THE STANDARD OF REVOLT.
The day which was to part Emma de Guader from her bridegroom dawned
clear and bright, and the summer sunshine sparkled upon the broad
reaches of the Yare, and gleamed amidst the pale green rushes and brown
osier beds of the Cowholme, shining with impartial equality, not only
upon the just and the unjust, but upon the joyous and the sad.
In nooks and corners amongst the reeds and water weeds, the coots and
water-hens were tending their nestlings.
On the site of the busy railway station, the tall heron poised
gracefully on one leg, as his descendants do to this day, some ten or
fifteen miles nearer the sea.
The yellow water-lilies were pushing their golden buds to the surface,
and the reeds were growing dusky at the top, while the hot sunshine
brought out the fragrance of the sweet-gale, or bog-myrtle, which
covered many an acre, now built over, with its dark green bushes.
Westward the broad woodlands were in the young beauty of their summer
dress, wearing still somewhat of the rich variety of spring.
Mountainous white clouds cast purple shadows over the sea of their
close-packed crowns, in the shelter of which sang merles and mavises,
and the fitful nightingale; while above marsh and woodland many a hawk
and bustard hung poised on motionless wings, for in those days the
gamekeepers had no quarrel with them.
The sentinels on the keep of Blauncheflour had a fair panorama to look
upon as they marched to and fro upon the walls; but they did not pay
much heed to the beauties of nature, they were far too much engrossed
in the doings in the courtyard of the castle below, and their eyes only
left the knights who were gathered there, for an occasional glance at
the armed host assembled within the circle of the barbican.
Truly the cluster of gallant warriors before the grand portal of the
castle, glittering from head to foot with shining steel, lavishly
ornamented with gold and silver, were a goodly sight to see; though
perhaps Roger Bigod may have gathered a still gayer company round him a
century later, when gaudy plumes and surcoats embroidered with the
coats of arms of the wearers were the fashion of the day. In William
the Conqueror's time, military finery had trenched little on the
strictly useful, and the richness of these cavaliers consisted more in
fine inlay of precious metals than in feathers and embroidery, or
fantastic helms or armour. Their heads were covered with small conical
steel-caps, having a nasal to protect them from a transverse cut across
the face, or were encased in huge cylinders of steel, having narrow
apertures for the necessities of sight and breathing; their long
hauberks were of linked mail, or leather sewn all over with little
rings of steel; their straight cross-hilted swords measured three and a
half to four feet in length, and were encased in richly-chased and
jewelled scabbards, and suspended from baldrics ablaze with gold and
gems. Each wore in his belt the _misericorde_, and at the saddle-bows
of some hung the battle-axe or mace. Their oval or heart-shaped shields
were from four to five feet long, richly embossed, and often bearing a
raised spike in the centre. Their long lances were adorned with square
or swallow-tailed pennons, according to their rank, for, when a knight
obtained the rank of banneret, or leader of a troop, the points were
shorn off his pennon. Their saddles and horse furniture were studded
with steel bosses, and often the reins were steel chains plentifully
enriched with gold, and the heavy steeds they bestrode had need of all
their sturdy strength to carry their burdens of man and metal at a
gallop, even at the prompting of golden spurs.
Before the portal stood De Guader's magnificent barb Oliver, champing
his bit, and with difficulty restrained by the squire who held his
bridle-rein, the white foam flying from his heavy curb upon his gilded
trappings, and his fox-coloured mane tossing in the breeze.
A few words of the great portal itself, before which this brave company
was assembled. The vestibule on the eastern side of the keep, now known
as Bigod's Tower, was not built, but the very beautiful early Norman
archway was certainly a part of the original structure, and opened upon
a raised platform of stone, from which sprang a drawbridge connecting
it with a flight of twenty-eight steps, ended by a gate to the south.
Beneath this drawbridge was the sally-port, a narrow postern strongly
fortified, which in case of siege could, by raising the drawbridge of
the main doorway, be made the only entrance to the keep.[3]
[3] Some idea of the arrangement here described is given by
the figure of the ruins of Hedingham Castle in Strutt:
_Manners and Customs of the English_, vol. i. plate xxix.
At a signal from a sentinel who stood upon this platform, the
trumpeters executed a lively _fanfare_ on their instruments. A moment
later the portal was thrown open, and the earl came forth, clad in
complete armour, and leading the young countess, who was very gallantly
apparelled in crimson cloth, broidered over with jewels and silver; she
wore a small gorget of blue Milan steel, and had on her head a little
cap of the same, damascened with gold; round her waist a jewelled belt,
from which were suspended a little _misericorde_ and a short steel
chain.
Behind the earl and countess followed Sir Hoel de St. Brice and Sir
Alain de Gourin, both in full harness, attended by several squires and
pages. As they came upon the platform, the greater part of the
garrison--all that were not actually on duty as sentries, warders, and
like offices--filed into the courtyard, and took up their places behind
the group of knights.
