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

by M. M. Blake

  CHAPTER XX.

  A OUTRANCE.

  The morning came, and with it cares more important than the fate of thepoor Knight of Sourdeval.

  Before the dew was off the meadows, the shrill trumpets of thebesiegers were heard at the barbican, demanding a parley, and callingfor admittance in the name of the king.

  The countess, holding counsel with Sir Hoel de St. Brice and Sir Alainde Gourin, and other of the knights of the garrison, replied that shewould accede to the parley, and receive the messenger in person; and,accordingly, the messenger was blindfolded, admitted within the castle,and conducted to the council-chamber in the great tower.

  The knight who bore the message of the king's lieutenants was sheathedin complete armour, and exceedingly stately in his mien and figure,being tall and of great personal strength. He was no other than RobertMalet, whose father, the loved and honoured William Malet, had been inbodily prowess second to none but the Conqueror himself of those whofought on the Norman side at Hastings.

  As he entered the room, the rebel knights instinctively straightenedthemselves, and assumed such dignity of bearing as they were capable ofshowing; but none bore comparison with him save Leofric Ealdredsson,the stalwart Anglo-Dane, who had never bent the knee to the NormanConqueror, and who now stood at the right hand of the countess, withthe lightnings of a noble defiance gleaming in his blue eyes.

  Yet Malet himself was to become a rebel before his death. When thesilken kerchief with which his eyes had been covered was removed, hegazed proudly round the assembly, and bowed his tall head to thecountess alone.

  'In the name of William the Conqueror, King of England and Duke ofNormandy,' he said in a commanding voice, 'I call upon Ralph de Guaderand Montfort, heretofore Earl of East Anglia, but deprived of hisearldom for that he has wrongfully taken arms against his suzerain andliege lord; and I demand that he instantly surrenders this castle,which he holds only as the Constable of the king. I demand thatentrance into the said castle be at once given to the troops of hisGrace the king, and that he thereby refrain from adding still furtherto his guilt, by contumaciously retaining it.'

  'The Earl of East Anglia hath taken ship from this country, and hathdevolved the duties of Castellan upon me, his countess,' replied Emmacalmly.

  'In that case, noble lady,--I cannot style thee countess, for thou hastno longer right to the title,--I call upon thee, as Castellan of thiscastle of Blauncheflour, to surrender it to the lieutenants of thyliege and kinsman, William of Normandy,' answered the young knight,fixing his keen blue eyes upon Emma's fair face, whose features, wornby the anxiety she had undergone, were pathetic in their pallor, andmoved his heart to pity. 'I may well suppose,' he continued boldly,'that in so doing thou wilt with pleasure disburden thy slendershoulders of so heavy and unwomanly a burden.'

  Emma drew herself up with a slight gesture of disdain for suchmisbestowed sympathy. The knight responded by adding hastily,'Moreover, I would appeal to thy gentleness and natural instincts ofmercy to prevent the useless shedding of blood which the holding ofthis castle must cause, by prolonging a struggle which can only end oneway.'

  Emma's delicate nostrils quivered, and the fine firm lips set fiercely.

  'The Countess of East Anglia desires to know the terms on which she isasked to yield up her faithful garrison to the tender mercies of themen who mutilated Stephen le Hareau,' she said, still calmly, but withflashing eyes, and due emphasis on her title. 'The race is not alwaysto the swift, nor the battle to the strong, and methinks her gentlenessand love of mercy are more nearly concerned in preventing her faithfuldefenders from encountering such a fate as his.'

  'To the Castellan of Blauncheflour I reply, that the surrender must bewithout conditions,' answered the knight.

  'In that case,' answered Emma, 'the Countess of East Anglia replies,that her garrison will win their own terms by their swords.'

  Leofric Ealdredsson burst out with a loud 'Ahoi!' in the exuberance ofhis approbation, and clashed his heavy axe upon the floor, his manybracelets jingling like small bells. 'Well said!' exclaimed thevenerable Sir Hoel de St. Brice, looking at the young countess with anexpression of reverent affection, and from one and all therepresentatives of the garrison who stood around her chair brokevarious expressions of approval.

