we have known, it was hard work at one time to keep him from being
a monk. Yet he was not very lavish in his presents to the church,
as a good monarch was expected to be in those days, and most of the
abbeys and cathedrals which had suffered so cruelly in the days of the
pirates were very poor still, and many were even left desolate. His
government is described as just and vigorous, and as a general thing
his subjects liked him and upheld his authority. He was very desirous
all the time to bring his people within the bounds of Christian
civilization and French law and order, yet he did not try to cast away
entirely the inherited speech or ideas of his ancestors. Of course his
treatment of the settlements to the westward and the Danish party in
his dominion must have varied at different times in his reign. Yet,
after he had made great efforts to identify himself with the French,
he still found himself looked down upon by his contemporaries and
called the Duke of the Pirates, and so in later years he concerned
himself more with his father's people, and even, so the tradition
goes, gave a new Danish colony direct from Denmark leave to settle
in Brittany. His young son Richard was put under the care, not of
French priests, but his own old tutor, Botho the Dane, and the boy and
his master were sent purposely to Bayeux, the very city which young
Richard's grandfather, Rolf, had helped to ravage. [Pg063] At Rouen
the Northman's language was already almost forgotten, but the heir to
the duchy was sent where he could hear it every day, though his good
teacher had accepted French manners and the religion of Rome. William
Longsword had become sure that there was no use in trying to be either
wholly Danish or wholly French, the true plan for a Duke of Normandy
was to be Dane and Frenchman at once. The balance seems to have swung
toward the Danish party for a time after this, and after a troubled,
bewildering reign to its very close, William died at the hands of his
enemies, who had lured him away to hold a conference with Arnulf, of
Flanders, at Picquigny, where he came to a mysterious and sudden death.
The next year, 943, was a marked one in France and began a new order
of things. There was a birth and a death which changed the current
of history. The Count of Vermandois, the same man who had kept the
prison and helped in the murder of Charles the Simple, was murdered
himself—or at least died in an unexplained and horrible way, as men
were apt to do who were called tyrants and were regicides beside. His
dominion was divided among his sons, except some parts of it that Hugh
of Paris seized. This was the death, and the birth was of a son and
heir to Hugh of Paris himself. His first wife was an Englishwoman,
Eadhild, but she had died childless, to his great sorrow. This baby
was the son of his wife Hadwisa, the daughter of King Henry of
Germany, and he was called Hugh for his father; Hugh Capet, the future
king. After this Hugh of Paris [Pg064] changed his plans and his
policy. True enough, he had never consented to being a king himself,
but it was quite another thing to hinder his son from reigning over
France by and by. Here the Frenchman begins to contrast himself more
plainly against the Frank, just as we have seen the Norman begin to
separate himself from the Northman. Under Rolf Normandy had been
steadily loyal to King Charles the Simple; under William it had
wavered between the king and the duke; under Richard we shall see
Normandy growing more French again.
Under William Longsword, now Frenchman, now Northman was coming to the
front, and everybody was ready to fight without caring so very much
what it was all about. But everywhere we find the striking figure of
the young duke carrying his great sword, that came to be the symbol of
order and peace. The golden hilt and long shining blade are familiar
enough in the story of William's life. Somehow we can hardly think of
him without his great weapon. With it he could strike a mighty blow,
and in spite of his uncommon strength, he is said to have been of a
slender, graceful figure, with beautiful features and clear, bright
color like a young girl's. His charming, cheerful, spirited manners
won friendship and liking. "He had an eye for splendor," says one
biographer; "well spoken to all, William Longsword could quote a text
to the priest, listen respectfully to the wise sayings of the old,
talk merrily with his young friends about chess and tables, discuss
the flight of the falcon and the fleetness of the hound." [Pg065]
When he desired to be a monk, he was persuaded that his rank and
duties would not permit such a sacrifice, and that he must act his
part in the world rather than in the cloister, for Normandy's sake,
but in spite of his gay life and apparent fondness for the world's
delights and pleasures, when he died his followers found a sackcloth
garment and scourge under his splendid clothes. And as he lay dead
in Rouen the rough haircloth shirt was turned outward at the throat
so that all the people could see. He had not the firmness and
decision that a duke of Normandy needed; he was very affectionate
and impulsive, but he was a miserly person, and had not the power of
holding on and doing what ought to be done with all his might.
[Illustration]
[Pg066]
[Illustration]
IV.
