CHAPTER XII
"Sir Eric," said Richard, "you told me there was a Parlement to be heldat Falaise, between Count Bernard and the King of Denmark. I mean toattend it. Will you come with me, or shall Osmond go, and you remain incharge of the Prince?"
"How now, Lord Richard, you were not wont to love a Parlement?"
"I have something to say," replied Richard. The Baron made no objection,only telling his mother that the Duke was a marvellous wise child, andthat he would soon be fit to take the government himself.
Lothaire lamented the more when he found that Richard was going away; hispresence seemed to him a protection, and he fancied, now Carloman wasdead, that his former injuries were about to be revenged. The Dukeassured him, repeatedly, that he meant him nothing but kindness, adding,"When I return, you will see, Lothaire;" then, commending him to the careand kindness of Fru Astrida, Osmond, and Alberic, Richard set forth uponhis pony, attended by Sir Eric and three men-at-arms.
Richard felt sad when he looked back at Bayeux, and thought that it nolonger contained his dear little friend; but it was a fresh bright frostymorning, the fields were covered with a silvery-white coating, the flakesof hoar-frost sparkled on every bush, and the hard ground rung cheerilyto the tread of the horses' feet. As the yellow sun fought his waythrough the grey mists that dimmed his brightness, and shone out merrilyin the blue heights of the sky, Richard's spirits rose, and he laughedand shouted, as hare or rabbit rushed across the heath, or as the ploverrose screaming above his head, flapping her broad wings across the wintrysky.
One night they slept at a Convent, where they heard that Hugh of Parishad passed on to join the conference at Falaise. The next day they rodeon, and, towards the afternoon, the Baron pointed to a sharp rocky rangeof hills, crowned by a tall solid tower, and told Richard, yonder was hiskeep of Falaise, the strongest Castle in Normandy.
The country was far more broken as they advanced--narrow valleys andsharp hills, each little vale full of wood, and interspersed with rocks."A choice place for game," Sir Eric said and Richard, as he saw a herd ofdeer dash down a forest glade, exclaimed, "that they must come here tostay, for some autumn sport."
There seemed to be huntsmen abroad in the woods; for through the frostyair came the baying of dogs, the shouts and calls of men, and, now andthen, the echoing, ringing notes of a bugle. Richard's eyes and cheeksglowed with excitement, and he pushed his brisk little pony on faster andfaster, unheeding that the heavier men and horses of his suite were notkeeping pace with him on the rough ground and through the tangled boughs.
Presently, a strange sound of growling and snarling was heard close athand: his pony swerved aside, and could not be made to advance; soRichard, dismounting, dashed through some briars, and there, on an openspace, beneath a precipice of dark ivy-covered rock, that rose like awall, he beheld a huge grey wolf and a large dog in mortal combat. Itwas as if they had fallen or rolled down the precipice together, notheeding it in their fury. Both were bleeding, and the eyes of bothglared like red fiery glass in the dark shadow of the rock. The dog layundermost, almost overpowered, making but a feeble resistance; and thewolf would, in another moment, be at liberty to spring on the lonelychild.
But not a thought of fear passed through his breast; to save the dog wasRichard's only idea. In one moment he had drawn the dagger he wore athis girdle, ran to the two struggling animals, and with all his force,plunged it into the throat of the wolf, which, happily, was still held bythe teeth of the hound.
The struggles relaxed, the wolf rolled heavily aside, dead; the dog laypanting and bleeding, and Richard feared he was cruelly torn. "Poorfellow! noble dog! what shall I do to help you?" and he gently smoothedthe dark brindled head.
A voice was now heard shouting aloud, at which the dog raised and crestedhis head, as a figure in a hunting dress was coming down a rocky pathway,an extremely tall, well-made man, of noble features. "Ha! holla! Vige!Vige! How now, my brave hound?" he said in the Northern tongue, thoughnot quite with the accent Richard was accustomed to hear "Art hurt?"
"Much torn, I fear," Richard called out, as the faithful creature waggedhis tail, and strove to rise and meet his master.
