The Little Duke, Charlotte Mary Yonge [large screen ebook reader .TXT] 📗
- Author: Charlotte Mary Yonge
- Performer: -
Book online «The Little Duke, Charlotte Mary Yonge [large screen ebook reader .TXT] 📗». Author Charlotte Mary Yonge
“Ha! let me see,” said Sir Eric. “It might be. But how is he to get
out?”
“I know a way,” said Alberic. “I scrambled down that wide buttress
by the east wall last week, when our ball was caught in a branch of
the ivy, and the drawbridge is down.”
“If Bernard knew, it would be off my mind, at least!” said Sir Eric.
“Well, my young Frenchman, you may do good service.”
“Osmond,” whispered Alberic, as he began hastily to dress himself,
“only ask one thing of Sir Eric—never to call me young Frenchman
again!”
Sir Eric smiled, saying, “Prove yourself Norman, my boy.”
“Then,” added Osmond, “if it were possible to get the Duke himself
out of the castle to-morrow morning. If I could take him forth by
the postern, and once bring him into the town, he would be safe. It
would be only to raise the burghers, or else to take refuge in the
Church of Our Lady till the Count came up, and then Louis would find
his prey out of his hands when he awoke and sought him.”
“That might be,” replied Sir Eric; “but I doubt your success. The
French are too eager to hold him fast, to let him slip out of their
hands. You will find every door guarded.”
“Yes, but all the French have not seen the Duke, and the sight of a
squire and a little page going forth, will scarcely excite their
suspicion.”
“Ay, if the Duke would bear himself like a little page; but that you
need not hope for. Besides, he is so taken with this King’s
flatteries, that I doubt whether he would consent to leave him for
the sake of Count Bernard. Poor child, he is like to be soon taught
to know his true friends.”
“I am ready,” said Alberic, coming forward.
The Baron de Centeville repeated his instructions, and then undertook
to guard the door, while his son saw Alberic set off on his
expedition. Osmond went with him softly down the stairs, then
avoiding the hall, which was filled with French, they crept silently
to a narrow window, guarded by iron bars, placed at such short
intervals apart that only so small and slim a form as Alberic’s could
have squeezed out between them. The distance to the ground was not
much more than twice his own height, and the wall was so covered with
ivy, that it was not a very dangerous feat for an active boy, so that
Alberic was soon safe on the ground, then looking up to wave his cap,
he ran on along the side of the moat, and was soon lost to Osmond’s
sight in the darkness.
Osmond returned to the Duke’s chamber, and relieved his father’s
guard, while Richard slept soundly on, little guessing at the plots
of his enemies, or at the schemes of his faithful subjects for his
protection.
Osmond thought this all the better, for he had small trust in
Richard’s patience and self-command, and thought there was much more
chance of getting him unnoticed out of the Castle, if he did not know
how much depended on it, and how dangerous his situation was.
When Richard awoke, he was much surprised at missing Alberic, but
Osmond said he was gone into the town to Thibault the armourer, and
this was a message on which he was so likely to be employed that
Richard’s suspicion was not excited. All the time he was dressing he
talked about the King, and everything he meant to show him that day;
then, when he was ready, the first thing was as usual to go to attend
morning mass.
“Not by that way, to-day, my Lord,” said Osmond, as Richard was about
to enter the great hall. “It is crowded with the French who have
been sleeping there all night; come to the postern.”
Osmond turned, as he spoke, along the passage, walking fast, and not
sorry that Richard was lingering a little, as it was safer for him to
be first. The postern was, as he expected, guarded by two tall
steel-cased figures, who immediately held their lances across the
doorway, saying, “None passes without warrant.”
“You will surely let us of the Castle attend to our daily business,”
said Osmond. “You will hardly break your fast this morning if you
stop all communication with the town.”
“You must bring warrant,” repeated one of the men-at-arms. Osmond
was beginning to say that he was the son of the Seneschal of the
Castle, when Richard came hastily up. “What? Do these men want to
stop us?” he exclaimed in the imperious manner he had begun to take
up since his accession. “Let us go on, sirs.”
The men-at-arms looked at each other, and guarded the door more
closely. Osmond saw it was hopeless, and only wanted to draw his
young charge back without being recognised, but Richard exclaimed
loudly, “What means this?”
“The King has given orders that none should pass without warrant,”
was Osmond’s answer. “We must wait.”
“I will pass!” said Richard, impatient at opposition, to which he was
little accustomed. “What mean you, Osmond? This is my Castle, and
no one has a right to stop me. Do you hear, grooms? let me go. I am
the Duke!”
The sentinels bowed, but all they said was, “Our orders are express.”
“I tell you I am Duke of Normandy, and I will go where I please in my
own city!” exclaimed Richard, passionately pressing against the
crossed staves of the weapons, to force his way between them, but he
was caught and held fast in the powerful gauntlet of one of the men-at-arms. “Let me go, villain!” cried he, struggling with all his
might. “Osmond, Osmond, help!”