'A Guader! a Guader!' shouted knights and soldiers. 'Long live the earl
and countess!'
The noble couple bowed courteously, and the earl, who held in his hands
the keys of the castle, turned to his consort, and then cast a proud
glance along the ranks of his retainers.
'Knights and soldiers,' he said, in clear trumpet tones which could be
heard even by the sentinels on the battlements, 'before I go forth to
battle, it is meet that I should appoint a Castellan to have charge of
my castle of Blauncheflour, and this I do now before ye all assembled,
in the person of my dear lady and countess, Emma, daughter of the
valiant William Fitzosbern. I appoint her to the sole and supreme
command, and to have as deputies under her, and as military
advisers,--but under her pleasure, and to be dismissed if she think
fit,--Sir Hoel de St. Brice and Sir Alain de Gourin. Knights and
gentlemen, you who are about to go forth to battle with me, and to
share my dangers, and, I hope, my successes, I make you witnesses of
the fact of this appointment, so that if I fall in the chances of the
field, you may hurry to my lady's standard and reinforce it with your
strength. Knights and soldiers of the garrison, I charge ye to serve
your Castellan and liege lady with faithfulness and fervour; to render
her humble obedience, and to defend her as ye would defend your own
lady-loves, wives, and children. I commit her and my castle, and with
them my joy and my honour, to your care. Justify my trust!'
As he spoke he handed the keys of the castle to Emma, who took them
with trembling fingers and attached them to her girdle, looking at the
ranks of steel-clad men around her with a brave though blanched face.
A great roar of cheering rolled round the spacious courtyard, such as
Emma had never heard in her life before, though she was to hear its
like in the coming months. Asseverations and vows and battle-cries
mingled in wild confusion, shouted from stentorian lungs in more than
one language. 'Dex aie!' cried the Normans; and the Bretons cried
'Guader et Montfort!' 'Aoie!' 'Heysaa!' and 'The Holy Rood!' from
English of varying types; while the knights shook their lances, and
cried to God to shield their lady in their absence. Arms clashed, and
horses stamped, and it seemed as if all the dogs in Norwich were
barking.
When the tumult had somewhat subsided, and the startled pigeons were
circling back to their favourite perches on the battlements, Emma, with
a beating heart, made her little speech in answer. Turning first to the
garrison, she said,--
'I thank ye all for your devotion, good sirs and soldiers!' and her
clear, flute-like voice was to the full as distinct as that of the
earl. 'Nor do I doubt that ye will do your duty to God, to your earl,
and to me, his deputy, in whatsoever sore straits may befall. To you,
noble knights,' she continued, turning to the group who were about to
depart with the earl, 'I return thanks for your courtesy, and beg you
to bear in mind that my lord's fortunes and fair fame, nay, even his
life, do in some measure depend upon the sharpness of your swords, and
your promptness to use them in his behalf, and therefore every blow ye
strike will be struck in my defence, for, in sooth, I should die if ill
or dishonour came to him!'
The cheers of the garrison and the vows of the knights to do their
_devoir_ by their lord burst forth more tumultuously than before; but
the countess, turning to her husband, said in a low voice,--
'I can bear no more, Ralph. Farewell! May Our Lady and St. Nicholas
guard thee and bring thee shortly home!'
She held out her hands to him appealingly, and he, pressing them, bent
forward hastily and kissed her on the forehead.
'_A Dieu_, dear lady!' he said, with a voice less steady than her own.
'Forget not to name me in thine orisons!'
He stepped forward and mounted his impatient destrier, which, excited
almost to madness by the cheering of men and the clash of arms, pranced
and curveted proudly as he felt his master's hand. The trumpets blared,
the portcullis creaked upon its hinges, and the drawbridge clanked upon
its chains.
The gay cavalcade set forth on their adventures, none knowing how, or
when, or if ever, they should return. The armed heels of the steeds
clattered upon the pavement and thundered over the drawbridge, and
lusty cheers rent the air before and behind them, from the waiting host
upon the plain, and from the garrison in the courtyard of the castle.
Emma, with a heavy heart, ascended the circular staircase in the
north-eastern angle of the keep, her ladies following, and went round
to the southern side of the battlements, whence they commanded a view
of the country for many miles around, and could see the earl's army in
glittering array upon the space within the barbican, and also the road
by which they would march away, that same broad Ikenield way by which
the young countess had entered the town such a short time before, happy
in her bridegroom's society.
The troops assembled in order of march. A cloud of archers and slingers
in the van, chiefly Bretons; after them the bills and battle-axes, and
the Anglo-Saxon contingent with their round red shields and great
two-edged seaxes--the weapon from which they got their name of Saxons,
though it was modified from the ancient scythe-shaped blade to a
straight, double-edged sword; next in order, the javelins and pikemen,
and men of various arms, many only wielding stout clubs of oak and ash,
or carrying long staves. Then, glittering and shining, the body of
knights headed by the earl. Near him rode Sir Guy de Landerneau, the
richest and most powerful of De Guader's Breton vassals, to whom was
accorded the honour of bearing the gold and black standard of the
earl--the standard of revolt.
