by M. M. Blake
CHAPTER XXV.
BRETAGNE.
The days that followed seemed like an evil dream to the countess andher ladies.
Several of the Breton knights who were amongst the garrison had manorsin the neighbourhood; these were, of course, under confiscation; still,for the forty days allowed them to get away from England, they retainedthe lordship of their estates, and were able to offer hospitality toEmma.
On their way to a temporary retreat thus provided for them, thenewly-dubbed knight, Sir Leofric Ealdredsson, reined in the somewhatsorry jade he had managed to procure, to the side of his kinswomanEadgyth, as on a happier occasion Sir Aimand de Sourdeval had reined ina nobler steed.
'Alack, coosine! the Norman fell-monger is safe in his seat now. Ourlast, chance is over and done. We have nought left but to submit withthe best grace we can muster,' he said sadly.
Eadgyth turned to him with an unfathomable regret in her limpid eyes.'Yes, it is too true; the Normans have conquered.'
'But not us, coosine! We shall never be conquered in spirit, you and I!We are Angles to the backbone, and always shall be. In the fat Fenlandwe may yet live a life of our own, doing homage to no man, and defyingfate. Share my island home amongst the meres, Eadgyth. I have strengthto protect thee.'
Then Eadgyth shook her head sadly, her voice was scarcely audible asshe answered,--
'I am not so staunch as you think me, kinsman. I fear I am conquered,body and soul. Day by day it hath been borne in upon me more stronglythat the Normans have won because they deserved to win.'
Leofric opened his blue eyes at this announcement, and rounded hismouth for an oath, but recollected himself and checked it, and tuggedhis yellow beard instead.
'I say it advisedly, Leofric Ealdredsson: we English have lost becausewe were selfish and lazy; sunk in enjoyment; turbulent, and unwillingto submit to discipline. Hast thou not thyself told me how the Normansspent the night before Senlac in prayer and vigil, while the Englishfeasted and drank it away?'
'Ah, Eadgyth, well for thee thou art a woman!' answered Leofric,grinding his teeth, his cheeks flushed with anger. Then he burst outlaughing in his light-hearted, merry way, though there was a taint ofbitterness in his mirth.
'By Asgaard and Odin! I believe thou art bewitched by that pale,shaven-faced Norman _prudhomme_, as they call it--Aimand de Sourdeval.My unclerkly tongue and downright ways doubtless bear ill the contrastwith such a "parfait knight"!' He brought down his strong hand on histhigh with a force that made all his bracelets jingle. 'Say franklynow, kinswoman, thou thinkest him the better man of us twain?'
He dreaded the answer, though he braved it. But Eadgyth, lookingsteadily in his face, replied,--
'I should not speak sooth, Leofric Ealdredsson, if I denied it. I dothink him the better man. Thou thyself hast said he was thine equal inthe _melee_; and, certes, he is more gentle in hall.'
Leofric turned away and hung his head, only for a moment. Then he facedEadgyth with a bright smile, the indomitable spirit of the man meetingthe heart-wound as it would have met one of the flesh.
'But I am here, and he is absent,' he said; 'a live dog, they say, isbetter than a dead lion. And he is of the conquerors, and I of theconquered, so all thy generosity should be thrown into my side of thebalance. Beside,' he added seriously, 'the blood of thy countrymen ison his blade, whilst I am of thy people.'
Eadgyth shuddered, and clutched the pommel of her saddle; the quicktears started from her eyes, and rolled one after another down hercheeks.
Leofric leaned over and laid his broad palm upon her little tremblinghand.
'Go not away from thy country in the train of the foreign woman,Eadgyth,--though God forbid that I should say aught against her, forshe is brave and beautiful,--but come thou over into the Fenlands, andshare my risks, and comfort my poor old father, and tame me. Rough as Iam, I would always be gentle to _thee_, Eadgyth.'
'Wouldst thou wed me with another man's image in my heart, Leofric?'asked Eadgyth, with a trembling voice.
'I would drive out that image by my own,' avowed Leofric.
'That thou wilt never do, coosine!' said Eadgyth firmly. 'No, do notdream it. I can never be his, neither can I wed any other. Nor can Ileave my lady now in her sore distress and sorrow. No, Leofric, Icannot go with thee; ask me no more, it is but pain to both.'
Then Leofric saw she was in earnest, and desisted. Affecting to seesome dangerous object that required investigation, he struck spurs intohis _hacquenee_, and dashed off into the brushwood that bordered theroad; and when he joined the cavalcade again, he took care not tochoose the neighbourhood of his cousin's palfrey.
About a fortnight later, the countess and her ladies, amongst whom wasthe faithful Eadgyth, went on board a long-bodied, high-prowed galleyat Lovelly's Staithe. It was propelled by twenty-five oars on eachside, and flaunted gaudy embroidered sails to the wind, the mainmastbeing surrounded by a gallery round which a sentinel could walk. Thegarrison of Blauncheflour embarked on board a small flotilla of similarvessels.
