Back went Hugues Maigrot, the monk, to William, and told the reply of
Harold to the Duke, in the presence of Lanfranc. William himself heard
it in gloomy silence, for Fitzosborne as yet had been wholly unsuccessful
in stirring up the Norman barons to an expedition so hazardous, in a
cause so doubtful; and though prepared for the defiance of Harold, the
Duke was not prepared with the means to enforce his threats and make good
his claim.
So great was his abstraction, that he suffered the Lombard to dismiss the
monk without a word spoken by him; and he was first startled from his
reverie by Lanfranc’s pale hand on his vast shoulder, and Lanfranc’s low
voice in his dreamy ear:
“Up! Hero of Europe: for thy cause is won! Up! and write with thy bold
characters, bold as if graved with the point of the sword, my credentials
to Rome. Let me depart ere the sun sets: and as I go, look on the
sinking orb, and behold the sun of the Saxon that sets evermore on
England!”
Then briefly, that ablest statesman of the age, (and forgive him, despite
our modern lights, we must; for, sincere son of the Church, he regarded
the violated oath of Harold as entailing the legitimate forfeiture of his
realm, and, ignorant of true political freedom, looked upon Church and
Learning as the only civilisers of men,) then, briefly, Lanfranc detailed
to the listening Norman the outline of the arguments by which he intended
to move the Pontifical court to the Norman side; and enlarged upon the
vast accession throughout all Europe which the solemn sanction of the
Church would bring to his strength. William’s reawaking and ready
intellect soon seized upon the importance of the object pressed upon him.
He interrupted the Lombard, drew pen and parchment towards him, and wrote
rapidly. Horses were harnessed, horsemen equipped in haste, and with no
unfitting retinue Lanfranc departed on the mission, the most important in
its consequences that ever passed from potentate to pontiff. [234]
Rebraced to its purpose by Lanfranc’s cheering assurances, the resolute,
indomitable soul of William now applied itself, night and day, to the
difficult task of rousing his haughty vavasours. Yet weeks passed before
he could even meet a select council composed of his own kinsmen and most
trusted lords. These, however, privately won over, promised to serve him
“with body and goods.” But one and all they told him, he must gain the
consent of the whole principality in a general council. That council was
convened: thither came not only lords and knights, but merchants and
traders,--all the rising middle class of a thriving state.
The Duke bared his wrongs, his claims, and his schemes. The assembly
would not or did not discuss the matter in his presence, they would not
be awed by its influence; and William retired from the hall. Various were
the opinions, stormy the debate; and so great the disorder grew, that
Fitzosborne, rising in the midst, exclaimed:
“Why this dispute?--why this unduteous discord? Is not William your
lord? Hath he not need of you? Fail him now--and, you know him well--by
G--- he will remember it! Aid him--and you know him well--large are his
rewards to service and love!”
Up rose at once baron and merchant; and when at last their spokesman was
chosen, that spokesman said: “William is our lord; is it not enough to
pay to our lord his dues? No aid do we owe beyond the seas! Sore
harassed and taxed are we already by his wars! Let him fail in this
strange and unparalleled hazard, and our land is undone!”
Loud applause followed this speech; the majority of the council were
against the Duke.
“Then,” said Fitzosborne, craftily, “I, who know the means of each man
present, will, with your leave, represent your necessities to your Count,
and make such modest offer of assistance as may please ye, yet not chafe
your liege.”
Into the trap of this proposal the opponents fell; and Fitzosborne, at
the head of the body, returned to William. The Lord of Breteuil
approached the dais, on which William sate alone, his great sword in his
hand, and thus spoke:
“My liege, I may well say that never prince has people more leal than
yours, nor that have more proved their faith and love by the burdens they
have borne and the monies they have granted.”
An universal murmur of applause followed these words. “Good! good!”
almost shouted the merchants especially. William’s brows met, and he
looked very terrible. The Lord of Breteuil gracefully waved his hand,
and resumed:
“Yea, my liege, much have they borne for your glory and need; much more
will they bear.”
The faces of the audience fell.
“Their service does not compel them to aid you beyond the seas.”
The faces of the audience brightened.
“But now they will aid you, in the land of the Saxon as in that of the
Frank.”
“How?” cried a stray voice or two.
“Hush, O gentilz amys. Forward, then, O my liege, and spare them in
nought. He who has hitherto supplied you with two good mounted soldiers,
will now grant you four; and he who--”
“No, no, no!” roared two-thirds of the assembly; “we charged you with no
such answer; we said not that, nor that shall it be!”
Out stepped a baron.
“Within this country, to defend it, we will serve our Count; but to aid
him to conquer another man’s country, no!”
Out stepped a knight.
“If once we rendered this double service, beyond seas as at home, it
would be held a right and a custom hereafter; and we should be as
mercenary soldiers, not free-born Normans.”
Out stepped a merchant.
“And we and our children would be burdened for ever to feed one man’s
ambition, whenever he saw a king to dethrone, or a realm to seize.”
And then cried a general chorus:
“‘t shall not be--it shall not!”
The assembly broke at once into knots of tens, twenties, thirties,
gesticulating and speaking aloud, like freemen in anger. And ere
William, with all his prompt dissimulation, could do more than smother
his rage, and sit griping his sword hilt, and setting his teeth, the
assembly dispersed.
Such were the free souls of the Normans under the greatest of their
chiefs; and had those souls been less free, England had not been enslaved
in one age, to become free again, God grant, to the end of time!