by G. A. Henty
“Guy?” Wulf whispered.
“He is in a more perilous condition than you are, but it is possible that he too may live. As for your man here, I have as yet but glanced at his wounds; but though cut sorely, I have no fear for his life. Now drink this potion, and then go off to sleep if you can.”
Wulf drank off the contents of the goblet placed to his lips, and in a few minutes was fast asleep. When he woke it was broad daylight, and Beorn was sitting by his side. The latter put his finger to his lips.
“You are not to talk, Wulf. The leech gave me the strictest orders when he was here a short time since, and said that you seemed to be doing well. Osgod he says will surely recover, and be none the worse for the letting out of some of his blood. The Bretons were too hasty with their strokes, and although he has a dozen wounds none of them are serious. Guy de Burg is alive, but as yet the leech can say nothing. It has been a bad business. It seems that De Launey’s men were most of them killed whilst they were asleep. The bodies of the sentries were found at their posts, but whether they were asleep, or whether, as is thought more likely, their foes stole up and killed them before they had time to utter a cry, we know not. The Bretons attacked at two or three other points, but nowhere with such success, though many Normans have fallen. Everyone says that the party which passed through De Launey’s men would have reached the tents and probably killed most of those in them had they not stopped while some of their number attacked you and Guy de Burg. The duke and Harold have both said that your bravery saved us from a great disaster. I would that I had been with you, but the tent I was in was the farthest along the line, and the Bretons were in full flight before we came upon the scene.”
Presently the Baron de Burg came to the side of the pallet on which Wulf was lying. “I cannot say that I owe you the life of my son,” he said, laying his hand gently upon Wulf’s, “for I know not as yet whether he will live, but he was sensible when we brought him to my tent, and he told me that you had stood over him and defended him from the Bretons until you too fell. He was sensible all the time, though unable to move.”
“It was Osgod who did most of the fighting, my lord,” Wulf said.
“He did much, Wulf, and it will be my pleasure to reward him, but the duke, who is full of admiration at the slaughter done by three alone, has caused the bodies to be examined. Twelve of them were killed with axe wounds, nine by sword wounds. Guy tells me that he knows that only two fell to his sword, therefore you must have slain seven. Truly a feat that any man might be proud of, to say nothing of a lad of your age. Guy is anxious to have you with him, and the leech said that if you keep quiet today, and none of your wounds break out afresh, it will do you no harm to be carried to my tent.”
Accordingly the next day Wulf was carried across to Lord de Burg’s, and his pallet set down by the side of Guy’s. The latter was a little better, and the leech had faint hopes of his recovery. His right arm had been broken by a blow with a club, and so badly fractured that it had already been taken off near the shoulder. His most dangerous wound was a pike-thrust on the left side, which had penetrated his lungs. He smiled faintly as Wulf was placed by his side. Wulf tried to smile back again, but he was too much shocked at the change in his friend’s appearance. His cheeks had fallen in, and his face was deadly pale. His lips were almost colourless, and his eyes seemed unnaturally large. Wulf made an effort to speak cheerfully.
“We did not expect to come to this so soon, Guy,” he said. “We have often talked about fighting, but we never thought that our first serious fight would end like this.”
“You have nothing to regret,” Baron de Burg said. “You have both done your duty nobly, and one of gentle blood can wish for no better end than to die doing his duty against great odds. God grant that you may both be spared, but if it be otherwise, death could not come to you more gloriously than in giving your lives to save your lords from surprise.”
Wulf’s recovery was comparatively rapid. He was greatly pleased when, a week after his removal, Osgod was brought into the tent by Harold. He was still pale and feeble, but was able to walk, and assured his young lord that he should soon be ready for another fight with the Bretons.
“There will be no more fighting,” Harold said. “Yesterday their chiefs came in to make their submission and ask for mercy, and on this being granted their fortress has surrendered this morning. They will pay a heavy fine in cattle, and their two strongest fortresses are to be garrisoned by Norman troops. A considerable slice of their territory is to be taken from them. In a week I hope we shall all be on our way back to Rouen.”
Guy was mending very slowly. Even yet the leech could not say with certainty that his life would be saved, and warned his father that in any case he would for a very long time be an invalid. In another week the camp was broken up. Wulf declared that he was well enough to sit a horse, but the leech insisted that he should be carried on a litter.
“In another fortnight,” he said, “you may be able to ride, but it would not be safe to attempt to do so now. You are going on as well as could be wished, and it would be madness to risk everything by haste.”
Accordingly he and Guy were transported in litters to the baron’s residence, where Wulf steadily recovered his health and strength. Osgod, who had received a heavy purse of gold from the baron, had at the end of that time entirely recovered; Guy still lay pale and feeble on his couch.
“I scarcely wish to live,” he said one day to his father. “I can never be a warrior now. What have I got to live for?”
“You have much to live for, Guy,” his father said, “even if you never bestride a war-horse. You have made a name for yourself for bravery, and will always be held in respect. It is not as if you had been from your birth weak and feeble. You will in time, I hope, come to be lord of our estates and to look after our people, and be beloved by them; and, if you cannot yourself lead them in the field, you can see that they go well equipped, and do honour to your banner. There are other things besides fighting to live for.”
