by Jean Plaidy
‘How loyal are my people,’ said William with emotion; and he did not notice the looks which Thorold and Osbern exchanged.
The castle seemed strange and empty without his mother. He had so eagerly looked forward to being with her. He had wanted to see Adeliz; he had looked forward to telling them of his life at the French Court. Those varlets who had often told him to get from under their feet now bowed low at his approach; no one would dare accuse him now of listening to what was not meant for his ears.
He had gone away a young boy; he had come back a reigning Duke.
There was perhaps some gratification in this. He felt a great pride when he went to the topmost turret and looked down over the town and across the country.
‘This is mine,’ he said aloud. ‘Mine. All mine.’ And he held out his hands to grasp it. Never, never would he let it go.
In the great hall of the castle the knights knelt before him, as they had done before and swore fealty to him. They would serve him with their lives and he promised to protect them with his.
He was indeed their Duke.
But when the ceremony was over lessons began again and he was expected to go back to his books under the stern eye of Uncle Mauger.
He protested. ‘Now that I am the Duke I shall have done with lessons.’
Mauger smiled in his unpleasant, sneering way.
‘My lord is mistaken. The study of language, of history, of literature, is of as much importance to a Duke as how to wield a sword.’
‘I think not,’ said William haughtily. ‘And I shall have my way.’
Mauger brought his unpleasant, secretive face close to William’s. ‘Take heed, young master,’ he said. ‘You will find less time for your pleasure than you ever did before. You have great responsibilities and such that fools could never shoulder.’
‘Am I a fool then?’
‘You may be if you neglect the priceless gift of learning.’
‘It would seem to me that all that was good has gone and what is bad remains.’
‘There is much that you have to learn, my lord Duke. Come, let us lose no more time in the discovering of it.’
So he sat at his books under the supercilious eye of Mauger.
But change was in the air.
He was summoned to the great hall and there he sat on the throne while Raoul de Vacé addressed him on behalf of the assembly.
In view of the troubled state of the Duchy it was thought advisable that the Duke should show himself to his people. He must therefore prepare for a tour through the important towns of Normandy.
William was excited. It would be a change from poring over Latin books with old Mauger. Moreover, they would pass through Conteville and he would be able to see his mother.
It was left to Osbern – who was closer to him than anyone else now that he had lost his father and could not see his mother – to tell him.
Osbern came into his chamber and sat on the stool there.
‘There are many things you must understand, my lord,’ said Osbern. ‘And the first is that there is trouble within your dominion. Trouble from outside is a terrible threat to any land but when it comes from within that is more to be dreaded.’
‘From within, Osbern? What means this?’
‘Some of the barons are of the opinion that Normandy needs a strong Duke. You are but ten years old.’
‘I will be a strong Duke and not always ten years old.’
‘They are concerned with now, my lord, not eight years’ time. I regret to tell you that Alain of Brittany was not what your father believed him to be.’
‘A traitor!’
‘Scarcely that – but ineffectual. There is murmuring throughout the Duchy. One cannot be absolutely sure whom one can trust.’
‘I shall always trust you, Osbern.’
‘Oh, there are a few of us. You can rely on Thorold.’
‘I would to the death. Thorold and all the lords who swore fealty to me . . .’
‘You must learn not to be too trusting.’
‘Osbern, I will not be kept in the dark.’
‘I thought not, my young lord. Nor shall you. Many of those who owe you their fealty are restive. They are saying that you are too young and that . . . others come before in the succession. They are saying . . .’
William stood up, his fists clenched and his eyes flashed. ‘They are saying that I am a bastard. Is that it, Osbern?’
Osbern lowered his eyes. ‘They are saying that, my lord.’
‘And if I am a bastard. Was not William Longsword a bastard? Was not Richard the Fearless one? And was not Richard’s father murdered when Richard was but my age?’
‘’Tis true indeed and dangerous times had to be lived through. Thus it is with you, my lord. We must be wary. We will show you to your people and they will see that young in years though you may be, you are still their Duke.’
‘I wish to meet the people. To tell them this. I want to find the traitors among them. I will kill them with my own hands . . .’
‘Calm your temper, my lord. Let us not waste time in wild dreams of what we would do to our enemies. Let us first find them. We shall be on guard at all times. I shall sleep across your door and, if the need should arise, in your room. Thorold will be close at hand. You understand the danger?’
‘I understand,’ said William.
‘Then we will prepare for your journey and during it we must take extra care. Thorold and I will be at your side throughout.’
‘When do we leave?’
‘In a few days. First we shall go to Caen; and after that to Lisieux and Falaise.’
‘Shall I see my mother?’
‘We will visit her at Conteville.’
‘There we need not fear traitors.’
‘Nay, your mother and her husband will always be your true friends.’
‘I should like to visit my Atheling cousins. I never forget them. I used to think of them often when I was in France because then I felt I was exiled from my country as they were from theirs . . . Why, Osbern, what is wrong?’
‘While you have been in France much has happened.’
‘Indeed it has. My father has died and my mother has taken a husband and I am become the Duke of Normandy in more than name. I know that much has happened.’