RICHARD THE FEARLESS.
"By many a warlike feat
Lopped the French lilies."—DRAYTON.
Around the city of Bayeux, were the head-quarters of the Northmen, and
both Rolf's followers and the later colonists had kept that part of
the duchy almost free from French influence. There Longsword's little
son Richard (whose mother was Espriota, the duke's first wife, whom
he had married in Danish fashion), was sent to learn the Northmen's
language, and there he lived yet with his teachers and Count Bernard,
when the news came of the murder of his father by Arnulf of Flanders,
with whom William had gone to confer in good faith.
We can imagine for ourselves the looks of the little lad and his
surroundings. He was fond even then of the chase, and it might be on
some evening when he had come in with the huntsmen that he found a
breathless messenger who had brought the news of Lonsgword's death. We
can imagine the low roofed, stone-arched room with its thick pillars,
and deep stone casings to the windows, where the wind came in and made
the torches flare. At each end of [Pg067] the room would be a great
fire, and the servants busy before one of them with the supper, and
there on the flagstones, in a dark heap, is the stag, and perhaps some
smaller game that the hunters have thrown down. There are no chimneys,
and the fires leap up against the walls, and the smoke curls along the
ceiling and finds its way out as best it can.
One end of the room is a step or two higher than the other, and here
there is a long table spread with drinking-horns and bowls, and
perhaps some beautiful silver cups, with figures of grapevines and
fauns and satyrs carved on them, which the Norse pirates brought home
long ago from Italy. The floor has been covered with rushes which the
girls of the household scatter, and some of these girls wear old Norse
ornaments of wrought silver, with bits of coral, that must have come
from Italy too. The great stag-hounds are stretched out asleep after
their day's work, and the little Richard is tired too, and has thrown
himself into a tall carved chair by the fire.
Suddenly there comes the sound of a horn, and everybody starts and
listens. Was the household to be attacked and besieged? for friends
were less likely visitors than enemies in those rough times.
The dogs bark and cannot be quieted, and again the horn sounds outside
the gate, and somebody has gone to answer it, and those who listen
hear the great hinges creak presently as the gate is opened and the
sound of horses' feet in the courtyard. The dogs have found that there
is no danger and creep away lazily to go to sleep again, but when the
[Pg068] men of the household come back to the great hall their faces
are sadly changed. Something has happened.
Among them are two guests, two old counts whom everybody knows, and
they walk gravely with bent heads toward the boy Richard, who stands
by the smaller fire, in the place of honor, near his father's chair.
Has his father come back sooner than he expected? The boy's heart
must beat fast with hope for one minute, then he is frightened by the
silence in the great hall. Nobody is singing or talking; there is a
dreadful stillness; the very dogs are quiet and watching from their
beds on the new-strewn rushes. The fires snap and crackle and throw
long shadows about the room.
What are the two counts going to do—Bernard Harcourt and Rainulf
Ferrières? They are kneeling before the little boy, who is ready to
run away, he does not know why. Count Bernard has knelt before him,
and says this, as he holds Richard's small hand: "Richard, Duke of
Normandy, I am your liegeman and true vassal"; and then the other
count does and says the same, while Bernard stands by and covers his
face with his hands and weeps.
Richard stands, wondering, as all the rest of the noblemen promise
him their service and the loyalty of their castles and lands, and
suddenly the truth comes to him. His dear father is dead, and he
must be the duke now; he, a little stupid boy, must take the place
of the handsome, smiling man with his shining sword and black horse
and purple robe and the feather with its shining clasp in the high
ducal [Pg069] cap that is as splendid as any crown. Richard must take
the old counts for his playfellows, and learn to rule his province
of Normandy; and what a long, sad, frightened night that must have
been to the fatherless boy who must win for himself the good name of
Richard the Fearless!
Next day they rode to Rouen, and there, when the nobles had come, the
dead duke was buried with great ceremony, and all the people mourned
for him and were ready to swear vengeance on his treacherous murderer.
After the service was over Richard was led back from the cathedral to
his palace, and his heavy black robes were taken off and a scarlet
tunic put on; his long brown hair was curled, and he was made as fine
as a little duke could be, though his eyes were red with crying, and
he hated all the pomp and splendor that only made him the surer that
his father was gone.