  The countess turned to her knights with sparkling eyes. 'I have ye withme, then, in this reply, fair sirs?' she asked, and the tumult ofassent with which they answered hindered Robert Malet, for somemoments, from further speech.

  In truth the enthusiasm was contagious, and the royal envoy's own eyesflashed. The chivalrous spirit of Fitzosbern's daughter jumped wellwith his humour. He had been a sorry Norman else; no true heritor ofthe wild sea-kings. It cost him some effort to resist his impulse tojoin in the applause, but he controlled himself, and said gravely, 'Ipray thee, noble lady, to consider well before coming to so direful adecision; involving, as it doth, no less an issue than the adding ofhigh treason on thine own part to the heavy guilt of the man thou hastwedded against the express mandate of thy suzerain. The daughter ofWilliam Fitzosbern should be slow to draw the sword against William ofNormandy.'

  'The decision is final, Sir Knight,' replied Emma curtly; thinking toherself that William of Normandy had not scrupled to insult the son anddaughter of William Fitzosbern. She added to those in attendance, 'Letthis brave gentleman be reconducted to the gate without delay.'

  The envoy bowed in silence, and, allowing the silken kerchief to beagain bound over his eyes, he marched with stately grace from theapartment.

  So Emma de Guader cast down her gauntlet beside that of her husband,and dared the power of her great cousin.

  Before the sun was midway in the heavens, a fierce struggle had begunbetween the besiegers and the besieged for possession of the barbican.This was not a strong construction of masonry as in the Norman castlesof the twelfth century, but a deep and wide fosse or moat, with a highvallum strengthened with stout palisading on its inner side, of asemicircular or horseshoe form, the horns nearly touching the presentditch. The causeway that passed between the horns and the presentditch, by which access was given to the castle, was amply protected bythe towers of the gate-house and the walls of the castle itself, fromwhence arrows and quarrels would easily reach assailants. The similarfosse and palisaded vallum surrounding the castle meadow affordedadditional protection to the eastern extremity of the causeway; theportion of the semicircle to the south-west being most open to attack.

  Spearmen and javelin-throwers lined the palisades, and from their coverrepelled the onslaught of the assaulting men-at-arms, who had furtherto withstand a whizzing shower of arrows from bowmen hiding in thewooden stalls of the market.

  The king's men were endeavouring to throw a wooden bridge across theditch. One end was furnished with wheels, the other with hugegrappling-irons, which they strove to make fast in the vallum.

  Watching them stood Leofric Ealdredsson, who, on the night before, whenSir Alain de Gourin had been sneering at the primitive Saxonearthworks, had said, with a laugh and a fierce gleam in his eyes, 'Letme defend them; I am used to the rude English fashions.' A band of histerrible house-carles, armed with their great battle-axes, and long ofhair and large of limb, waited his orders with the air of bloodhoundsin a leash straining at their collars.

  From a loophole on the southern side of the keep, lighting the gallerywhich runs within the walls on a level with the great entrance, thecountess and her bower-maiden Eadgyth watched the strife.

  Eadgyth had been present in the council-chamber during the audience ofRobert Malet. 'Thou wast grand, Emma,' she was saying to her lady andfriend. 'Thou wast so strong and courageous, while, to say sooth, myown heart was beating like an armourer's hammer.'

  'Thou art a strange child, my Eadgyth,' said Emma affectionately, wellpleased with the admission of the English maiden.

  A wilder shout from the besiegers than any preceding broke theirconverse, and for some moments each watched the progress of the fightin breathless silence.


  For the assailants had established their bridge against the vallum, andover it the attacking knights charged in a body, led by Robert Malet inperson, his high crest topping them all, and by sheer weight of horseand harness they drave down the barricades and pressed in, hewing insunder all before them.

