by G. A. Henty
“Now, my lord bishop,” the king said calmly, “we have a right next to ask you how these men came to be in your palace. Know you aught of them?”
“I know nothing of them,” the bishop replied. “So far as I am aware I have never seen any of their faces before, and assuredly they were not here with my cognizance. I will at once question all my people shrewdly, and woe be to him who has admitted strangers here unknown to me at the time when you were beneath my roof.”
“And have this house searched from basement to roof, bishop. It may be that there are others in hiding.”
“With your permission, my lord,” said Beorn, “I will at once take your men, of whom we have posted six under your window, and will call up some more and search the town. It is likely that there are others without with horses held in readiness for these assassins to escape.”
“Do so, Beorn. It will be well if we can catch some at least, so that we can get to the bottom of this matter.”
The bishop at once ordered his armed retainers to accompany Beorn, and then proceeded to interrogate his officials and the domestics, and to see that the latter made a complete search of the palace. All denied any knowledge of strangers having entered, and the search revealed nothing but four monks’ gowns and hoods found wrapped up in a bundle in a small room downstairs. Further questions had been then put. Some of the domestics remembered that four monks had entered the palace late in the evening, and one of the under chamberlains said that he had seen them, and they had told him that they had just arrived from Flanders, and craved permission to sleep in the palace for the night, as they were going on to Peterborough in the morning. He had told them that this was impossible, as he could give no permission without the leave of the bishop, who was at present with the king and could not be disturbed, and that, moreover, every room in the palace was occupied. He had given them the address of a citizen, who would he was sure take them in. They had thanked him, and said that they would go there, but doubtless instead of doing so they had slipped aside, and had hidden themselves in the room where their gowns were found. It was one used only for the storage of garments for poor travellers who came along, and no one was likely to enter it on such an evening.
This discovery was a great relief to the bishop and all within the palace, as it showed that they were not there with the connivance of any of the prelate’s people. Before the matter was fully unravelled Beorn returned. They had in a quiet spot a short distance from the palace come upon two men with six horses. Before they could run up and seize them the two men had leapt up into the saddles and galloped furiously away. Unfortunately the other four horses had followed, and immediate pursuit was therefore impossible. The housecarls had run to the spot where their horses were stabled and had gone off in pursuit, but Beorn feared that the men would have far too great a start to be overtaken. One of the officers had ridden with the housecarls, and Beorn had told him to keep by the river-bank, as the men would assuredly make for a ship that was lying somewhere down the river, though whether at a distance of two miles or of twenty he knew not. Long before Beorn’s return Wulf’s wound had been examined. Unguents had been poured into it and bandages applied. The surgeons were of opinion that it was a very grave one, but that at present they could not say how the matter would terminate.
“Your story will keep till the morning, Beorn,” the king said. “It is still five hours to daylight, and we may as well retire to rest, unless, indeed, you know that there are others engaged in the affair in London or elsewhere who should be arrested before the news of the night’s business reaches them.”
“I know of none such,” Beorn said, “and believe that these four and the two who have escaped were alone concerned in it. I will bring with me in the morning a man and a boy who know more than I do of the matter; they and Osgod, with whom Wulf will assuredly have talked it over, will be able to tell you all that was known up to the moment when these men entered the palace.”
The armourer and Ulf told their story in the morning, and Beorn took Osgod’s place by Wulf’s bedside, while he too was questioned by the king. The latter then went to Wulf’s chamber.
“What say the leeches this morning, Beorn?
“They are somewhat more hopeful, my lord. They say that his heart beats more strongly than it did last night, Osgod says that he has not moved or opened his eyes, but they say that this is not a bad sign, and that it may be anxiety has brought on an exhaustion, for his breathing is more like that of one who sleeps than of a man wounded to death.”
“His face has grieviously changed since yesterday,” the king said sadly, looking down upon Wulf. “I would give my right hand rather than that he should die. You have of a surety saved my life among you, Beorn, you and his stout man-at-arms and the worthy armourer and that shrewd apprentice of his for had they entered my chamber and taken me unawares they would have slain me without doubt.”
“I have done the best I could since I learnt from the armourer the suspicion that Wulf entertained, but the whole thing is Wulf’s doing. Had I heard that Walter Fitz-Urse was back in London I should have given the matter no further thought than that it was one Norman the more. It was, as he told me, some words that Baron de Burg said when he saw him over in Normandy the other day that first set him thinking. Then, he could not understand why Fitz-Urse should return to London at this time, when Normans are not overwelcome there, and this caused him to have some sort of suspicion as to his reasons for undertaking such a journey, and determined him to set a watch on the fellow’s movements. Had it been any other than Wulf who had so acted I should have laughed at his suspicions. But he is as a brother to me, and knowing how sharp are his wits I am always well content to follow him without question. I first heard of the matter after the discovery that the Norman was having secret meetings with some of his countrymen who were concealed on board a ship, and I at once felt sure that Wulf had not been running on a false trail, and so did the little I could to aid those who had the matter in hand.”