“I would that you had had another son, father, and that Wulf had been my brother. I should not so much have minded then that I could not myself carry the banner of De Burg into the field.”
“Had he been one of ourselves, Guy, that might have come about,” his father said, “for if I have no other son I have a daughter. But this young Saxon has his own estates in his own country. He would not settle down here as a Norman baron, and I would not lose Agnes nor be willing that she should go from us to dwell in a foreign land. But no one can say what the future will bring about. The duke has promised one of his daughters to Harold, and should the marriage come off it will bind the two peoples more closely together. Besides, you know, Edward of England has promised to Duke William that he should succeed him.”
“I was speaking to Wulf about that one day, father, and he said that Edward had no power to make the gift, for that the people of England chose their king themselves, and that Edward’s promise would go for nothing with them. It is not with them as it is with us, where a prince can name his successor.”
“That may be Saxon opinion, Guy, but it is not Norman, and assuredly it is not the duke’s; and friendly as are the relations between him and Harold, it is clear that until this question is settled no permanent friendship can be looked for between the two nations.”
Wulf was sorry when the time came that he could no longer linger at Baron de Burg’s chateau. The earl had more than once sent over to say that his presence was looked for at court as soon as he was sufficiently recovered to attend there, but he stayed on until he felt so thoroughly strong and well that he could not make his health any longer an excuse. On leaving, De Burg and his wife both pressed him to come over whenever he could spare time.
“You know, Wulf,” the former said, “how warm is the affection Guy has for you, and he will look very eagerly for your visits. Just at present he has very few pleasures in life, and chief among them will be your comings. We are all dull here, lad, and Agnes
will miss you sorely.”
“I will ride over whenever I can. I should be ungrateful indeed did I not do so, after the great kindness you and Lady de Burg have shown me; but even putting this aside I will come every day if I can, if only for half an hour’s talk with Guy.”
“I am glad to see you back again, Wulf,” Earl Harold said as the lad entered his room. “You look strong and well again, and might, methinks, have come to us before now.”
“I could have done so, doubtless, my lord, but it pained me to leave Guy, who is still on his couch, and will, I fear, never be strong and well again.”
“We heard but a poor account of him from the duke’s leech,” Harold said. “It is a sad thing; for one, who as a lad has shown such bravery, would have turned out a gallant knight. I should have let you linger there for some time yet, but the duke has frequently asked after you, and I thought it were best that you came over; though, in truth, there will be little for you to do here, and you will be able to ride and see your friend when you will.”
“Are we likely to go back to England soon, my lord?”
“I trust it will not be long. I have spoken of it more than once to the duke, but he chides me for being weary of his company; which indeed I am not, for no man could have treated another better than he has done me. Still,” he said, walking up and down the room, “I am impatient to be off, but I am no more free to choose my time here that I was at Beaurain. It is a velvet glove that is placed on my shoulder, but there is an iron hand in it, I know right well.”
“Is there no possibility of escaping, my lord?”
Harold looked keenly at the boy. “No, Wulf, treated as I am as a guest I cannot fly without incurring the reproach of the basest ingratitude, nor even if I wished it could I escape. Under the excuse of doing me honour, there are Norman soldiers at the gate, and a Norman sentry stands at my door. I must go through with it now, and if need be promise all that William asks. This time there is nowhere to send you to fetch aid for me. You have heard, I suppose, that William has promised me his daughter in marriage?”
“Yes, my lord, I have heard it. Is the marriage to take place soon?”
Harold smiled. “The duke will not wish it to take place until he sees that he can secure my services by the marriage. If that time should never come I shall probably hear no more of it. Engagements have been broken off before now many a time, and absolution for a broken promise of that kind is not hard to obtain. You must attend the court this evening, Wulf.”
Wulf bowed and withdrew, and in the evening attended the court in the suite of Harold. As soon as the duke’s eye fell upon him he called him up.
“Messieurs,” he said to the barons present, “this lad is Wulf, Thane of Steyning, and a follower of Earl Harold. He it was who, with the young Guy de Burg, and aided only by a Saxon man-at-arms, withstood the first rush of the Bretons, and so gained time by which I myself and my barons were able to prepare ourselves to resist the attack. Had it not been for them we should all have been taken by surprise, and maybe slain. The Saxon and the two lads, Wulf and De Burg, all fell wounded well-nigh to death, but not before twenty-one Bretons lay dead around them. This was indeed a feat of arms that any of you, valiant knights and barons as you are, might have been proud to perform.
“Already I had promised him any boon that in reason he may ask for having borne to me the news that Earl Harold, my honoured guest and brother-in-arms, had been cast on our shores, and I promise him now, that should at any time it happen that I have any power or influence in England, his estates shall remain to him and to his heirs free from all service or dues, even though he has withstood me in arms;—nay, more, that they shall be largely added to. Should such issue never arise, and aught occur to render him desirous of crossing the seas hither, I promise him a baron’s feu as a token of my gratitude for the great service he rendered me; and I am well assured that, whether to a King of England or to a Duke of Normandy, he will prove himself a true and faithful follower. I call on you all here to witness this promise that I have made, and should there be need, to recall it to my memory.”
