THE BRIDE-ALE.
The festivities of the days preceding the wedding had no special
incidents to mark them as more worthy of note than a hundred such which
have been described in history and romance, but the wedding-day itself
left its mark on time, and has been recorded as of woeful bearing on
the destinies of the many who partook of its good cheer, by chroniclers
contemporary and modern.
The ceremonies observed at the marriage were after the Anglo-Saxon
fashions, and Ralph de Guader himself wore the Saxon garb: a tunic of
saffron silk reaching to the knee, with a border round the neck and hem
of embroidery in gold thread, edged with ermine, and fastened at the
waist with a wide belt of highly-wrought goldsmith's work set with
jewels; suspended from this a short sword, hilted with gold-inlaid
ivory, and a fierce-looking hunting-knife no less richly embellished.
On his shoulders a short scarlet cloak lined with ermine, and fastened
by a band across the chest of similar work and design to the baldric,
having at each extremity a round clasp of Danish filigree, much raised
in the centre, where a splendid ruby repeated the red of the cloak.
Stockings of scarlet cloth, cross-gartered with golden braid, and short
brown leather boots, the heels armed with the golden spurs of
knighthood, completed his apparel.
His earl's coronet was embedded in the crisp dark curls of his
close-cropped hair, which, to have been in keeping with his dress,
should have been long enough to lie upon his shoulders, and the colour
of tow; and, to say truth, his swart countenance was still less in
character. Yet from an aesthetic point of view the costume was
sufficiently becoming, and the personal appearance of the bridegroom
drew forth a full share of praise from the noble dames and damsels who
graced the day with their presence, for he looked strikingly handsome,
flushed as he was with excitement, his face animated, and his keen eyes
flashing.
The policy of adopting it was another question. Many of the English
nobles and knights, whom it was intended to flatter, rather resented
his assumption of their national garb as a mockery and insult, after
the part he had borne in helping to crush their cause and help the
Conqueror to the throne, while the Normans and Bretons were offended by
it.
The guest in whose honour he had chiefly assumed it, Waltheof, Earl of
Northumberland, Northampton, and Huntingdon, wore a similar garb with
all the ease of custom and grace of habit, and looked in very truth an
English prince. Tall, broad-chested, brawny-armed, his long light hair
hanging in shining curls upon his shoulders, his strong wrists circled
with many bracelets, hands, arms, and neck covered with blue
tattoo-marks, he stood by the East Anglian earl with a pleasant smile
on his ruddy face and in his sleepy blue eyes. 'This earle Walteof or
Waldene,' says Holinshed, 'was sonne (as ye haue heard) to Siward the
noble earle of Northumberland, of whose valure in the time of K. Edward
the confessor ye haue heard. His son, the aforesaid Walteof, in
strength of bodie and hardinesse did not degenerate from his father,
for he was tall of personage, in sinews and musculs verie strong and
mighty. In the slaughter of the Normans at Yorke, he showed proofe of
his prowesse in striking off the heads of manie of them with his owne
hands, as they came forth of the gates singlie one by one.'
But this doughty hero, this son of Siward and AEthelflaed, whom the
Northern scalds celebrated in their sagas, and who claimed relationship
to the kings of Denmark and descent from the Fairy Bear,--the great
white bear, the hound of Hrymir, who was credited with twelve men's
strength and eleven men's wit by the Norsemen,--was not so strong of
mind as of body; the 'eleven men's wit' of his ursine ancestor had not
come down to him. He had not the indomitable spirit of Harold
Godwinsson or Hereward Leofricsson, and he succumbed to the finer brain
of the Norman general. He had done homage to William, and had accepted
the hand of William's niece Judith, daughter of the Conqueror's own
sister Adelaide, and grand-daughter of Robert the Devil and Arlete of
Falaise, and, in return, the earldom which had been wrested from him
was restored--the Northumbrian portion of it, at least, a barren waste
by fire and sword.
It was whispered that he hated his foreign wife, that she henpecked him
cruelly, and was but a spy set to watch all his actions. Some thought
the marriage, instead of binding him to William's interest, would prove
his strongest incentive to revolt.
