THE NORMAN DUKE TRIES AGAIN.
William of Normandie sate in his gorgeous hall in the royal citadel of
Winchester: the proud crown of England was on his head, and the
jewelled sceptre in his hand, and knights, lords, and prelates stood in
his presence to do his every bidding, and to tell him that he was the
greatest of conquerors and sovereign princes; yet a cloud was on his
broad brow, and his face was sad and thoughtful.
“I am no king of England,” said he, “so long as this Hereward the Saxon
holds out against me or lives! This sceptre is a child’s plaything
unless I can drive the Saxons out of the Camp of Refuge!”
“The robbers and outlaws shall be driven out,” said Hugo of Grantmesnil.
“Hugo,” said the duke, “it is five years since thou first toldest me
that, and the camp seems stronger now than ever it was.”
“If it were not for the drowning waters, and the sinking bogs, and all
the abominations of those fens and forests, which are fit only for
Saxon hogs to wallow in, the deed were easy to do,” said Peter of
Blainville.
“Be it easy or be it hard,” quoth Duke William, “the deed must be done,
or we must all prepare to go back into Normandie, and give up all that
we have gotten! It bots us little to have bought off the greedy Dane;
for Philip of France, whom some do call my suzerain lord, is one that
will prefer conquest to money; and Philip is not only threatening my
dominions in Normandie, but is also leaguing with mine enemies in this
island; he is corresponding with the King of the Scots, and with Edgar
Etheling the Saxon, and guest and brother-in-law to the Scottish king;
and if this rebellion in the Fen-country be not soon suppressed, we may
soon count upon seeing a French army on the coast, and a Scottish army
marching through the north; and then the wild men will rush from the
mountains of Wales and invade us in the west, as they have done
aforetime; and thereupon will ensue a universal rising of the Saxon
people, who are nowhere half subdued. By the splendour! while these
things last I am no king!”
One of the Norman prelates lifted up his voice and asked, whether the
offer of a free pardon, and the promise of a large sum of money, would
not make Hereward the Saxon abandon the Saxon cause, and desert from
the Camp of Refuge?
“By Notre Dame of Bayeux!” said Bishop Odo, the warlike and always
fighting brother of Duke William, “by Notre Dame, and by my own sword
and soul, this young man Hereward is not like other men! He hath been
offered a free pardon, with possession of his lands, whether his by
marriage or by inheritance, and he hath been promised as much gold and
silver as would pay for a king’s ransom; and yet he hath rejected all
this with scorn, and hath vowed, by his uncouth Saxon saints, that so
long as a hundred men can be kept together in the Fen-country, he will
never submit, or cease his warfare against the Normans!”
“But that devil from beyond the Alps,” said the Norman prelate who had
spoken before, “that rebel to the house of Guiscard, that necromancer,
Girolamo of Salerno, is he not to be bought?”
“It hath been tried,” said Bishop Odo, “but to no effect. That Italian
devil is more athirst for Norman blood than is the Saxon devil. Before
he quitted his home and fled beyond seas to seek out new enemies to our
race, he gained a name which still makes the bravest of our Normans in
Italie say a _Libera nos_ when they utter it! We will burn him alive
when we catch him, but until that hour comes there is nothing to hope
and much to fear from him, for he hath given up his life and soul to
vengeance, and he hath more skill in the art of war, and is more versed
in the diabolical arts of magic, than any other man upon earth.”
“But what of the Saxon Abbat of Ely?” said the prelate who had before
spoken about the efficacy of bribes, “what of this Thurstan?”
“There is not a stubborner Saxon out of hell,” replied Odo, Bishop of
Bayeux; “he hath been tried long since. Thou mightest as well attempt
to bribe the raging sea! Thou mightest grill him on a gridiron like
Saint Lawrence, or tear him into small pieces with iron pincers like
Saint Agatha, and he would only curse us and our conquest, and pray for
the usurper Harold, whom the fools firmly believe to be alive!”
