Читать книгу The Last of the Vikings - John Bowling - Страница 10

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"Treason doth never prosper. What's the reason?

Why, if it prosper, none dare call it treason."

Epigram.

We pass over the details of the sturdy struggle and victory over the Danes at Battle-bridge, and the disastrous defeat of Hastings, except just to note that the young chieftain Oswald left his father dead on the battle-field. The next three years were ones of immunity from the rapacity of the Normans, so far as we were concerned, for they never ventured so far north. But in the year 1069, whilst William was absent in Normandy, there was a powerful conspiracy entered into for the purpose of wresting the kingdom from him. The Danes landed in the Humber. The Saxons rallied throughout the North. York was taken, and its garrison of three thousand Normans put to the sword.

Immediately after the wonderful successes which attended the insurrectionary movement, the leaders of the rebellion hastily called together at York what was known as a "Thing," or council. All the leaders of note were summoned. A somewhat motley company they were, their aims being far from identical, and the elements of disruption and disunion were on the surface. All of them were excessively elated and flushed with the complete and wonderful victories achieved—I am sorry to say, also, very much demoralised by them. The Danish leaders in particular were so, for they had taken much spoil, plundering friend or foe pretty much as they listed—plunder being, in fact, their sole reason for taking part in the movement. Very conspicuous, both by their dress and demeanour, were these Danish leaders. They were deeply bronzed and hardy-looking, rough and fierce as warrior seamen who had been wont all their lives to do battle with foes on land, and often with the fiercer and still more deadly foe of old ocean. They carried daggers at their belts, and heavy swords dangled by their sides. The young chieftain Oswald, whom we have already introduced to the readers, was there. The few years of stress and struggle since last we met him had had a marked effect upon him. He had stood by Harold's side at Stanford Bridge, and marched with him to Hastings, and stood in the forefront of that historic "wedge" of sturdy Saxons, who defied the utmost efforts of William's horse and foot to dislodge them. The playfulness of youth had given place to the stern thoughtfulness of manhood; whilst the tall figure had broadened in sturdy proportions. He was of commanding presence, young, handsome, and daring, yet wise as any elder, known intimately by me, and a very great favourite with me also, and destined to figure prominently in these records. By his side, as a near neighbour, as well as a compatriot, sat the young Thane Beowulf—aforementioned—of another lineage, but still identified with the Saxon cause, being native born, though by his father's side a descendant of the Danes who settled in the north of England three generations earlier. Other leaders also there were, of whom it is not necessary to speak, as they occupy no further place in these pages.

At the appointed hour Waltheof, the leader of the Saxon forces, entered. He was a man gifted by nature with the physical proportions which attract attention. But there was a hesitancy, irresolution, and lack of force depicted in his countenance, and a wariness and suspicion about his small, shrinking grey eyes, that were the reverse of reassuring. Accompanying Waltheof was a Norman knight at whose appearance many sprang to their feet in amazement. Seeing which, Waltheof introduced the Norman to the company.

"Worthy thanes and nobles," said he, "this gallant Norman is Baron Vigneau, one of William's bravest knights, who has been assigned some lands bordering on the Fen country, and had tacked on to the beggarly gift, the duty of defending that coast against our allies the Danes, as well as to assist in keeping in check our brave countryman Hereward. A weighty charge, I warrant, for such a beggar's dole of barren acres. This gallant knight comes as emissary of a still more famous Norman, the Count de Montfort, whose lance wrought such havoc in our ranks at Hastings. Count de Montfort has good and weighty reasons against the king, or his councillors, for the base ingratitude with which his services have been rewarded; and he offers to join hands with us, and will lead into the field seventeen knights, fully equipped and accoutred, together with three hundred of foot; all of them men-at-arms, trained and stout. This worthy knight, Baron Vigneau, of whose prowess also I have ample proof, is bearer of letters—which I have carefully examined—from the Count de Montfort, duly signed and sealed, and bearing ample evidence of good faith. Under the circumstances, I have taken the liberty to introduce this worthy knight to our council."

This speech was received by many in blank astonishment, and there was loud and angry murmuring amongst the company, but no one seemed willing to voice the discontent. Oswald, however, sprang to his feet and said, "Noble sir, no doubt the credentials presented by this Norman knight are such as meet with your approval, but I would respectfully urge that no one should sit at our Council who has not attested his fidelity to our cause by services rendered in the field of battle; for when this is the case we have pledges which cannot be shaken off at pleasure."

"A plague on your impudence, boy! You are too ready of the tongue! Let the elders speak if they have any objections to make!—but I am not in the habit of having my conduct called in question by a mere youth; and what is sufficient for me must be sufficient for such as you, and without cavil. What say our Danish allies? No objection, I see. Then let us proceed to business." So saying, he took his place at the head of the board, and the bulky Norman slid into a back seat.

The question to deliberate upon was how to prosecute the war so auspiciously begun. The Council, however, proceeded to discuss the question in a very unpromising fashion, the discussion being characterised by a good deal of blatant braggadocio, and accompanied by a very free use of the wine-cup.

