 6 Away from the tall narrow gateway of Rallo's Tower, with the cluster of friendly, sorrowful faces looking forth from it, away from the booth-like shops of Rouen, and the stout-burgers shouting with all the power of their lungs, Long live Duke Richard! Long live King Louis! Death to the Fleming! Away from the broad sing, away from home and friends, rode the young Duke of Normandy by the side of the palfrey of the King of France. The King took much notice of him, looked him by his side, talked to him, admired the beautiful cattle grazing in security in the green pastures, and as he looked at the rich dark brown earth of the fields, the castles towering above the woods, the convents looking like great farms, the many villages round the rude churches, and the numerous population which came out to gaze at the party and repeat the cry of, Long live the King! Blessings on the little Duke! He told Richard, again and again, that his was the most goodly duchy in France and Germany to boot. When they crossed the Ept, the King would have Richard in the same boat with him, and sitting close to Louis and talking eagerly about falcons and hounds, the little Duke passed the boundary of his own dukedom. The country beyond was not like Normandy. First they came to a great forest, which seemed to have no path through it. The King ordered that one of the men, who had rode them across, should be made to serve as guide, and two of the men at arms took him between them, and forced him to lead the way, while others, with their swords and battle-axes, cut down and cleared away the tangled branches and briars that nearly choked the path. All the time everyone was sharply on the lookout for the robbers, and the weapons were all held ready for use at a moment's notice. When getting beyond the forest a castle rose before them, and though it was not yet late in the day, they resolved to rest there, as a marsh lay not far before them, which it would not have been safe to traverse in the evening twilight. The Baron of the castle received them with great respect to the King, but without paying much attention to the Duke of Normandy, and Richard did not find the second place left for him at the board. He colored violently, and looked first at the King, and then at Osmond, but Osmond held up his finger in warning. He remembered how he had lost his temper before, and what had come of it, and resolved to try to bear it better. And just then the Baron's daughter, a gentle-looking maiden of fifteen or sixteen, came and spoke to him, and entertained him so well that he did not think much more of his offended dignity. When they set off on their journey again, the Baron and several of his followers came with them to show the only safe way across the morass, and a very slippery, treacherous, quaking road it was, where the horse's feet left pools of water wherever they trod. The King and the Baron rode together, and the other French nobles closed round them. Richard was left quite in the background, and though the French-minute arms took care not to lose sight of him, no one offered him any assistance, excepting Osmond, who, giving his own horse to Sibald, one of the two Norman grooms who accompanied him, led Richard's horse by the bridle along the whole distance of the marshy path, a business that could scarcely have been pleasant, as Osmond wore his heavy haubrick and his pointed iron-guarded boots sunk deep at every step into the bog. He spoke little, but seemed to be taking good heat of every stump of willow of stepping-stone that might serve as a note of remembrance of the path. At the other end of the morass began a long tract of dreary-looking, heady waste, without a sign of life. The Baron took leave of the King, only sending three-minute arms to show him the way to a monastery, which was to be the next halting-place. He sent three because it was not safe for one, even fully armed, to ride alone, for fear of the attacks of the followers of a certain marauding Baron, who was at deadly feud with him, and made all that border a most perilous region. Richard might well observe that he did not like the vex and half as well as Normandy, and that the people ought to learn through a street a story of the golden bracelets which, in his grandfather's time, had hung untouched for a year in a tree in a forest. It was pretty much the same through the whole journey, wastelands, marshes, and forest alternated. The castles stood on high mounds frowning on the country round, and villages were clustered round them, where the people either fled away, driving off their cattle with them at the first sight of the armed band, or else, if they remained, proved to be thin, richid-looking creatures, with wasted limbs, anguished faces, and often iron collars round their necks. Wherever there was anything of more prosperous appearance, such as a few cornfields, vineyards on the slopes of the hills, fat cattle, and peasantry looking healthy and secure, there was sure to be seen a range of long, low-stone buildings surmounted with crosses, with a short square church tower rising in the midst, and interspersed with gnarled, hoary, old apple-trees, or with gardens of pot-herbs spreading before them to the meadows. If, instead of two or three-minute arms from a castle or of some trembling surf pressed into the service, and beaten, threatened, and watched to prevent treachery, the king asked for a guide at a covenant. Some lay-brother would take his staff, or else mountain ass, and proceed in perfect confidence and security as to his return homewards, sure that his poverty and his sacred character would alike protect him from any outrage from the most lawless marauder of the neighborhood. Thus they traveled, until they reached the royal castle of Lyon, where the fleur-de-lis standard on the battlements announced the presence of Gravaire's, Queen of France, and her two sons. The king rode first into the court with his nobles, and before Richard could follow him through the narrow arched gateway he had dismounted, entered the castle, and was out of sight. Osmond held the duke's stirrup, and followed him up the steps which led to the castle hall. It was full of people, but no one made way, and Richard, holding his squire's hand, looked up in his face, inquiring, and bewildered. "'Sir Seneschal,' said Osmond, seeing a broad portly old man, with gray hair and a golden chain. "'This is the Duke of Normandy. I pray you conduct him to the king's presence.' Richard had no longer any cause to complain of neglect, for the Seneschal instantly made him a very low bow, and, calling, "'Place! Place for the high and mighty prince, my Lord Duke of Normandy!' Ushered him up the days, or raised part of the floor, where the king and queen stood together talking. The queen looked round as Richard was announced, and he saw her face, which was sallow, and with a sharp sour expression that did not please him, and he backed and looked reluctant. While Osmond, with a warning hand pressed on his shoulder, was trying to remind him that he ought to go forward, kneel on one knee, and kiss her hand. "'There he is,' said the king. "'One thing's secure,' said the queen, but what makes that northern giant keep close to his heels?' Louis answered something in a low voice, and in the meantime Osmond tried in a whisper to induce his young lord to go forward and perform his obeisance. "'I tell you I will not,' said Richard. "'She looks cross, and I do not like her.' Luckily he spoke his own language, but his look and air expressed a good deal of what he said, and Gerberge looked all the more unattractive. "'A thorough little Norwegian bear,' said the king, "'fierce and unruly as the rest. "'Come and perform your courtesy. "'Do you forget where you are?' he added sternly. Richard bowed, partly because Osmond forced down his shoulder, but he thought of old Rallo and Charles the Simple, and his proud heart resolved that he would never kiss the hand of that sour-licking queen. It was a determination made in pride and defiance, and he suffered for it afterwards. But no more passed to now, for the queen only saw in his behavior that of an unmanorly young Northman, and though she disliked and despised him, she did not carry enough about his courtesy to insist on his being paid. She sat down, and so did the king, and they went on talking. The king probably telling her his adventures at Rouen, while Richard stood on the step of the days, swelling with sullen pride. Nearly a quarter of an hour had passed in this manner, when the servants came to set the table for supper, and Richard, in spite of his indignant looks, was forced to stand aside. He wondered that all this time he had not seen the two princes, thinking how strange he should have thought it, to let his own dear father be in the house so long without coming to welcome him. At last, just as the supper had been served up, a side-door opened, and the center shall called, Place, for the high and mighty princes, my Lord Loterre and my Lord Carlemann, and Enwalk two boys, one about the same age as Richard, the other rather less than a year younger. They were both thin, pale, sharp-featured children, and Richard drew himself up to his full height, with great satisfaction at being so much taller than Loterre. They came up ceremoniously to their father, and kissed his hand, while he kissed their foreheads, and then said to them, There is a new play-fellow for you. Is that the little Northman? said Carlemann, turning to stare at Richard with a look of curiosity. While Richard, in his turn, felt considerably affronted that a boy so much less than himself should call him little. Yes, said the Queen, your father has brought him home with him. Carlemann stepped forward, shyly holding out his hand to the stranger, but his brother pushed him rudely aside. I am the eldest, it is my business to be first. So, young Northman, you are come here for us to play with? Richard was too much amazed at being spoken to in this imperious way, to make any answer. He was completely taken by surprise, and only opened his great blue eyes to their utmost extent. Ha! Why don't you answer? Don't you hear? Can you speak only your own heathen tongue? continued Loterre. The Norman is no heathen tongue, said Richard, at once breaking silence in a loud voice. We are as good Christians as you are. I am better, too. Hush! Hush, my Lord! said Osmond. What now, Sir Duke? Again interfered the King in an angry tone. Are you brawling already? Time indeed. I should take you away from your own savage court. Sir Squire, look to it, that you keep your charge in better rule, or I shall send him instantly to bed, supperless. My Lord! My Lord! whispered Osmond. See you not that you are bringing discredit on all of us? I would be courteous enough if they would be courteous to me. Returned Richard, gazing with eyes full of defiance at Loterre, who, returning an angry look, had nevertheless shrunk back to his mother. She, meanwhile, was saying, so strong, so rough the young savage is, he will surely harm our poor boys. Your fear, said Louis, he shall be watched, and, he added in a lower tone, for the present, at least, we must keep up a appearance. Hubert of Sinless and Hugh of Paris have their eyes on us, and were the boy to be missed, the grim old Harcourt would have all the pirates of his land on us in the twinkling of an eye. We have him, and there we must rest content for the present. Now to supper. At supper Richard sat next to little Carleman, who peeped at him every now and then from under his eyelashes, as if he was afraid of him. And presently, when there was a good deal of talking going on, so that his voice could not be heard, half whispered in a very grave tone, Do you like salt, beef, or fresh? I like fresh, answered Richard with equal gravity. Only we eat salt all the winter. There was another silence, and then Carleman, with the same solemnity, asked, How old are you? I shall be nine on the eve of St. Boniface. How old are you? Eight. I was eight, Martin, Miss, and Lotaire was nine, three days since. Another silence. Then as Osmond waited on Richard, Carleman returned to the charge. Is that your squire? Yes, that is Osmond de Santeville. How tall he is! We Normans are taller than you French. Don't say so to Lotaire, or you will make him angry. Why, it is true. Yes, but—and Carleman sunk his voice. There are some things which Lotaire will not hear said. Do not make him cross, or he will make my mother displeased with you. She caused the arid delinquor to be scourged, because his ball hit Lotaire's face. She cannot scourge me. I am a free duke, said Richard. But why? Did he do it on purpose? Oh, no. And was Lotaire hurt? Hush! You must say Prince Lotaire. No, it was quite a soft ball. Why, again asked Richard, why was he scourged? I told you, because he hit Lotaire. Well, but did he not laugh and say it was nothing? Albert quite knocked me down with a great snowball the other day, and Sir Eric laughed and said I must stand firmer. Do you make snowballs? To be sure I do. Do not you? Oh, no. The snow is so cold. Ah, you are but a little boy, said Richard in a superior manner. Carleman asked how it was done, and Richard gave an animated description of the snowballing a fortnight ago at Rouen, when Osmond and some of the other young men built a snow fortress and defended it against Richard, Albert and the other squires. Carleman listened with delight, and declared that next time it snowed they would have a snow castle, and thus by the time supper was over the two little boys were very good friends. Bedtime came not long after supper. Richard's was a smaller room than he had been used to at Rouen, but it