“You have done well, Beorn, though as you say it is doubtless Wulf to whom the chief credit is due. I regretted at first that the other two men had escaped, but had they been taken they might, to save their own lives, have implicated others, and I might have been forced to lay a complaint against the Duke of Normandy. As it is now, the matter is at an end. Four men have tried to murder me, and have been killed. Their bodies have been buried this morning, and there is no more to be said about it.
“I was obliged to go down and show myself to the people an hour since, for they assembled in a great crowd, clamouring to see me so that they might know I was safe. I told them that while I thanked them for their loyal care, there was nought to be alarmed about. It was true that there had been an attempt on my life by four men, of whom the leader had a private grudge against me for a disservice I did him some years ago, but that all had been killed by my guards without even penetrating my chamber, and that I had run no sort of personal risk, nor had I any reason whatever to suppose that the malefactors had accomplices either within or without the palace.”
Late in the evening, when the surgeons were applying pungent salts to his nostrils, Wulf opened his eyes. Osgod was standing beside him holding one of his hands.
“It is all well, master,” he said. “We finished them all off, and no harm has happened to the king. You have been hurt, but I hope you will soon be better. The leeches say that you are not to talk, and you had best sleep as much as you can. They have got some stuff for you to drink here; do you lie still and I will pour it between your lips.”
A look of intelligence came into Wulf’s eyes as Osgod spoke; he smiled faintly, and murmured, “Thank God, the king is safe!” He swallowed a few spoonfuls of the potion Osgod held to his lips, and then closing his eyes his regular breathing soon showed that he was again asleep. On the following day the king proceeded on his way to London, Beorn remaining to nurse Wulf. The king would have loaded Ulred with presents, but the sturdy armourer refused to receive anything save
a small gold cup in remembrance.
“I want no reward for doing my duty,” he said. “I have my trade that keeps me, and should be no happier were I laden with money. All that I have done in the matter has been to watch for a few hours at a window, and to make a journey by ship to York, and I should be ashamed of myself indeed if I could not take that slight trouble for my king without looking for a reward.”
As to Ulf he was thanked and praised, but the king decided to take no steps to alter his condition until Wulf should be well enough to be consulted in the matter. It was a fortnight before the doctors were able to state with any confidence that the young thane was on the road towards recovery, and still another month before he had gained sufficient strength to be carried in a litter to London.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE NORTHERN INVASION
The news of Harold’s marriage to Ealdgyth put an end to the demands of William of Normandy that Harold should take one of his daughters to wife, and in the complaints that he addressed to all Christendom against Harold the breach of his promise in this respect was placed far more prominently than his failure to carry out his oath to be the duke’s man. It must have been evident indeed to all that it was beyond the power of the English king to keep this oath, obtained from him by force and treachery. He had been elected by the voice of the English people, and had no more power than the meanest of his subjects to hand the crown they had bestowed to another.
The breach of this oath, however, served to obtain all the aid that the church could give to William. Harold was solemnly excommunicated, and the struggle for which the duke was preparing thereupon assumed the character of a sacred war. In England itself the Bull of excommunication had no effect whatever. The great bulk of bishops and clergy were Englishmen, and thought far more of their king than of any foreign prince or prelate. Even the bishops and abbots of Norman blood disregarded the commination, and remained staunch to Harold. He had been a generous patron to the church, had maintained them in all the privileges and dignities that Edward had bestowed upon them, and possessed the love of the whole English people; therefore, in spite of bann and interdict the churches remained open, services were held as usual, and people were married and buried as if the Papal Bull had never been issued.
But it was not so on the Continent. The Norman barons as a body had at first refused to support the duke in an invasion of England, but as individuals they had been brought round to join in William’s project, and to give far more aid in ships and men than they were bound to do by their feudal engagements. Having accomplished this, William issued an invitation to all adventurous spirits in Europe to join him in his crusade against the excommunicated King of England, promising that all should share alike in the plunder of England and in the division of its land. The bait was a tempting one. Some joined the enterprise merely for the sake of gaining glory under the banner of one who was regarded as the greatest military leader in Europe, others were influenced by love of gain, while, as in the crusades, numbers joined to obtain absolution for past misdeeds by taking part in an enterprise blessed by the Pope. Thus the force which William was collecting greatly exceeded that which the resources of Normandy alone could have set on foot.
Among the first to hurry to the court of William, as soon as Harold’s accession to the throne was known, was Tostig, in whose mind the refusal of Harold to embark in a civil war for his sake, and to force him upon the people of Northumbria in spite of their detestation of him, was an injury not to be forgiven. The fact that Tostig was ready thus to sacrifice England to his own private quarrel showed a baseness and recklessness that could hardly be expected from his early career. William naturally accepted the alliance, received Tostig’s oath of allegiance, and aided him in fitting out a number of ships manned by Norman and Flemish adventurers. Evading the watch kept by the English fleet they crossed the sea, landed, and plundered and ravaged a considerable extent of country, and then retired, Tostig being enraged that William of Normandy was unwilling to send an expedition to act in concert with him until the whole of his plans were prepared and his great army ready for sea.