  Eadgyth gave a shrill scream and threw her arms wildly round thecountess, who stood motionless, with eyes dilated and heaving breast.

  Then rang out the wild Norse war-cry, 'Ahoi! ahoi!' And Leofric and hisfierce carles sprang forward like tigers; and the flash and crash oftheir great axes smote eye and ear, while more than one knightly saddlewas emptied, more than one riderless destrier ran neighing around theenclosure; more than one mailed warrior, impervious to arrows andquarrels, was cloven through his helm and lay lifeless on the ground.

  The Anglo-Danes laughed in their yellow beards, and vigorously improvedtheir advantage, so that in a few moments the knights were forced backbeyond the line of the barricades, some getting back across the bridge,some falling into the water.

  'See, foolish child! thy cousin has driven them back!' cried Emma. ForLeofric was akin to Harold on the mother's side, and so akin toEadgyth. She stroked the cheek of the frightened girl as a mother whocomforts an infant. 'And had he not, there are stout walls and strongarms betwixt them and thee.'

  'I know it! I know it! But it is all so terrible! I have not thy nervesof steel! Oh, Emma, in pity watch no longer! I cannot bear it!'

  'Faint heart!' cried Emma lovingly. 'The clash of arms doth but spur mycourage. I have always loved it from my cradle. Methinks I had made adoughty knight! It is not danger that quells me.'

  Her face grew sad, for the bitter pang of an uneasy conscience gnawedher soul. Danger did not quell her, but her doubting heart tormentedher.

  '_Let me then starve, dear lady; I cannot lift my hand against myheart's witness to the right._'

  The sentence sprang into her mind and seemed to glow before her eyes asif it had been seared upon her brain with red-hot irons.

  She drew her breath with a long shuddering sigh. In the rapid crowdingof events that morning, the man who had spoken it in such despairingearnest had been forgotten, though she had thought of nothing elsethrough the long watches of the night.

  She turned to Eadgyth, and bade her go to the chapel, and offer prayersfor the earl, and the garrison, and the souls of the fallen. 'Thou wiltfeel safe within the holy precincts,' she said; 'and Dame Amicia shallattend me. She is short of sight, and the shouts of yonder madmen willscarce penetrate her ears; she will prove more courageous than artthou.'

  When the aged lady-in-waiting came to her, in obedience to the messageEadgyth had conveyed, the countess left the loophole through which sostirring a drama was visible, and advanced to meet her. 'I need thesupport of thy reverend presence, dear dame,' she said, and told herhow she had found one of her lord's knights imprisoned, as shebelieved, on a misunderstanding, and that she wished to question himagain, having taken it upon her to free him.

  The old lady could hear each syllable of Emma's clear, soft voice,though she was untroubled by the shouts of the combatants below, andshe nodded her stately head with its crown of snow-white hair,tastefully draped with a broidered veil of Cyprian crape.

  'A good lad, a good lad, and ever courteous,' answered Dame Amicia.'Thou dost well to probe the matter. I thought he had gone toBretagne.'

  'It seems he was in durance in this castle,' said Emma. 'But we knew itnot; or, if my lord knew it, he had no time to sift the charges againsthim. Methinks, if he have somewhat erred, he has been punished enough,and I may grant him pardon.'

  'Ay; if we forgive not the trespasses of others, how can we pray with aclean heart that our own may be forgiven?' replied the old lady,nodding again. 'We must practise forgiveness, or our paternosters arebut a mockery.'

  No further words were spoken till they reached the apartment to which,according to the orders of the countess, Sir Aimand had been conveyed.

  De Gourin had taken the precaution to place a stout warder at the door,who announced the visit of the countess to the knight.

  When Emma entered the chamber, Sir Aimand threw himself on his kneebefore her, with an expression of deep homage, and bowed to her and toher venerable attendant.

  'Noble countess,' he exclaimed, 'I scarce know how to form my gratitudein words!'

