The snares now spread for Harold were in pursuance of the policy thus
resolved on. The camp soon afterwards broke up, and the troops took
their way to Bayeux. William, without greatly altering his manner
towards the Earl, evaded markedly (or as markedly replied not to)
Harold's plain declarations, that his presence was required in
England, and that he could no longer defer his departure; while, under
pretence of being busied with affairs, he absented himself much from
the Earl's company, or refrained from seeing him alone, and suffered
Mallet de Graville, and Odo the bishop, to supply his place with
Harold. The Earl's suspicions now became thoroughly aroused, and
these were fed both by the hints, kindly meant, of De Graville, and
the less covert discourse of the prelate: while Mallet let drop, as in
gossiping illustration of William's fierce and vindictive nature, many
anecdotes of that cruelty which really stained the Norman's character,
Odo, more bluntly, appeared to take it for granted that Harold's
sojourn in the land would be long.
"You will have time," said he, one day, as they rode together, "to
assist me, I trust, in learning the language of our forefathers.
Danish is still spoken much at Bayeux, the sole place in Neustria
[198] where the old tongue and customs still linger; and it would
serve my pastoral ministry to receive your lessons; in a year or so I
might hope so to profit by them as to discourse freely with the less
Frankish part of my flock."
"Surely, Lord Bishop, you jest," said Harold, seriously; "you know
well that within a week, at farthest, I must sail back for England
with my young kinsmen."
The prelate laughed.
"I advise you, dear count and son, to be cautious how you speak so
plainly to William. I perceive that you have already ruffled him by
such indiscreet remarks; and you must have seen eno' of the Duke to
know that, when his ire is up, his answers are short but his arms are
long."
"You most grievously wrong Duke William," cried Harold, indignantly,
"to suppose, merely in that playful humor, for which ye Normans are
famous, that he could lay force on his confiding guest?"
"No, not a confiding guest,--a ransomed captive. Surely my brother
will deem that he has purchased of Count Guy his rights over his
illustrious prisoner. But courage! The Norman Court is not the
Ponthevin dungeon; and your chains, at least, are roses."
The reply of wrath and defiance that rose to Harold's lip, was checked
by a sign from De Graville, who raised his finger to his lip with a
face expressive of caution and alarm; and, some little time after, as
they halted to water their horses, De Graville came up to him and said
in a low voice, and in Saxon:
"Beware how you speak too frankly to Odo. What is said to him is said
to William; and the Duke, at times, so acts on the spur of the moment
that--But let me not wrong him, or needlessly alarm you."
"Sire de Graville," said Harold, "this is not the first time that the
Prelate of Bayeux hath hinted at compulsion, nor that you (no doubt
kindly) have warned me of purpose hostile or fraudful. As plain man
to plain man, I ask you, on your knightly honour, to tell me if you
know aught to make you believe that William the Duke will, under any
pretext, detain me here a captive?"
Now, though Mallet de Graville had lent himself to the service of an
ignoble craft, he justified it by a better reason than complaisance to
his lords; for, knowing William well, his hasty ire, and his
relentless ambition, he was really alarmed for Harold's safety. And,
as the reader may have noted, in suggesting that policy of
intimidation, the knight had designed to give the Earl at least the
benefit of forewarning. So, thus adjured, De Graville replied
sincerely:
"Earl Harold, on my honour as your brother in knighthood I answer your
plain question. I have cause to believe and to know that William will
not suffer you to depart, unless fully satisfied on certain points,
which he himself will, doubtless, ere long make clear to you."
"And if I insist on my departure, not so satisfying him?"
"Every castle on our road hath a dungeon as deep as Count Guy's; but
where another William to deliver you from William?"
"Over yon seas, a prince mightier than William, and men as resolute,
at least, as your Normans."
"Cher et puissant, my Lord Earl," answered De Graville, "these are
brave words, but of no weight in the ear of a schemer so deep as the
Duke. Think you really, that King Edward--pardon my bluntness--would
rouse himself from his apathy, to do more in your behalf than he has
done in your kinsmen's--remonstrate and preach?--Are you even sure
that on the representation of a man he hath so loved as William, he
will not be content to rid his throne of so formidable a subject? You
speak of the English people; doubtless you are popular and beloved,
but it is the habit of no people, least of all your own, to stir
actively and in concert, without leaders. The Duke knows the factions
of England as well as you do. Remember how closely he is connected
with Tostig, your ambitious brother. Have you no fear that Tostig
himself, earl of the most warlike part of the kingdom, will not only
do his best to check the popular feeling in your favour, but foment
every intrigue to detain you here, and leave himself the first noble
in the land? As for other leaders, save Gurth (who is but your own
vice earl), who is there that will not rejoice at the absence of
Harold? You have made foes of the only family that approaches the
power of your own--the heirs of Leofric and Algar.--Your strong hand
removed from the reins of the empire, tumults and dissensions ere long
will break forth that will distract men's minds from an absent
captive, and centre them on the safety of their own hearths, or the
advancement of their own interests. You see that I know something of
the state of your native land; but deem not my own observation, though
not idle, sufficed to bestow that knowledge. I learn it more from
William's discourses; William, who from Flanders, from Boulogne, from
England itself, by a thousand channels, hears all that passes between
the cliffs of Dover and the marches of Scotland."
