The Bastard King

by Jean Plaidy

  Then Mauger came out to the courtyard and said that as a penance they should do an extra Latin exercise.

  Side by side they sullenly sat in the schoolroom. Outside the sun was shining. They should have been practising their sword-play or archery or riding with the dogs at their heels, any of which was preferable to struggling with this tiresome Latin.

  Guy looked at William with that crinkling of his eyes which was rather beguiling.

  ‘Idiot,’ he said. ‘Who cares if you are? I wouldn’t mind being one if I were Duke of Normandy.’

  William laughed. They were good friends again.

  They compared exercises. They would help each other the sooner to get out into the fresh air.

  These were happy years – boyish delights were enjoyable. Within the walls of the castle of Conteville what went on in the outside world seemed far away. Suffice it that his loyal supporters were holding their own against the rebels. Skirmishes there were and battles, defeats and victories; but those men who remained loyal to the wishes of Robert the Magnificent grew stronger. Their symbol was the boy who was growing up in safety at Conteville.

  Arlette was almost as happy as she had been with Robert, and felt more secure. He, by nature of his position, was constantly leaving her; she had suffered constant fear when he was away from her, which may have compensated for the ecstatic joy they shared together. Now she had passed into a peaceful happiness. It was true she could not look too far ahead. There would come a time when William would go away, but for the next few years she had him with her; she had her daughter, Adeliz, and her little ones, Odo and Robert; she had her kind good husband; and in the wide estates of Conteville, William could ride out even alone without fear of the assassin’s knife.

  William had become a young boy again. He no longer awoke to feel for the blood-soaked body of Osbern beside him. His concern was trying to ride faster than Guy, shoot his arrows farther. This rivalry between them was something they both enjoyed, though there were occasional fights. Guy had learned that he only had to mouth the word ‘bastard’ to make William fly into a passion. So he would use the word slyly. ‘Oh, the poor fellow’s a bastard.’ And then open his eyes in innocent astonishment when the red colour flamed into William’s face. He could infuriate William but the rivalry between them gave a zest to life.

  Herlwin encouraged William to mingle with the humble people on the estate. ‘It is necessary that a ruler should understand all his people – humble or noble,’ he said.

  So often William would ride out with Guy and a party and they would call in at the cottage of humble folk. Because they were near the coast many of these were fishermen and William would listen attentively when they talked to him of their catch. He could put them at their ease; he was able to talk to them far more easily than Guy ever could. Guy was too conscious of his rank, of being the legitimate son of a daughter of a Duke of Normandy. He could never forget that Richard the Fearless was his great-grandfather as well as William’s.

  Herlwin was pleased that William should be so liked by the humbler folk.

  ‘It will stand you in good stead, William,’ he told him.

  When they were at the coast, if the day was very clear, they could see the outline of land.

  ‘England,’ said William. ‘I remember well my Atheling cousins. Such beautiful young men! Poor Alfred. You know what became of Alfred?’

  ‘They put out his eyes,’ said Guy.

  ‘He had the most beautiful eyes I ever saw. Except Edward’s. They were beautiful too.’

  ‘Beautiful eyes will not get them a throne.’

  ‘Poor Alfred will never have a throne now. They killed him. They put out his beautiful eyes and the knife pierced his brain.’

  ‘’Twere better that he should die. I’d rather be dead than live without my eyes.’

  ‘Edward is still in Normandy. I should like to see him again. My good cousin.’

  ‘Mine also, William. They are the true heirs to England. They come before this Hardicanute. They are the true legitimate heirs.’

  He cast a sly glance at William and went on boldly, ‘They should come before the whims and . . .’

  The colour had started to come into William’s face; his jaw projected even more than usual, his lips had thinned. These were the danger signals.

  Guy looked mischievous. No, he had better be careful. He continued: ‘Before the whims and wishes of those who oust them. I think our old kinswoman Emma is something of a terror. What think you, William?’

  ‘She is a woman who will fight to keep what she has won. She is a Norman.’