However that might be, Judith appeared at Exning with an almost royal
following, and was to fill the honourable position of 'bride-woman,' as
the matron who in those days gave the bride away was then styled, and
whose place is now held by the nearest male relative. Another change
has taken place in marriage ceremonial. Then it was the duty of the
bridemaids to lead the bridegroom to the altar instead of following the
bride, and Ralph de Guader was preceded by a bevy of fair damsels, of
whom Eadgyth of Norwich was the chief, while the bride was conducted by
a party of handsome young bride-knights, almost as bravely attired as
the groom himself.
Emma Fitzosbern still clung to the Norman fashions, and wore a
tight-fitting kirtle of pale green samite, embroidered all over with
silver thread and pearls; a silver girdle passing diagonally round the
hips, richly gemmed with emeralds, from which hung a gipsire of like
material. A long underskirt of salmon silk fell to her feet and trailed
upon the ground behind her. Her little pointed boots were of green
samite, wrought with silver, and a splendid embroidered mantle, in
which the colours of the kirtle and skirt were subtly blended, hung
from her shoulders, and was held up by two little page boys. Her auburn
hair flowed over the mantle, and was bound by a silver fillet, fastened
in front with one large emerald. Over face and figure fell a veil of
delicate Cyprian crape, flowered with silver thread.
Green signified youth, and salmon or flesh colour typified earthly joy.
Her beautiful costume had been designed for her by no less a person
than her uncle, the Bishop of Exeter, who was pleased to emulate St.
Dunstan by designing a lady's dress.
Judith, her bride-woman, on whose arm she leant, wore a robe of rich
red samite heavy with gold, and ostentatiously Norman in style. Her
tall, stately figure was as straight as an arrow, and made a splendid
foil to the shrinking form of the bride.
Her clear-cut, cold features and sparkling steel-blue eyes wore a
sarcastic and critical expression, but she acted her part with a grace
and courtesy which the many who longed to pass adverse criticisms on
_her_ could not but admit to be perfect.
Emma felt a strong repugnance to her kinswoman, the more so perhaps
that Judith's features and eyes reminded her of the king she was
defying, and every time she met their glance, a thrill of dread and
foreboding passed through her heart.
The wedding procession was preceded to the church by a dozen Saxon
scops or bards, who sung each to the sound of his cruit, a harp having
five strings, yet affording a very sweet music, and by esquires and
pages strewing flowers; and the guests were led by Earls Waltheof and
Hereford, the latter with his young countess on his arm.
The little church at Exning would not have contained so great a
company, but the fashion in those days was for the bride and bridegroom
to stand on the threshold till the ceremony was almost concluded. After
the wedding ring had been bestowed with due ceremony,--being placed
first on the thumb and successively upon the second and fourth finger,
where it was allowed to remain, that finger being supposed by the most
scientific authorities of the time to be joined to the heart by a small
artery,--the couple entered the sacred portal, and advanced to the
altar, before which the nuptial benediction was given by the
bridegroom, under cover of a square veil, held aloft by four tall
knights, and termed a 'care-cloth.'
Wine, blessed by the officiating priest, was then poured into a
splendid golden bride-cup, in which was placed a sprig of gilded
rosemary, supposed to have the gift of strengthening memory and
increasing tenderness, and many other good qualities. In this the bride
and bridegroom pledged each other, and it was then handed round to all
the guests. A wheaten cake, in token of plenty and fruitfulness, was
then broken between them, from whence we derive our bride-cake.
On leaving the church, the newly-made husband and wife were crowned
with garlands of flowers, and the Earl of Hereford presented his sister
with her dower.
The word bridal comes from the Saxon _bryd-eala_, from a custom among
that people of the bride selling to each guest a tankard of foaming ale
drawn from the tun by her own fair hands, the price being at first paid
in kind, and consisting of a contribution to the banquet, by which
means the expense of entertaining a great company was lessened for the
young couple. For this simple exchange, more costly presents were
substituted after a while, a part of the custom which still survives,
though the bride no longer offers an equivalent.
This ceremony was magnificently observed at the East Anglian earl's
wedding, and Emma de Guader dispensed the favourite Saxon drink in a
glorious golden beaker, which was of depth sufficient to try the wind
and capacity of the gallants, as they strove to empty it without
drawing breath, particularly of the Normans, who were not adepts at the
art of copious drinking. Many and rich were the presents offered in
payment, with fitting good wishes and compliments, Waltheof bestowing
the most superb of all, a pair of Danish torcs of that beautiful gold
filigree, the working of which was the special glory of the Danish
goldsmiths of that day, and a white bear's skin of rare beauty and
value.
