The Siege of Norwich Castle: A story of the last struggle against the Conqueror

by M. M. Blake

  CHAPTER XIII.

  ST. NICHOLAS FOR GUADER!

  The original plan of campaign drawn out by the Earls of East Anglia andHereford had been sadly marred by the defection of Waltheof, whosecounties of Huntingdon and Northampton lay between them, so that,instead of being a bond of union, they had now become adverseterritory.

  With Waltheof assisting them, only Worcestershire and Warwickshirewould have divided them, but since he had left them in the lurch, theymust needs fight half across England to effect a junction. They hadthis comfort, however, that Waltheof had left the country in order tomake his peace with the king, and would not personally encounter them,while their positions at the extremes of east and west exposed anyforce attacking either of them to be itself attacked in the rear by theother. Further, the unsettled state of the Welsh border, and thereadiness of the Celts to seize any excuse for invasion, renderedHereford's movement doubly formidable for the king's lieutenants.

  De Guader hoped that, for this reason, the main force of the opponentsmight be turned towards Hereford, and that he might be upon them beforethey were aware that he had taken the field. The hope proved delusive.

  When he reached his manors at Swaffham, of which place he was lord, hefound that the royal army was almost upon him, and that he must givebattle there and then.

  Ralph had need to put forth his best powers of generalship, for theforce against him was led by four of William's most brilliantofficers:--

  Earl William de Warrenne and Surrey, the husband of the king'sstepdaughter Gundred, to whom had been given twenty-eight manors inYorkshire, and one hundred and thirty-nine lordships in Norfolk, andwho was building a fine castle at Acre near Swaffham, so that he wasRalph's neighbour, and probably no very cordial one. The Norman earlhad won experience of Fenland fighting in the campaign against Herewarda few seasons previously, and had never forgiven the English forkilling his brother, who was leading the king's men through theterrible quagmires of the Isle of Ely; so he ground his teeth and sworestrange oaths, as was the way of the Normans, that now the time forretribution had come.

  Next there was Robert Malet, son of the brave old Sir William, who hadhelped to bear the corse of Harold Godwinsson to its first burial, andwho took with him to his own grave the love and respect of Normans andEnglish alike, leaving his son an inheritance of lands in Norfolk andSuffolk.

  Besides were two warlike bishops: Odo of Bayeux, the king'shalf-brother, and Geoffrey of Coutances, warriors whose prestige wasitself equal to a large body of troops.

  After the death of Robert the Devil, Arlete of Falaise, the mother ofWilliam the Conqueror, married a knight named Herluin de Conteville,and bore him two sons, Robert, Count of Mortain, and Odo, Bishop ofBayeux.

  Odo had a large share of the military genius of his great half-brother;nevertheless the chronicles say: 'He was no instigator to war, norcould he be drawn thereto, and therefore much feared by the soldiers.But upon great necessity, his counsels in military affairs were ofspecial avail, so far as might consist with the safety of religion. Tothe king, whose brother he was by the mother, his affections were sogreat that he could not be severed from him, no, not in the camp.' Heequipped one hundred ships of war as his contribution to the invasionof England, and fought in person at Hastings, for which he was rewardedby the earldom of Kent, one hundred and eighty-four lordships in thatcounty, and two hundred and fifty in other parts of England, includingRising, in Norfolk, where he built a fine castle.

  Affluence did not improve his character. He grew rapacious and greedy,and degraded his sacred office by flagrant immoralities.

  The followers of these four redoubtable leaders far out-numbered DeGuader's, and were better drilled and equipped; moreover, the defectionof Waltheof had caused many of the Saxon and Anglo-Danish nobles tojoin the Norman camp, seeing a good opportunity to curry favour withthe Conqueror.