  ‘Well, now she has her son Hardicanute on the throne – for I hear he has returned from Denmark and now governs that land over there. He has learned good drinking habits in Denmark and spends his time in drinking and feasting which may make our doughty Emma wish that she had not made her pact with Canute and her son Edward might be the King.’

  They pulled up their horses and stood looking across the sea.

  ‘How calm it is today,’ said William. ‘On such a day as this my father would have conquered it and Alfred would never have lost his eyes.’

  ‘Who knows what will happen now,’ said Guy. ‘Mayhap Edward Atheling will go back there after all these years in Normandy. They say he would like better to live the monk’s life he does here than be a King on a throne. Yet it is right that he should be King, for he is the legitimate heir . . .’

  He glanced at William and touched his horse’s flanks. He was away, William in pursuit, out-distancing him, riding ahead, showing him as he did many times a day that a bastard can be a better man than one legitimately born.

  So passed the years when William grew into his manhood.

  ‘There is news from England,’ said Herlwin as he came into William’s chamber. ‘Hardicanute is dead.’

  ‘What will happen now?’ replied William.

  ‘We must needs wait and see.’

  ‘It may be that this is Edward’s chance,’ said William. ‘I would I could go to see my cousin.’

  ‘Why, William, you imagine all men are as you. There are many who say that Edward Atheling has no wish for a crown.’

  ‘It may be that he would be chary of going to England – remembering what happened to his brother.’

  They talked awhile and together went down to the great hall where the roasted flesh of wild boar was awaiting them.

  After they had eaten they talked of England and what would happen now.

  Arlette mentioned that sad day when Robert had returned to Normandy – defeated by the storms which had suddenly arisen and destroyed his fleet. She always believed that if he had successfully conquered England he would never have gone on his pilgrimage. But she was philosophical now. She had a good husband, a charming daughter, her dear little boys and her wonderful son William was with her if but temporarily.

  ‘It was a pity Hardicanute ever went back to England. He brought no good to that country,’ said Herlwin.

  ‘Yet he was greeted warmly enough,’ said William, ‘by both Danes and Saxons.’

  ‘In truth he was,’ put in Guy. ‘For he came with sixty ships and men to defend his claim should any dispute it. I heard that his first act as King was to take revenge on his dead brother Harald, and that he had his body dug up, the head cut off and that with his body thrown into the River Thames.’

  ‘Much good would that do him!’ said William. ‘He betrayed himself as a man of no account by such an act.’

  ‘But it relieved his anger against Harald, so perhaps it did do him some good.’

  ‘He was a bad king and few will regret his death.’

  ‘He taxed the people so that they cried out against him,’ said Herlwin, ‘and in Worcester where the people defied his tax-gatherers he laid the city to waste and had its inhabitants put to the sword.’

  ‘That is no way to rule,’ said William.

  ‘Would you, cousin,’ asked Guy, ‘be such a ruler that you will allow your subjects to flout you?
’

  ‘None shall dare flout me,’ declared William. ‘But I will have justice in my domain. If people protest against taxes I shall examine their complaints.’

  ‘It is easy to be a great ruler with one’s mouth,’ Guy reminded him. ‘Ha, look at yon Fool Gallet drinking in the words of wisdom. He believes you, cousin.’

  ‘Then he is no fool.’

  ‘I’ll warrant he understands not a word of what you say. That’s so, Gallet, is it not?’

  ‘Yes, master,’ answered Gallet.

  ‘There, William, you see, you are adored by those without understanding. You will not win such an easy victory over wise men.’

  Herlwin said: ‘Come, master Guy, we want no quarrels. This matter is a serious one. What happens in the countries close to us can have its effect on us as our Duke is well aware.’

  Constantly, Herlwin was thinking, he was having to remind Guy that William was his suzerain and although a little badinage was acceptable in the schoolroom it was not to be tolerated before servants.

  William understood Herlwin’s thoughts and smiled. He was quite capable of handling Guy.