A bountiful feast followed, pages and esquires, clad in the colours of
the nobles and knights they served, presenting the dishes on the knee,
one golden plate being set between each lady and gentleman; it being
the duty of the latter to carve choice morsels for his fair charge with
his dagger. Peacocks in their feathers, crane, heron, and swan,
porpoise, seal, venison, and boar's head, were amongst the delicacies
offered, and the united science of Saxon and Norman cooks achieved some
triumphs of culinary skill, we may be sure. A receipt for forcemeat
which has come down to us from those days, will show they were no
novices in the matter. It is to be compounded of pork, figs, and
cheese, moistened with ale, seasoned with pepper and salt, and baked in
a crust, garnished with powderings of sugar and comfits. All these good
things were washed down with rare wines, Gascon and Rhenish, with
hippocras and pigment spiced to suit the Saxon palate, with moral and
mead, cider, perry, and ale.
In all, Saxon profusion was united to the dainty Norman cookery, and,
under the influence of this heavy hospitality, the male portion of the
guests grew somewhat boisterous.
When the attendants brought in large Saxon drinking-horns, filled with
hydromel and beer, and marked with knobs of brass to indicate to what
depth the guests might quaff without fear of intoxication, with cups of
spiced wine for those who preferred it, the bride arose from her seat,
her Norman delicacy already offended by the copiousness of the
potations.
Nevertheless, before she left, she touched her lips to one of the
hugest drinking-horns and pledged the guests. Then she withdrew with
the ladies of the company, the Countess Judith casting a strange glance
of contemptuous malice as she went.
The bride's challenge was, as may be imagined, received with ready
enthusiasm, and called forth such lusty cheering, that she had reached
her bower ere it died away. Before it had well ceased, the Earl of
Hereford rose to his feet, his proud young face full of wayward
triumph. 'Noble earls, barons, and knights,' he said, 'who honour this
board with your presence, ye have this day pledged the health of the
bridegroom, my noble brother-in-law, the Earl of East Anglia, and ye
have but now with a noble enthusiasm pledged the bride, my fair sister.
I ask of you yet another pledge. Drink to the marriage itself, in token
that you, one and all, justify my noble brother and myself in our
defiance of the mandate of the tyrant, William the Bastard, who strove
to hinder their union!'
Many a jewelled hunting-knife and _misericorde_ flashed in the air to
show that their owners accepted the bold pledge; for in those wild
days, when every man's hand was against every man, it was the fashion
that when two drank together, each should hold up his dagger while the
other was in the defenceless position necessitated by the act of
drinking.
'By the bones of King Offa, the founder of St. Albans, whose holy Abbot
Frithric sits amongst us to-day, ye do well to support me!' said
Hereford. 'But I would have your hearts even more closely with me! To
that end I ask ye to answer me a question or two, ere ye drain the cup
to pledge me. Shall I ask them?'
'Ask them!' shouted every lusty throat around the board.
'I ask ye, then, my countrymen, you Norman barons and knights, and you
noble Bretons, who have fought with us shoulder to shoulder, ay, and
you valiant Saxons, who were foemen worthy of his steel, was not my
father, William Fitzosbern, a good man and true?'
'_Oui!_' shouted the men of Langued'oui, nor did the Bretons or Saxons
gainsay them.
'Did he shed his blood like water in William's cause? Did he fight
beside him in the thickest of the fray at Hastings?'
'_Oui!_' shouted Normans and Bretons, and the Saxons assented with
muttered curses.
'Could William have conquered his kingdom without my father's aid?'
'_Non!_' cried the Normans.
'Then, I ask, is it fitting and just that William the Bastard should
refuse his sanction, when William Fitzosbern's son pleads for it, to
the marriage of William Fitzosbern's daughter with a noble English
earl?' Here he bowed to Ralph de Guader, who had risen and stood beside
him. 'Is it not a threefold affront to the memory of my father, to me
his son, and to my noble brother-in-law, the Earl of East Anglia?'
Normans, Bretons, and Saxons joined in a howl of reprobation of William
of Normandy's conduct, the Saxons delighting to find fault with the
conqueror of their woeful land on any pretext, and boiling with wrath
at wrongs of their own. If any dissented, their feeble voices were
drowned in the outcry of indignation that stormed round the board. The
cups were drained to the last drop.