They brought him down to the great hall of the palace, and there he
found all the barons who had come to his father's burial, and the boy
was told to pull off his cap to them and bow low in answer to their
salutations. Then he slowly crossed the hall, and all the barons
walked after him in a grand procession according to rank—first the
Duke of Brittany and last the poorest of the knights, all going to the
Church of Notre Dame, the great cathedral of Rouen, where the solemn
funeral chants had been sung so short a time before.
There were all the priests and the Norman bishops, and the choir sang
as Richard walked to his place near the altar where he had seen his
father sit [Pg070] so many times. All the long services of the mass
were performed, and then the boy-duke gave his promise, in the name
of God and the people of Normandy, that he would be a good and true
ruler, guard them from their foes, maintain truth, punish sin, and
protect the Church. Two of the bishops put on him the great mantle
of the Norman dukes, crimson velvet and trimmed with ermine; but
it was so long that it lay in great folds on the ground. Then the
archbishop crowned the little lad with a crown so wide and heavy that
one of the barons had to hold it in its place. Last of all, they gave
him his father's sword, taller than he, but he reached for the hilt
and held it fast as he was carried back to his throne, though Count
Bernard offered to carry it. Then all the noblemen did homage, from
Duke Alan of Brittany down, and Richard swore in God's name to be the
good lord of every one and to protect him from his foes. Perhaps some
of the elder men who had followed Rolf the Ganger felt very tenderly
toward this grandchild of their brave old leader, and the friends of
kind-hearted Longsword meant to be loyal and very fatherly to his
defenceless boy, upon whom so much honor, and anxiety too, had early
fallen.
See what a change there was in Normandy since Rolf came, and what a
growth in wealth and orderliness the dukedom had made. All the feudal
or clannish spirit had had time to grow, and Normandy ranked as the
first of the French duchies. Still it would be some time yet before
the Danes and Norwegians of the north could cease to think of the
Normans as their brothers and cousins, and begin to [Pg071] call them
Frenchmen or Welskes, or any of the other names they called the people
in France or Britain. It was sure to be a hard dukedom enough for the
boy-duke to rule, and all his youth was spent in stormy, dangerous
times.
His father had stood godfather—a very close tie—to the heir of the new
king of France, who was called Louis, and he was also at peace with
Count Hugh of Paris. Soon after Longsword's death King Louis appeared
in Rouen at the head of a body of troops, and demanded that he should
be considered the guardian and keeper of young Richard during his
minority. He surprised the counts who were in Rouen, and who were just
then nearly defenceless. It would never do for them to resist Louis
and his followers; they had no troops at hand; and they believed that
the safest thing was to let Richard go, for a time at any rate. It
was true that he was the king's vassal, and Normandy had always done
homage to the kings of France. And with a trusty baron for protection
the boy was sent away out of pleasant Normandy to the royal castle
of Laon. The Rouen people were not very gracious to King Louis, and
that made him angry. Indeed, the French king's dominion was none too
large, and everybody knew that he would be glad to possess himself
of the dukedom, or of part of it, and that he was not unfriendly to
Arnulf, who had betrayed William Longsword. So the barons who were
gathered at Rouen, and all the Rouen people, must have felt very
anxious and very troubled about Richard's safety when the French
horsemen [Pg072] galloped away with him. From time to time news came
that the boy was not being treated very well. At any rate he was not
having the attention and care that belonged to a duke of Normandy. The
dukedom was tempestuous enough at any time, with its Northman party,
and its French party, and their jealousies and rivalries. But they
were all loyal to the boy-duke who belonged to both, and who could
speak the pirate's language as well as that of the French court. If
his life were brought to an untimely end what a falling apart there
would be among those who were not unwilling now to be his subjects. No
wonder that the old barons were so eager to get Richard home again,
and so distrustful of the polite talk and professions of affection
and interest on King Louis's part. Louis had two little sons of his
own, and it would be very natural if he sometimes remembered that,
if Richard were dead, one of his own boys might be Duke of Normandy
instead—that is, if old Count Hugh of Paris did not stand in the way.
So away went Richard from his pleasant country of Normandy, with
its apple and cherry orchards and its comfortable farms, from his
Danes and his Normans, and the perplexed and jealous barons. A young
nobleman, named Osmond de Centeville, was his guardian, and promised
to take the best of care of his young charge, but when they reached
the grim castle of Laon they found that King Louis' promises were not
likely to be kept. Gerberga, the French queen, was a brave woman, but
eager to forward the fortunes of her own household, and nobody took
much notice of the boy who was of so [Pg073] much consequence at home
in his own castle of Rouen. We cannot help wondering why Richard's
life did not come to a sudden end like his father's, but perhaps
Osmond's good care and vigilance gave no chance for treachery to do
its work.