  Emma was freshly shocked when she saw his face and form. Shaven andclose-clipped as became a Norman knight, and clad in tunic and hose,the ravages of two months of misery were but the more conspicuous, asthey owed no adventitious aid to wild elf-locks and shaggy beard. Hischeeks were sunken, and his eyes unnaturally bright with fever, and thebones of his thin hands and limbs were pitiful to see. His voice alsowas hoarse and hollow. Emma felt that the revelations of the morningmoved her more, not less, than the doleful horrors of the precedingnight.

  'I fear me thou hast greatly suffered,' she said involuntarily. 'Rise,Sir Aimand, and be seated; thou art not fit to stand.'

  And Sir Aimand was forced to obey her, for, as he rose to his feet, hetottered and clutched at a stool for support, and Emma recalled somefears that had crossed her mind during the night, with patheticamusement, for she had been haunted with the idea that she had perhapslet loose a very dangerous champion in the castle. The poor knightlooked little able to fight either for her cause or against it.

  'I had come hither to question thee more closely as to thecircumstances of thy imprisonment,' the countess said, 'and to see ifthy proud spirit be at all softened by my bounty, but methinks the bestthing I can do is to send thee a good leech.'

  'Noble countess, thy generosity hath not left me unmoved,' said SirAimand eagerly. 'I give thee my parole, neither to attempt escape, norin any way to communicate with, aid, or abet the besiegers, if indeedthou wilt be gracious enough to accept it so ungraciously and tardilygiven.'

  'I will accept it,' replied the countess, with a gratified smile; andDame Amicia smiled also, seeing that her lady was well pleased,although her deafness prevented her from knowing very clearly herreasons for satisfaction.

  The countess had felt that the old dame's infirmity might beconvenient, for the chief object of her visit was to question theknight more closely regarding the circumstances of his imprisonment,and she cared not to trust his indictment of Sir Alain to any of hergossip-loving ladies.

  'I would that Sir Alain bore not so important a position in thegarrison,' she said, after listening again to De Sourdeval's story.'The Bretons make the most part of our strength, and, save one or two,who are vassals to my lord, he hath them all under his command.'

  'Lady,' answered De Sourdeval, 'strive not to see me righted to thedetriment of thy welfare. It may well be that De Gourin will serve theefaithfully, though he satisfied a private vengeance against me. Let himnot know that I accuse him; say only that thou dost grant me pardon.But be on thy guard against him.'

  'It must be so,' answered the countess, '_for the present_.'

  So saying, she took her leave, the knight following her with gratefuleyes.

  When Emma regained her bower, she summoned Eadgyth to her.

  'I have news to comfort thy courage,' she said. 'A doughty champion isin the castle. Does not thy heart tell thee his name?'

  Eadgyth opened her blue eyes in vague surprise, then cried, with astart of joy,--

  'Ah, Emma, dear Emma! hath the earl so soon returned?'

  'Fie, maiden! wouldst make me jealous? Doth _thy heart_ suggest thename of my lord?'

  'What meanest thou, Emma? Jest not, I pray thee. These days are tooterrible for jesting,' said Eadgyth, with distressed mien and palingcheeks.

  Emma took both her slender wrists in hers and looked lovingly in herface. 'Nay, we must jest to keep our blood from curdling, Eadgyth. ButI will not tease thee. Sweet, 'tis Sir Aimand de Sourdeval of whom Ispeak.'

  Eadgyth said nothing, but met Emma's gaze with eyes in which joy andsurprise, and doubt of herself that was almost terror, were strugglingfor mastery.
/>
  Emma drew her gently upon the seat beside her. 'Surely thou art glad toknow that he is safe, if thou joyest not that he is near?'

  'Ah yes! I am glad--glad indeed of his safety!' replied Eadgyth in alow, thrilling voice, and her hand sought the bracelet which she woreas ever.

  'And not of his nearness?'

  'I know not! I know not! It means but fresh struggle and misery!' Thetears rolled down her cheeks.