  Ralph's naturally dauntless spirit was, however, strung by theimpossibility of turning back, and he formed his troops in thestrongest position he could, taking advantage of the great Saxon fosseand rampart known as the Devil's Dyke, which runs from Eastmore toNarborough, lining the steep vallum with his archers and slingers andjavelin men, and massing his cavalry on the firm open ground ofBeachamwell Heath, with the hope of forcing his foe into the morassesthat lay around Foulden; for in those days the Bedford level wasundrained, and there were no old and new Bedford rivers to gather thewaters, no Denver sluice to carry them off; the sweltering fensstretched far and wide, and miles and miles of land that is now fertilepasturage was haunted only by wildfowl and fishes.

  Before commencing the attack, the leaders on the king's side sentforward a knight with a herald carrying the royal standard, andaccompanied by trumpets to sound a parley. This being acceded to by DeGuader, and a knight bearing his standard sent forth to meet them, theroyal envoy, who was no less a person than the Bishop of Bayeuxhimself, rode forward, and delivered his charge in so loud and clear avoice, that it was audible to the cluster of knights who gathered roundDe Guader, before the herald officially repeated it.

  Ralph was not ill-pleased to see the Bishop of Bayeux come forward, forthe cruelties he had perpetrated while sharing the vice-regency ofEngland with William Fitzosbern had won him the hatred of the Saxons,and the Normans regarded him with jealousy and distrust; so that of allWilliam's leaders he was least likely to win Ralph's followers to hisside by personal influence.

  Yet the warlike bishop was well fitted to grace the saddle of a knight.Tall, robust, and handsome, in the prime of youthful manhood, he lookedindeed a noble cavalier, and any who saw him might well deem that thefeats by which he had made himself famous at Hastings might be eclipsedby his prowess on the field before him.

  His eyes sparkled with the excitement of the coming struggle, and hisupright and muscular form was armed _cap-a-pie_ in all the trappings ofknightly harness. Only in one particular did his equipment differ fromthat of the warriors around him. He bore neither lance nor sword, butonly, hanging from his saddle-bow, a huge mace with iron spikes, aweapon more deadly than either, be it said, though less like to spillblood; by this subterfuge professing to obey the law of the Churchwhich forbade his order to shed blood.

  He now came as a messenger of peace--on conditions. But whatconditions!

  'Noble barons and knights,' he shouted, 'here present in contumaciousassembly! In the name of our king-lord, William of Normandy, supremesovereign of these realms, by the will of the sainted Eadward theConfessor, and the election of the Witanagemot'--('No!' thundered someof the Anglo-Saxons who followed Ralph de Guader)--'By the will of thesainted Eadward the Confessor, and the election of the Witanagemot!'repeated the bishop in still louder tones, 'we, his representatives, dohere demand of you that ye deliver up the body of the vile andaudacious traitor, Ralph de Guader, sometime Earl of Norfolk andSuffolk, but now under attainder for high treason; and the persons ofhis Breton followers, here arranged in blank rebellion against theirliege lord and sovereign, William the Norman, upon which deliveranceand your immediate return to allegiance, your past misdeeds willreceive free pardon, be ye Norman or Saxon.'

  Ralph de Guader's dark visage was convulsed with passion when he heardhimself and his countrymen thus singled out and excepted from all hopeof pardon; and he vowed within his throat that if his Norman and Saxonvassals and allies accepted the terms, himself and his bold Bretonswould forthwith turn upon them, and so entreat them that few shouldlive to profit by their delinquency.

  But the doubt was short-lived. Ralph was a brave leader and a generousmaster, and, moreover, well skilled in raising the ambitions of such ashad embarked in his boat. A shout of derision hailed the bishop'sharangue before the herald had time to repeat it formally, rising firstfrom a dozen or so of lusty throats in Ralph's near neighbourhood, andspreading afterwards through the whole host. Ralph himself flung backthe answer.

  'Tell your base-born usurper,' he shouted, 'that the Normans have tiredof his ingratitude, and deem his offers of pardon as little like to be
fulfilled, as the fair promises of lands and honours he made thembefore Hastings. Tell him that the Saxons have yet to avenge HaroldGodwinsson, and win back their broad acres, and that the Bretons arenot yet within the power of the murderer of Count Alain and CountConan.'