After a while the boy-duke began to look very pale and ill, poor
little fellow, and Osmond watched him tenderly, and soon the rest of
the people in the castle had great hopes that he was going to die.
The tradition says that he was not sick at all in reality, but made
himself appear so by refusing to eat or sleep. At any rate he grew so
pale and feeble that one night everybody was so sure that he could not
live that they fell to rejoicing and had a great banquet. There was no
need to stand guard any longer over the little chief of the pirates,
and nobody takes much notice of Osmond even as he goes to and from the
tower room with a long face.
Late in the evening he speaks of his war-horse which he has forgotten
to feed and litter down, and goes to his stable in the courtyard with
a huge bundle of straw. The castle servants see him, but let him pass
as usual, and the banquet goes on, and the lights burn dim, and the
night wanes before anybody finds out that there was a thin little lad,
keeping very still, in the straw that Osmond carried, and that the two
companions were riding for hours in the starlight toward the Norman
borders. Hurrah! we can almost hear the black horse's feet clatter and
ring along the roads, and take a long breath of relief when we know
that the fugitives get safe to Crecy castle within the Norman lines
next morning. [Pg074]
King Louis was very angry and sent a message that Richard must come
back, but the barons refused, and before long there was a great
battle. There could really be no such thing as peace between the
Normans and the kingdom of France, and Louis had grown more and more
anxious to rid the country of the hated pirates. Hugh the Great
and he were enemies at heart and stood in each other's way, but
Louis made believe that he was friendly, and granted his formidable
rival some new territory, and displayed his royal condescension in
various ways. Each of these rulers was more than willing to increase
his domain by appropriating Normandy, and when we remember the two
parties in Normandy itself we cannot help thinking that Richard's
path was going to be a very rough one to follow. His father's enemy,
Arnulf of Flanders, was the enemy of Normandy still, and always in
secret or open league with Louis. The province of Brittany was hard
to control, and while William Longsword had favored the French party
in his dominions he had put Richard under the care of the Northmen.
Yet this had not been done in a way to give complete satisfaction,
for the elder Danes clung to their old religion and cared nothing
for the solemn rites of the Church, by means of which Richard had
been invested with the dukedom. They were half insulted by such silly
pageantry, yet it was not to the leaders of the old pirate element
in the dukedom, but to the Christianized Danes, whose head-quarters
were at Rouen, that the guardianship of the heir of Normandy had
been given. He did not belong to the [Pg075] Christians, but to the
Norsemen, yet not to the old pagan vikings either. It was a curious
and perhaps a very wise thing to do, but the Danes little thought
when Longsword promised solemnly to put his son under their charge,
that he meant the Christian Danes like Bernard and Botho. There was
one thing that all the Normans agreed upon, that they would not be
the vassals and lieges of the king of France. They had promised it in
their haste when the king had come and taken young Richard away to
Laon, but now that they had time to consider, they saw what a mistake
it had been to make Louis the boy-duke's guardian. They meant to take
fast hold of Richard now that he had come back, and so the barons were
summoned, and when Louis appeared again in Normandy, with the spirit
and gallantry of a great captain, to claim the guardianship and to
establish Christianity, as well as to avenge the murder of Longsword,
if you please!—he found a huge army ready to meet him.
Nobody can understand how King Louis managed to keep such a splendid
army as his in good condition through so many reverses. He had lost
heavily from his lands and his revenues, and there were no laws, so
far as we know, that compelled military service, but the ranks were
always full, and the golden eagle of Charlemagne was borne before the
king on the march, and the banner of that great emperor, his ancestor,
fluttered above his pavilion when the army halted. As for the Danes
(which means simply the Northern or Pirate party of Normandy), they
were very unostentatious soldiers and fought [Pg076] on foot, going
to meet the enemy with sword and shield. Some of them had different
emblems on their shields now, instead of the old red and white stripes
of the shields that used to be hung along the sides of the long-ships,
and they carried curious weapons, even a sort of flail that did great
execution.