  'Why struggle, Eadgyth? Fate has united you when all pointed toseparation. Eadgyth, he needs thee. I told thee sooth when I said hewas in safety. But he has suffered much. He is ill. Be thou his leech.Dame Amicia will attend thee--her motherly heart warms towards theyouth.'

  'Ill?' Eadgyth looked in the countess's eyes with almost fiercequestioning.

  'Ill,' repeated Emma, smiling. 'Not dying; not in danger; I said"safe." It is a long story, Eadgyth, but I must tell it thee.'

  Then she told the history we already know; and how, after Eadgyth'sremark about him on the battlements, it had entered her heart to have amass said for him; how it had led to his discovery, and how she hadvisited him in his dungeon.

  When she came to that point, and narrated her visit, describing hissorrowful aspect with unconscious pathos, Eadgyth sprang up and claspedher hands above her head. 'Oh, the terrible injustice of it!' shegroaned, and afterwards she paced backwards and forwards, unable tocontrol her emotion.

  'But thy hero was shrewdly saucy, Eadgyth. Woebegone and desperate ashe was,--I almost wish I had let thee see the figure he cut, with hisunkempt beard and tangled locks, as long as those of thy Saxonchampions,--natheless he would make no terms. I might free him, orleave him chained by the leg like a hobbled steed, as I found him. Onemight have thought he had passed a pleasant time down there in thedark. He would not even give me his parole not to help our besiegers ifI gave him the chance.'

  Eadgyth's eyes lighted up with a proud joy. 'That was noble,' she saidunder her breath.

  Emma laughed. 'He had come to a better mind this morning,' she said; 'Ifound means whereby to tame his proud spirit.'

  Eadgyth turned to her with a start, and wild visions of racks andthumbscrews, and other fashionable instruments of the time, passedthrough her mind. Her spirit was so torn with the terror of the day,and the excitement she had undergone, that she did not pause toconsider probabilities. 'Emma! thou hadst not heart to crush one sounhappy?'

  'I had!' said Emma.

  Eadgyth's eyes looked dumb reproach more eloquent than words.

  'Yes,' said Emma; 'I hold not the office of Castellan of Blauncheflourby halves! I made use of my power.'

  'What didst thou do?' asked Eadgyth in a scarcely audible voice.

  'I gave him his liberty without conditions, and had him lodged in oneof the best apartments of the castle. _That_ touched my knight's pride;he would not have me outdo him in generosity, so he capitulated thismorning, and offered me his parole without further asking!' and thecountess broke into a silvery peal of laughter.

  'Oh, Emma, that was like thy dear self!' cried Eadgyth, running to thecountess, throwing herself on her knees before her, and hiding her headin Emma's robes like a repentant child.

  Emma kissed her. 'Now, maiden, thy part must be done. The knight haspromised neither to help the enemy nor to attempt escape. Be it forthee to persuade him to buckle on his harness and fight for us. He canscarce see thy sweet face, and know thou art in danger, and not lifthis hand to help thee!'

  '_I_ persuade him!--to break his knightly vows and fight against hislawful liege? Never!' cried Eadgyth, raising her head and throwing itback proudly. 'Strange,' she continued, more to herself than to thecountess, indeed, scarce knowing that she spoke aloud, 'how thy haughtcourage and noble generosity are allied with so little sense of moralright!'

  A flash of pain and some indignation crossed the countess's brow. 'Ideny thy right to judge me,' she said coldly. 'There are some whostrain after such high ideals, they fail to see the duties that lienear; gratitude, for instance, and the welfare of their friends!'

  Eadgyth was silent, for she felt that Emma was unjust; she would havegiven her life to serve her, though she would not go a step against herconscience.

  'Sir Aimand has suffered much,' said the countess gently, after apause. 'He is out of health and out of hope. A little happiness wouldserve him in better stead than an armful of herbs and simples. Go tohim, Eadgyth! Encourage his contumacy if thou wilt, but go to him.'

  And Eadgyth went.