‘Beyond the seas,’ said Osbern, ‘there have been great happenings.’
‘In England?’ asked William.
‘I know that your father told you much of that country. It was always his wish that he could return it to the rightful heirs. Once he sought to invade it but it is not an easy country to invade. Surrounded by sea as it is, a conqueror would always have the elements to consider.’
‘The Danes did it and so did the Romans.’
‘They did and your father believed that the Normans would. But they were defeated.’
‘It was because of this that my father took his pilgrimage. He believed that the hand of God was against him because of his sins.’
‘God rest his soul. He earned the forgiveness of his sins. Canute, the King of England, died while you were in France, and do you remember what your father told you? He had a son by a previous marriage to that with your ancestress Emma, called Harald, but Emma made him promise that the throne should go to the son she and Canute should have.’
‘Yes, I do remember, and my cousins Edward and Alfred Atheling were the true heirs because they were the sons of King Ethelred and Emma and she only married Canute after his death.’
‘I see you have this complicated family relationship clearly in your mind. You will know too that the son of Canute and Emma was Hardicanute. Well, when Canute died Hardicanute was in Denmark and Harald declared himself King. This made a division in the country, the North accepting Harald, the South insisting that Hardicanute should be king, even though he were absent. The country was split and half was governed by one and half by the other. This meant, however, that both kings of England were Danish, which did not please the Saxons.’
‘A country divid
ed is not a safe place,’ said William.
‘Ay, true enough. Moreover Queen Emma was most displeased. She became more so when Hardicanute refused to leave Denmark and Harald became King of all England. He had no love for her. Had she not persuaded Canute to disinherit him in favour of Hardicanute who cared so little for his inheritance that he would not take the trouble to come and claim it? She is not a woman to stand by calmly while what she has had is taken from her.’
‘She is a Norman,’ said William proudly.
‘Ay, a Norman and what Norman likes to part with his possessions?’
‘Why should he when he has won them? I will fight for every inch of Norman soil while there is life in me.’
‘Let us hope there will be no need. I was about to tell you that Emma sent for her two sons by Ethelred, Edward and Alfred. They had a greater claim to the throne than Hardicanute. They should come and stake it.’
‘I am glad. I felt tender towards those cousins, Osbern. I shall never forget their fair hair and their beautiful clear blue eyes. I have never seen eyes like theirs.’
Osbern shuddered and William looked at him in dismay.
‘Osbern . . . they are not dead.’
‘Hear me out,’ said Osbern. ‘There is a powerful man in England of whom you will doubtless hear more. His name is Earl Godwin. He is a very clever man for it is said that he began life as a cowherd.’
‘Then how could he become an earl?’
‘The story goes that during the war between Canute and Edmund Ironside, a captain of the Danish army was lost and asked the way of a young Saxon cowherd. When promised a reward if he would help, this cowherd, Godwin, took the Danish captain to his father’s cottage. The old man told the Captain that his son would be risking his life if he helped him and he was his family’s main stay. They would starve without him. But if he took the Captain back to Canute’s camp would he reward him by taking him into his army and giving him a good rank there? The Captain realizing that if he did not have the help of the young cowherd he would be taken by Ironside’s army, agreed.’
‘And did he save him and was he rewarded?’
‘So well, and so clever was he, that he rose to very high rank and in time commanded the army. He was handsome as well as clever and the sister of Canute fell in love with him and married him. So not only did he become head of the army but a member of the royal family into the bargain.’
‘He must indeed be a clever man.’
‘He is indeed and in the absence of Hardicanute ruled for him.’
‘So from cowherd he has become a king?’
‘In all but name. But Hardicanute continued to refuse to return and Harald became King of the whole of England. He is not a Christian. He laughs at all that is holy. It was for this reason, we were led to understand, that Emma sent to Normandy for Edward and Alfred to return to England to claim their right to the throne.’
‘And they went, Osbern?’
‘Ay, they went. We gave Edward a fleet of forty ships. He landed and at Winchester was met by a fierce band of soldiers who drove him to go back whence he came. He saw at once that he was unwanted and by the Grace of God came back to Normandy.’
‘He is safe here now, Osbern?’
‘Edward is safe.’
‘But . . . not Alfred?’
‘You are very young to hear such tales. It was cruel. It was wicked. It was treachery of the worst kind. Alfred landed on the Kent coast and rode from Canterbury to Guildford. Six hundred Normans and Flemings accompanied him. They were treated to all honour. Godwin, who had now thrown in his fortunes with Harald since Harald had become King of all England, received him. There was a banquet and at night while they slept, Harald’s men arrived. Alfred and his men were taken prisoner. One out of every ten became a slave; the rest were killed barbarically.’
‘And Alfred?’
‘They stripped him, and naked as he was, placed him on a donkey and tied his legs together beneath the animal’s belly. And so they took him to Ely.’
William kept his eyes on Osbern’s face. He dared not ask the question but Osbern answered as though he had spoken.
‘Yes, they murdered him . . . most cruelly they murdered him. They put out his eyes.’
