AFTERdevastating Northumberland, reducing the men of Chester, and entirely crushing the refugees in the camp of Ely, William turned his attention towards the reduction of Scotland, where reigned a king who had some power and much inclination to work him annoyance.Malcolm Canmore was son of Duncan, King of Scots, whose murder by Macbeth, Buchanan has narrated and Shakspeare immortalized. In danger of being destroyed by the usurper, Malcolm and his brother, Donald Bane, after lurking for awhile in Scotland, resolved to fly—one made for Northumberland, the other for the Western Isles.At that time Siward the Dane ruled Northumberland; and of that great and sapient earl the mother of Malcolm had been a near kinswoman. This circumstance was sufficient to insure the Scottish prince a friendly reception; and, on reaching York, he had the consolation of being treated with every possible kindness. Moreover, when Siward carried him to the court of Westminster, the Confessor—who could not help comparing Malcolm's circumstances to his own, while an exile in Normandy—after expressing a strong sympathy with his misfortunes, and a strong interest in his welfare, bade him be of good cheer.At the Confessor's court, among Saxon thanes and Norman chevaliers, Malcolm might have learned to forget the crown which he had lost and the rude land from which he had been forced to fly; but it happened that Macbeth, after forfeiting the popularity by the aid of which he had usurped the Scottish throne, became a cruel and rapacious tyrant. The Scots, in disgust, manifested a decided desire for Malcolm's restoration; and Macduff, thane of Fife, abandoning Macbeth's cause, espoused that of Malcolm with enthusiasm and energy.About the time of Godwin's restoration to England, messages of encouragement from the north of the Tweed reached Malcolm in his exile; and, without much hesitation, the young prince, now grown to be a man of huge stature, resolved on an expedition to regain his father's crown. Powerful was the aid on which he had to rely; for the Confessor readily lent his countenance to the enterprise, and Siward undertook to conduct it to a successful issue.A fleet was soon fitted out to land soldiers on the Scottish coast; and an army of horse, commanded by Siward and his son, escorted Malcolm across the Tweed and through Lothian. The enterprise proved perfectly successful. In vain Hugh the Norman, Osborne, surnamed Pentecost, and other foreigners who had fled into Scotland at the time of Godwin's return, drew their swords in favour of the usurper. A battle was fought; the son of Siward fell, and many Anglo-Danes. But Malcolm was victorious; and Macbeth, who in the battle had lost all his Norman allies, was deserted by his army, forced to fly, and overtaken and slain at Lanfanan in Aberdeenshire. An effort was then made by some of Macbeth's friends to raise a kinsman of the usurper, named Lulach, to the throne; but the friends of Malcolm soon put an end to Lulach's pretensions and his life, and the son of Duncan was, without further opposition, crowned at Scone.Nevertheless, a plot was soon after formed to put Malcolm to death, and of this the chief author was a nobleman who frequented the court. Malcolm early became aware of the existence of the plot, but affected ignorance, till one day, when out hunting, he took the chief conspirator aside, and severely reproached him."But," said Malcolm, "here is a fit place and time to do that manfully which you have intended to do treacherously; and here draw your sword, if you dare."
AFTERdevastating Northumberland, reducing the men of Chester, and entirely crushing the refugees in the camp of Ely, William turned his attention towards the reduction of Scotland, where reigned a king who had some power and much inclination to work him annoyance.
Malcolm Canmore was son of Duncan, King of Scots, whose murder by Macbeth, Buchanan has narrated and Shakspeare immortalized. In danger of being destroyed by the usurper, Malcolm and his brother, Donald Bane, after lurking for awhile in Scotland, resolved to fly—one made for Northumberland, the other for the Western Isles.
At that time Siward the Dane ruled Northumberland; and of that great and sapient earl the mother of Malcolm had been a near kinswoman. This circumstance was sufficient to insure the Scottish prince a friendly reception; and, on reaching York, he had the consolation of being treated with every possible kindness. Moreover, when Siward carried him to the court of Westminster, the Confessor—who could not help comparing Malcolm's circumstances to his own, while an exile in Normandy—after expressing a strong sympathy with his misfortunes, and a strong interest in his welfare, bade him be of good cheer.
At the Confessor's court, among Saxon thanes and Norman chevaliers, Malcolm might have learned to forget the crown which he had lost and the rude land from which he had been forced to fly; but it happened that Macbeth, after forfeiting the popularity by the aid of which he had usurped the Scottish throne, became a cruel and rapacious tyrant. The Scots, in disgust, manifested a decided desire for Malcolm's restoration; and Macduff, thane of Fife, abandoning Macbeth's cause, espoused that of Malcolm with enthusiasm and energy.
About the time of Godwin's restoration to England, messages of encouragement from the north of the Tweed reached Malcolm in his exile; and, without much hesitation, the young prince, now grown to be a man of huge stature, resolved on an expedition to regain his father's crown. Powerful was the aid on which he had to rely; for the Confessor readily lent his countenance to the enterprise, and Siward undertook to conduct it to a successful issue.
