The Little Duke: Richard the Fearless

danced on the floor. Opposite to her sat, sleeping in his chair, Sir Eric de Centeville; Osmond was on a low bench within the chimney corner, trimming and shaping with his kn

their broad silken ears; now tickling the large cushions of their feet with the end of one of Osmond's feathers; now fairly pulling open the eyes of one of the good-natured sleepy creatures, which only stretched its legs, and remonstrated with a sort of low groan, rather than a growl. The boy's eyes were, all the time, intently fixed on Dame Astrida, as if he would not lose one word of the story she was telling him; how Earl Ro

; "and how Sigurd Bloodaxe threw down simple King

o, I will rather tell you of our coming to Centeville, and how dreary I thought these smooth meads, and broad soft gliding streams, compared with mine own father's fiord in Norway, shut in with the tall

red a sudden deafening bark; Osmond sprung up, exclaiming, "Hark!" and trying to silence the hounds; and Richard

r, and see whether he who comes at such an hour be friend or foe. Stay you here, my Lord," he added, as Richard

uess," said Fru Astrida. "It can s

Hark, there are horses' feet in the court! I am sure that is his black charger

n Richard was about to spring forward, when Osmond returned, his face showing, at a glance, that something was amiss; b

o Richard, bent his knee before him, took his hand, and said with a broken voice and heaving breast, "Richard, Duke of Normandy, I am thy liegeman and tr

d sigh from Ferrières, he too bent before the boy, and repeated the words, "I am thy li

eling as if he was in a frightful dream from which he could not awake. "W

lowed fast, and Richard stood, reassured by her embrace, listening with eyes open wide, and deep oppressed breat

ir Eric de Centeville, like

ly, and the silence was only broken by

presently. "There was no note of battle when y

ttle," gloomily re

ness cut him do

"It was treachery. He fell in the Isle of P

ried the Baron de Centevil

crime," said Ferrières, "saf

d Sir Eric. "Our Duke slain, and his ene

ld, who is like to need all that ever were friends to his house. I would that mine eyes had been blinded for ever, ere they

rs, in the Isle of Pecquigny, the Duke and Count each bringing twelve men with them, all unarmed. Duke Alan of Brittany was one on our side, Count Bernard here another, old Count Bothon and mysel

as they met? 'My Lord,' quoth he, 'you are my shield and defence.' [6]

m's pleasure to go alone in a small boat, while we twelve were together in another. Just as we had nearly reached our own bank, there was a shout from the Flemings that their Count had somewhat further to say to the Duke, and forbidding us to follow him, the Duke turned his boat and went back again. No sooner had he set foot on the isle," proceeded the Norman, clenching his hands, and speaking between his teeth, "than we saw one Fleming strike him on th

l history was more like one of Dame Astrida's legends than a reality, and at the moment his thought was

words were eagerly caught up by the Barons, who, as Duke William had said, were far from possessing any tem

Bernard, rising. "Yes, and I see a sparkle in your

You might search Normandy through, yea, and Norway likewise, ere you would find a temper more bold and

, Duke Rollo, and much, too, of his noble father! How say you, Lord Ric

ted by those few words of his. "I will ride at your head this

"but it must be to Rouen, there to be invested with your duca

ould be seen, he sat down on a footstool at Fru Astrida's feet, leant his forehead on his hands, and thought over all that his father had done and said the last time they were together. He fancied the return that had been promised, going over the meeting and the greeting, till he had almost persuaded himself that this dreadful story was but a dream. But when he looked up, there were the Barons, with their grave mournful faces, speaking of the corpse, which Duke Alan of Brittany was escorting to Rouen, there to

eed, it was for no other purpose than to fetch him that the Count of Harcourt had come to Bayeux. Fru Astrida was quite unhappy that "the child," as she called him, should go alone with the warriors; but Sir Eric laughed

Sir Eric and Count Bernard. Richard was but a little boy, and he did not think so much of his loss, as he rode along in the free morning air, feeling himself a Prince at the head of his vassals, his banner displayed before him, and the people coming out wherever he passed to gaze on him, and call

en very different from Richard's last journey, when he went to keep Christmas there with his father; but now they were beginning to come nearer the town, he knew the broad river Seine again, and s

those tall grave Barons had nothing to say to such a little boy, and the very respect and formality with which they treated him, made him shrink from

n advance of them through the gateway. There was a loud shout of "Long live the little Duke!" and crowds of people were standing round to gaze upon his entry, so many that the bag of coins was soon emptied by his largesses. The whole city was like

respect. He trembled a little, and yet it did not seem quite so dreary, since he should once more look on his father's face, and he accordingly rode towards the Cathedral. It was then very unlike what it is now; th

he Chancel stood a double row ranged in a square, shedding a pure, quiet brilliancy throughout the building, and chiefly on the silver and gold ornaments of the Altar. Outside these lights knelt a row

d in the water of the font, crossed his brow, and came slowly on, sprinkled the remaining drops on the lifele

f a helmet, his coronet was on his head; but, in contrast with this rich array, over the collar of the hauberk, was folded the edge of a rough hair shirt, which the Duke had worn beneath his robes, unknown to all, until his corpse was disrobed of his blood-stained garments. His face looked full of calm,

nt Bernard, first breaking the si

"I see it, and dearly shall the traitor Fleming abye it!" Then, encouraged by the applauding looks of the nobles, he proceeded, feeling like one of the young champions of Fru Astrida's songs. His cheek was coloured, his eye lighted up, and he lifted his head, so that the hair fell bac

near the head of the corpse, had risen, and stood tall and dark over him, and, looking up, he recogni

peace of the dead with clamours for vengeance? Dost thou vow strife and anger on that sword which was never drawn, save in the cause of the poor and distressed?

ed his face with his hands, to hide

e. "Our young Lord is no monk, and we will not see each spark of

thy master with the crime he so abhorred, nor the temple of Him who came to pardon, with thy hatred. Well do I know, ye Barons of Normandy, that each drop of your blood would willingly be given, could it bring back our departed Duke, or guard his orpha

his fingers, as the thought of those last words of his father returned more clearly upon him. The Abbot laid his hand on his head, and spok

Richard, as well

o the large Cross over the Altar, "thou

is head in asse

hou who gave that pardon? The Son forgave His murderers; the Fa

murderous traitor glory unpunished in his crime, while

show love and mercy to Arnulf of Flanders. Yes, when the hand of the Lord hath touched him, and bowed him down in punishment for his crime, it is then, that thou, whom he hath most deeply injured, sho

and Bernard de Harcourt, taking hi