amazed him exceedingly when he first went into it. He stood gazing in wonder, because as he said, it was as if he had been in a church. Yes, truly, said Osmond, no wonder these poor creatures of French cannot stand before a Norman lance. If they cannot sleep without glass to their windows, well, what would my father say to this? And see, see, Osmond, they have bit hangings up all around the walls, just like our lady's church on a great feast day. They treat us just as if we were the holy saints, and here are fresh rushes strewn about the floor, too. This must be a mistake. It must be an oratory instead of my chamber. No. No, my lord. Here is our gear, which I bade subald and Henry see bestowed in our chamber. Well, these francs are come to a pass indeed. My grandmother will never believe what we shall have to tell her. Glass windows and hangings to sleeping chambers. I do not like it. I am sure we shall never be able to sleep, closed up from the free air of heaven in this way. I shall be always waking and fancying I am in the chapel at home, hearing Father Luke is chanting his matins. Besides, my father would blame me for letting you be made as tender as a franc. I'll have out this precious window if I can. Luxurious as the young Norman thought the king, the glazing of Leon was not permanent. It consisted of casements, which could be put up or removed at pleasure. For as the court possessed only one set of glass windows, they were taken down, and carried from place to place. As often as Louis removed from rhymes to soissons, Leon or any other of his royal castles, so that Osmond did not find much difficulty in displacing them, and letting in the sharp, cold, wintry breeze. The next thing he did was to give his young lord a lecture on his want of courtesy, telling him that, no wonder the francs thought he had no more culture than a viking or pirate, fresh caught from Norway. A fine notion he was giving them of the training he had had at Santeval, if he could not even show common civility to the queen. A lady! Was that the way Albrecht had behaved when he came to Rulne? Frue a street it did not make sour faces at him. Nor call him a young savage, replied Richard. No, and he gave her no reason to do so. He knew that the first teaching of a young knight is to be courteous to ladies. Never mind whether fair and young, or old and foul of favor. Will you learn, and note that, Lord Richard, you will never be worthy of your golden spurs? And the king told me she would treat me as a mother, exclaimed Richard. Do you think the king speaks the truth, Osmond? That we shall see by his deeds, said Osmond. He was very kind while we were in Normandy. I loved him so much better than the Count to Harcourt. But now I think that the Count is the best. I'll tell you, Osmond, I will never call him Grimm old Bernard again. You had best not, sir, for you will never have a more true hearted vassal. Well, I wish we were back in Normandy with Frue a strita and Albrecht. I cannot bear that loter. He is proud, and unknightly, and cruel. I am sure he is, and I will never love him. Hush, my lord, beware of speaking so loud. You are not in your own castle. And Carlemann is a chicken-heart, continued Richard, unheeding. He does not like the touch of snow. And he cannot even slide on the ice. And he is afraid to go near that great dog, that beautiful wolf hound. He is very little, said Osmond. I am sure I was not as cowardly at his age now was I, Osmond. Don't you remember? Come, Lord Richard, I cannot let you wait to remember everything. Tell your beads and pray that we might be brought safe back to Rouen, and that you may not forget all the good that Father Lucas and Holy Abbot Martin have labored to teach you. So Richard told the beads of his rosary, black polished wood with amber at certain spaces. He repeated a prayer with every bead, and Osmond did the same. Then the little duke put himself into a narrow crib of richly carved walnut, while Osmond, having stuck his dagger so as to form an additional bolt to secure the door, and examine the hangings that no secret entrance might be concealed behind them, gathered a heap of rushes together, and lay down on them, wrapped in his mantle, across the doorway. The duke was soon asleep, but the squire lay long awake, musing on the possible dangers that surrounded his charge, and on the best way of guarding against them. CHAPTER VII Osmond de Sainteville was soon convinced that no immediate peril threatened his young duke at the court of Léon. Louis seemed to intend to fulfill his oaths to the Normans by allowing the child to be the companion of his own sons, and to be treated in every respect as became his rank. Richard had his proper place at the table, and all do attendance. He learned, rode, and played with the princes, and there was nothing to complain of, excepting the coldness and inattention with which the king and queen treated him, by no means fulfilling the promise of being as parents to their orphan ward. Pierre Berge, who had from the first dreaded his superior strength and his roughness with her puny boys, and who had been by no means won by his manners at their first meeting, was especially distant and severe with him, hardly ever speaking to him except with some rebuke, which it must be confessed, Richard often deserved. As to the boys, his constant companions, Richard was on very friendly terms with Carloman, a gentle, timid, weakly child. He looked down upon him, but he was kind, as a generous tempered boy could not fail to be, to one younger and weaker than himself. He was so much kinder than Lotterre, that Carloman was fast growing very fond of him, and looked up to his strength and courage as something noble and marvelous. It was very different with Lotterre, the person from whom, above all others, Richard would have most expected to meet with affection, as his father's godson, a relationship which in those times was thought almost as near as kindred by blood. Lotterre had been brought up by an indulgent mother and by courtiers who had never ceased flattering him as the heir to the crown, and he had learned to think that to give way to his naturally imperious and violent disposition was the way to prove his power and assert his rank. He had always had his own way, and nothing had ever been done to check his faults. Somewhat weakly health had made him fretful and timid, and a latent consciousness of this fearfulness made him all the more cruel, sometimes because he was frightened, sometimes because he fancied it manly. He treated his little brother in a way which in these times boys would call bullying, and as no one ever dared to oppose the king's eldest son it was pretty much the same with everyone else, except now and then some dumb creature, and then all Lotterre's cruelty was shown. When his horse kicked and ended by throwing him he stood by and caused it to be beaten till the poor creature's back strewn with blood. When his dog bit his hand in trying to seize the meat with which he was teasing it he insisted on having it killed, and it was worse still when a falcon pecked one of his fingers. It really hurt him a good deal, and in a furious rage he caused two nails to be heated red-hot in the fire, intending to have them thrust into the poor bird's eyes. I will not have it done, exclaimed Richard, expecting to be obeyed as he was at home, but Lotterre only laughed scornfully, saying, Do you think you are master here, Sir Pirate? I will not have it done, repeated Richard, shame on you, for thinking of such an unkingly deed. Shame on me! Do you note whom you speak, Master Savage, cried Lotterre, red with passion? I know who is the savage now, said Richard. Hold to the servant who was bringing the red-hot irons in a pair of tongs. Hold, exclaimed Lotterre. No one commands here but I and my father. Go on, Charleau, where is the bird? Keep her fast, Giles. Osmond, you I can command. Come away, my lord, said Osmond, interrupting Richard's order before it was issued. We have no right to interfere here and cannot hinder it. Come away from such a foul sight. Shame on you, too, Osmond, to let such a deed be done without hindering it, exclaimed Richard, breaking from him, and rushing on the man who carried the hot irons. The French servants were not very willing to exert their strength against the Duke of Normandy, and Richard's onset, taking the man by surprise, made him drop the tongs. Lotterre, both afraid and enraged, caught them up as a weapon of defense, and hardly knowing what he did, struck full at Richard's face with the hot iron. Happily it missed his eye, and the heat had a little abated, but, as it touched his cheek, it burned him sufficiently to cause considerable pain. With a cry of passion he flew at Lotterre, shook him with all his might, and ended by throwing him at his length on the pavement. But this was the last of Richard's exploits, for he was at the same moment captured by his squire and borne off, struggling and kicking as if Osmond had been his greatest foe. But the young Norman's arms were like iron round him, and he gave over his resistance sooner, because at that moment a worrying flapping sound was heard, and the poor hawk rose high, higher, over their heads in ever-lessening circles, far away from her enemies. The servant who held her had relaxed his grasp in the consternation caused by Lotterre's fall, and she was mounting up and up, spying, it might be, her way to her native rocks in Iceland with the yellow eyes which Richard had saved. Safe, safe! cried Richard joyfully, ceasing his struggles. Oh, how glad I am! That young villain should never have hurt her. Put me down, Osmond, what are you doing with me? Saving you from your—no, I cannot call it folly. I would hardly have had you stand still to see such. But let me see your face. It is nothing. I don't care now the hawk is safe, said Richard, though he could hardly keep his lips in order, and was obliged to wink very hard with his eyes to keep the tears out, now that he had leisure to feel the smarting, but it would have been far beneath the Northman to complain, and he stood, bearing it gallantly, and pinching his fingers tightly together while Osmond knelt down to examine the hurt. Tis not much, said he, talking to himself, half bruise, half burn. I wish my grandmother was here, however, it can't last long. Tis right, you bear it like a little berserker, and it is no bad thing that you should have a scar to show, that they may not be able to see you did all the damage. Will it always leave a mark, said Richard, I am afraid they will call me Richard of the scarred cheek when we get back to Normandy. Never mind if they do, it will not be a mark to be ashamed of, even if it does last, which I do not believe it will. Oh, no, I am so glad the gallant falcon is out of his reach, replied Richard, in a somewhat quivering voice. Does it smart much? Well, come and bathe it with cold water, or shall I take you to one of the Queen's women? No, the water, said Richard, and to the fountain in the court they went, but Osmond had only just begun to splash the cheek with half frozen water, with a sort of rough kindness, afraid at once of teaching the Duke to be effeminate, and of not being as tender to him as de Maestrita would have wished, when a messenger came in haste from the King, commanding the presence of the Duke of Normandy and his squire. Lothair was standing between his father and mother on their throne-like seat, leaning against the Queen, who had her arm around him. His face was red and glazed with tears, and he still shook with subsiding sobs. It was evident he was just recovering from a passionate crying fit. How is this, began the King, as Richard entered. What means this conduct, my Lord of Normandy? Know you what you have done in the striking air of France? I might imprison you this instant in a dungeon where you would never see the light of day. Then Bernard de Arcour would come and set me free, fearlessly answered Richard. Do you bendy words with me, child? Ask Prince Lothair's pardon instantly, or you shall ru it. I have done nothing to ask his pardon for. It would have been cruel and cowardly in me to let him put out the poor Hawke's eyes, said Richard, with a Northman's stern contempt for pain, disdaining to mention his own burnt cheek, which indeed the King might have seen plainly enough. Hawke's eyes, repeated the King, speak the truth, Sir Duke. Do not add slander to your other faults. I have spoken the truth. I always speak it, cried Richard, whoever says otherwise lies in his throat. Osmond here hastily interfered and desired permission to tell the whole story. The Hawke was a valuable bird, and Louis' face darkened when he heard what Lothair had purposed, for the Prince had, in telling his own story, made it appear that Richard had been the aggressor by insisting on letting the falcon fly. Osmond finished by pointing to the mark on Richard's cheek, so evidently a burn as to be proof that hot iron had played a part in the matter. The King looked at one of his own squires and asked his account, and he, with some hesitation, could not but reply that it was as the young Sire de Saint-Ville had said. Thereupon Louis angrily reproved his own people for having assisted the Prince in trying to injure the Hawke, called for the chief falconer, raided him for not better attending to his birds, and went forth with him to see if the Hawke could yet be recaptured, leaving the two boys neither punished nor pardoned. So you have escaped for this once, said Jérverge coldly to Richard. You had better beware another time. Come with me, my poor darling Lotère. She led her son away to her own