We must pass quickly over the long account of a feigned alliance
between Hugh of Paris and King Louis, their agreement to share
Normandy between themselves, and then Hugh's withdrawal, and Bernard
of Senlis's deep-laid plot against both the enemies of Normandy. It
was just at this time that there was a great deal of enmity between
Normandy and Brittany, and the Normans seem to be in a more rebellious
and quarrelsome state than usual. If there was one thing that they
clung to every one of them, and would not let go, it was this: that
Normandy should not be divided, that it should be kept as Rolf had
left it. Sooner than yield to the plots and attempted grasping and
divisions of Hugh and Arnulf of Flanders, and Louis, they would send
to the North for a fleet of dragon ships and conquer their country
over again. They knew very well that however bland and persuasive
their neighbors might become when they desired to have a truce, they
always called them filthy Normans and pirates behind their backs, and
were always hoping for a chance to push them off the soil of Normandy.
There was no love lost between the dukedoms and the kingdom.
[Illustration: FLAIL AS A MILITARY WEAPON (1).]
[Illustration: FLAIL AS A MILITARY WEAPON (2).]
After some time Louis was persuaded again that Normandy desired
nothing so much as to call him her feudal lord and sovereign. Bernard
de Senlis [Pg077] assured him, for the sake of peace, that they were
no longer in doubt of their unhappiness in having a child for a ruler,
that they were anxious to return to the old pledge of loyalty that
Rolf gave to the successor of Charlemagne. He must be the over-lord
again and must come and occupy his humble city of Rouen. They were
tired of being harried, their land was desolated, and they would do
any thing to be released from the sorrows and penalties of war. Much
to our surprise, and very likely to his own astonishment too, we find
King Louis presently going to Rouen, and being received there with all
manner of civility and deference. Everybody hated him just as much as
ever, and distrusted him, and no doubt Louis returned the compliment,
but to outward view he was beloved and honored by his tributaries,
and the Norman city seemed quiet and particularly servile to its new
ruler and his bragging troops. Nobody understood exactly why they had
won their ends with so little trouble, and everybody [Pg078] was on
the watch for some amazing counterplot, and dared not trust either
friend or foe. As for Louis, they had shamed and tormented him too
much to make him a very affectionate sovereign now. To be sure he
ruled over Normandy at last, but that brought him perplexity enough.
In the city the most worthless of his followers was putting on the
airs of a conqueror and aggravating the Norman subjects unbearably.
The Frenchmen who had followed the golden eagle of Charlemagne so
long without any reward but glory and a slender subsistence, began
to clamor for their right to plunder the dukedom and to possess
themselves of a reward which had been too long withheld already.
Hugh, of Paris, and King Louis had made a bold venture together for
the conquest of Normandy, and apparently succeeded to their heart's
content. Hugh had besieged Bayeux; and the country, between the two
assailants, had suffered terribly. Bernard the Dane, or Bernard de
Senlis either, knew no other way to reëstablish themselves than
by keeping Louis in Rouen and cheating him by a show of complete
submission. The Normans must have had great faith in the Danish
Bernard when they submitted to make unconditional surrender to Louis.
Could it be that he had been faithless to the boy-duke's rights, and
allowed him to be contemptuously disinherited?
Now that the king was safely bestowed in Rouen, his new liegemen
began to say very disagreeable things. Louis had made a great fool
of himself at a banquet soon after he reached Rolf's tower in the
[Pg079] Norman city. Bernard the Dane, had spread a famous feast for
him and brought his own good red wine. Louis became very talkative,
and announced openly that he was going to be master of the Normans at
last, and would make them feel his bonds, and shame them well. But
Bernard the Dane left his own seat at the table and placed himself
next the king. Presently he began, in most ingenious ways, to taunt
him with having left himself such a small share of the lands and
wealth of the ancient province of Neustria. He showed him that Hugh
of Paris had made the best of the bargain, and that he had given up a
great deal more than there was any need of doing. Bernard described
in glowing colors the splendid dominions he had sacrificed by letting
his rival step in and take first choice. Louis had not chosen to take
a seventh part of the whole dukedom, and Hugh of Paris was master of
all Normandy beyond the Seine, a beautiful country watered by fine
streams whose ports were fit for commerce and ready for defence. More
than this; he had let ten thousand fighting men slip through his hands
and become the allies of his worst enemy. And so Bernard and his
colleagues plainly told Louis that he had made a great mistake. They
would consent to receive him as their sovereign and guardian of the
young duke, but Normandy must not be divided; to that they would never
give their consent.