Harold paused long before he replied, for his mind was now thoroughly
awakened to his danger; and, while recognising the wisdom and intimate
acquaintance of affairs with which De Graville spoke, he was also
rapidly revolving the best course for himself to pursue in such
extremes. At length he said:
"I pass by your remarks on the state of England, with but one comment.
You underrate Gurth, my brother, when you speak of him but as the vice
earl of Harold. You underrate one, who needs but an object, to excel,
in arms and in council, my father Godwin himself.--That object a
brother's wrongs would create from a brother's love, and three hundred
ships would sail up the Seine to demand your captive, manned by
warriors as hardy as those who wrested Neustria from King Charles."
"Granted," said De Graville. "But William, who could cut off the
hands and feet of his own subjects for an idle jest on his birth,
could as easily put out the eyes of a captive foe. And of what worth
are the ablest brain, and the stoutest arm, when the man is dependent
on another for very sight!"
Harold involuntarily shuddered, but recovering himself on the instant,
he replied, with a smile:
"Thou makest thy Duke a butcher more fell than his ancestor
Rolfganger. But thou saidst he needed but to be satisfied on certain
points. What are they?"
"Ah, that thou must divine, or he unfold. But see, William himself
approaches you."
And here the Duke, who had been till then in the rear, spurred up with
courteous excuses to Harold for his long defection from his side; and,
as they resumed their way, talked with all his former frankness and
gaiety.
"By the way, dear brother in arms," said he, "I have provided thee
this evening with comrades more welcome, I fear, than myself--Haco and
Wolnoth. That last is a youth whom I love dearly: the first is
unsocial eno', and methinks would make a better hermit than soldier.
But, by St. Valery, I forgot to tell thee that an envoy from Flanders
to-day, amongst other news, brought me some, that may interest thee.
There is a strong commotion in thy brother Tostig's Northumbrian
earldom, and the rumour runs that his fierce vassals will drive him
forth and select some other lord: talk was of the sons of Algar--so
I think ye called the stout dead Earl. This looks grave, for my dear
cousin Edward's health is failing fast. May the saints spare him long
from their rest!"
"These are indeed ill tidings," said the Earl; "and I trust that they
suffice to plead at once my excuse for urging any immediate departure.
Grateful I am for thy most gracious hostship, and thy just and
generous intercession with thy liegeman" (Harold dwelt emphatically on
the last word), "for my release from a capture disgraceful to all
Christendom. The ransom so nobly paid for me I will not insult thee,
dear my lord, by affecting to repay; but such gifts as our cheapmen
hold most rare, perchance thy lady and thy fair children will deign to
receive at my hands. Of these hereafter. Now may I ask but a vessel
from thy nearest port."
"We will talk of this, dear guest and brother knight, on some later
occasion. Lo, yon castle--ye have no such in England. See its
vawmures and fosses!"
"A noble pile," answered Harold. "But pardon me that I press for--"
"Ye have no such strongholds, I say, in England?" interrupted the Duke
petulantly.
"Nay," replied the Englishman, "we have two strongholds far larger
than that--Salisbury Plain and Newmarket Heath! [199]--strongholds
that will contain fifty thousand men who need no walls but their
shields. Count William, England's ramparts are her men, and her
strongest castles are her widest plains."
"Ah!" said the Duke, biting his lip, "ah, so be it--but to return:--in
that castle, mark it well, the Dukes of Normandy hold their prisoners
of state;" and then he added with a laugh; "but we hold you, noble
captive, in a prison more strong--our love and our heart."
As he spoke, he turned his eye full upon Harold, and the gaze of the
two encountered: that of the Duke was brilliant, but stern and
sinister; that of Harold, steadfast and reproachful. As if by a
spell, the eye of each rested long on that of the other--as the eyes
of two lords of the forest, ere the rush and the spring.
William was the first to withdraw his gaze, and as he did so, his lip
quivered and his brow knit. Then waving his hand for some of the
lords behind to join him and the Earl, he spurred his steed, and all
further private conversation was suspended. The train pulled not
bridle before they reached a monastery, at which they rested for the
night.