apartments, and the French squires began to grumble to each other complaints of the impossibility of pleasing their lords, since, if they contradicted Prince Lotère, he was so spiteful that he was sure to set the Queen against them, and that was far worse in the end than the King's displeasure. Osmond, in the meantime, took Richard to recommend spathing his face, and presently Carlomar ran out to pity him, wonder at him for not crying, and say he was glad the poor Hawke had escaped. The cheek continued inflamed and painful for some time, and there was a deep scar long after the pain had ceased, but Richard thought little of it after the first, and would have scorned to bear ill will to Lotère for the injury. Lotère left off taunting Richard with his Norman accent and calling him a young sea-king. He had felt his strength and was afraid of him, but he did not like him the better. He never played with him willingly, scowled and looked dark and jealous if his father, or if any of the great nobles, took the least notice of the little Duke, and whenever he was out of hearing, talked against him with all his natural spitefulness. Richard liked Lotère quite as little, condemning almost equally his cowardly ways and his imperious disposition. Since he had been Duke, Richard had been somewhat inclined to grow imperious himself, though always kept under restraint by Frua Strida's good training, and count Bernard's authority, and his whole generous nature would have revolted against treating Albaric, or indeed his meanest vassal, as Lotère used the unfortunate children who were his play-fellows. Perhaps this made him look on with great horror at the tyranny which Lotère exercised. At any rate he learned to abhor it more, and to make many resolutions against ordering people about uncivially when once he should be in Normandy again. He often interfered to protect the poor boys, and generally with success, for the Prince was afraid of provoking such another shake as Richard had once given him, and though he generally repaid himself on his victim in the end, he yielded for the time. Carloman, whom Richard often saved from his brother's unkindness, clung closer and closer to him, went with him everywhere, tried to do all he did, grew very fond of Osmond, and liked nothing better than to sit by Richard in some wide window seat in the evening after supper, and listen to Richard's version of some of Frue Astrid's favorite tales, or hear the never-ending history of sports at Sainte-Ville, or at Rollo's Tower, or settle what great things they would both do when they were grown up, and Richard was ruling Normandy, perhaps go to the whole land together and slaughter an unheard of host of giants and dragons on the way. In the meantime, however, poor Carloman gave small promise of being able to perform great exploits, for he was very small for his age and often ailing, soon tired and never able to bear much rough play. Richard, who had never had any reason to learn to forbear, did not at first understand this, and made Carloman cry several times with his roughness and violence, but this always vexed him so much that he grew careful to avoid such things for the future, and gradually learned to treat his poor little weekly friend with a gentleness and patience at which Osmond used to marvel, and which he would hardly have been taught in his prosperity at home. Between Carloman and Osmond, he was thus tolerably happy at lower. But he missed his own dear friends and the loving greetings of his vassals, and longed earnestly to be at Rouen, asking Osmond almost every night when they should go back, to which Osmond could only answer that he must pray that heaven would be pleased to bring them home safely. Osmond, in the meantime, kept a vigilant watch for anything that might seem to threaten danger to his lord, but at present there was no token of any evil being intended, the only point in which Louis did not seem to be fulfilling his promise to the Normans was that no preparation was made for attacking the Count of Flanders. At Easter the court was visited by Hugh the White, the Great Count of Paris, the most powerful man in France, and who was only prevented by his own loyalty and forbearance from taking the crown from the feeble and degenerate race of Charlemagne. He had been a firm friend of William Longsword, and Osmond remarked how, on his arrival, the king took care to bring Richard forward, talk of him affectionately, and caress him almost as much as he had done at Rouen. The Count himself was really kind and affectionate to the little duke. He kept him by his side, and seemed to like to stroke down his long, flaxen hair, looking in his face with a grave, mournful expression as of seeing for a likeness to his father. He soon asked about the scar which the burn had left, and the king was obliged to answer hastily it was an accident, a disaster that had chanced in a boyish quarrel. Louis, in fact, was uneasy, and appeared to be watching the Count of Paris the whole time of his visit, so as to prevent him from having any conversation in private with the other great vassals assembled at the court. Hugh did not seem to perceive this, and acted as if he was entirely at his ease, but at the same time he watched his opportunity. One evening after supper he came up to the window where Richard and Charlemagne were, as usual, deep in storytelling. He sat down on the stone seat, and taking Richard on his knee he asked if he had any greetings for the Count to hardcore. How Richard's face lighted up! Oh, sir! he cried. Are you going to Normandy? Not yet, my boy, but it may be that I may have to meet old hardcore at the Elm of Giseaux. Oh, if I was but going with you, I wish I could take you, but it would scarcely do for me to steal the air of Normandy. What shall I tell him? Tell him! whispered Richard, edging himself close to the Count, and trying to reach his ear. Tell him that I am sorry, now, that I was sullen when he reproved me. I know he was right. And, sir, if he brings with him a certain huntsman with a long hooked nose whose name is Walter, tell him I am sorry I used to order him about so unkindly, and tell him to bear my greetings to Frua Strida, and Sir Eric, and to Albaric. Footnote. In a battle fought with Lotaire at Charmagne, Richard saved the life of Walter the Huntsman, who had been with him from his youth. End footnote. Shall I tell him how you marked your face? No, said Richard. He would think me a baby to care about such a thing as that. The Count asked how it happened, and Richard told the story, for he felt as if he could tell the kind Count anything. It was almost like that last evening that he had sat on his father's knee. Hugh ended by putting his arm around him and saying, Well, my little Duke, I am as glad as you are the gallant bird is safe. It will be a tale for my own little Hugh and you must set at home. And you must one day be friends with them as your father has been with me. And now do you think your squire could come to my chamber later this evening when the household is at rest? Footnote. At fourteen years of age, Richard was betrothed to Umassette of Paris, then but eight years old. In such esteem did Hugh Leblanc hold his son in law that on his deathbed he committed his son, Hugh Capet, to his guardianship, though the Duke was then scarcely above twenty, proposing him as the model of wisdom and of chivalry. End footnote. Richard undertook that Osmond should do so, and the Count, setting him down again, returned to the dais. Osmond, before going to the Count that evening, ordered Sebald to come and guard the Duke's door. It was a long conference, for Hugh had come to Léon, chiefly for the purpose of seeing how it went with his friend's son, and was anxious to know what Osmond thought of the matter. They agreed that it rather appeared as if Louis wished only to keep him as a hostage for the tranquility of the borders of Normandy, but Hugh advised that Osmond should maintain a careful watch, and send intelligence to him on the first token of mischief. The next morning the Count of Paris quitted Léon, and everything went on in the usual course till the feast of Witzentide, when there was always a great display of splendor at the French court. The crowned vassals generally came to pay their duty and go with the king to church, and there was a state banquet at which the king and queen wore their crowns, and everyone sat in great magnificence according to their rank. The grand procession to the church was over. Richard had walked with Carlemer, the prince richly dressed in blue embroidered with golden fleur-de-lis, and Richard in scarlet with a gold cross on his breast. The beautiful service was over, they had returned to the castle, and there the senochal was marshalling the goodly and noble company to the banquet, when horses' feet were heard at the gate announcing some fresh arrival. The senochal went to receive the guests, and presently was heard ushering in the noble prince Arnolf, Count of Flanders. Richard's face became pale. He turned from Carlemer by whose side he had been standing, and walked straight out of the hall and up the stairs, closely followed by Osmond. In a few minutes there was a knock at the door of his chamber, and a French knight stood there, saying, "'Come's not the duke to the banquet?' "'No,' answered Osmond. He eats not with the slayer of his father. "'The king will take it amiss, for the sake of the child you had better beware,' said the Frenchman, hesitating. He had better beware himself,' exclaimed Osmond indignantly, how he brings the treacherous murderer of William Longsword into the presence of a free-born Norman, unless he would see him slain where he stands, where at now for the boy I would challenge the traitor this instant to single combat. "'Well, I can scarcely blame you,' said the knight, "'but you would best have a care how you tread. Farewell.' Richard had hardly time to express his indignation, and his wishes that he was a man, before another message came through a groom of Loter's train, that the duke must fast if he would not consent to feast with the rest. "'Tell Prince Loter,' replied Richard, that I am not such a glutton as he. I had rather fast than be choked with eating with Arnolf.' All the rest of the day Richard remained in his own chamber, resolved not to run the risk of meeting with Arnolf. The squire remained with him in this voluntary imprisonment, and they occupied themselves as best they could, with furbishing Osmond's armor, and helping each other out in repeating some of the sagas. They once heard a great uproar in the court, and both were very anxious to learn its cause, but they did not know it till late in the afternoon. Carleman crept up to them. "'Here I am at last,' he exclaimed. "'Here, Richard, I have brought you some bread as you had no dinner. It was all I could bring. I saved it into the table, lest Loter should see it.' Richard thanked Carleman with all his heart, and being very hungry was glad to share the bread with Osmond. He asked how long the wicked count was going to stay, and rejoiced to hear he was going away the next morning, and the king was going with him. "'What was that great noise in the court?' asked Richard. "'I scarcely like to tell you,' returned Carleman. Richard, however, begged to hear, and Carleman was obliged to tell that the two Norman grooms, Sebald and Henry, had quarreled with the Flemmings of Arnolf's train. There had been a fray which had ended in the death of three Flemmings of Frank and of Sebald himself. And where was Henry? Alas! There was more ill news. The king had sentenced Henry to die, and he had been hanged immediately. Dark with anger and sorrow grew young Richard's face. He had been fond of his two Norman attendants. He trusted to their attachment, and he would have wept for their loss, even if it had happened in any other way. But now, when it had been caused by their enmity to his father's foes, the Flemmings, when one had fallen overwhelmed by numbers, and the other been condemned hastily, cruelly, unjustly, it was too much, and he almost choked with grief and indignation. Why had he not been there to claim Henry as his own vassal, and if he could not save him, at least bid him farewell? Then he would have broken out in angry threats, but he felt his own helplessness and was ashamed, and he could only shed tears of passionate grief, refusing all Carleman's attempts to comfort him. Osmond was even more concerned. He valued the two Normans extremely for their courage and faithfulness, and had relied on sending intelligence by their means to Rouen in case of need. It appeared to him as if the first opportunity had been seized of removing these protectors from the little duke, and as if the designs, whatever they might be, which had been formed against him, were about to take effect. He had little doubt that his own turn would be the next, but he was resolved to endure anything, rather than give the smallest opportunity of removing him, to bear even insults with patience, and to remember that in his care rested the sole hope of safety for his charge. That danger was fast gathering around them, became more evident every day, especially after the king and Arnulf had gone away together. It was very hot weather, and Richard began to weary after the broad, cool river at Rouen, where he used to bathe last summer, and one evening he persuaded his squire to go down with him to the wuzz, which flowed along some meadow ground about a quarter of a mile from the castle, but they had hardly set forth before three or four attendants came running after them with express orders from the queen that they should return