Even as he spoke Osmond had disengaged him from the grasp of the
Frenchman, and putting his hand on his arm, said, “Nay, my Lord, it
is not for you to strive with such as these.”
“I will strive!” cried the boy. “I will not have my way barred in my
own Castle. I will tell the King how these rogues of his use me. I
will have them in the dungeon. Sir Eric! where is Sir Eric?”
Away he rushed to the stairs, Osmond hurrying after him, lest he
should throw himself into some fresh danger, or by his loud calls
attract the French, who might then easily make him prisoner.
However, on the very first step of the stairs stood Sir Eric, who was
too anxious for the success of the attempt to escape, to be very far
off. Richard, too angry to heed where he was going, dashed up
against him without seeing him, and as the old Baron took hold of
him, began, “Sir Eric, Sir Eric, those French are villains! they will
not let me pass—”
“Hush, hush! my Lord,” said Sir Eric. “Silence! come here.”
However imperious with others, Richard from force of habit always
obeyed Sir Eric, and now allowed himself to be dragged hastily and
silently by him, Osmond following closely, up the stairs, up a second
and a third winding flight, still narrower, and with broken steps, to
a small round, thick-walled turret chamber, with an extremely small
door, and loop-holes of windows high up in the tower. Here, to his
great surprise, he found Dame Astrida, kneeling and telling her
beads, two or three of her maidens, and about four of the Norman
Squires and men-at-arms.
“So you have failed, Osmond?” said the Baron.
“But what is all this? How did Fru Astrida come up here? May I not
go to the King and have those insolent Franks punished?”
“Listen to me, Lord Richard,” said Sir Eric: “that smooth-spoken
King whose words so charmed you last night is an ungrateful deceiver.
The Franks have always hated and feared the Normans, and not being
able to conquer us fairly, they now take to foul means. Louis came
hither from Flanders, he has brought this great troop of French to
surprise us, claim you as a ward of the crown, and carry you away
with him to some prison of his own.”
“You will not let me go?” said Richard.
“Not while I live,” said Sir Eric. “Alberic is gone to warn the
Count of Harcourt, to call the Normans together, and here we are
ready to defend this chamber to our last breath, but we are few, the
French are many, and succour may be far off.”
“Then you meant to have taken me out of their reach this morning,
Osmond?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“And if I had not flown into a passion and told who I was, I might
have been safe! O Sir Eric! Sir Eric! you will not let me be
carried off to a French prison!”
“Here, my child,” said Dame Astrida, holding out her arms, “Sir Eric
will do all he can for you, but we are in God’s hands!”
Richard came and leant against her. “I wish I had not been in a
passion!” said he, sadly, after a silence; then looking at her in
wonder—“But how came you up all this way?”
“It is a long way for my old limbs,” said Fru Astrida, smiling, “but
my son helped me, and he deems it the only safe place in the Castle.”
“The safest,” said Sir Eric, “and that is not saying much for it.”
“Hark!” said Osmond, “what a tramping the Franks are making. They
are beginning to wonder where the Duke is.”
“To the stairs, Osmond,” said Sir Eric. “On that narrow step one man
may keep them at bay a long time. You can speak their jargon too,
and hold parley with them.”
“Perhaps they will think I am gone,” whispered Richard, “if they
cannot find me, and go away.”
Osmond and two of the Normans were, as he spoke, taking their stand
on the narrow spiral stair, where there was just room for one man on
the step. Osmond was the lowest, the other two above him, and it
would have been very hard for an enemy to force his way past them.
Osmond could plainly hear the sounds of the steps and voices of the
French as they consulted together, and sought for the Duke. A man at
length was heard clanking up these very stairs, till winding round,
he suddenly found himself close upon young de Centeville.
“Ha! Norman!” he cried, starting back in amazement, “what are you
doing here?”
“My duty,” answered Osmond, shortly. “I am here to guard this
stair;” and his drawn sword expressed the same intention.
The Frenchman drew back, and presently a whispering below was heard,
and soon after a voice came up the stairs, saying, “Norman—good
Norman—”
“What would you say?” replied Osmond, and the head of another Frank
appeared. “What means all this, my friend?” was the address. “Our
King comes as a guest to you, and you received him last evening as
loyal vassals. Wherefore have you now drawn out of the way, and
striven to bear off your young Duke into secret places? Truly it
looks not well that you should thus strive to keep him apart, and
therefore the King requires to see him instantly.”
“Sir Frenchman,” replied Osmond, “your King claims the Duke as his
ward. How that may be my father knows not, but as he was committed
to his charge by the states of Normandy, he holds himself bound to
keep him in his own hands until further orders from them.”
“That means, insolent Norman, that you intend to shut the boy up and
keep
Comments (0)