THE CASTELLAN OF BLAUNCHEFLOUR.
Ralph de Guader had said little to his bride of the proceedings at the
marriage festivities, but a time came when it was necessary for him to
break in upon their brief honeymoon with rumours of war, for it was not
possible to hide the fact that he must take the field in defence of
life and liberty.
The defection of Waltheof had been a great blow to the conspirators;
his untimely betrayal of their plans was more serious still, as their
chance of success lay chiefly in the hope of taking the king's forces
by surprise.
Waltheof himself had supposed that his course would altogether put a
stop to the undertaking, seeing that his two brother earls had
represented that to place him on the throne was its chief object.
But De Guader and Fitzosbern were too proud to give up their hopes of
aggrandisement so easily, and, moreover, their case was desperate. If
they submitted at once and unconditionally, they could only look
forward to disgrace and imprisonment, whereas the chances of battle
might still be in their favour. It was not wonderful, therefore, that
they elected to fight it out, notwithstanding the odds against them.
The Earl of Norfolk and Suffolk had assembled his forces, and held all
in readiness for departure on the morrow. The dreaded moment had come,
and he sought his wife's bower, feeling that he would much liefer meet
William's men-at-arms.
It was a sunny little room on the east side of the palace, looking over
the marshes of the low holme which then bordered the Wensum with a
wilderness of sedges and white water-lilies, and upon which, some
eleven years later, Herbert de Losinga erected the cathedral which is
our present pride and joy.
Emma loved to watch the high-prowed galleys passing to and fro upon the
river, with sails spread, and oars flashing, and stout rowers bending
to their work; and to see them lading and unlading at Lovelly's
Staithe, a wharf situated about a third of the distance between the
present ferry and Foundry Bridge.
Here Eadgyth would entertain her with stories of her girlhood, and tell
how she had seen her cousin, Harold Godwinsson, land at that wharf,
when he came to Norwich after his imprisonment in Normandy; and how
Leofric, Earl of Mercia, to whom the sainted King Eadward had given the
East Anglian earldom in Harold's absence, met him with all honour; and
of the magnanimous strife between the two, when Leofric would give back
the earldom, and Harold would fain have had him keep it; and how Harold
took it for a time, but returned it on ascending the throne.
And when the white swans came sailing amongst the reeds, bending their
long necks from side to side, the Saxon maiden would tell her friend of
Harold's beloved, her namesake Eadgyth Swannehals, the most beautiful
woman in Norfolk, or, for the matter of that, in all England, and would
burst into tears when she thought of the sad ending of that fair
romance.
And Emma would smile at her enthusiasm, but yet grew in sympathy with
this English people, the smoke of whose dwellings was rising around
her, and almost found it in her heart to wish that her hero William had
been a little less successful, and to question whether it had not been
more virtuous of him to stay at home in his native Normandy. Somehow
she had never admired him so freely since he had endeavoured to part
her from her betrothed.
In such a mood as this was Emma when her husband sought her, with the
intention of telling her the secret of his bold enterprise, but he
little guessed how much her sympathies had turned against William, for,
as is often the case when convictions are changing, she had made up for
her coldness of feeling by warmth of speech, and had sought so to atone
for her act of rebellion in marrying Ralph against the king's mandate.
Therefore the earl knew not how to begin his explanation, and sat
before her embroidery frame almost as deeply embarrassed as Waltheof
had been before the archbishop. 'Tis true he had told her ere their
wedding that the quarrel must needs be fought out, yet it seemed not
the easier to say,'My standard is lifted.'
His face was ashy pale, for it was to him cruel as death to leave his
young bride before a month had passed, although he had known that the
parting must come.
Emma, looking at him, dropped her silks in horror, and, throwing her
arms round his neck, asked coaxingly what ailed him.
And Ralph turned his head away without speaking.
'Can it be that I have offended thee in aught?' asked the young
countess anxiously.
'Nay, Emma, I am the offender, if offender there be. Methinks the worst
of all ailments is mine, for I must leave thee, and perchance anger
thee also.'
'Leave me?' Her breath caught in a sob of terror.
Ralph faced her desperately. 'My love, thou knowest our wedding was
against the express mandate of the king. Lanfranc, the king's man, whom
he made Primate of all England,--in place of the holy Stigand, whom he
unjustly deprived, and who yet languishes in prison,--hath turned
bitterly against thy brother of Hereford, whom whilom he was wont to
treat as a son, and has set a ban of excommunication upon him.'
A low cry of horror escaped from Emma.
Ralph's eyes flashed fire. He caught his wife's white hands as they
were sliding down from his neck, half withdrawn at the fear that her
love had led her into deadly sin, since the brother who had
countenanced her marriage, and urged her to its fulfilment, was cast
out by the Church.
He understood the loosening of her clasp, and caught her hands as a
protest.
'Emma,' he cried,'thou hast taken me for better or worse. I hoped to
have made thee the second lady in the land. But alas! I must fight to
hold mine own, nay, for dear life,--life which is precious for thy
sake.'
'I do not regret my choice,' said Emma, meeting his gaze with her frank
eyes, her proud Fitzosbern spirit rising to the test. 'Only I fear lest
I have sinned in taking thee against the will of my king-lord and the
voice of the Holy Church.'
'Say rather the voice of William's creature,--a Lombard upstart,
without a drop of noble blood in his veins. Dost thou forget the holy
men who blessed our union and gave it the sanction of the Church? They
blessed thy brother for taking up the cause of an oppressed people.