immediately. They obeyed, and found her standing in the castle hall, looking greatly incensed. "'What means this?' she answered, angrily. "'Knew you not that the king has left command that the duke quits not the castle in his absence?' "'I was only going as far as the river,' began Richard, but your bearish cut him short. "'Silence, child! I will hear no excuses. Perhaps you think, Sire de Sainteville, that you may take liberties in the king's absence, but I tell you that if you are found without the walls again, it shall be at your peril, I, and his. I'll have those haughty eyes put out if you disobey.' She turned away, and Lotaire looked at them with his air of gratified malice. "'You will not lord it over your bedders much longer, young pirate,' said he, as he followed his mother, afraid to stay to meet the anger he might have excited by the taunt he could not deny himself the pleasure of making. But Richard, who six months ago could not brook a slight disappointment or opposition, had, in his present life of restraint, danger, and vexation, learned to curb the first outbreak of temper, and to bear patiently, instead of breaking out into passion and threats. And now his only thought was of his beloved squire. "'Oh, Osmond, Osmond,' he exclaimed, they shall not hurt you. I will never go out again. I will never speak another hasty word. I will never affront the prince if they will but leave you with me.' CHAPTER VIII It was a fine summer evening, and Richard and Carlemann were playing at ball in the steps of the castle gate, when a voice was heard from beneath, begging for alms from the noble princes in the name of the Blessed Virgin. And the two boys saw a pilgrim standing at the gate, wrapped in a long robe of surge, with a staff in his hand, surmounted by a cross, a script at his girdle, and a broad, shady hat, which he had taken off as he stood making low obeisances, and asking charity. "'Come in, holy pilgrim,' said Carlemann. It is late, and you shall sup and rest here to-night.' "'Blessings from heaven light on you, noble prince,' replied the pilgrim. And at that moment Richard shouted joyfully, "'A Norman! A Norman! It is my own dear speech. Oh, are you not from Normandy? Osmond! Osmond! He comes from home!' "'My lord, my own lord,' exclaimed the pilgrim, and kneeling on one knee at the foot of the steps, he kissed the hand which his young Duke held out to him. This is joy unlooked for.' "'Walter! Walter, the huntsman!' cried Richard. "'Is it you? Oh, how is Frua Streeta and all at home?' "'Well, my lord, and wearying to know how it is with you,' began Walter, but a very different tone exclaimed from behind the pilgrim. "'What is all this? Who is stopping my way?' "'What? Richard would be king and more, would he? More insolence!' It was Lothair returning with his attendants from the chase, and by no means an amiable mood, for he had been disappointed of his gain.' "'He is a Norman, a vassal of Richard's own,' said Carleman. "'A Norman is he. I thought we had got rid of the robbers. We want no robbers here. Scourge him soundly, Perrin, and teach him how to stop my way.' "'He is a pilgrim, my lord,' suggested one of the followers. "'I care not. I'll have no Normans here, coming spying in disguise. Scourge him, I say, dog that he is. Play with him, a spy, a spy!' "'No Norman is scourged in my sight,' said Richard, darting forwards and throwing himself between Walter and the woodsmen, who was preparing to obey Lothair, just in time to receive on his own bare neck the sharp-cutting leavened thong, which raised a long red streak along its course.' Lothair laughed. "'My lord Duke, what have you done? Oh, leave me. This befits you not,' cried Walter, extremely distressed. But Richard had caught hold of the whip and called out, "'Away, away, run, haste, haste!' and the words were repeated at once by Osmond, Carleman, and many of the French, who though afraid to disobey the Prince were unwilling to violate the sanctity of a pilgrim's person, and the Normans seeing there was no help for it obeyed. The French made way for him and he affected his escape. While Lothair, after a great deal of storming and raging, went up to his mother to triumph in the cleverness with which he had detected a Norman spy in disguise. Lothair was not far wrong. Walter had really come to satisfy himself as to the safety of the little Duke, and tried to gain an interview with Osmond. In the latter purpose he failed, though he lingered in the neighbourhood of Lyon for several days, for Osmond never left the Duke for an instant, and he was, as has been shown, a close prisoner, in all but the name, within the walls of the castle. The pilgrim had, however, the opportunity of picking up tidings which made him perceive the true state of things. He learned the deaths of Sibyl and Henry, the alliance between the King and Arnulf, and the restraint and harshness with which the Duke was treated, and with this intelligence he went in haste to Normandy. Soon after his arrival a three days fast was observed throughout the Dukedom, and in every church from the Cathedral of Bayou to the smallest and rudest village shrine, crowds of worshipers were kneeling, imploring many of them with tears, that God would look on them in his mercy, restore to them their prince, and deliver the child out of the hands of his enemies. How earnest and sorrowful were the prayers offered at Centerville may well be imagined, and at Montmartre's erupt the anxiety was scarcely less. Indeed from the time the evil tidings arrived, Albert grew so restless and unhappy, and so anxious to do something, that at last his mother set out with him on a pilgrimage to the Abbey of Jumiège, to pray for the rescue of his dear little Duke. In the meantime Louis had sent notice to Leon that he should return home in a week's time, and Richard rejoiced at the prospect for the King had always been less unkind to him than the Queen, and he hoped to be released from his captivity within the castle. Just at this time he became very unwell. It might have been only the effect of the life of unwanted confinement which he had lately led that was beginning to tell on his health, but after being very heavy and uncomfortable for a day or two, without knowing what was the matter with him, he was one night attacked with high fever. Osmond was dreadfully alarmed, knowing nothing at all of the treatment of illness, and what was worse fully persuaded that the poor child had been poisoned, and therefore resolved not to call any assistance. He hung over him all night, expecting each moment to see him expire, ready to tear his hair with despair and fury, and yet obliged to restrain himself to the utmost quietness and gentleness to soothe the suffering of the sick child. Through that night Richard either tossed about on his narrow bed, or when his restlessness desired the change, sat, leaning his aching head on Osmond's breast, too oppressed and miserable to speak or think. When the day dawned on them, and he was still too ill to leave the room, messengers were sent for him, and Osmond could no longer conceal the fact of his sickness, but parlayed at the door, keeping out everyone he could, and refusing all offers of attendance. He would not even admit Carleman, though Richard hearing his voice begged to see him, and when a proposal was sent from the Queen that a skillful old nurse should visit and prescribe for the patient, he refused with all his might, and when he had shut the door walked up and down muttering, ah, ah, the witch, coming to finish what she has begun. All that day and the next Richard continued very ill, and Osmond waited on him very assiduously, never closing his eyes for a moment, but constantly telling his beads whenever the boy did not require his attendance. At last Richard fell asleep, slept long and soundly for some hours, and waked much better. Osmond was in a transport of joy, thanks to heaven they shall fail for this time, and they shall never have another chance. May heaven be with us still! Richard was too weak and weary to ask what he meant, and for the next few days Osmond watched him with the utmost care. As for food, now that Richard could eat again, Osmond would not hear of his touching what was sent for him from the royal table, but always went down himself to procure food in the kitchen, where he said he had a friend among the cooks, who would he thought and scarcely poison him intentionally. When Richard was able to cross the room, he insisted on his always fastening the door with his dagger, and never opening to any summons but his own, not even Prince Carlemans. Richard wondered, but he was obliged to obey, and he knew enough of the perils around him to perceive the reasonableness of Osmond's caution. Thus several days had passed. The king had returned, and Richard was so much recovered that he had become very anxious to be allowed to go downstairs again, instead of remaining shut up there, but still Osmond would not consent, though Richard had done nothing all day but walk round the room to show how strong he was. Now, my lord, guard the door. Take care, said Osmond. You have no loss to-day, for the king has brought home her loungue of Montrai, whom you would be almost as lost to meet as the Fleming, and tell your beads while I am gone that the saints may bring us out of our peril. Osmond was absent nearly half an hour, and when he returned brought on his shoulders a huge bundle of straw. What is this for? exclaimed Richard. I wanted my supper, and you have brought straw. Here is your supper, said Osmond, throwing down the straw and producing a bag with some bread and meat. What should you say, my lord, if we should sup in Normandy tomorrow night? In Normandy, cried Richard, springing up and clapping his hands. In Normandy? Oh, Osmond, did you say in Normandy? Shall we? Shall we, really? Oh, joy, joy, is Count Bernard come? Will the king let us go? Hush, hush, sir, it must be our own doing. It will all fail if you are not silent and prudent, and we shall be undone. I will do anything to get home again. Eat first, said Osmond. But what are we going to do? I will not be as foolish as I was when you tried to get me safe out of Rolo's tower, but I should like to wish Carleman farewell. That must not be, said Osmond. We should not have time to escape if they did not still believe you very ill in bed. I am sorry not to wish Carleman goodbye, repeated Richard, but we shall see Frua Street again, and Sir Eric, and Ulbric must come back. Oh, do let us go! Oh, Normandy! Dear Normandy! Richard could hardly eat for excitement, while Osmond hastily made his arrangements, girding on his sword, and giving Richard his dagger to put into his belt. He placed the remainder of the provisions in his wallet, threw a thick purple cloth mantle over the duke, and then desired him to lie down on the straw which he had brought in. I shall hide you in it, he said, and carry you through the hall as if I was going to feed my horse. Oh, they will never guess, cried Richard, laughing. I will be quite still. I will make no noise. I will hold my breath. Yes, mind you do not move hand or foot or wrestle the straw. It is no play. It is for life or death, said Osmond, as he disposed the straw round the little boy. There, can you breathe? Yes, said Richard's voice from the midst. Am I quite hidden? Entirely. Now remember whatever happens do not move. Make heaven protect us. Now the saints be with us. Richard, from the interior of the bundle, heard Osmond set open the door. Then he felt himself raised from the ground. Osmond was carrying him along down the stairs, the ends of the straw crushing and sweeping against the wall. The only way to the outer door was through the hall, and here was the danger. Richard heard voices, steps, loud singing and laughter as if feasting was going on. Then someone said, tending your horse sur de son vie? Yes, Osmond made answer. You know, since we lost our grooms, the poor black would come off badly did I not attend to him. Presently came Carleman's voice. Oh, Osmond de son vie, is Richard better? He is better, my lord. I thank you, but hardly yet out of danger. Oh, I wish he was well. And when will you let me come to him, Osmond? Indeed, I would sit quiet and not disturb him. It may not be yet, my lord, though the Duke loves you well, he told me so, but now. Did he? Oh, tell him I love him very much better than anyone here, and it is very dull without him. Tell him so, Osmond. Richard could hardly help calling out to his dear little Carleman, but he remembered the peril of Osmond's eyes and the queen's threat and held his peace. With some vague notion that someday he would make Carleman king of France. In the meantime, half stifled with the straw, he felt himself carried on, down the steps, across the court. And then he knew from the darkness and the changed sound of Osmond's tread that they were in the stable. Osmond laid him carefully down and whispered, all right so far, you can breathe? Not well, can't you let me out? Not yet, not for worlds. Now tell me if I put your face downwards, for I cannot see. He laid the living heap of straw across the saddle, bound it on, then led out the horse, gazing round cautiously as he did so. But the whole of the people of the castle were feasting, and there was no one to watch the gates. Richard heard the hollow sound of the hoofs as the drawbridge was crossed and knew that he was free, but still Osmond held his arm over him and would not let him move for some distance. Then just as Richard felt as if he could endure the stifling of the straw in his uncomfortable position, not a moment longer, Osmond stopped the horse, took him down, laid