The chief of the Danes reared aloft his stalwart form and said—

"My lord, we Danes are wanting to know when we are to make a move south? We have wasted four good days in drivel and talk, when we should have been making good our vantage. We might by this time have sacked Shepfield, Leacaster, and Birmingam, where they tell me the gold-smiths', armourers', and weavers' crafts are flourishing, and where, to boot, the Normans have built themselves many pretty house places full of dainty stuff. All of which we might have pouched whilst this dog's whelp is abroad!"

"Worthy thane," replied Waltheof, "we are waiting for Malcolm of Scotland and the young Prince Atheling, for we expect the Saxons of the south will rally to the standard of the Prince. We also have to remember that the Normans are more thickly posted farther south, and we must therefore have all our forces up."

"Tut, tut! Cowardice is at the bottom of it all, as I thought. But what care we for the Norman dogs? and what care we for a baby prince who cannot be brought to the fray? We want the spoils, and there is none to be had cowering here like a fox in his hole. If we are not to move south at once, why then we take the tide the morn's even, and leave you to face the bear when he comes to his lair as best you can."

At this juncture the attention of every member of the council was suddenly arrested by the advent of a messenger who suddenly burst into the room, with the perspiration pouring off him by reason of the hot haste with which he had ridden.

"How now, fellow! what news hast thou which calls for such haste?" said Waltheof.

"My lords," exclaimed the messenger, "I have ridden all speed to make known unto you that the Norman is back again in England, and that he is rapidly marching northwards at the head of an army; he being not more than two days' march to the south."

If a thunderbolt had dashed into the room instead of this messenger, the effect could not have been greater. Waltheof turned pale as death, and peered nervously about the room, as though he expected to be instantly confronted by the dreaded presence of the king. Several also rose from their seats and promptly slid out of the room in dismay at the tidings. The Danish rovers were not slow to note this arrant cowardice, and one of them immediately jumped to his feet in fierce exasperation at this conduct, and sneeringly shouted, "Ha, ha! the Saxon caitiffs are slinking off at the mention of this dog of a Norman! Never mind, let the cowards go. I pledge me a health to the Danish warriors, who will dare to fight the cowardly Saxons' battle for them; but we'll see to't that the Danish war-ships shall bear away the spoil," and as he spoke he gulped down a huge draught of wine.

"Excuse me, worthy thane," said Oswald, the young Saxon chieftain, starting to his feet at these taunts; "let me tell you the Saxons have their virtues, and valour too, not one whit behind that of your countrymen."

"Whew! Virtues say you?" bawled the quarrelsome and half-drunken Dane. "Aye, marry! Saxons can preach you a homily with any shaveling priest in the land, or simper as chastely as any wench. Virtues! Ha, ha! Ho, ho! Maugre! Virtues by the bushel, I warrant you, sirs. Marry, anything, in fact, but fight. Ha, ha! Virtues! Thou hast well said it, and aptly too, young suckling! If I were a Saxon I'd don my mother's petticoats."

"Hear me, thane," retorted Oswald, repressing with great difficulty the rising choler. "You are our ally, and that shall be some excuse for your unseemly mouthing; but hark you to this for a moment. Your memory does not seem quite long enough to remember Battle-bridge and the precious figure cut by your countrymen on that occasion against the Saxon; and yet it is not more than four years agone. Hark you to this also, friend; I warrant you will find, ere this war be done, that Saxons can fight as bravely as any Dane that ever wielded sword."

But the Dane persisted in his irritating and quarrelsome jesting. "Saxons fight?" he bawled, "Why, come, that is a joke, anyhow! I say, young Milkfed, tell me, if you can, what of this? How comes it to pass that either Norman or Dane, or even the tricky Scot, come when they list to crow on the Saxons' dunghill? How comes it also, my valiant Saxon cub, that you should ask us to come and help you fight this dog of a Norman? Read me that riddle, can you, boy? You besought us to come and help you, and here we are. I wish you joy of it. You'll be well rid when we go; for if we get not Norman booty, I warrant we will have Saxon, if we skin every Saxon churl in the island for it. What think you to that, young Sixfoot, eh?"

The altercation seemed likely to develop into a serious quarrel, but at this juncture a Danish messenger crept slily into the room, and, nudging his leader's elbow, whispered something in his ear, at which he jumped to his feet and turned to his comrade, and between them a brief and excited conversation was carried on in an undertone; the result being that immediately the pair hurriedly withdrew from the room. Oswald, who had been watching these Danes with a suspicious eye, immediately turned to the leader, Waltheof; but he beheld with astonishment that the leader's chair was empty; Waltheof, amid the clamour of voices, having noiselessly slipped out of the room.

"Ah, ah! what now?" he ejaculated, leaping to his feet and dragging his comrade Beowulf to the door. "There is something ominous in all this, Beowulf. It bodes no good to the Saxon cause, mark me."