  He said: ‘One day, Guy, you may discover what kind of ruler I will be. In view of the fact that that day will most likely come, a wiser man might see fit to guard his tongue.’

  Guy was a little subdued for him but he quickly said: ‘This Hardicanute is no more then and it would seem this is not a matter for deep regret.’

  ‘The real ruler was Earl Godwin – he and Emma,’ William said. ‘Hardicanute was too fond of a life of pleasure to rule. All he cared for was the levying of taxes to pay for his pleasures – which were mainly eating and drinking.’

  ‘I have heard,’ said Herlwin, ‘that he sat to table four times daily and on each occasion would sit for several hours so that there was very little time between these four gigantic meals and that the servants and cooks were cooking every minute of the day.’

  ‘When they were not eating they were drinking. Never, it was said, had such consumption of food and drink been seen.’

  ‘It is an old Danish custom,’ said Herlwin. ‘The Danes are big men and need constant supplies of food and drink. It is a wonder they ever had time for conquest.’

  ‘And now,’ said William, ‘the people of England are heartily sick of Danish rule. Canute was a good king, but his son was far from that. I believe the Saxons and the Angles have had enough of them. They would welcome back Edward Atheling.’

  ‘I wonder if he will go?’

  ‘I have learned much of what takes place in England,’ said William. ‘My instructors are constantly telling me that I must study the affairs not only of Normandy but also of our neighbours. The Danes have been in the ascendancy too long; and they are the foreigners. They pay no taxes; they enter the houses of the Saxons who must needs feed them and treat them as guests as long as they wish to stay. Moreover the intruder becomes the master of that household so that the owner may not drink without his permission. If a Dane wished to take the wife or daughter of his Saxon host he would do so and if the Saxon avenged his honour he was punished. Many Saxons so took this revenge and then fled to the forest to become brigands, that being the only way in which they could live. They naturally sought to rob and murder their Danish masters. Such brigands were treated as though they were wolves, for a price was set on their heads as is the case with these animals and they were even known as Wolves’ Heads.’

  ‘William has done his lessons well,’ said Guy lightly. ‘Why, cousin, do you plan to make England part of your domain as well as Normandy?’

  ‘The Duke is wise,’ said Herlwin. ‘These affairs can so easily be ours. It is true that this reign was a cruel one and I will stake my castle and lands on the return of Edward, for the people of England are in truth heartily weary of this submission to the Danes and they will back the Atheling.’

  ‘Was he poisoned, this Hardicanute?’ asked Guy.

  ‘It could be so,’ said Herlwin. ‘He was at the marriage banquet of one of his Danish friends. You can picture the scene. The company had been eating for many hours and the feasting had gone far into the night. Hardicanute lifted a goblet to propose yet another toast. He drank, staggered forward and fell to the floor.’

  ‘It may well have been poison,’ said William.

  ‘Which shows how careful rulers should be,’ added Guy, laughing into William’s face.

  ‘They must constantly be on the watch for traitors,’ agreed William. ‘That, alas, is a lesson they learn at their mother’s feet.’

  It was a short while afterwards that they heard that Earl Godwin had thrown in his lot with Edward Atheling and that Edward was invited to return to England.

  Before he sailed for England Edward Atheling came to Conteville to take leave of William.

  He knelt at the Duke’s feet and William said: ‘Why, Edward, rise. You will soon be a king and I am but a duke.’

  William was anxious to know how Edward felt about his recall. That he was apprehensive was clear. Naturally he would be remembering what had happened to Alfred.

  ‘You know I wish you well,’ said William.

  ‘And I you. Never shall I forget the sanctuary that has been given me in your country.’

  ‘Methinks you are loth to leave us.’

  ‘I have grown accustomed to the monastic life.’

  ‘If you are king you can live as you please.’

  ‘Do you think any king may do that? One of the conditions of my return is that I marry Earl Godwin’s daughter, Editha.’