him on the grass, and released him. He gazed around. They were in a little wood. Evening twilight was just coming on, and the birds sang sweetly. Free! Free! This is freedom! cried Richard, leaping up in the delicious cool evening breeze. The queen in loth-air and that grim room all far behind. Not so far yet, said Osmond, you must not call yourself safe till the ebtus between us and them. Into the saddle, my lord, we must ride for our lives. Osmond helped the duke to mount, and sprang to the saddle behind him, set spurs to the horse, and rode on at a quick rate, though not at full speed as he wished to spare the horse. The twilight faded, the stars came out, and still he rode, his arm round the child, who as night advanced, grew weary, and often sunk into a sort of half-dose, conscious all the time with the trot of the horse. But each step was taking him further from Queen Gerberge, and nearer to Normandy, in wet-rectee awareness, on, on, the stars grew pale again, and the first pink light of dawn showed in the eastern sky. The sun rose, mounted higher and higher, and the day grew hotter. The horse went more slowly, stumbled, and though Osmond halted and loosed the girth, he only mended his pace for a little while. Osmond looked grievously perplexed, but they had not gone much further before a party of merchants came in sight, winding their way with a long train of loaded mules, and stout men to guard them, across the plains, like an eastern caravan in the desert. They gazed in surprise at the tall young Norman holding the child upon the worn-out war-horse. Sir Merchant, said Osmond to the first, See you, this steed! Better horse never was ridden, but he is sorely spent, and we must make speed. Let me barter him with you for yonder stout pulfry. He is worth twice as much, but I cannot stop to shuffer. I don't know what wants. The merchant, seeing the value of Osmond's gallant black, accepted the offer, and Osmond removing his saddle, and placing Richard on his new steed, again mounted, and on they went through the country, which Osmond's eye had marked with the sagacity men acquire by living in wild, unsettled places. The great marshes were now far less dangerous than in the winter, and they safely crossed them. There had as yet been no pursuit, and Osmond's only fear was for his little charge, who, having not recovered his full strength since his illness, began to suffer greatly from fatigue in the heat of that broiling summer day, and leant against Osmond patiently, but very wearily, without moving or looking up. He scarcely revived when the sun went down, and a cool breeze sprang up, which much refreshed Osmond himself, and still more did it refresh the squire to sea at length, winding through the green pastures a blue river, on the opposite bank of which rose a high rocky mound, bearing a castle with many a turret and battle-mint. The epped, the epped! There is Normandy, sir. Look up and see your own dukedom. Normandy? cried Richard, sitting upright. Oh, my own home! Still the epped was wide and deep, and the peril was not yet ended. Osmond looked anxiously and rejoiced to see marks of cattle as if it had been forwarded. We must try it, he said, and dismounting he waited in, leading the horse, and firmly holding Richard in the saddle. Deep they went, the water rose to Richard's feet, then to the horse's neck, then the horse was swimming, and Osmond, too, still keeping his firm hold, then there was ground again. The force of the current was less, and they were gaining the bank. At that instant, however, they perceived two men aiming at them with crossbows from the castle, and another standing on the bank above them, who called out, hold, none past the fort of Montmartre without the permission of the noble dame Yolande. Ha! Bertrand, the senochel, is that you? returned Osmond. Who calls me by my name? replied the senochel. It is I, Osmond de Saint-Louis. Open your gates quickly, sir senochel. For here is the duke, sorely in need of rest and refreshment. The duke, exclaimed Bertrand, hurrying down to the landing place and throwing off his cap. The duke, the duke, rang out the shout from the men at arms on the battlements above, and in an instant more, Osmond had led the horse up from the water and was exclaiming, look up, my lord, look up. You are in your own duke de Maghen, and this is Elbric's castle. Welcome indeed, most noble lord duke. Blessings on the day, card the senochel. What joy for my lady and my young lord! He is sorely weary, said Osmond, looking anxiously at Richard, who even at the welcome cries that showed so plainly that he was in his own Normandy, scarcely raised himself or spoke. He had been very sick ere I brought him away. I doubt me they sought to poison him, and I vowed not to tarry at Lyon another hour after he was fit to move. But hereup, my lord, you are safe and free now, and here is the good dame de Montmartre to tend you, far better than a rude squire like me. Alas, no, said the senochel, our dame has gone with young Elbric on a pilgrimage to Jumiège to pray for the duke's safety. What joy for them to know that their prayers have been granted! Osmond, however, could scarcely rejoice. So alarmed was he at the extreme weariness and exhaustion of his charge, who when they brought him into the castle hall hardly spoke or looked and could not eat. They carried him up to Elbric's bed, where he tossed about restlessly, too tired to sleep. Alas, alas, said Osmond, I have been too hasty. I have but saved him from the Franks to be his death at my own imprudence. Hush, Sir de Sainteville, said the senochel's wife, coming into the room. To talk in that manner is the way to be his death indeed. Leave the child to me. He is only over weary. Osmond was sure his duke was among friends, and would have been glad to trust him to a woman. But Richard had but one instinct left in all his weakness and exhaustion to cling close to Osmond, as if he felt him his only friend and protector, for he was, as yet, too much worn out to understand that he was in Normandy and safe. For two or three hours, therefore, Osmond and the senochel's wife watched on each side of his bed, soothing his restlessness, until at length he became quiet and at last dropped sound asleep. The sun was high in the heavens when Richard awoke. He turned on his straw-filled crib and looked up. It was not the tapestry walls of his chamber at Leon that met his opening eyes, but the rugged stone and a tall loophole window of a turret chamber. Osmond de Sainteville lay on the floor by his side, in the sound sleep of one overcome by long-watching and weariness. And what more did Richard see? It was the bright face and sparkling eyes of Albrecht Maumar, who was leaning against the foot of his bed, gazing earnestly, as he watched for his waking. There was a cry, Albrecht, Albrecht, my Lord, my Lord! Richard sat up and held out both arms, and Albrecht flung himself into them. They hugged each other, and uttered broken exclamations and screams of joy, enough to have awakened any sleeper but one so wearied out as Osmond. And is it true? Oh, am I really in Normandy again? cried Richard. Yes, yes, oh yes, my Lord, you are at Maumar. Everything here is yours. The bar-tailed hawk is quite well, and my mother will be here this evening. She let me ride on the instant we heard the news. We rode long and late, and I was very weary, said Richard. But I don't care now we are at home. I can hardly believe it. Oh, Albrecht, it has been very dreary. See here, my Lord, said Albrecht, standing by the window. Look here, and you will know you are at home again. Richard bounded to the window, and what a sight met his eyes. The castle court was thrown with mellowed arms and horses, the morning sun sparkling on many a burnished how-work, and tall conical helmet, and above them waved many a banner and pen-in that Richard knew full well. There, there, he shouted aloud with glee, there is the horseshoe of Ferrier, and the checkers of Warnen. Oh, and best of all, there is our own red pen-in of Saint-Ville. Oh, Albrecht, Albrecht, it's Sir Eric here. I must go down to him. I have been sent out notice to them all, as soon as you came. To come and guard our castle, said Albrecht, lest the Franks should pursue you. But you are safe now, safe as Norman Spears can make you, thanks be to God. Yes, thanks to God, said Richard, crossing himself, kneeling reverently for some minutes, while he repeated his Latin prayer. Then, rising and looking at Albrecht, he said, I must thank him indeed, for he has saved Osmond and me from the cruel king and queen. I must try to be a less hasty and overbearing boy than I was when I went away, for I vowed that so I would be, if ever I came back. Poor Osmond, how soundly he sleeps. Come, Albrecht, show me the way to Sir Eric. And holding Albrecht's hand, Richard left the room and descended the stairs to the castle hall. Many of the Norman knights and barons in full armour were gathered there, but Richard looked only for one. He knew Sir Eric's grizzled hair and blue inlaid armour, so his back was towards him, and in a moment before his entrance had been perceived, he sprang towards him, and with outstretched arms exclaimed, Sir Eric, dear Sir Eric, here I am. Osmond is safe, and has threw a street a well. The old baron turned, my child, he exclaimed, and clasped him in his mailed arms, while the tears flowed down his rugged cheeks. Blessed be God that you are safe, and that my son has done his duty. And has threw a street a well. Yes, right well, since you heard of your safety. But look round, my lord, it befits not a duke to be clinging thus round an old man's neck. See how many of your true vassals be here to guard you from the villain, Franks. Richard stood up and held out his hand, bowing courteously and acknowledging the greetings of each bold baron with a grace and readiness he certainly had not had when he left Normandy. He was taller, too, and though still pale and not dressed with much care, since he had hurried on his clothes with no help but albryx, though his hair was rough and disordered and the scar of the burn had not yet faded from his cheek, yet still with his bright blue eyes, glad face, and upright form he was a princely promising boy, and the Norman knights looked at him with pride and joy. More especially when unprompted he said, I thank you, gallant knights, for coming to guard me. I do not fear the whole French host now I am among my own true Normans. Sir Eric led him to the door of the hall, to the top of the house, that the men at arms might see him, and then such a shout rang out of long-lived Duke Richard, blessings on the little Duke, that it echoed and came back again from the hills round, it peeled from the old tower, it roused Osmond from his sleep, and if anything more had been wanting to do so it made Richard feel that he was indeed in the land where every heart glowed with lo'ell love for him. Before the shout had died away a bugle horn was heard winding before the gate, and Sir Eric, saying, It is the count of Harcourt's note, sent Bertrand to open the gates in haste, while Ulbric followed, as Lord of the Castle, to receive the count. The old count rode into the court, and to the foot of the steps where he dismounted, Ulbric holding his stirrup. He had not taken many steps upwards before Richard came voluntarily to meet him, which he had never done before, held out his hand and said, Welcome, Count Bernard, welcome. Thank you for coming to guard me, I am very glad to see you once more. Ah, my young Lord, said Bernard, I am right glad to see you out of the clutches of the Franks. You know, friend, from foe, now, me thinks. Yes, indeed, I do, Count Bernard. I know you meant kindly by me, and that I ought to have thanked you, and not been angry when you reproved me. Wait one moment, Sir Count. There is one thing that I promised myself to say, ever I came safe to my own dear home. Walter, Maurice, Genaute, all you of my own household, end of Sir Eric's, I know before I went away I was often no good Lord to you. I was passionate and proud and overbearing, but God has punished me for it, when I was far away among my enemies and sick and lonely. I am very sorry for it, and I hope you will pardon me, for I will strive and I hope God will help me, never to be proud and passionate again. There, Sir Eric, said Bernard. Do you hear what the boy says? If he speaks it out so bold and free without bidding, and if he holds to what he says, I doubt it not that he shall not grieve for his journey to France, and that we shall see him in all things such a prince as his father of blessed memory. You must thank Osmond for me, said Richard, as Osmond came down, awakened at length. It is Osmond who has helped me to bear my troubles, and as to saving me, why he flew away with me even like an old eagle with its eaglet. I say, Osmond, you must ever after this wear a pair of wings on your shield and pen and to show how well we manage our flight. As you will, my lord, said Osmond half asleep, but was a good long flight at a stretch, and I trust never to have to fly before your foes or mine again. What a glad summer's day was that. Even the three hours spent in council did but renew the relish with which Richard visited Albrecht's treasures, told his adventures, and showed the accomplishments he had learned to Lyon. The evening was more joyous still, for the castle gates were open, first to receive Damieland Montmar, and not above a quarter of an hour afterwards, the drawbridge was lowered to admit the followers of Saint-Lylle, and in front of them appeared through a street as own high cap. Richard made but one bound into her arms and was clasped to her breast, then held off at arm's length that she might see how much he had grown, and pity his scar, then hugged closer than ever. But taking another look she declared that Osmond left his hair like King Harold hoarded locks, and drawing an ivory comb from her pouch began to pull out the thick tangles, hurting him to a degree that would once have made him rebel, but now he only fondled her the more. As to Osmond, when he knelt before her she blessed him and sobbed over him and blamed him for over-tiring her darling all in one, and assuredly when night closed in, and Richard had as of old, told his beads beside her knee, the happiest boy in Normandy was its little duke. