life, till I thought of the renown of Duke

Richard, not merely the most fearless, but the most merciful of

Princes. I sought to come hither, trusting that, when the holy

Father Abbot beheld my bitter repentance, he would intercede for me

with you, most noble Prince, for my safety and forgiveness. Oh,

gallant Duke, forgive and spare!”

 

“Rise up, Arnulf,” said Richard. “Where the hand of the Lord hath

stricken, it is not for man to exact his own reckoning. My father’s

death has been long forgiven, and what you may have planned against

myself has, by the blessing of Heaven, been brought to nought. From

Normans at least you are safe; and it shall be my work to ensure your

pardon from my brother the King. Come into the refectory: you need

refreshment. The Lord Abbot makes you welcome.” {17}

 

Tears of gratitude and true repentance choked Arnulf’s speech, and he

allowed himself to be raised from the ground, and was forced to

accept the support of the Duke’s arm.

 

The venerable Abbot slowly rose, and held up his hand in an attitude

of blessing: “The blessing of a merciful God be upon the sinner who

turneth from his evil way; and ten thousand blessings of pardon and

peace are already on the head of him who hath stretched out his hand

to forgive and aid him who was once his most grievous foe!”

 

Footnotes:

 

{1} Richard’s place of education was Bayeaux; for, as Duke William

says in the rhymed Chronicle of Normandy, -

 

“Si a Roem le faz garder

E norir, gaires longement

Il ne saura parlier neiant

Daneis, kar nul n l’i parole.

Si voil qu’il seit a tele escole

Qu l’en le sache endoctriner

Que as Daneis sache parler.

Ci ne sevent riens fors Romanz

Mais a Baieux en a tanz

Qui ne sevent si Daneis non.”

 

{2} Bernard was founder of the family of Harcourt of Nuneham.

Ferrieres, the ancestor of that of Ferrars.

 

{3} In the same Chronicle, William Longsword directs that, -

 

“Tant seit apris qu’il lise un bref

Kar ceo ne li ert pas trop gref.”

 

{4} Hako of Norway was educated by Ethelstane of England. It was

Foulques le Bon, the contemporary Count of Anjou, who, when derided

by Louis IV. for serving in the choir of Tours, wrote the following

retort: “The Count of Anjou to the King of France. Apprenez,

Monseigneur, qu’un roi sans lettres est une ane couronne.”

 

{5} The Banner of Normandy was a cross till William the Conqueror

adopted the lion.

 

{6} “Sire, soies mon escus, soies mes defendemens.”

Histoire des Ducs de Normandie (MICHEL).

 

{7} The Cathedral was afterwards built by Richard himself.

 

{8} Sus le maistre autel del iglise

Li unt sa feaute juree.

 

{9} Une clef d’argent unt trovee

A sun braiol estreit noee.

Tout la gent se merveillont

Que cete clef signifiont.

Ni la cuoule e l’estamine

En aveit il en un archete,

Que disfermeront ceste clavete

De sol itant ert tresorier

Kar nul tresor n’vait plus cher.

 

The history of the adventures of Jumieges is literally true, as is

Martin’s refusal to admit the Duke to the cloister:-

 

Dun ne t’a Deus mis e pose

Prince gardain de sainte iglise

E cur tenir leial justise.

 

{10} An attack, in which Riouf, Vicomte du Cotentin, placed Normandy

in the utmost danger. He was defeated on the banks of the Seine, in

a field still called the “Pre de Battaille,” on the very day of

Richard’s birth; so that the Te Deum was sung at once for the victory

and the birth of the heir of Normandy.

 

{11} “Biaus Segnors, vees chi vo segneur, je ne le vous voel tolir,

mais je estoie venus en ceste ville, prendre consel a vous, comment

je poroie vengier la mort son pere, qui me rapiela d’Engletiere. Il

me fist roi, il me fist avoir l’amour le roi d’Alemaigne, il leva mon

fil de fons, il me fist toz les biens, et jou en renderai au fill le

guerredon se je puis.”—MICHEL.

 

{12} In a battle fought with Lothaire at Charmenil, Richard saved

the life of Walter the huntsman, who had been with him from his

youth.

 

{13} At fourteen years of age, Richard was betrothed to Eumacette of

Paris, then but eight years old. In such esteem did Hugues la Blanc

hold his son-in-law, that, on his death-bed, he committed his son

Hugues Capet to his guardianship, though the Duke was then scarcely

above twenty, proposing him as the model of wisdom and of chivalry.

 

{14} “Osmons, qui l’enfant enseognoit l’eu mena i jour en riviere,

et quant il revint, la reine Gerberge dist que se il jamais

l’enmenait fors des murs, elle li ferait les jeix crever.”—MICHEL.

 

{15} “Gules, two wings conjoined in lure, or,” is the original coat

of St. Maur, or Seymour, said to be derived from Osmond de

Centeville, who assumed them in honour of his flight with Duke

Richard. His direct descendants in Normandy were the Marquises of

Osmond, whose arms were gules, two wings ermine. In 1789 there were

two survivors of the line of Centeville, one a Canon of Notre Dame,

the other a Chevalier de St. Louis, who died childless.

 

{16} Harald of Norway, who made a vow never to trim his hair till he

had made himself sole king of the country. The war lasted ten years,

and he thus might well come to deserve the title of Horrid-locks,

which was changed to that of Harfagre, or fair-haired, when he

celebrated his final victory, by going into a bath at More, and

committing his shaggy hair to be cut and arranged by his friend Jarl

Rognwald, father of Rollo.

 

{17} Richard obtained for Arnulf the restitution of Arras, and

several other Flemish towns. He died eight years afterwards, in 996,

leaving several children, among whom his daughter Emma is connected

with English history, by her marriage, first, with Ethelred the

Unready, and secondly, with Knute, the grandson of his firm friend

and ally, Harald Blue-tooth. His son was Richard, called the Good;

his grandson, Robert the Magnificent; his great-grandson, William the

Conqueror, who brought the Norman race to England. Few names in

history shine with so consistent a lustre as that of Richard; at

first the little Duke, afterwards Richard aux longues jambes, but

always Richard sans peur. This little sketch has only brought

forward the perils of his childhood, but his early manhood was

likewise full of adventures, in which he always proved himself brave,

honourable, pious, and forbearing. But for these our readers must

search for themselves into early French history, where all they will

find concerning our hero will only tend to exalt his character.

 

End of the Project Gutenberg eText The Little Duke