Shall the curses of the wily Italian have more weight than their
benedictions? Dost thou throw over thy brother so easily to his
untender mercies?'
'Alas! I am bewildered amid so many conflicting counsels,' Emma sighed.
'This poor land and all who are in it are so bewildered, my sweet
lady,' Ralph answered, kissing the hands he still held. 'None can see
the right clearly. William--the Conqueror, as he proudly styles
himself--hath gone mad with his success, and the luckless people groan
under his tyranny. Would I had never helped him to leave his duchy of
Normandy! But it is useless to groan over the past, nor can I stop to
chop logic over the present. The point is this: The king's men are
marching to attack me. My only course is to fight for it, and, if
possible, make a junction with thy brother Roger, when it may be that
the oppressed Saxons will strike a blow to regain their freedom, and,
with my trusty Bretons, I may still gain the day.'
Emma clasped her hands in sore distress.
'Is it in good sooth come to this, that thou must go forth against the
king? Alas! my foolish face tempted thee to wrong. 'Tis I that am to
blame.'
Ralph caught her to him and kissed her. 'Nay, by the heart of Our Lady.
'Tis William's mad pride that is to blame, and that alone. Speak no
slander against my wife, or it will go ill with thee, for I will not
brook to hear it.'
Emma drooped her head against his shoulder, smiling through her tears.
'Oh, Ralph,' she said, 'if thou wert but going in a good cause, the
parting would not be so bitter.'
Ralph, having no good argument to proffer in reply, lost his temper. He
sprang up and paced the room, making his golden spurs jingle at each
impatient stride.
'I thought when I wedded a Fitzosbern I should escape the lot of most
men, to be wept and wailed over at every crinkle in the rose-leaves of
fate. But it seems thou art but of the same stuff as other women, after
all.'
Emma flushed over neck and brow. She drew herself proudly erect, and
hastily wiped away the tears that were rolling down her cheeks.
'Naught but dread of guilt and a too fond love could have drawn tears
from a Fitzosbern,' she answered haughtily. 'Thou shalt not need to
complain again, my lord.'
'Nay, my sweet lady, pardon me,' pleaded the earl, turning to her with
entreating eyes. 'In good sooth, I am well-nigh distracted, and the
sight of thy tears makes me too bitterly conscious of my own lack of
worth. But what wouldst thou have me do? If it were but a question of
my own poor life, I would submit, and let William do his worst, if such
a course would pleasure thee; but I cannot desert thy brother, nor my
own poor Bretons, and the Saxons who have thrown in their lot with
mine. Thou knowest William is not gentle with such as cross his will.
It would mean loss of lands and lifelong imprisonment to thy brother
and myself, and the lopping off a hand and a foot for each of my
Bretons, at the least, while hanging would be too mild a measure in his
eyes for the Saxons.'
Emma's hands were tightly clenched together. The momentary flush had
faded from her face, and it was pale as death, but she neither sobbed
nor flinched.
'I have made my choice, and I will abide by it,' she said in a low,
firm voice. 'Nor will I quail before the consequences of our deed. We
have chosen each other against the whole world. Perhaps if thou hadst
trusted me more fully, thou hadst not been vexed with tears. Thy
announcement was somewhat sudden.'
'Let that ill-grained speech rest in its grave, dear love. Thou hast
spoken like a Fitzosbern now,' said the earl, taking her hands again in
his and drawing her back to his shoulder. 'I want thee to be of good
courage, for I have treated thee as a hero's daughter, and appointed
thee Castellan of Blauncheflour in my absence. I have vested in thee
the supreme and sole command. Thine it shall be, in case of siege while
I am away,--which God forfend,--to surrender or defend the castle on
whatsoever terms may seem good to thee. Sir Alain de Gourin and Sir
Hoel de St. Brice will act under thine orders and be thine advisers.
Wilt thou take the office?'
'Yes, I will take it,' answered Emma, without a moment's hesitation,
although her whole soul trembled within her at the prospect of being
left in her young feebleness to command the turbulent De Gourin, for
whom she had a strong aversion, and the veteran Sir Hoel, who was a
total stranger to her, albeit he had been so long in her husband's
train.
'Thou art indeed a fit bride for a warrior,' cried Ralph, gazing with
admiration at her determined face.
Emma longed to throw her arms around his neck and sob, but conquered
the impulse, answering only with a smile.
'Thou saidest I was sudden, sweet,' resumed Ralph. 'Methinks an agony
that must be sharp had best be short. To that end I would not poison
for thee the brief time we had together with the shadow of parting.
That is why I told thee naught till now, upon the eve of my going
forth.'
Emma could not repress a slight start.
'Dost go so soon? To-morrow?' she said.
'To-morrow thou wilt enter on thy new office,' answered the earl gaily,
kissing her forehead. And then he slipped from the apartment,
congratulating himself that the mischief was out, and full of
admiration for his bride, in that she had borne the tidings so bravely.
Emma listened to his footfall as he strode down the long corridor till
its echo was lost in the distance. Then the emotion she had violently
repressed had its way.
She stretched out her arms after him as if to call him back, and threw
herself on her knees near the door.
'Oh, Ralph!' she sobbed,--'oh, Ralph, my husband! Saints and angels
protect thee! Guard him, St. Nicholas, thou under whose patronage he
has placed himself. I vow seven candlesticks of pure gold to thine
altar in Blauncheflour.'
Her voice died away, a strange sensation of numb oppression succeeded
her violent anguish, and she sank in a dead faint by the door her
husband had just passed through.