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The present recording is by Raju, Ramina45 at Hotmail.com. The Little Duke by Charlotte M. Young. Chapter 9. Montemar was too near the frontier to be a safe abode for the Little Duke, and his uncle, Count Hubert of Senlis, agreed with Bernard the Dane that he would be more secure beyond the limits of his own touchy, which was likely soon to be the scene of war, and sorely against his will he was sent in secret under a strong escort, first to the castle of Causie, and afterwards to Senlis. His consolation was that he was not again separated from his friends. Albiric, Sararic, and even Frou Astridar accompanied him as well as his constant follower, Osman. Indeed, the Baron would hardly bear that he should be out of sight, and he was still so carefully watched that it was almost like a captivity. Never, even in the summer days, was he allowed to go beyond the castle walls, and his guardians would feign have had it supposed that the castle did not contain any such guests. Osman did not give him so much of his company as usual, but was always at work in the armory's forge, a vaulted chamber opening into the castle court. Richard and Albiric were very curious to know what he did there, but he fastened the door with an iron bar, and they were forced to content themselves with listening to the strokes of the hammer, keeping time to the voice that sang out loud and cheerily the song of a sigured soul in the maiden sleeping within the ring of flame. Frou Astridar said Osman was quite right, no good weaponsmith ever toiled with open doors, and when the boys asked him questions as to his work, he only smiled and said that they would see what it was when the call to arms should come. They thought it near at hand, for tidings came that Louis had assembled his army and marched into Normandy to recover the person of the young Duke and to seize the country. No summons however arrived, but a message came instead that Rome had been surrendered into the bands of the King. Richard shed indignant tears. My father's castle, my own city in the hands of the foe, Bernard is a traitor then, none shall hinder me from so calling him. Why did we trust him? Never fear, Lord Duke said Osman. When you come to the years of knighthood, your own sword shall write you in spite of all the false dames and false franks in the land. What you too, son Osman? I deemed you carried a cooler brain than to miscall one who was true to Rolo's face before you or John Orlet were born, said the old Baron. He has yielded my Duke down. It's miscalling to say he's odd, but a traitor, cried Richard, while treacherous, favours seeking. Peace, peace, my lord, said the Baron. Bernard has more in that very head of his Daniel Young Witch or my old ones can unwind. What he is doing, I may not guess, but I gauge my life, his heart is right. Richard was silent remembering he had been once unjust, but he grieved heartily when he thought of the French in Rolo's tower and it was further reported that the king was about to share Normandy among his French vassals. A fresh outcry broke out in the little garrison of Seneliz, but Sir Eric still persisted in his trust in his friend Bernard, even when he heard that Centiwell was marked out as the prey of the fat French Count who had served for a whole stage at Luang. What say you now, my lord, said he, after a conference with a messenger at the gate, the black raven has spread its wings, fifty keels are in the scene and Harold Lu too long serpent and head of them. The king of Denmark come to my aid, aid that he is, come at Bernard's secret call to write you and put you on your father's seat. Now call on his hair coat, get traitor, because he gave not up your fire, duke them to the flame No traitor to me, said Richard Posse No, verily, but what more would you say I think when I come to my duke them I will not be so poetic, said Richard I'll be open friend or open foe The boy grows too sharp for us, said Sir Eric smiling, but it was spoken like his father He grows more like his blessed father each day said through Astridum But the dain's father, the dain's said Osmond, blows will be passing now I may join the host and win my spurs With all my heart returned the Baron So my lord here gives you leave, would that I could leave him and go with you, it would do my very spirit good, but to set foot in a northern keel once more I would faint, see what these men of the north are, said Osmond Oh, they are only dain's, not northmen And they are no vikings, such as ones when Ragnar played waste Son, son, what talk is this for the child's ears broken through Astridum, are these words for a Christian Baron Your modern mother, said the grey warrior in all humility, but my blood thrills to hear of a northern fleet at hand and to think of Osmond drawing sword and reseaking The next morning, Osmond's steed was lit to the door and such men-at-homs as would be spared from the garrison of senators were drawn up in readiness to accompany him The boy stood on the steps, wishing they were old enough to be warriors and wondering what had become of him until at length the sound of an opening door started then and there in the low archway of the smithy, the red furnace glowing behind him stood Osmond, clad in bright steel the links of his hobbock reflecting the light and on his helmet a pair of golden wings while the same device adorned his long, pointed kite-shaped shield Your wings, our wings, cried Richard the bearing of centipede May they fly after the foe, not before him said Sir Eric, speed thee well, my son let not our Danish cousin say we learn front-graces instead of northern blows With such fables, Osmond quitted Senleys while the two boys hastened to the battlements to watch him as long as he remained in view The highest tower became their principal resort and their eyes were constantly on the heath where he had disappeared, but they sparse and they grow weary of the watch and betook themselves to games in the castle court One day, Albury, in the character of a dragon was lying on his back, pointing hard cast out volumes of flame and smoke at Richard the knight, who with a stick for a lance and a wooden sword was waging fierce war when suddenly the dragon passed, sat up and pointed towards the water on the tower his hand was at his lips and in another moment the blast rang out to the castle With a loud shout, both boys rushed headlong up the turret stairs and came to the top so with less that they could not even ask the water what he saw, he pointed and the keen-eyed Albury exclaimed, I see, look my lord expect there on the heath I do not see where, oh where he is behind the hillock now, but oh there again how fast he comes it's like the flight of a bird said Richard fast fast, if only it be not flight in earnest said Albury a little anxiously looking into the border's face where he was a borderer and tales of terror of the inroad of the taekwondo content were rife on the marches of the earth no young sir said the order no fear of that, I know how men ride when they flee from the battle no indeed, there is no discomfort in the pace of that steam said Sir Eric, who had by this time joined them I see him clear, I see the horse cried Richard, dancing with eagerness so that Sir Eric caught hold of him exclaiming you will be over the battlements hold still, better hear of a battle lost than that he bears somewhat in his hand said Albury a banner or a penum said the order we think he rides like the young baron he does, my brave boy he has done good service, exclaimed Sir Eric as a figure became more developed the Danes have seen how we train our young men his wings bring good tidings said Richard, let me go Sir Eric, I must tell through a strida the drawbridge was lowered the port call is raised and as all the dwellers in the castle stood gathered in the court in rode the warrior with the winged helm bearing in his hand a drooping banner lowering it as he entered it unfolded and displayed trailing on the ground at the feet of the little duke of Normandy in the leaves of France a shout of amazement rose and all gathered around him asking Harry questions a great victory, a king, a prisoner won't throw his slay Richard would not be denied holding his hand and leading him to the hall and there sitting around him they heard his tidings his father's first question was what he thought of that Kingsman the Danes rude comrades father Osmond smiling and shaking his head I could not place them in a skull goblet set in cold though it were none the worse warriors said Sir Eric and you were dainty and rude not the hearty old fashion of carrying the whole sheep to pieces you must kneeds cut your portion with a fine french knife at your girdle Osmond could not see that a man was braver for being a savage he held his peace and Richard patiently back to hear how the battle had gone and where it had been fought on the bank of the dive said Osmond a father you might well call Old Harcourt Vary his name might better have been Foxheart than Warheart he had sent the Franks a message of distress that the Danes were on him in full force and to pray them to come to his aid no treachery no foul dealing shall be wrought in my name exclaimed Richard with such dignity of tone and manner has made all feel he was indeed that you and forget his tender years no or should I tell the tale with joy like this said Osmond Bernard's view was to bring the kings together and let Luis see you had friends to maintain your right he sought but to avoid the trend and how chanced it the Danes were encamped on the dive and so soon as the French came in sight Bluetooth sent a messenger to Luis to summon him to quit Neustria and leave it to you his lawful owner thereupon Luis hoping to win him over with wily words invited him to hold a personal conference where were you Osmond where I had scarce patience to be Bernard had gathered all of us honest Normans together and arranged us beneath the standard of the king as if to repel his Danish inroad oh he was in all seeming hand and glove with Luis guiding him by his counsel and virily seeming his friend and best advisor but in one thing he could not prevail that ungrateful pre-Korean heroine of Montreux came with the king hoping it seems to get his share of first boys and when Bernard advised the king to send him home since no true normal could bear the sight of him the heart headed Franks out no Normans hindered them from bringing whom they chose so a tent was set up by the Riverside where in the two kings it Bernard Allen of Brittany and Count hug held their meeting we all stood without and the two hosts began to mingle together we Normans making acquaintance to the Danes there was a red hat while looking fellow who told me he had been with Enelov in England and spoke much of the doings of Hakko in Norway when suddenly he pointed to a knight who was near speaking to Quotent Jones and asked me his name my blood boil as I answered for it was Montreux himself because of your Duke's death said the day ha a Normans or fallen sons of Odin to see him to see him yet live you said I trust my son if we follow not the laws of Odin said through Esrida I had no space for a word grandmother the Danes took the vengeance on themselves in one moment they rushed to Heryan with their axes and the unhappy man was dead all was tumult everyone struck without knowing at whom or for what some shouted for her some do aid others on joy sign denies northern blood against French that was all our day I found myself at the foot of the standard and had a hard combat for it but I bore it away at last and the kings they hurried out of the tent it seems to rejoin their men Louis mounted but you know of old my lord he is but an indifferent horseman and the beast carried him into the midst of the Danes where King Harald caught his bridle and delivered him to four knights to keep whether he dealt secretly with them or whether they as they declared lost sight of him while plundering his tent I cannot say but when Harald demanded him of them he was gone gone is this what you call having the king prisoner you shall hear he rode four leagues and met one of the blazer sort of reine whom he bribed to hide him in the Isle of Willow however Bernard made close inquiries found the fellow had been seen in speech with French horseman pounced on his wife and children and threatened they should die if he did not disclose the secret so the king was forced to come out of his hiding place and is now fast guarded in Rollo's tower a dain with a battle axe on his shoulder keeping guard at every turn of the stairs haha cried Richard I wonder how he likes it I wonder if he remembers holding me up to the window and bowing that he meant me only good when you believed in my lord said Osmond Slyly I was a little boy then said Richard proudly why the very walls must remind him of his oath and how Count Bernard said as he dealt with me so might heaven deal with him remember it