  'It is well!' replied the bishop, who, notwithstanding the elasticityof his ecclesiastical conscience, preferred honest fighting to thechopping off the hands, ears, and noses of prisoners which must needshave followed the acceptance of his terms. 'After such a message, weneed have no compunction in striking the first blow.'

  The day was overcast, and heavy masses of grey cloud were scudding upfrom the south-west, shedding blinding gushes of rain at intervals, anda gusty, whistling wind swept the open heath. As Bishop Odo withdrew tothe ranks of the king's men, a wilder whistle shrilled through the air,and sharp cries of pain startled the larks and the whin-chats fromtheir nests among the gorse.

  The battle had commenced with an almost simultaneous flight of arrowson each side. For a long time De Guader acted stubbornly on thedefensive. His only chance was to keep the king's forces at bay alongthe Devil's Dyke. But the line to be guarded was very long, and thenumber of the foe enabled them to attack many points at once.

  He stood with his standard and his cavalry on the high ground towardsBeachamwell, where alone they had any chance to manoeuvre; but down inthe fens towards Fouldon the fierce clashing of axe on spear, the clangof swords on buckler and mail, the whiz of arrows and the sharptwanging of bows mingled strangely with the shrill screaming offrightened waterfowl; and the wild shouts of the combatants frightenedmany a skein of mallards and plovers in their reedy haunts, from whichthey rose on whirring wings, with clamorous shrieks of fear.

  Alike on the heath and in the fen, Normans were striving with Normans,and Saxons with Saxons, while the Bretons fought with the courage ofdesperation, well knowing that not only ruin, but the most terribletortures and mutilation awaited their defeat.

  Time after time the assailants strove to throw bridges across the dyke,and more than once succeeded in fixing their grappling-irons upon therampart.

  Time after time they were beaten back, leaving so many dead and dyingbehind them that the bodies of their friends might almost have servedfor a bridge.

  But numbers prevailed at length. There came an hour when De Guader'sarchers and slingers, thinned by the continuous iron hail of arrows andquarrels to which they had been unceasingly exposed, no longer sufficedto guard the extended line of the rampart. While they were defendingone hotly-contested point, the enemy forced another, and before theywere well aware of their misfortune, a large body of knights had gainedthe eastern side of the dyke.

  De Guader instantly formed his cavalry and led them to the charge, withthe cry of 'St. Nicholas for Guader!' and the ground shook beneath thethundering feet of the destriers.

  '_Dex Aie et Notre Dame!_' shouted the warlike bishop, who led the foe,and the mailed hosts closed with a crash that was heard by the warderson the walls of the new castle that William de Warrenne was building atCastle Acre.

  But when De Guader and his followers had hewn their way through thethick squadron that met them, a fresh body stood ready for them, andfurther hosts were pouring across the dyke.

  The odds were so overwhelming, that the East Anglian earl was forced tofall back; an awful retreat, for his troops were harassed in the rearby the remnant of the band they had just charged.

  The royalist knights pressed after them, driving them back and back offthe firm heath towards the morasses near Fouldon; many a gallanthorseman floundering into the quagmires and stifling in the black ooze.Carnage grew fierce round the East Anglian banner, and anxious eyesfollowed the waving gold and black plumes upon De Guader's helm, formany felt that to lose their leader would be to lose the day. In thosetimes individual prowess often turned the fortune of a field. It wasthe era of single combats, and a thrill passed through all the host,when, after long seeking, Ralph and Odo met at length. It was as if thewhole field paused to watch.

  They had fought side by side at Hastings, these two splendid warriors,to Ralph's shame be it spoken! They had sat side by side at many afestive board, and had tried their strength and dexterity in thefriendly struggle of the tourney. Now they met as mortal foes, hurlinginsult at each other.

  'Pitiful renegade, twice told a traitor!' cried Odo, 'how darest thoudraw good steel to defend thine unknightly carcase?'

  'Nay! My sword has better cause than ever hath thy mace, unsanctifiedshaveling!' retorted Ralph 'the cause of a fell-monger's grandson!'

  The taunt struck home, since it included Odo with William.

  Striking the rowels into their horses, they flew at each other liketigers.