“But,” said the other prelate, “among the other clownish monks of Ely,
may there not be found a——”
“Peace!” said Duke William, “that hath been thought of already, and
perhaps something may come of it—that is, if ye be but silent and
discreet. Ye are all too loud-tongued, and overmuch given to talking;
and these walls, though raised by Norman hands, may yet have Saxon
ears! Retire we to the innermost council chamber.”
And William rose and withdrew to the innermost room, and those who had
the right followed, and the chamberlains closed the door and kept guard
on the outside, and the heavy door-curtains were drawn within so that
none might approach the door, and not even the chamberlains hear what
passed inside. That secret council lasted till a late hour of the
evening. The words which were said be not known, but the things
determined upon were made known but too soon. It was the eve of Saint
Mark the Evangelist, and, before the feast of Saint Bede the Venerable,
Duke William was again at Cam-Bridge, and with a far greater army and
train than he had sent thither the preceding year; and at the same time
a great fleet of ships and barks began to be prepared in the London
river. No more witches were sent for, but William called over many more
experienced warriors from France, and ordered barks to be equipped in
the rivers and ports of Normandie. The traitorous Dane had told him
that he must leave his war horses in their stalls, and think of ships
and boats, if he would drive the amphibious Saxons out of the
Fen-country.
While the banner of William floated over the Julius Tower, or Keep, on
the tall mound by Cam-Bridge, country hinds and labourers of all sorts,
and horses and draught oxen, and mules and asses too numerous to count,
were collected within the fortified camp; and again timber and stones
and burned bricks were brought from all parts of the land, and in
greater abundance than before. For several weeks nothing was heard but
the sawing of wood and the hewing and chipping of stone, and a loud and
incessant hammering. A stranger to the history and present woes of
England might have thought that the Normans were going to build a Tower
of Babel, or that, penitent for the mischief they had done, they were
going to rebuild the town at Cam-Bridge, in order to bring back the
affrighted muses, and the houseless professors of learning, and the
pining English students, to sumptuous inns and halls. In truth, there
seemed work and stuff enough to furnish out a great city altogether
new. But, upon a near view, a knowing eye would have seen that all this
toil was for the making of engines of war, of towers to place along the
causeway, of bridges to throw across the streams, and of other
ponderous machines to aid the Normans in crossing the fens, and in
carrying the horrors of war into the last asylum of Saxon liberty.
And while they travailed thus on the south side of the Isle of Ely
under the watchful and severe eye of Duke William, other Normans and
other Saxon serfs (poor slaves constrained to this unpalatable task)
laboured in the north under the eyes of various chiefs who had been
promised in fiefs all the lands which they should conquer. With such of
the ships and barks of the fleet as were first ready, a host was sent
up the Wash and up the fen waters as high as Wisbech; and these ships
carried with them good store of timber and other materials, and,
besides the soldiers, many good builders, who began forthwith to build
a causeway and a castle at Wisbech.[209] Thus threatened on both faces
of the Fen-country, Lord Hereward had much to do: but he flew from side
to side as the occasion called for his presence; and, with the aid of
Girolamo, that cunning man, and the willing and ready labour of the fen
people, he speedily built up another castle, partly of wood and partly
of earth and turves, to face the Norman’s castle at Wisbech, and to
render their causeway there of none avail: and is not the ruin of this
castle seen even in our day? And is it not called Castle Hereward? And
do not the now happy and peaceful fenners relate how many assaults, and
bickerings, and battles took place on the spot?