The Normans above all things admired valour, and when Wulf, after kneeling and kissing the duke’s hand, retired shamefacedly to a corner of the room, where he was joined by Beorn, one after another came up to him and said a few words of approbation.
“You have done well, young sir,” Fitz-Osberne, one of the duke’s most trusted councillors said to him. “The duke is not given to overpraise, and assuredly no one of your age has ever won such commendation from his lips. After making so fair a commencement, it will be your own fault indeed if you do not make a great name for yourself in the future. There is not one of us who was in the duke’s camp that evening but feels that he owes you much for the few minutes’ delay that saved us from being taken altogether by surprise. You are young, and may think but little of the promise the duke has given you this evening, but the day may come when you will find it stand you in good stead.”
Harold said nearly the same thing to Wulf when he saw him the next morning.
“But there is no chance of the duke ever having power in England, my lord,” Wulf said.
“I trust not, Wulf, but there is no doubt that his whole mind is bent upon obtaining the throne of England. He has spoken to me openly about it, and has more than hinted to me that I, if married to his daughter, would still, as Earl of Wessex, be the foremost man in the land next to its sovereign should he ever gain the kingdom.”
“And what said you, my lord, if I may be so bold as to ask?”
“I said but little, lad. I am a prisoner, and I am well assured that I shall never return to England until William thinks that he can depend upon me. It is needful that I should return, and that quickly, for I hear that there is fresh trouble in Wales, and I have received an urgent message from the king to hasten to his side. It is hard to see what it is best to do.”
Four days later a grand ceremony was announced to take place, but few knew what its nature was to be. That it was something beyond the ordinary was certain by the number of barons and knights that were bidden to attend. A dais was erected in the courtyard of the palace, and on this a table covered with a cloth was placed.
“I don’t like this business,” Wulf said to Beorn, as with the other Saxons they took their place near the dais. “There is something very mysterious about it, and I believe that at last we are going to see what William’s full intentions are.”
A religious ceremony was first held, and then the duke rose to his feet and addressed the barons. He first recalled to them the promise that Edward of England had made to him, and then went on: “The saints have worked in my favour,” he said, “by sending here as my guest my well-beloved brother-in-arms, the great Earl of Wessex. Between us there is the closest friendship, and to cement and make even closer the bonds between us, he has become betrothed to my daughter, and through the lands I shall bestow upon her he will become a baron of Normandy. Relying upon his affection and friendship, I have called you here together to hear him swear in public that which he has already told me privately—that he will be my faithful feudatory, and will in all ways aid me to gain my lawful rights.”
Harold changed colour. The matter had come upon him as a surprise. Doubtless he had in a vague way when discussing his future relations as son-in-law to the duke, expressed his warm friendship and a general willingness to be of service to him, but to be called upon to take an oath publicly was a different matter. Most of those present had taken oaths of allegiance to William and had broken them again and again, and William himself had not less frequently broken his feudal oaths to his suzerain, the King of France. But Harold was a man with a deep sense of religion, and did not esteem as lightly as these Norman barons an oath thus sworn; but he felt that he had fallen into a trap, and that resistance would but consign him to a prison, if not a grave.
He at once understood how hollow had been the pretended friendship of his host; but he was in William’s power, and unless as a f
riend the duke would never permit so formidable a rival to quit his shores. As he hesitated he saw a movement on the part of the Norman knights near the dais, and understood that they had been previously informed of William’s intentions, and were there to enforce them. Their brows were bent on him angrily as he hesitated, and more than one hand went to the hilt of the wearer’s sword. There was no drawing back, and placing his hand on the table he swore the oath William had dictated. When he concluded William snatched the cloth from the table, and below it were seen a number of bones and sacred relics that had been brought from the cathedral.
Enlightened as Harold was, he was not altogether free from the superstitions of the age. For a moment he shuddered slightly and grew paler than before, then he drew himself up to his full height, and looked calmly into the exulting face of William.
“I call you all to witness,” the duke said in a loud voice, “that Harold, Earl of Wessex, has taken a solemn oath upon the holy relics to be my faithful feudatory.”
The shout that answered him was by no means universal, for there were many among the Norman nobles who were shocked at the base trick that the duke had played upon a guest for whom he had professed the warmest friendship. The Saxon thanes could scarce contain their expressions of indignation, but Harold as he sat down among them made a gesture commanding silence.
“We sail for England tomorrow night,” he said in low tones. “The duke told me so as we came hither. The two ships will be in readiness for us to embark in the morning. I did not understand then the price I was to pay. Restrain yourselves now; when we are free men we can talk this over.”
An hour later they returned to the palace, where there was a brief and formal interview between Harold and the duke. Both dissembled their real feelings. The duke said that he regretted that the King of England’s wishes forced his guest to start so suddenly, and that he much regretted his departure. Harold thanked him for the hospitality he had shown him, but neither made any allusion whatever to the scene that had taken place in the courtyard. Wulf rode over to say good-bye to Guy and his father. The latter was walking up and down the hall with a gloomy face.