"What is it, think you, Oswald, that breeds this fear and distrust in the breasts of our leaders?"

"I know not, Beowulf, but, by the rood! I cannot believe that the mere mention of the Norman's name breeds this cowardice and panic in the breasts of our leaders. 'Tis not fear that has overtaken these Danes, mark me, but something more potent. They are at best but hirelings, and are as treacherous as the foul fiend. They will not scruple to betray us for a paltry bribe if it be offered; and this Norman is astute enough to know that they have their price."

"That is not the extent of the mischief, Oswald. I marked this Waltheof closely, and I like not his looks at all. The coward's blood forsook his cheek instantly at the mention of the Norman's name. I warrant him a coward and traitor at heart, or I know not a coward when I see him."

"What is to be done, Beowulf!"

"We must stand to it like men. We know our duty, and to turn tail like a whipped hound ere we have seen this Norman's face would be worse than cowardice."

"Then we must place ourselves at the head of our men forthwith; for if any idle rumours reach their ears, I would not answer for it. Indeed, if William be within striking distance we must bestir ourselves, for if he find us unprepared, he knows well how to push his vantage against an unready foe."

Thus this ill-starred Council came to an end, and it left the Saxons as a rope of sand, without cohesion, without any definite plan of attack or of defence—a ready prey for a wily and daring commander. In bitter dejection, and with forebodings of impending disaster, one by one the members passed out, each one to pursue his own course.

When the Saxon members of the Council had one and all left the room, then uprose the bulky and sinister-looking figure of the Norman emissary, from a seat in a shaded corner, where, unobserved, he had been quietly taking note of the wretched divisions of the Saxon Council. As he came forward he burst into a hoarse and derisive laugh, and exclaimed, "Here's a go anyhow—ha, ha! A precious revolt it is! A man would be an ass to pin his fortunes to a quarrelsome rabble like this. Why, I warrant me they would cut one another's throats at a word! And then how the bubble burst up at the mere mention of the Conqueror's name! But where are my precious letters?" said he, fumbling in his doublet for something, and eventually pulling out a packet carefully folded with a silken band, and sealed in several places by a huge seal with the crest and quarterings of the famous Count De Montfort. "Ha, ha, my precious!" said he, turning the missive over and eyeing it with savage delight. "I'm glad I kept possession of you. You are a treasure! I'll not part with you yet awhile," and he carefully thrust the letter back again within his doublet. "Ha, ha!" said he, scowling demoniacally, "De Montfort will finger that missive no more until he makes good his bargain with me. I'll have his proud daughter as the price of this, or we'll see what will come to pass. I have my own belt to buckle as well as De Montfort; and I'll do it now after my own humour. I'll no longer dangle like a moonstruck suitor at my lady's skirts, and wag my tail like any spaniel if I should chance to get a word or a smile. I have been meek and humble long enough; but now Vigneau shall be first, for I have got him! Trapped, by——! He thought he would play the traitor, did he? fool and dolt that he is! One would have thought him wiser than to do his treason second-hand. He makes pretence of wisdom, but he acts the fool at times as roundly as any clown. But I'll no more of this anyhow. I do believe the Saxon clowns have scurried off to their holes like a parcel of rats already. I must be off too, for if the tanner's son should catch me at my present business, it will go bad with my hide I'm feared; and I should like to keep my skin whole a little longer, come what may. Ho, ho!" said he, bursting again into hoarse laughter. "I wonder what Odo or Fitz-Osborne would give to know of this little freak of De Montfort's! The wily Odo has ousted him from William's councils already, and if he had possession of this"—thumping his chest where the missive lay—"he'd have De Montfort's head in a trice. Enough! that will do for me." So saying, he vanished from the hall.

Meanwhile, the second messenger, at whose communication the Danish sea-rovers had vanished from the Council, proved to be an emissary of the wily Conqueror—his purpose being to negotiate with the Danes, and with Waltheof, conditions on which they would retire from the fray. Scarcely were they outside than he said to these Danes—

"My master offers to you five hundred ounces of beaten gold, and a free passage for your vessels, together with such plunder as you can wrest from the Saxons."

"Five hundred ounces of gold is a sorry price for a wealthy king like your master to offer for such a service," said one of the Danes. "But come now, if your master will make it one thousand ounces, to be delivered over by sunset to-morrow; together with our plunder, and such as we can further gather; why then, within twenty-four hours our vessels shall be ploughing the northern seas for home."

"Done!" said the messenger. "My hand on it. The gold shall be delivered over to you by sunset to-morrow, as you say."

No sooner was this bargain made than the spy turned his attention to Waltheof, a man treacherous by instinct, and cowardly by nature. It is scarcely necessary to say, he grasped only too eagerly at the promised free pardon, coupled as it was with large grants of land and estates. With the Saxon forces thus weakened and demoralised, William knew the remnant of this powerful conspiracy would be crushed with the utmost ease by him.