'William is no rightful Duke of Normandy, still less doth it befit him
to style himself a king,' cried a Norman noble. 'He was born in
adultery, and God favours not the children of sinful parents.'
'And born of mean blood!' shouted another. 'Who was Arlete of Falaise,
the tanner's daughter, that her son should be anointed king, even if he
had been born in wedlock?'
'If a natural son might succeed to his father's honours,' said the Earl
of Hereford, his face flushed with the success of his appeal,
'Nicholas, Abbe of St. Ouen, had been Duke of Normandy, for he was the
son of Duke Robert's elder brother. As Nicholas was set aside on
account of his birth, so should William be. Guy of Burgundy is the
rightful heir!'
'Nobles and knights of Bretagne!' cried the bridegroom, less fiery than
his Norman brother-in-law, but speaking with a calm impressive voice,
and flinging out each syllable as if it were a challenge in itself, 'ye
who have so faithfully supported me in this land, which is the land of
my birth, but not of yours! Men of Guader and Montfort! ye too have
shed your blood like water for the sake of this ill-born Norman, who
had God's own laws against him, and what reward hath he given you?
Lands wasted by the ravages of war, which when you have tilled he hath
taken away again to bestow on those who were higher in his favour! Some
of your number he hath put to death! Nay more! Bretagne still mourns
her glorious Count Conan, whom he slew with the coward's
weapon--poison!--as he poisoned Conan's father Alain before him!'
A low growl of wrath, terrible to hear, answered this appeal. Many of
the Bretons sprang from their seats and bent over the table, shouting
accusations against William of Normandy; for Ralph's cool determination
was inherited from his English father; the men of Lower Britain were
characterised generally by the hot-headedness of their Welsh ancestors,
which they inherited with their red hair and fiery blue eyes, and Ralph
had roused them.
'Ay! he used that coward's weapon too on Walter and his wife Biota in
Falaise!' cried a voice above the tumult.
'Remember how he banished William of Mortmain for a single word, and
gave his lands to Arlete's son Robert!' cried another. 'He is hateful
to all men! His death would give joy to many!'
Roger of Hereford whispered in the ear of the Abbot of St. Albans. The
venerable abbot was dearly loved by the English on account of his
vigorous opposition to the Norman churchmen, and, in particular, to
Lanfranc, the Italian to whom William had given the primacy, and whose
untiring adversary he had been. They loved him also for his share in
the heroic attempt made by Hereward Leofricsson to beat back the
invader.
The turbulent soldiers hushed their outcry as the abbot rose to his
feet, and stood waiting to address them, his face seamed and furrowed
by age and sorrow, and his sunken eyes gleaming with a lustre that
seemed almost supernatural from beneath his snow-white brows. Truly a
dignified figure, in his splendid vestments, and a pathetic one also,
so worn was he by suffering, so trembling was the thin right hand in
which he held out the cross.
'Earls, barons, and knights!' cried the old man in his eloquent
preacher's voice, 'the Earl of Hereford, whose health ye have just
pledged, has told me grievous news. Know, all present, that he is an
excommunicated man!'
Many a cheek that had hitherto been flushed with excitement blanched at
that awful word; and a silence that might have been felt succeeded the
passionate uproar. Men cast questioning glances at their neighbours,
wondering each if the other would have strength of mind either to
retract or fulfil his pledges to a man under the anathema of the
Church, and which alternative he would choose.
'Yes!' cried Frithric, his voice rising clear as a bell into the
silence. 'The Norman Church has cursed him by the mouth of that tool of
William the Bastard, that despoiler of saints and robber of
sanctuaries, Lanfranc, by the grace of that same William the Bastard,
Archbishop of Canterbury! But the English Church blesses him!--the
Church of St. Dunstan, St. Eadmund, and St. Cuthberht,--of the blessed
martyrs AEthelric and AEthelwine,--whose holy members, Archbishop
Stigand, Bishop AEthelmaer, and Abbot Wulfric, now languish in the
dungeons of the tyrant! In the name of the English Church, I here
pronounce that curse invalid, and give my benediction to the man who
has pity on the sufferings of a luckless race, who will help to make
its oppressor bite the dust!'
Here he extended his thin hands over Roger's bent head, and repeated
the benediction.