Normandy indeed had been converted into a vast camp. In every port great numbers of workmen laboured night and day building ships, for Normandy had ceased to be a naval power, and its shipping was utterly insufficient to carry the great army across. Tostig, impatient and hasty, thought no more of the oath of allegiance that he had sworn to William. Driven from Yorkshire by the forces of the northern earls he sailed to Scotland, where he was welcomed by King Malcolm, both as a sworn brother and as the enemy of England. From Scotland he entered into negotiations with Harold Hardrada of Norway. This warlike monarch was in a fit mood to listen to his advances; he had for years been engaged in a struggle with Denmark, which he had ineffectually attempted to conquer, and had at last been forced to conclude a treaty of peace with Sweyn, its king.
Tostig had already endeavoured by personal persuasions to induce Sweyn to revive his claim to the crown of England, and to undertake its conquest; but he altogether declined to undertake so dangerous and difficult an enterprise, and Tostig had then turned to Harold of Norway. Whether his interview with him was before he went to Scotland or whether he went thence to Norway is a point on which historians differ. Some deny that any interview took place, but the balance of probability lies strongly in favour of an early interview, at which Harold entered heartily into Tostig’s plans, and began at once to make preparations for the enterprise.
It was certain that an invading force from Norway would land in Northumbria, and Harold, although he might not be able to rely greatly upon the assistance of the northern earls as against the Normans, knew that they would do their best to defeat an expedition landing on their own shores, especially when Tostig was a sharer in the invasion. His own thoughts were wholly bent upon repelling the mighty expedition gathering in Normandy, and for this purpose, by immense efforts, he collected the greatest army and fleet that had ever been got together in England. An incessant watch was kept up along the coast where the Normans might be expected to land, while the fleet cruised for months between the Thames and the Isle of Wight prepared to give battle to the invaders.
But the conditions of service in England were such that it was impossible to keep a great force on foot for an indefinite time. The housecarls were the only regular portion of the army The great bulk of the force, both land and sea, consisting of the levies or militia, whose term of service was very limited. It says much for the influence of Harold that he was able for four months to keep his army and navy together. Had the foe appeared, soldiers and sailors would have done their duty, but the long term of inaction, the weary waiting for a foe that never came, was too much, and when September arrived and the harvest was ready to be gathered it was impossible even for him to keep the men longer together. The army disbanded, the levies went to their homes, and the ships of the fleet sailed away to the ports to which they belonged. All the efforts and anxieties of Harold, all his lavish expenditure in feeding and providing for so great a number of men had been thrown away. England lay for a time absolutely defenceless against the coming storm.
It was not until August that Wulf had completely recovered his strength, and was able to join the army.
“This is not a time,” Harold said to him on the day he arrived at the camp, “for the granting of dignities or the bestowal of grants. But if we are successful, and I remain King of England, the services you have rendered me at the risk of your life, Wulf, shall be worthily rewarded.”
“I need no reward,” Wulf replied. “My estates are sufficient for all my needs, and I desire neither land nor dignity, being more than content that I have been enabled to render a service to you and to England.”
Wulf was, however, at once appointed as commander of the whole of the housecarls supplied by the thanes of the south coast of Sussex. None of these bodies were equal in strength to his own carefully prepared contingent, few of the thanes having kept up more than fifteen or twenty men co
nstantly under arms, and these only for the past few months, in consequence of Harold’s exhortations. Altogether the force amounted to about four hundred men. Each party had its own sub-officer, and Wulf did his best to weld them into one body. When the army broke up, he returned with the king to Westminster. The day after he arrived there a man met him as he issued from the palace, and handed him a letter. It contained but the words:
“I would fain see you. If you will follow the bearer he will bring you to me. Say naught to any one of this message. Edith.”
“Is the distance far?” he asked the man.
“It is to Croydon, my lord. I have ridden here on horseback.”
Wulf at once ordered his horse to be brought to him.
“Will you be back tonight, my lord,” Osgod asked, as he mounted, “in case the king should wish to see you?”
“I shall not be back till late, possibly not until tomorrow I do not tell you where I am going, in order that if you are asked you may be able truly to reply that I said nothing before I mounted, as to my destination.”
It was just mid-day when Wulf drew up his horse before a modest house standing in a secluded position a quarter of a mile from the village of Croydon. Edith met him at the doorway.
“I thank you, Wulf, for answering my request so speedily. There is much that I would ask you about my lord. I hear of him only by general report, for although from time to time I send him messages I give him no opportunity for writing to me, and I know that he has respected my wishes, and has caused no search to be made for me.”
“Harold sometimes speaks to me of you, lady, and has in no way forgotten you. He did charge me to find out if I could the place of your abode; not that he would seek an interview with you, but, should there be need, he might be able to send a message.” By this time they were seated in the room where Edith spent the greater part of her time.