  The head of Ralph's lance had been chopped off a few moments before bya blow from a Saxon seax, so he had but his sword to oppose to thebishop's awful mace.

  A gleam of steel, and a dull, horrible crash! A wild yell of execrationand triumph from a hundred throats! For both the champions were down.Each party closed up to protect its leader, and a fearful conflictbegan around the fallen heroes.

  But though Odo was down, Geoffrey of Coutances, William de Warrenne,and Robert Malet were ready to take his place, and shrewd blows weregiven and taken in the neighbourhood of each of these redoubtablechampions, while, although the East Anglian earl had many brave knightsin his following, the insurgents were virtually without a leader.

  Ralph's fall decided the fate of the day, if it had ever been doubtful.The flight of his army was only delayed by the frantic valour of theBretons, who were bent on selling their lives as dearly as possible.

  The tide of battle rolled eastwards, gradually degenerating into apursuit and butchery, and the original site of the struggle was left tothe dead and the dying.

  The wind had risen, shaking the white tassels of the cotton-grass whichcovered acres of the marshes, and bending the aspens till the whiteundersides of their leaves alone were visible, as if it were preparingwhite shrouds for the dead. As the clouds parted, the red sun shoneforth between their scudding masses, flushing them to vivid crimson,and shedding a lurid light upon the ensanguined field of fight,glittering redly on the harness of the fallen, and painting the palefaces of the dying with a hue as bright as the life-blood that welledfrom their wounds. But no wind could shake yonder tuft of reeds as itis shaken! Behold a motley figure comes cautiously forth and advancesalong the field, peering curiously into the faces of the fallen as itcomes.

  It is Grillonne, the Earl of East Anglia's jester. Grim jests he mustmake if he would suit his wit to his surroundings!

  Bishop Odo meets De Guader.]

  And grim jests he does make; for often, when, after considerable toil,he has gained sight of the face of a dead or wounded man, half buriedunder fallen friends and foes, he expresses his disgust and abhorrenceat recognising one of William of Normandy's supporters, by pulling hisnose or moustachios;--not very violently, it is true, and usuallyfollowing up the indignity by placing the victim's head in ascomfortable a position as the circumstances allowed.

  But at last he found a face which he treated otherwise.

  'Ah, my dear lord!' he cried, placing his hands tenderly under thesenseless head; he could do no more, for a heap of slain and the hoofof a dead charger were piled above the earl.

  'Oh, sweet nuncle, open thine eyes, thy dear eyes, and glad the heartof thy poor faithful fool. God forbid! Thou canst not be dead! For thylady's sake thou canst not be dead!' He took from his breast a smallflask containing a strong cordial, and poured a portion of its contentsdown the earl's throat, tenderly wiping away the blood which oozed froma contused wound in his forehead; and after a time Ralph's eyes openedlanguidly,--opened and closed again almost instantly.

  'Good lad! Good lad!' exclaimed the old jester cheerfully. 'There islife in thee yet, I well see, and we will have thee all safe and soundyet, Holy Mary be praised! But I cannot do the job single-handed,valiant hero as I am, and I like not to leave thee, lest thine enemiesreturn. Hist! I hav
e a notion!'

  He took off his little parti-coloured cape, and got it upon the earl'sshoulders; and he drew from his pocket his jester's cap, which he hadthrust therein to still the noise of the bells, and decorated therewiththe earl's stately head; and he took the earl's battered helm, whichhad rolled off, and lay near by, with its gold and black plumesmightily draggled, and fastened it upon the head of a dead Bretonknight, Sir Guy de Landerneau, who had fallen at a little distance fromhis leader, and not long afterwards. Next, he armed himself with themail jerkin and steel-cap of one of the slain archers, added thereto ashort sword, then fled precipitately to find help to extricate theearl.

  And he was but just in time.

  Scarcely had he disappeared, when a searching party of the king's mencame to that quarter of the field, and carried off triumphantly thedead knight upon whom Grillonne had fixed the earl's helmet.[4]

  [4] See Appendix, Note C.