When his own preparations were well advanced on the side of the river
Cam, Duke William sent his half-brother Robert, whom he had made Earl
of Moreton, to take more ships and men, and go from the river Thamesis
to the Wash and the new castle at Wisbech, and there tarry quietly
until the day next after the Festival of Saint John the Baptist, when
he was to attack Castle Hereward with all his force, and press into the
Isle of Ely from the north, while he, the Duke, should be preparing to
invade the island from the south. But this Count Robert, being but a
gross and dull-witted man, did not comprehend all the meaning of his
orders, and because he reached Wisbech Castle sooner than had been
expected, and got all ready to fight two days before Saint John’s Day,
he needs must fall on at once. Now the Lord of Brunn, with one eye upon
Count Robert and one upon Duke William, gathered great force to a head
at Castle Hereward, beat the dull-witted man, slew with the edge of the
sword or drove into the fens more than half his knights and
men-at-arms, set the new castle at Wisbech in a blaze, and burned a
good part of it, and was back at Ely and with the Saxon army in the
great camp before Count Robert had recovered from his amaze, and long
before Duke William could learn anything of the matter. And so it
chanced that when, on the day next after Saint John’s Day, Duke William
moved with his mighty host and machines of war from the castle at
Cam-Bridge towards the Camp of Refuge, in the full belief that the
attention of the Saxons would be all distracted, and that Hereward,
their great leader, would be away on the shores of the Wash and hotly
engaged with Count Robert, the bold Lord of Brunn had his eye solely
upon him, and with men elate with victory was watching his approach,
even as he had long been watching and preparing for it. The broken old
road[210] was repaired, and the now diminished streams were made
passable by means of the wooden bridges which the Norman soldiers
carried or caused to be carried with them, and by throwing down stones,
and timber, and bricks, and dry earth in strong wooden frames, Duke
William, after three days of cruel labour and toils which killed many
of his people, got within sight of the deep waters of Ely, and caught a
distant view of the Witchford, where his Norman witch had crossed over.
But the ford was now guarded by a double castle, or double fort; the
one on this side of the stream, and the other on that; and the farther
bank and the plain beyond it seemed, as the duke approached a little
nearer, to be covered with a Saxon army, and with trophies taken from
the Normans. Onward, however, he went until he saw the banner of his
half-brother Count Robert held out over the wooden walls of the Saxons;
but then he understood full well what had befallen his people at
Wisbech; and so, like the persevering and prudent commander that he
was, he ordered an immediate retreat. But it passed his skill and his
might to conduct this retreat in a safe and orderly manner; the Normans
got confused, and Hereward, crossing at the ford, charged through thick
and thin, through bog and dry ground, and along the temporary causeway
which had been made: the bridges of wood broke down under excess of
weight; Duke William himself fell into deep water and was nearly
drowned, and many of his people were wholly drowned or smothered, while
many more were slain by the sword or taken prisoners. And still the
bold Saxons, as they followed, shouted “Hereward for England! Stop,
thou Bastard William! Thou art running as fast as thy brother Robert
ran from Castle Hereward!”
After this misadventure Duke William judged more favourably of the
conduct of his many commanders who had failed in the same enterprise;
and seeing all the difficulties of the war, and the inexhaustible
resources of that cunning captain, the Lord of Brunn, he called a
council in the castle at Cam-Bridge, and there determined to try no
more battles and assaults, but to rely solely upon a close blockade of
the Isle of Ely. Forthwith orders were sent to all the commanders of
posts round the Fen-country (the dull-witted Count Robert was recalled
from Wisbech, and an abler captain sent to that vicinage) to strengthen
themselves in their several positions by building towers and walls, and
digging trenches, and by increasing the numbers of their men-at-arms;
but at the same time they were strictly commanded to make no movement
beyond the limits of their defensive works, however great the
temptation to attack the Saxons might be. The great fleet so long
collecting in the river Thamesis, and which was in good part composed
of English vessels which the Danes had captured and then sold to Duke
William, was sent round the coast well filled with fighting men, and
piloted by some of those Danish mariners and sea rovers who knew so
well all the bays and rivers on this eastern coast; and by the end of
the month of July, or a little before the Feast of Saint Ethelwold,
every station on the coast, from the mouth of the Orwell to the broader
mouth of the river Humber, was watched and guarded, and every estuary,
river, or creek that gave egress from the Fen-country was blocked up by
ships and barks, in such sort that the Saxons in the Camp of Refuge
could no longer have any communication with the sea, or with the
countries beyond the sea, from whence they had been wont to draw arms
and munitions of war, and corn, wines, and oil, and other supplies. By
the same means all aid and friendly intercourse were completely cut
off; the good Saxons dwelling in a sort of independence on the northern
shores of England, and the good Englishmen that had fled into Scotland,
could no longer send their barks up the Wash and the Ouse with
provisions and comfort for the house of Ely and the Camp; and thus the
whole Isle of Ely was cut off, by land and by water, from all the rest
of the world, and was girded by a mighty chain, the links of which
seemed every day to grow stronger.