  ‘Marry that man’s daughter? There have been rumours that he was involved in the murder of Alfred.’

  Edward looked sad. ‘He is the most powerful man in England.’

  ‘He must be clever. He, a cowherd’s son, to aspire so high. You must be watchful of him, Edward.’

  ‘Ay, I must be watchful of so much.’

  ‘I have often thought of England. I remember so well the stories you and your brother told me of King Alfred. Do you remember?’

  ‘I do. He was a great King – one of our greatest.’

  ‘It may be that you will be such another.’

  ‘He had many children. I shall have none.’

  ‘You must have heirs.’

  ‘Nay, that I shall not. I have sworn a vow of celibacy to God and all his saints.’

  ‘But you are to be married.’

  ‘Only because Earl Godwin has made this condition.’

  ‘Edward, could you not have refused to go?’

  ‘I saw it as my duty. England needs a Saxon King. She is weary of the foreigners. If I did not agree some Danish claimant would have appeared. I must do my duty. I hope I shall always do that. But I will keep my vow of perpetual continence and nothing will make me break it.’

  ‘You must have an heir to follow you to the throne.’

  ‘William, why should you not follow me to the throne of England?’

  ‘I, Edward!’

  ‘Are you not the great-nephew of my mother Emma? It could be for me to name my successor.’

  ‘England,’ said William wonderingly. ‘I have always felt an interest in that country . . . far more so than I ever did in France which is closer to us.’

  Edward smiled at him. ‘I shall never forget, William, what I owe to Normandy. I must go to England because it is my duty. I must marry Editha, although it will be marriage in name only. But my heart will be here in Normandy and I shall take with me the customs of this land. There will always be a welcome for Normans in England while I am the King. One day you will visit me there.’

  They took farewell of each other and William bade Edward godspeed.

  He waited eagerly for news of his arrival and often feared that they might have betrayed Edward as they had Alfred and put out his beautiful blue eyes.

  At length there was news. The English, heartily tired of Danish rule, had warmly welcomed Edward, who had married Editha and kept his vow not to consummate the marriage. The monks applauded this; t
hey said he was a saint and he became known as Edward the Confessor throughout the land. And because twenty-seven years of his life had been spent in Normandy he was more Norman than Saxon. Although he had not been allowed to take a Norman entourage with him when he landed, Normans began to filter into England. Edward’s first act had been to abolish the Danish taxes. This ensured his popularity and since he was so pious, he quickly became reverenced. There was no murmur from the people when Norman fashions were introduced into the country and it became fashionable to speak the Norman tongue as was done at Court.

  William learned all he could of England. A new ambition had started to grow. Not only did he wish to be a great Duke of Normandy, to stand beside Rollo and Richard the Fearless. He wished to be a King of England.

  The Traitor

  IT WAS TIME he left Conteville. Rouen was the principal city and he moved there, taking with him his mother, his stepfather and their family. He was seventeen, still young but old enough now to take part in councils. His grasp of affairs astonished his ministers; yet he was cautious, never boastful, and his skill in military matters was outstanding. There was still conflict in the Duchy but his supporters were in the ascendancy now and as he grew older the complaint against his extreme youth must necessarily be modified.

  Guy had not accompanied him to Rouen. He parted with his cousin with regret and, as a show of affection, presented him with the Castle of Brionne.

  It was a sad farewell he took of him, and Guy, though making a show of being his jaunty self, was also moved.

  ‘It will be strange without you,’ said William.

  ‘With whom will you wrestle now?’

  ‘There’ll be others.’

  ‘It will be different, William. With them it will be an exercise. With me . . . well, admit it, cousin, you could have killed me sometimes.’

  William conceded this.

  ‘It gave zest to our fights, did it not?’

  ‘It will be tame without you.’

  ‘Picture me in my castle of Brionne. At least I shall bow the knee to no one there. And very soon now you will be armed as a chevalier – then, my lord, you will be Duke in very truth and ruler of us all. The future lies rosy before you.’