my child beware of broken walls said father Lucas but remember it not in triumph over a fallen foe it were better that all came at once to the chapel to bestow their thanksgiving where alone they are due end of chapter 9 recording by Raju Ramina45 at hotmail.com The Little Duke by Charlotte M. Young chapter 10 this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org the present recording is by Raju Ramina45 at hotmail.com The Little Duke by Charlotte M. Young chapter 10 after nearly a year's captivity the king engaged to pay ransom and until the terms could be arranged his two sons were to be placed as hostages in the hands of the Normans whilst he returned to his own domains the princes were to be sent to Bayou with the Richard had returned under the charge of the centuels he didn't walk abroad freely provided he was accompanied by a guard I shall rejoice to have Karlo Man and make him happy said Richard but I wish Lothair were not coming perhaps said good father Lukas he comes that you may have a first trial in your father's last lesson and abort martins and return good for evil the duke's cheek flushed and he made no answer he and Albaric we took themselves to the watchtower and by and by saw a cavalcade approaching with a curtain vehicle in the midst slung between two horses that cannot be the princess said Albaric that must be surely be some sick lady I only hope it is not the queen exclaimed Richard in dismay but no Lothair is such a coward no doubt he was afraid to ride and she would not trust her darling without shutting him up like a remorsel but come down Albaric I will say something unkind of Lothair Lothair if I can help it Richard met the princess in the court his sunny hair uncovered and bowing with such becoming could see that through a straight up son's arm and bade him say if their little duke was not the fairest and noblest child in Christendom with black looks Lothair stepped from the litter took no heed of the little duke but roughly calling his attendant Charlotte to follow him he marched into the hall word not look to any as he passed through himself into the highest seat and ordered Charlotte to bring him some wine meanwhile Richard looking into the litter saw caroloman crouching in a corner solving with fright caroloman, dear caroloman do not cry come out it is I your own Richard will you not let me welcome you caroloman looked caught at the outstretched hand and clunked to his neck O Richard send us back do not let this savage dain's killers no one will hurt you there are no dain's here you are my guest my friend my brother look up here is my own true astridar but my mother said the Northman would kill us for keeping you captive she wept and rave and the cruel men dragged us away by force oh let's go back I cannot do that said Richard for you are the king of 10 marks captives not mine I will love you and you shall have all that is mine if you will only not cry dear caroloman oh true astridar what shall I do do comfort him as the poor boy clung solving to him true astridar advanced to take his hand speaking in a soothing voice but he shrank and started with a fresh cry of terror her tall figure high cap and wrinkled face put to him which like and as she knew no French he understood not her kind words however he let Richard lead him into the hall where Lothair sat modally in the chair with one leg tucked under him and his finger in his mouth I say sir Duke said he is there nothing to be had in this old den of yours not a drop of photo Richard tried to repress his anger at this very uncivil way of speaking and answered that he thought there was none but there was plenty of Norman cider as if I would taste your mean present friends I wait them bring my supper why does it not come because you are not master here trembled on Richard's hips but he forced it back and answered that it would soon be ready and caroloman looked imploringly at his brother and said do not make them angry Lothair but crying still foolish child said Lothair do you not know that if they dare to cross us my father will treat them as they deserve bring supper I say and let me have a tasty of otto lamps there are none they are not in season said Richard do you mean to give me nothing I like I tell you it shall be the worst for you there is a bullet roasting began Richard I tell you I do not care for bullets I will have otto lamps if I do not take order with that boy my name is not Eric the Baron what must he not have made our poor child suffer returned through Astridon but the little one moves my heart how small and weakly he is but it is worth anything to see our little duke so tender to him he is too brave not to be gentle said Osmond and indeed the high spirited impetuous boy was as soft and kind as a maiden with that feeble timid child he coaxed him to eat consoled him and instead of laughing at his fears kept between him and the great bloodhound hardy grass and drove it off when it came too near take that dog away said Lothar imperiously no one moved to obey him and the dog in seeking for scraps again came towards him take it away he repeated and struck it with his foot the dog growled and Richard started up in indignation Prince Lothar he said I cannot what else you do but my dogs and my people you shall not maltreat I tell you I am Prince I do what I will huh who loves there cried the passionate boy stamping on the floor it's not so easy for French princes to scourage free born Normans here said the rough voice of Walter the Huntsman there is a reckoning for the stripe my lord duke bore for me her shush Walter began Richard but Lothar had caught up a footstool and was aiming it at the Huntsman when his arm was caught Osman who knew him well enough to be prepared for such outbreaks held him fast by both hands in spite of his passionate screams and struggles which were like those of one frantic Sir Eric meanwhile thundered forth in his Norman patios I would have you to know young serpents though you be you are our prisoner and shall taste of a dungeon and bread and water unless you behave yourself either Lothar did not hear or did not believe and fought more furiously in Osman's arms but he had little chance with the stalwart young warrior and in spite of Richard's remonstrances he was carried from the hall roaring and kicking and locked up alone in an empty room leaving him alone for the presence said Sir Eric putting the duke aside when he knows his master we shall have peace here Richard had to turn to reassure Caroloman who had taken refuge in a dark corner and dashed through like an aspen leaf crying bitterly and starting with fright when Richard touched him oh do not put me in the dungeon I cannot bear the dark Richard again tried to comfort him but he did not seem to hear oh they said you would beat and hurt us for what we did to you but indeed it was not I that burnt your cheek we would not hurt you for words dear Caroloman Lothar is not in the dungeon he is only shut up till he is good it was Lothar that did it repeated Caroloman and indeed you must not be angry with me for my mother was so cross with me for not having stopped Osman when I met him with the bundle of straw that she gave me a blow that knocked me down and were you really there Richard Richard told his story and was glad to find Caroloman could smile at it and then through Estrada advised him to take his little friend to bed Caroloman would not lie down without still holding Richard's hand and the little duke spared no pains to set him at rest knowing what it was to be a desolate captive oh I thought you would be good to me said Caroloman as to Lothar it serves him right that you should use him as he used you oh no Caroloman if I had a brother I would never speak so of you but Lothar is so unkind ah but we must be kind to those who are unkind to us the child rose on his elbow and looked into Richard's face no one ever told me so before oh Caroloman not brother Hillary I never heed brother Hillary he is so lengthy and very strong besides no one is ever kind to those that hate them my father was said Richard and they killed him said Caroloman yes said Richard crossing himself but he is gone to be in peace I wonder if it is happier there than here said Caroloman I am not happy but tell me why should we be good to those that hate us because the holy saints were and look at the crucifix Caroloman that was for them that hated him and don't you know what our paternoster says poor little Caroloman could only repeat the Lord's prayer in Latin he had not the least notion of its meaning in which Richard had be carefully instructed by father Lucas he began to explain it but before many words had passed the slips little Caroloman was asleep the Duke crept softly away to beg to be allowed to go to Lothar he entered the room already dark with a pine torch in his hand that so flickered in the wind that he could at first see nothing but presently held a dark plum on the floor Prince Lothar he said here is Lothar cut him short get away he said if it's your turn now it will be mine by and by I wish my mother had kept her word and put your eyes out Richard's temper did not serve for such a reply it's a foul shame of you to speak so when I only came out of kindness to you so I shall leave you here all night and not ask Sir Eric to let you out and he swung back the heavy door with a resounding clap but his heart smote him when he told his beads and remembered what he had said to Caroloman he knew he could not sleep in his warm bed when Lothar was in the cold dusty room to be sure Sir Eric said it would do him good but Sir Eric little knew how tender the fringe princes were so Richard crept down in the dark slipped back the bolt and called Prince Prince I'm sorry I was angry come out and let us try to be friends what do you mean said Lothar come out of the cold and dark here am I I will show you the way where is your hand oh how cold it is let me lead you down to the hall of fire Lothar was subdued by fright cold and darkness and quietly allowed Richard to lead him down round the fire at the lower end of the hall snowed half a dozen minute arms at the upper heart there was only who raised his head as the boys came in Richard's whisper and soft pat quieted in instantly and the two little princes sat on the heart together Lothar surprised but sullen Richard stirred the embers so as to bring out more heat then spoke Prince will you let us be friends I must if I am in your power I wish you would be my guest and comrade well I will I can't help it Richard thought his advances might have been more graciously met and having little encouragement to say more to Lothar to bed as soon as he was gone End of Chapter 10 Recording by Raju Ramina45 at hotmail.com The Little Duke by Charlotte M. Young Chapter 11 This is a liberal works recording or liberal works recordings or in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit liberalworks.org The present recording is by Raju Ramina45 at hotmail.com As the Baron had said there was more peace now that Lothar had learnt to know that he must submit and that no one cared for his threats of his fathers or his mother's engines He was very sulky and disagreeable and severely tried Richard's for barons but there were no fresh outburst and on the hold from one week to another there might be said to be an improvement. He could not always hold aloof from one so good natured and good humor as a little Duke and the fact of being kept in order could not but have some beneficial effect on him after such spoiling as his had been at home. Indeed Ospawn was once heard to say it was a pity the boy was not to be a hostage for life to which Sir Eric replied so long as we have not the training of him. Little Carlo meanwhile recovered from his fears of all the inmates of the castle accepting hardy grass at whose approach he always shrank and trembled he renewed his friendship with Ospawn no longer started at the entrance of Sir Eric, laughed at Albert's merry ways and liked to sit on through as he does lap and hear her sing though he understood not one word his special love was still for his first friend Duke Richard hand in hand they went about together Richard sometimes lifting him up the steep steps and out of consideration for him refraining from rough play and Richard led him to join with him in those lessons that father Lucas gave the children of the castle every Friday and Sunday evening in the chapel the good priest stood on the altar steps with the children in half circle round him the son and daughter of the farmer, the huntsman's little son the young Baron de Montemore the Duke of Normandy and the Prince of France all were well there and together they learned as he explained to them the things most needful to believe and thus Carlo Man left off wondering why Richard thought he tried to reboot these enemies and though at first he had known less than even the little leather coated huntsman he seemed to take the holy lessons in faster than any of them and act on them too. His feeble help seemed to make him enter into their comfort and meaning more than even Richard and Albaric and father Lucas soon told through his trader that it was a saintly minded child. Indeed Carlo Man was more disposed to thoughtfulness because he was incapable of joining in the sports of the other boys. A race around the court was beyond his strength the fresh wind and the battlements made him shiver and cover and fighting play was dreadful to him. In old times he used to cry when Lothar told him he must have his hair cut and be a priest now he only said quietly he should like it very much if he could be good enough threw a strida side and shook her head