Many were the bold essays which the Lord of Brunn made to break up this
blockade. Twice, descending the Ouse, or the Welland, with the barks he
had stationed at Ely, and near to Spalding, he defeated and drove away
the enemy’s ships, and burned some of them with that unquenchable fire
which the Salernitan knew how to make; but after these actions the
Normans and their shipmen became more watchful and cautious, keeping
outside of the mouths of the rivers, and continuing to increase their
force; for other ships and barques, both great and small, came over
from Normandie, and others were hired for this service among the
sea-dwelling Netherlanders, who seemed evermore disposed to serve
whatever faction could pay them best. And alas! the Normans had now
their hands in the great and ever-filling treasury of broad England,
and the true sons of England, whether at Ely or in the Camp, had no
longer any gold or silver! or any means of sending forth that which can
bring back money or the money’s worth. Horned cattle had they still in
some abundance, nor was there, as yet, any scarcity in sheep, or in
wool, or in hides; but of corn to make the bread, which is the staff of
life, and of wine, which maketh glad the heart of man, was there little
or none left in this part of the land; forasmuch as that the
Fen-country did not grow much corn at any season, and the last season
had been one of dearth, and only a few butts of wine had been brought
over since the departure of the Danes, owing to the lack of money above
mentioned. Those sea-rovers, having drunk almost the last drop of wine
as well as carried off the last treasures of the house, had greatly
disheartened and troubled many of the monks of Ely, and murmurs, and
censures, and base thoughts now began to rise among several of the
cloister-monks who, down to this evil time, had been the steadiest
friends of the Lord Abbat, Thurstan. Truly, truly, their trial was
hard, and difficult for true Saxon stomachs to bear! The octaves of
Saint John had come and passed without anything that could be called a
feast: on the day of Saint Joseph of Arimathea they had no wine to
drink, and on the day of that high Saxon saint, Osevald, king and
martyr, they had no bread to eat with their roast meats. These were sad
things to a brotherhood that had been wont to fare so well, and whose
feasts, it hath been said by our old poet (a monk of the house), were
as superior to the feasts of all the other monasteries of England as
day is superior to night:—
Prævisis aliis, Eliensia festa videre
Est, quasi prævisâ nocte, videre diem.
Yet the bountiful Abbat Thurstan, who had given the best feasts of all
that the house had ever known, and who loved as much as any man to see
the drinking-horn go round, kept up his good spirit without wine—it
was sustained by his generous love of country and liberty!—and he
reasoned well with those he heard murmur, and yet held out to them the
prospect of better times when corn should come in from the upland
country in abundance, and good wine from beyond-sea.
If want began to be felt among the monks of Ely, it is not to be
believed but that it was felt still more sharply among the Saxon
fighting men collected in the Camp of Refuge. But the stomachs of these
warriors were not so dainty as the stomachs of the monks, and the
commonalty of them, being accustomed to fare hard before now, made no
complaint. Alas, no! It was not through the malecontent of these rude
men, nor through these lay stomachs, but through the malice and
gluttony of cloister-monks, that the sanctuary was violated.
The Lord of Brunn having emptied his own granaries and cellars for the
behoof of the house at Ely, made sundry very desperate forays, breaking
through the Norman chain of posts, and going far in the upland country
in search of supplies, and risking his noble life, more than once, for
nought but a sack of wheat, or a cask of ale, or a firkin of mead.