"Ha, lad! what art thou?" exclaimed the hunter, amazed at seeing the boybetween the dead wolf and wounded dog. "You look like one of thoseFrenchified Norman gentilesse, with your smooth locks and gildedbaldrick, yet your words are Norse. By the hammer of Thor! that is adagger in the wolf's throat!"
"It is mine," said Richard. "I found your dog nearly spent, and I madein to the rescue."
"You did? Well done! I would not have lost Vige for all the plunder ofItaly. I am beholden to you, my brave young lad," said the stranger, allthe time examining and caressing the hound. "What is your name? Youcannot be Southern bred?"
As he spoke, more shouts came near; and the Baron de Centeville rushedthrough the trees holding Richard's pony by the bridle. "My Lord, myLord!--oh, thank Heaven, I see you safe!" At the same moment a party ofhunters also approached by the path, and at the head of them Bernard theDane.
"Ha!" exclaimed he, "what do I see? My young Lord! what brought youhere?" And with a hasty obeisance, Bernard took Richard's outstretchedhand.
"I came hither to attend your council," replied Richard. "I have a boonto ask of the King of Denmark."
"Any boon the King of Denmark has in his power will be yours," said thedog's master, slapping his hand on the little Duke's shoulder, with arude, hearty familiarity, that took him by surprise; and he looked upwith a shade of offence, till, on a sudden flash of perception, he tookoff his cap, exclaiming, "King Harald himself! Pardon me, Sir King!"
"Pardon, Jarl Richart! What would you have me pardon?--your saving thelife of Vige here? No French politeness for me. Tell me your boon, andit is yours. Shall I take you a voyage, and harry the fat monks ofIreland?"
Richard recoiled a little from his new friend.
"Oh, ha! I forgot. They have made a Christian of you--more's the pity.You have the Northern spirit so strong. I had forgotten it. Come, walkby my side, and let me hear what you would ask. Holla, you Sweyn! carryVige up to the Castle, and look to his wounds. Now for it, young Jarl."
"My boon is, that you would set free Prince Lothaire."
"What?--the young Frank? Why they kept you captive, burnt your face, andwould have made an end of you but for your clever Bonder."
"That is long past, and Lothaire is so wretched. His brother is dead,and he is sick with grief, and he says he shall die, if he does not gohome."
"A good thing too for the treacherous race to die out in him! Whatshould you care for him? he is your foe."
"I am a Christian," was Richard's answer.
"Well, I promised you whatever you might ask. All my share of hisransom, or his person, bond or free, is yours. You have only to prevailwith your own Jarls and Bonders."
Richard feared this would be more difficult; but Abbot Martin came to themeeting, and took his part. Moreover, the idea of their hostage dying intheir hands, so as to leave them without hold upon the King, had muchweight with them; and, after long deliberation, they consented thatLothaire should be restored to his father, without ransom but only oncondition that Louis should guarantee to the Duke the peaceablepossession of the country, as far as St. Clair sur Epte, which had beenlong in dispute; so that Alberic became, indisputably, a vassal ofNormandy.
Perhaps it was the happiest day in Richard's life when he rode back toBayeux, to desire Lothaire to prepare to come with him to St. Clair,there to be given back into the hands of his father.
And then they met King Louis, grave and sorrowful for the loss of hislittle Carloman, and, for the time, repenting of his misdeeds towards theorphan heir of Normandy.
He pressed the Duke in his arms, and his kiss was a genuine one as hesaid, "Duke Richard, we have not deserved this of you. I did not treatyou as you have treated my children. We will be true lord and vassalfrom henceforth."
Lothaire's last
words were, "Farewell, Richard. If I lived with you, Imight be good like you. I will never forget what you have done for me."
When Richard once more entered Rouen in state, his subjects shoutinground him in transports of joy, better than all his honour and glory wasthe being able to enter the Church of our Lady, and kneel by his father'sgrave, with a clear conscience, and the sense that he had tried to keepthat last injunction.