We may imagine how they suffered as they made tedious progress down therough east coast, passing Dunwich and Ipswich, and the low-lyingestuaries of Maldon and the Thames; and farther south, Sandwich and thehigh white cliffs of Dover, famous then, although no Shakespeare hadsung them. How they raised their weary heads and strained their sadeyes to look at the castles which William the Norman had built atHastings and Lewes and Arundel; and how Eadgyth wept to see them,because they reminded her of slain Harold Godwinsson, and were proof ofthe downfall of her nation. Emma was sorrowful too, because theywitnessed to the valour and success of the greatest captain of the age,whom her father, stout William Fitzosbern, had loved and honoured, andagainst whom she was in rebellion.
They slipped as quickly as might be past the rough Norman coast,keeping as far out to sea as possible, lest Norman vessels should comedown on them and harry them, and bear off the precious charge theyguarded, to be kept in durance vile till ransom was extorted, which wasfar from improbable, notwithstanding the forty days' safe-conduct giventhem by William's officers.
Standing out so far to sea, they got a rough tossing on Atlanticrollers, and many a baptism of Atlantic spray. With what joy theyhailed the first glimpse of the Breton rocks! How glad they were whenthey made the Ille, and floated under the staithes of Dinan!
Then all was question and curiosity, one side as eager to hear as theother. The countess and her _meinie_ asking news of Ralph de Guader andMontfort; the Brittany folks as anxious to learn how she had fared, andhow escaped.
The countess learned with joy that Ralph was at Montfort, scarce fortymiles away, preparing with might and main an expedition for the reliefof Blauncheflour. 'Had she not seen the warships in the harbour?' theyasked.
We may guess how quickly messengers were sent off to Montfort, and howRalph mounted in hot haste as soon as they told him that his countesshad come, with all her gallant garrison, and how he galloped to meetthem as fast as his steed could gallop. No doubt he sighed that he hadnot Oliver under him then.
Emma and her following got what horses they could, and started forMontfort.
The August sun shone hotly from the blue continental sky, and theapples were turning yellow and red in the orchards along the road. Asnoon came on, the travellers, having ridden some fifteen miles on verysorry beasts, were fain to rest them at a wayside hostel.
The countess and her ladies ascended the ladder that served for astaircase to the upper chamber, and, while food was preparing below,lay down upon the rushes to rest their weary limbs.
The countess occupied a low pallet bed that stood in a corner of theroom, and so utterly weary and broken down was she, that she could noteven rejoice at thought of seeing her husband speedily. She soon fellinto a heavy slumber, broken by dreams of the dreadful past moreterrible even than the reality.
She heard again the din of the warrewolves and mangonels, and the crashof the stones flung by them as they struck the walls, the clash ofswords and clangor
of armour; and the terror and woe of it overcameher. She awoke with a scream. Throwing out her arms wildly, her handscame in contact with a man's mailed gauntlets, and she sprang up,crying, 'Blauncheflour is taken! To the rescue! to the rescue!'
'Dost thou not know me, my wife, mine own?' answered Ralph's voice,broken with sobs. 'Would to God I had never left thee!'
Emma burst into hysterical laughter, and threw herself upon herhusband's breast, sobbing for joy. 'I was dreaming, Ralph! Would allbad dreams might end as happily.'
Then they sat down side by side upon the bed, and looked in eachother's faces. They were alone, for Emma's ladies had delicatelywithdrawn when the earl entered, knowing that they would rather be inprivate.
'How pale thou art and thin, my sweet,' said Ralph, reproaching himselfmore and more bitterly that he had left her to struggle alone.
'I fear my poor face has lost its fairness, Ralph,' with an anxiety oftone that was all of love and naught of vanity.
'Thou art ten times fairer to me than ever before, my heroine!'answered De Guader fondly. 'But let me make excuse e'er I questionthee. This is how I came not to thine aid. I went, as thou knowest, toDenmark, and sought Sweyn Ulfsson, and begged him bear out his promisesand assist me with men, telling him that he might yet hoist Williamfrom the English throne. And Sweyn swore by the head of Sleipnir,Odin's horse, which thou knowest is a mighty oath amongst these Danishheathens, that he would support me. But then my wounds, being halfhealed, broke out afresh; and my head being still sore through Odo'sblow, I fell into a fever, and lost my mind for six weeks. MeanwhileSweyn had made no move, and when I came to myself I was still weak andpowerless. As soon as I got strength enough, I came over here tocollect my vassals, and call to me whoever would put his hands betweenmine and be my man; and I sent off messengers to comfort thee'--
'Whom William's men caught, and hanged on a gallows as high as thedonjon keep,' interposed Emma.
Ralph gnashed his teeth.
'Ah! was it so? My faithful Grillonne, was this the reward of thy longservice? I have brought evil on all who loved me! I had all inreadiness, and should have started in a day, but, the blessed saints bepraised! thou art here in safety, and there is no need. None can tellhow I have suffered thinking of thee.'
'_Thy_ cheeks are hollow enough, in truth; thou canst not crow overme,' said Emma, with a flash of her old gaiety. And then she told himthe long story of the siege of Blauncheflour.
Ralph listened as one spellbound, and when she had ended her tale heslipped on his knee at her feet.
'Let me do thee homage,' he said, with a proud, fond glance in hereyes. 'What am I that thou shouldst have so suffered for my sake? Ithumbles me unspeakably.'
Ever after it seemed to Emma that the poor garret of that wayside innwas the noblest, fairest, and most beautiful apartment into which shehad ever set foot.[8]
[8] See Appendix, Note E.