Next after Sir Guy rode his body-squire, young Stephen le Hareau, the
handsomest and most promising of all the aspirants for knighthood who
rode in Ralph de Guader's train, the darling of the ladies' bower,
after whom more than one fair face looked wistfully as he went away,
full of high hopes and visions of glory, bent on 'winning his spurs,'
and wearing till he had done so, as the custom was, a golden chain
around his right arm. Laughing and fearless as he rode away, with the
blue summer sky reflected in his blue Norseman's eyes, little did they
who watched him dream in what plight they would see him return. After
them followed pages leading _hacquenees_ which their masters might ride
when the weight of their armour had fatigued them and their fiery
war-steeds. Next the baggage on sumpter mules, and a second body of
archers and slingers to protect the rear.
So they rode away on the bright summer morning, and Emma and her ladies
watched their slow progress from the battlements till the last glimmer
of the glittering armour was lost in the distance, her eyes following
them by wood and mere, now hidden by thickets, now crossing the open
moorland covered with golden gorse, now startling a solitary heron from
his post amongst the marshes, now a skein of wild fowl from some
shining pool.
Eadgyth watched beside the countess with eager eyes, and a great hope
in her bosom that her countrymen might yet come by their own again. A
delusive hope, and one she would scarcely have held if she had known
more of the facts of the case. The English hated their conqueror, and
found his yoke oppressive. If Eadgar AEtheling had been man enough to
stand against William, and lead them in revolt, they might have
struggled to overturn the Norman;--even Waltheof they might have
welcomed as a national chieftain;--but they saw too clearly that Ralph
de Guader and Roger of Hereford were bent only on their own
advancement, to rally in numbers to their banners. Small gain would it
be to them to pull William from the throne only to place one of his
turbulent barons in his stead.
But the patriotic talk which the Earl of East Anglia had affected, with
the hope of gaining Saxon aid, had been as honey to the listening ears
of Eadgyth, and had helped her to bear the trial of seeing strangers in
the palace which had been Harold's aforetime. She had almost forgiven
Ralph his part at Senlac, and was building the most noble castles in
the air as she watched the rebel army marching away.
But the young countess, torn with doubts, in bitter anguish for both
husband and brother, watched with clasped hands and a set, pale face,
and spoke not a word; but at last, when even her anxious gaze could no
longer discern a vestige of the moving force, she turned to Eadgyth.
'Let us to our bower amid stone walls, sweet,' she said. 'I had hoped
to have done with such when I left the stormy borders of Wales, and
came hither to peaceful Norfolk. At least, I had thought that their
shelter would be needed only for protection against the wild Danish
Vikings, not to guard me from my own folks.'
She sighed deeply, and Eadgyth scarce could think of consolation. Like
most other people in all days and all places, it seemed to them that
their times were sadly out of joint.
So they descended from their post of observation, and, crossing the
courtyard, entered the Constable's Lodge, which was to be their home
till the war-engines of the royal forces compelled them to shelter
behind the solid walls of the keep.
The bower De Guader had prepared for his bride was as magnificent and
comfortable as the resources of the times permitted; and here Dame
Amicia de Reviers sat awaiting them, her infirmities having prevented
her from climbing the steep newel staircase of the great tower.
The pretty bower-maidens clustered round the venerable old lady, and
chattered to her gaily of all that had taken place, vying with each
other in recalling all the details of the stirring sight they had just
witnessed, and in conveying them to her dull ears.
But Dame Amicia felt keenly that what was but a pleasant excitement to
most of them must have been acute anguish to her darling.
'Where is your lady, children?' asked she; but only Eadgyth had noticed
that before they left the great tower, the countess had slipped quietly
away from them.
She had gone to the oratory, that little oratory which is still shown
to those who visit the remains of Norwich Castle.
The archway by which she had entered was supported by two columns with
ornamental capitals. At the angle were carved pelicans, in their piety
vulning their breasts.
'Ah!' thought Emma as she passed them, 'if I could strip my own breast,
and so make soft the beds of those I love! Brother and husband! Ah me,
what sufferings may await them! The warrior's lonely death on the cold,
pitiless earth, or worse, that of the prisoner on the colder flags of
the dungeon of their foe! William is without mercy. St. Nicholas, make
my Ralph prevail!'
She shook from head to foot with a shudder of dread, as she threw
herself upon her knees before the altar; but the tears she had so long
repressed would not now come to her relief. Dry-eyed, with a dull,
persistent pain at her heart that made each breath a sigh, she
stretched up her arms in mute supplication to the Help of the helpless
for aid.