While the blockade was as yet young, a few devout pilgrims, who would
not be shut out from the shrines of the Saxon saints at Ely, nor fail
to offer up their little annual offerings, and a few sturdy friends who
knew the straits to which the monks were about to be reduced, eluded
the vigilance of the Normans, and found their way, through those mazes
of waters and labyrinths of woods, to the abbey, and carried with them
some small supplies: but as time went on and the force of the Normans
increased as well by land as by water, these hazardous journeys were
stopped, and divers of the poor Saxons were caught, and were then
pitilessly hanged as rebels and traitors; and then a law was banded
that every man, woman, or child, that attempted to go through the
Fen-country, either to Ely Abbey or the Camp of Refuge, would be hanged
or crucified. But, alack! real traitors to their country were
afterwards allowed to pass the Norman posts, and go on to Ely Abbey,
and it was through their agency and the representations of some of the
Normans that were taken prisoners in war and carried to the monastery,
that the envious prior, and the chamberlain, and the cellarer, and the
rest of that foul faction were emboldened to raise their voice publicly
against the good Abbat, and to lay snares in the path of the Lord of
Brunn. Now the same troubles arose out of the same causes in Crowland
Abbey, where sundry of the cloister monks began to say that since they
could get no bread and wine it were best to make terms with the Norman
Abbat of Peterborough (that Torauld of Fescamp who had been released
upon ransom, and was again making himself terrible), give up the cause
of Lord Hereward, who had restored them to their house, and had given
up wealth and honours abroad to come and serve his country, and submit
like peaceable subjects to _King_ William, whose power was too great to
be any longer disputed. But here, at Crowland, these things were for a
long time said in great secrecy, and whispered in the dormitories by
night. It was the same in the succursal cell at Spalding; and the
coming danger was the greater from the secrecy and mystery of the
traitorous part of these communities. Father Adhelm, the good prior of
Spalding, knew of no danger, and could believe in no treachery until
the Philistines were upon him; and it was mainly owing to this his
security, and to his representations of the safety of that corner of
the fens, that the Lord of Brunn sent his wife and infant son,[211]
with maid Mildred and other women, to dwell in the strong manor-house
at Spalding, which belonged to the Ladie Lucia, wife of Ivo
Taille-Bois, and cousin to the Ladie Alftrude. The Camp of Refuge and
the town of Ely had not, for some time past, been fitting
abiding-places for ladies and delicate children; but now the Normans
were closing in their line of blockade on that side, and, although they
meant it not, they seemed to be on the eve of making a desperate
assault on the Camp, having, with incredible labour, laid down under
the eyes and with the direction of Duke William, another causeway,
which was far broader and more solid than any of the others, and which
ran across the fens towards the waters of Ely for the distance of two
well-measured miles. It was Elfric that commanded the party which gave
convoy to the Ladie Alftrude; and well we wot he wished the journey had
been a longer one: yet when his duty was done, and the whole party
safely lodged in the battlemented and moated house at Spalding, he
quitted maid Mildred, though with something of a heavy heart, and
hastened back to join his toil-oppressed master. And careworn and
toil-oppressed indeed was now that joyous and frank-hearted Lord of
Brunn, for he had to think of everything, and to provide for
everything; and save in Girolamo the Salernitan, and Elfric his
armour-bearer, he had but few ready-witted men to aid him in his
increasing difficulties. Nevertheless, the defences at the Witchford
were strengthened, numerous trenches and canals were dug to render the
Witch plain impassable, even if the river should be crossed, and bands
of Saxons, armed with bows, bills, pole-axes, swords, and clubs, or
long fen-poles, were kept on the alert by night as well as by day, to
march to any point which the Normans might attack.
Now, we have said it, William the Norman was a great and cunning
commander (ye might have searched through the world at that time, and
have found none greater!), and being thus skilled, and having a
fearless heart withal, and a sort of lion magnanimity, he was proper to
judge of the skill of other captains, and not incapable of admiring and
lauding that skill even in an enemy. And as from his causeway (even as
from a ship in the midst of the waters) he watched the defences which
Hereward raised, and all the rapid and wise movements he made, he
ofttimes exclaimed, “By the splendour! this Saxon is a right cunning
captain! It were worth half a realm could I win him over to my service.
But, O Hereward, since thou wilt not submit, thou must perish in thy
pride through hunger, or in the meshes which I am spreading for thee.”