The other bishops and abbots present ratified his action, and the
tension of the crisis gave way before a fresh burst of cheering, louder
than any previous. Then Ralph de Guader turned to Waltheof, who had sat
very quietly through all the tumult, but had shown during Abbot
Frithric's speech evidence of rising emotion.
'Valiant hero!' he said, 'hast thou no wrongs to complain of at the
hands of the man who has conquered thy country, and robbed its princes
and nobles of their birthrights? who has murdered or driven into exile
the lawful heirs of its broad acres? Hast thou no revenge to take on
him who harried thy patrimony, and made it a barren waste, where even
the wild beasts starve? Art thou appeased because he gave thee back thy
father's lands in such sorry plight?'
Waltheof rose to his feet like a giant newly awakened, magnificent in
his slowly aroused wrath, his sinewy chest expanded, the muscles in his
splendid neck knotted like whipcord, and his blue eyes sparkling with
anger, so that he looked as if he were verily that Thor, God of
Battles, whom his Danish forefathers worshipped, come down to earth. He
tossed his mantle back from his brawny arms, and his hands worked
involuntarily, till the left sought the hilt of the jewelled
hunting-knife in his baldric, and the right was extended towards the
sky. His long golden moustache bristled till it stood almost straightly
from either cheek, and he shook his yellow mane like a lion.
'By St. John of Beverley, no!' he cried. 'The blood of starved women
and children cries for justice! The spirits of men whose flesh was
eaten by their fellows, after every horse and dog and cat had been
devoured, call for vengeance on the harrier of Northumberland! Slaves
rattle their chains who through him sold their freedom for food! The
sated crows and ravens alone croak his praises from full maws, for they
grew fat on the unburied corses of those whose dwellings he had burned
and whose homesteads he had laid waste! It would be a sin to hold
myself under bond to the tyrant!'
The Saxon thegns received this speech with wild acclaim.
'Ay,' cried one from Hampshire, 'and as in the north so in the south!
Other kings have hunted wild beasts that their subjects might not be
torn with them. This scourge of God maims and slaughters his subjects
that the wild beasts may live for his hunting! May his New Forest prove
a bane to him and his children!'
'Noble Waltheof,' cried Ralph, 'the time is come to avenge our wrongs.
William is beyond the sea with the flower of his chivalry, and hard
beset by rebellions and feuds in the bosom of his family, for such a
tyrant is he that his own kinsfolk hate him! It is little likely that
he will come back, but if he does, it will be at a disadvantage. Join
us, thou whose stalwart arm struck one Norman head after another from
its shoulders at the gates of York!--thou who firedst the wood wherein
one hundred Normans sheltered, and slew them as they ventured forth
like rats from a burning house! Join thy twelve men's strength to ours!
We three earls might be again as Siward, Leofric, and Godwin. As if the
Norman had not conquered, Godwin's son would have held the throne, so
shall Siward's son be king when we in turn have laid the Norman low!'
'Waltheof Cyning! Waes hael! Waes hael!' cried the thegns.
'Call not the Bastard a Norman!' shouted the Earl of Hereford. 'The
Normans disown him!'
Then said Frithfic, fixing his shining, mournful eyes upon the Earl of
Northumberland,--
'Waltheof, son of Siward, let thy words be upheld by deeds! Thy hand
was on the plough, and thou didst turn in the furrow and make terms
with the spoiler of thy land. See to it, thou failest not thy
countrymen again!'
Turning to the Earl of East Anglia, he continued: 'Thou also, son of
Ralph the Staller, forget the evil teaching of thy young days, when thy
heart was weaned from thy father's land. Give thy manhood in amend for
thy youth, and Jesu pardon thee! Join hands, ye two, and tender each a
hand to this brave Norman, whose soul revolts at the cruelties of the
man whom his father served, alas! for evil as well as good! Swear a
solemn oath, ye three noble earls, to be true to each other, and to
right this much-wronged land!'
A huge cheer of assent burst from the followers of the three earls, and
they joined hands and swore a great oath that they would unite to oust
the tyrant from the throne, and seat thereon in his stead Waltheof
Siwardsson.
And they settled it that Waltheof should bring his men from the north,
and seek assistance from his old friend Sweyn, King of Denmark, to
strengthen his hands; that Hereford should arm the west, and East
Anglia the east, and so enclose the forces of William in a deadly
triangle of hostile steel.
So ended the fatal bride-ale.[1]
[1] See Appendix, Note A.