and feared the poor child would never grow up to be anything on this earth. Great as had been the difference at first between him and Richard it was now far greater. Richard was an unusually strong boy for 10 years old upright and broad chested and going very fast while Carlo Man seemed to dwindle stooped forward from weakness had thin pinched features and shallow cheeks looking like a plant kept in the dark the old Baron said that hardy healthy habits would restore the puny children and Lothar improving health and their within temper but his little brother had not strength enough to bear the seasoning he pined and drooped more each day and as the autumn came on and the wind was chilly he grew worse and was castley ever off the lap of the kind lady as strida. It was not a subtle sickness but he grew weaker and wasted away. They made up a little couch for him by the fire with the high subtle between it and the door to keep off the drops and there he used patiently to lie hour after hour speaking feebly or smiling and seeming pleased when any one of those he loud approached he liked father Lucas to come and say prayers with him and he never failed to have a glad look when his dear little Duke came to talk to him in his cheerful voice about his rides and his hunting and hocking adventures. Richard sick guess took up much of his thoughts and he never willingly spent many hours at a distance from him softening his step lowering his voice as he entered the hall lest Carloman should be as sleep Richard is it you said the little boy as a young figure came round and settled in the darkening to light yes how do you feel now Carloman are you better no better thanks dear Richard and the little wasted fingers were put into his has the paint come again now I have been lying still using Richard I shall never be better oh do not say so you will indeed you will when spring comes I feel as if I should die said the little boy I think I shall but do not grieve Richard I do not feel much afraid you said it was happier than here and I know it now where my blessed father is said Richard thoughtfully but oh Carloman you are so young to die I do not want to live this is a fighting hard world where people and its peace there you are strong and brave and will make them better but I am weak and fearful I could only sigh and grieve oh Carloman I cannot spare you I love you like my own brother you must not die you must live to see your father and mother again come in me to them said Carloman I am going to my father in heaven I am glad I am here Richard I never was so happy before I should have been afraid indeed to die if father Lucas had not taught me how my sins are pardoned now I think saints and angels are waiting for me he spoke feebly and his lost words faltered into sleep he slept on and when supper was brought and the lamps were lighted through as thread of thought the little face looked unusually pale and black but he did not awake at night they carried him to his bed and closed into a half conscious state moaning at being disturbed through as thread of thought would not leave him and father Lucas shared her watch at midnight all were awakened by the slow notes falling one by one on the ear of the solemn passing bell calling them to awaken that their prayers might speed a soul on its way Richard and Lothair were soon at the bedside Carloman lay still as sleep his hands folded on his breast but his breath came in long gasp father Lucas was praying over him and candles were placed on each side of the bed all was still the boys not daring to speak or move their came a longer breath then they heard no more he was indeed gone to a happier home yet to a royalty than ever had been his on earth then the boys grieved Lothair screamed for his mother and sobbed out that he should die too he must go home Richard stood by the bed large silent tears rolling down his cheeks and his chest heaving with suppressed sobs through as threader led them from the room back to their beds Lothair soon cried himself to sleep Richard lay away sorrowful and in deep thought while that scene in Saint Mary's at Frouin returned before his eyes and though it had passed nearly two years ago its meaning and its teaching had sunk deep into his mind and now stood before him more completely where shall I go when I come to die if I have not returned good for evil and a resolution was taken in the mind of the little Duke morning came and brought back the sense that his gentle little companion was gone from him and Richard wept again as if he could not be consoled as he beheld the screened couch where the patient's smile would never again greet him he now knew that he had loved Carl all the more for his weakness and helplessness but his grief was not like Lothair's for with the princess was still joined a selfish fear his cry was still that he should die too if not set free and violent weeping really made him heavy and ill the little corpse embalmed and lapped in lead was to be sent back to France that it might rest with its forefathers in the city of Frames this as an additional stroke of desertion he was almost beside himself with despair imploring everyone in turn to send him home though he well knew they were unable to do so end of chapter 11 recording by Raju Ramina45 at hotmail.com the little Duke by Charlotte M. Young chapter 12 this is a liberal arts recording all liberal arts recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit ebowarks.org the present recording is by Raju Ramina45 at hotmail.com the little Duke by Charlotte M. Young chapter 12 Sir Eric said Richard you told me there was a parliament to be held in phallus between Count Bernard and the king of Denmark I mean to attend it will you come with me or shall I small go and join in charge of the prince how now Lord Richard you were not born to love a parliament I have something to say replied Richard the Baron made no objection only telling his mother that Duke was a marvelous wise child and that he would soon be fit to take the government himself Lothar lamented the more when he found that Richard was going away his presence seemed to him a protection and he fancied now Caroloman was dead former injuries were about to be revenge Duke assured him repeatedly that he meant him nothing but kindness adding when I return you will see Lothar then commending him to the care of kindness of Foo Estrada, Osman and Albury Richard set forth upon his money attended by Sir Eric and the three men at arms Richard felt sad when he looked back at Bayou and thought that it no longer contained his dear little friend but it was a fresh bright frosty morning the fields were covered with a silvery white coating the flakes of ore frost sparkled on every bush and the hard ground rung cheerily to the dread of the horses feet as the yellow sun fought his way through the grey mists that dimmed his brightness and shone out nearly the blue heights of the sky Richard's spirits rose and he laughed and shouted as hair or rabbit rushed across the earth or as a plover rose screaming above his head flopping her broad wings across the wintery sky one night they slept at a convent where they heard that Hugh of Paris had passed on to join the conference of felles the next day they rode on and towards the afternoon the barren pointed to a sharp rocky range of fields crowned by a tall solid tower and told Richard Yonder was his keep of felles the country was far more broken as they advanced narrow valleys and sharp hills each little way full of wood and interspersed its rocks a choice place for game Sir Eric said and Richard as he saw a herd of deer dashed down a forest plain that dims come here to stay for some autumn spoke there seemed to be huntsmen abroad in the woods far through the frosty air came the baying of dogs the shouts and calls of men and now and then echoing ringing notes of a bugle Richard's eyes and cheeks glowed with excitement and he pushed his brisk little pony on faster and faster and heeding that the heavier men and horses of his sweet were not keeping pace with him on the rough ground and through the tangled boughs presently a strange sound of growling and snarling was heard close at hand his pony swerved aside dismounting dashed through some barriers and there on an open space beneath the precipice of dark ivy covered rock that rose like a wall he beheld a huge grey wolf and a large dog in mortal combat it was as if they had fallen or rolled down the precipice together not heeding it in their fury both were bleeding and eyes of both clad like red fairy glass in the dark shadow of the rock the dog lay under most almost overpowered making but a feeble resistance and the wolf would in another moment be at liberty to spring on the lonely child but not a thought of fear passed through his press to save the dog was Richard's only idea in one moment he had drawn the dagger he wore at his 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 by the teeth of the home the wolf relaxed the wolf rolled heavily aside dead the dog lay panting and bleeding and Richard feared he was truly torn poor fellow noble dog what shall I do to help you and he gently smoothed the dark rendled head a voice was now heard shouting out at which the dog raised and crusted his head as a figure in a hunting dress was coming down a rocky pathway an extremely tall well-made man of noble features ha hola vige vige how now my brave home he said in the northern tongue though not quite with the accent Richard was accustomed to hear what hurt much torn I fear Richard called out as a faithful creature wagged his tail and strove to rise and meet his master a lad what ought to you exclaimed the hunter amazed at seeing the boy between the dead wolf and the wounded dog you looked like one of those frenchified non-man gentlers and gilded ball-rig yet your words are Norse by the hammer of Thor there's a dagger in the wolf's throat his mind said Richard I found your dog nearly spent and I made him to the rescue you did? well then I would not have lost vige for all the plunder of the play I am beholden to you my brave young lad said the stranger all the time examining and caressing the home what's your name will be southern bread as he spoke more shouts came here and the barren decent will rush through the trees holding Richard's pony by the bridle my lord my lord oh thank heaven I see you safe at the same moment a party of hunters also approached by the path and the head of them Bernard the dame exclaimed he what do I see my young lad what brought you here and with a hasty obeisance Bernard took Richard's arched hand I came hither to attend your council replied Richard I have a boon to ask of the king of Denmark any boon the king of Denmark has in his power will be yours said the doubts monster slapping his hand to the little duke's shoulder with a rude hearty familiarity that took him by surprise and he looked up with a shade of offense still on a southern flash of perception he took off his cap exclaiming King Harald himself he gave me sir king pardon your Richard what would you have been pardon you were saving the life of Vigie here no French politeness for me tell me your boon and its yours shall I take you a voyage and harry the fat monks of Ireland Richard recoiled a little from his new friend oh ha I forgot they have made a Christian of you most repeating you have the northern spirit so strong I had forgotten it by my side and let me hear what you would ask you swaying carry Vigie up to the castle and looked his wounds now for it young Yard my boon is that you would set free Prince Lothair what the young Frank why they kept you captive burnt your face and would have made an end of you but for your clever bonder this long past and Lothair is so Richard his brother is dead and he is sick with grief and he says he shall die if he does not go home a good thing too for the treacherous race to die out in him what should you care for him he is your foe I am a Christian well I promised you whatever you might ask all my share of his hands are his person bonder free is yours you have only to prevail with your own yalls and bonders Richard feared this would be more difficult but Abbot Martin came to the meeting and took his part moreover the idea of their hostage dying in their hands so as to leave them without hold upon the king had much weight with them and after long deliberation they consented that Lothair should be restored to his father without ransom but only on condition that we should guarantee to the Duke the peaceable possession of the country as far as Saint Clair Sir Ept which had been long in dispute so that Albert became indisputably a rouser of Normandy perhaps it was the happiest day in Richard's life when he rode back by you to desire Lothair to prepare to come with him to Saint Clair there to be given back into the hands of his father and then they met King Louis Crave and sorrowful for the loss of his little color man and for the time repenting of his misdeeds towards the orphan heir of Normandy he pressed the Duke in his arms and his kiss was a genuine one Duke Richard we have not deserved this of you I did not treat you as you have treated my children we will be true lord and vassal from henceforth Lothair's thoughts towards were farewell Richard if I live with you I might be good like you I will never forget what you have done for me when Richard once more entered in state his subjects shouting around him in transports of joy better than all his honor and glory was being able to enter the church of our Lady and kneel by his father's grave with a clear conscience and the sense that he had tried to keep that last injunction End of Chapter 12