‘His beautiful eyes!’ cried William.
‘The knife pierced his brain. He did not live long afterwards.’
William clenched his fists. ‘By God, if I am not revenged I shall be haunted all my life by those beautiful blue eyes. Tell me who did this foul deed? I will go to England. I will kill him.’
‘My lord, you have your own battles to fight. We cannot be sure who killed him. I cannot believe that he was lured to death by his mother. The letter was said to come from her, but Harald or Godwin may have forged it. Who can say? I do not believe it was Emma, for she has now left England and has gone to Flanders.’
‘And Edward. What of Edward?’
‘I hear he has become more melancholy than ever. Sadly he mourns for his lost brother.’
‘Oh, Osbern, how wicked men are!’
‘Let us always remember it, my Duke. Let us take the greatest care that they never have an opportunity to practise their cruelty on you.’
It was exciting travelling through the towns and villages. Everywhere it seemed the people came out of their houses to cheer him. They threw flowers in his path.
‘Long live the Duke!’ they cried.
High on his horse, sometimes in his ducal cloak, he felt as though, young as he was, he were indeed their father and they his children. He vowed that he would be remembered in the future as his ancestors were. His name would rank with those of Richard the Fearless and Great Rollo.
What a joy it was to arrive at Conteville and to see his mother. She was overjoyed and still as startlingly beautiful as he knew she would be.
She took him in her arms as she had when he was a little boy and she wept over him and told him how she had missed him during his stay in France.
‘And I you, Mother,’ he told her. ‘I thought of you often.’
‘And now you are our Duke. Oh, William, how proud I am of you.’
They talked of his father and were sad again. ‘He was good to me, always,’ his mother said. ‘He even provided me with a husband to care for me when he was gone.’
‘And your husband pleases you, Mother?’
‘He is a good man. He is determined to obey the Duke’s command and care for me.’
‘So you are not unhappy then?’
‘I’m as happy as it is possible to be without your father. He said to me before he went: “We must always live for the future. It is always what is to come that is important, not what is past.” Sometimes I think he knew that he was never coming back.’
‘It is strange, Mother, not to have you at Rouen.’
‘I would we could be together. But I must live in my husband’s house and you are the Duke.’
She was content, he could see, and when she told him that she was expecting a child he rejoiced, for he knew that the children she would have from her new husband would stop her grieving for Robert and the boy, who because he was a Duke of Normandy, could not be brought up by his mother.
He could not stay at Conteville though he felt a great desire to do so. He liked his stepfather and it had been comforting to enjoy the tenderness which only his mother could give.
There was work to be done, Osbern told him. In spite of the good impression he had made on his subjects he had powerful enemies. Osbern had told him the names of some of those who had turned against him. Talvas of Bellême was one of them. He remembered that encounter long ago when he had looked into that evil face; he remembered the curse the man had uttered against him. He would never forget those terrible stories of the barbaric cruelties inflicted by Talvas on the innocent. What more diabolical sport he would wish to have with one whom he hated! Talvas was on the prowl, waiting to snatch him. For a moment he thought of running to his mother, begging her to keep him with her at Conteville. She would
hide him there; she and his stepfather would do anything to protect him.
Then he despised himself. Was he not a Duke of Normandy of Rollo’s line? Had Rollo ever thought of what might happen to him if his enemies captured him? Had Richard the Fearless? ‘Please God, make me as great and as fearless as my ancestors,’ he prayed.
Men of his own family were against him. His father’s brothers – those who were illegitimate – had declared that if a bastard boy should be elected Duke why not men? He suspected that Mauger agreed with them. Those sly sneering looks he had received in the schoolroom were significant. Mauger was an evil man. It was said that he practised sorcery. Was he practising it now? Was he murmuring to his evil familiars, asking their help in delivering the Duke of Normandy into their hands? Was he invoking the aid of the Allfather Odin? Was he praying to Thor to lend him his Hammer? But the power of the Christian god was greater than that of those of the pagans. He was certain of it, and as certain of his destiny.
When the people cheered him he forgot his anxieties. The women smiled tenderly at him. ‘God’s blessings on our little Duke.’ He charmed them because he was a handsome boy. He was their idea of what a Duke of Normandy should be. And because he was young the women loved him even as the men asked themselves: ‘How can a child govern Normandy?’ But his governors were good strong men and determined to carry out the wishes of the Duke Robert who had died in an aura of sanctity and would therefore have some influence in holy places.
It was inspiring to travel through his realm, to arrive at the houses of his loyal subjects, who felt themselves honoured to have him under their roofs.
It was such a night when they came to the house of one of his subjects and weary from the day’s ride they feasted and went to their beds. Thorold and Osbern took it in turns to sleep in his room while the other watched at his door. They never varied from this routine and he realized in time that had they done so he would never have survived.
He was deep in sleep, for he was always tired out at the end of the day’s ride, when he was aware of Thorold at his bedside.
‘Wake up,’ said Thorold.
He started up. ‘What is it, Thorold?’
Thorold’s answer was to pick him up and wrap him in a great cloak.