A fleet was soon fitted out to land soldiers on the Scottish coast; and an army of horse, commanded by Siward and his son, escorted Malcolm across the Tweed and through Lothian. The enterprise proved perfectly successful. In vain Hugh the Norman, Osborne, surnamed Pentecost, and other foreigners who had fled into Scotland at the time of Godwin's return, drew their swords in favour of the usurper. A battle was fought; the son of Siward fell, and many Anglo-Danes. But Malcolm was victorious; and Macbeth, who in the battle had lost all his Norman allies, was deserted by his army, forced to fly, and overtaken and slain at Lanfanan in Aberdeenshire. An effort was then made by some of Macbeth's friends to raise a kinsman of the usurper, named Lulach, to the throne; but the friends of Malcolm soon put an end to Lulach's pretensions and his life, and the son of Duncan was, without further opposition, crowned at Scone.
Nevertheless, a plot was soon after formed to put Malcolm to death, and of this the chief author was a nobleman who frequented the court. Malcolm early became aware of the existence of the plot, but affected ignorance, till one day, when out hunting, he took the chief conspirator aside, and severely reproached him.
"But," said Malcolm, "here is a fit place and time to do that manfully which you have intended to do treacherously; and here draw your sword, if you dare."
The nobleman, however, fell on his knees, confessed his fault, asked forgiveness, and ever afterwards served his king faithfully.
It cannot be said that Malcolm Canmore, when seated securely on the Scottish throne, displayed any particular gratitude to his benefactors. Indeed, the nation under the protection of which he had found safety in the day of adversity, and by the aid of which he had gained his crown, had more than once strong reason to complain of his enmity and denounce his ingratitude. But it was chiefly in the third year after the landing of William the Norman that Malcolm offended. When the Northumbrians drew together at York, to make head against the Conqueror's power, Malcolm mustered an army to lead to their assistance. Ere he was ready to take the field, however, the Northumbrians were put down; but, unwilling to be baulked of carnage and plunder, he marched by way of Carlisle, which, with Cumberland, he then held from the English crown, into Northumberland, and let loose all the fury of his barbarous subjects on the land where he had found rest in his weariness and consolation in his despair.
The Scots proceeded with energy to the work of destruction and bloodshed. Cleveland was savagely overrun; Wearmouth was sacked; St. Peter's Church was burned; the banks of the Wear were ravaged without mercy; and everywhere the inhabitants were treated with barbarous cruelty. Able-bodied men and women were driven off captive, like flocks of sheep, and in such numbers, that, for many years after, there was scarcely a tenement in Scotland without English slaves of one sex or the other. Blood, meanwhile, flowed like water. Grandfathers and grandmothers, on the verge of the grave, and infants torn from their mothers' arms, were ruthlessly slaughtered. Warriors, calling themselves men and Christians, exhibited neither humanity nor religion. Never had Pagan Danes or Norwegians been guilty of such atrocities as were perpetrated on this memorable occasion.
One day, while the church of St. Peter was in flames, and whilethe Scots were revelling in carnage and cruelty, Malcolm, as he rode along and witnessed savage outrages which it is charitable to suppose he could not prevent, received intelligence that Edgar Atheling, with his mother Agatha, and his two sisters, Margaret and Christina—whom the chronicler describes as "comely young women"—were on board a ship in the harbour, waiting for a fair wind, but scarcely knew whither to steer their course. The tale of their distress appears to have touched the heart of Malcolm; he sent messages of kindness, invited them to repair to Scotland, and assured them that they might there reside in safety as long as they pleased. In their despair, the royal exiles grasped at this invitation, and the mariners steered for Scotland.
Accordingly, when Malcolm Canmore returned to his own dominions, he found that the heirs of Alfred and of Ironsides had sought refuge on the Scottish shores. The young king hastened to make their acquaintance; and the result was important in its influence on the destinies of England. The sweetness and piety of Margaret Atheling, endowed as she was with all the comeliness characteristic of Saxon women, produced a strange effect on the royal Scot, and he soon arrived at the conclusion that the opportunity of securing such a bride ought not to be neglected. A marriage was, in due time, celebrated; the Saxon Queen of Scots, by her precepts and example, exercised a softening and civilizing influence on her fierce husband and his savage subjects; their daughter Maude became the wife of Henry Beauclerc; and from their ancestress—the heiress of Henry and Maude, married to Geoffrey, the brave and accomplished Count of Anjou—the Plantagenets inherited royal Saxon blood, and that sympathy with the vanquished race which made them, when kings, the favourites and heroes of the English people.
William the Conqueror was not, of course, inattentive to what was passing in the north; nor, indeed, did Malcolm allow the Norman to overlook his existence. In 1073, the Scottish king gathered an army, and crossed the Border to vindicate the claim of his wife's family to the English crown. By this time, however, William had put the Saxons throughout England under his feet, andresolved to bring Malcolm to reason by demanding the extradition of those who had taken refuge in Scotland.
With this object William placed himself at the head of his army, and, for the first time, crossed the Tweed. Not inclined to try conclusions with an antagonist so formidable, Malcolm presented himself to the Conqueror at a place near the frontier, which is supposed to have been Berwick; and, though declining to surrender the Saxon emigrants, "met King William in a peaceful attitude, touched his hand in sign of friendship, promised that William's enemies should be his also, and freely acknowledged himself his vassal and liegeman."
Fern Islands, off the Coast of Northumberland.
THE DEATH OF COSPATRICK.
It was the year 1072, when the destruction of the camp of Ely ruined the last hope which the Saxons entertained of making head against the Conqueror; and the year 1073 witnessed the exile of the last Saxon of illustrious lineage whom the Conqueror allowed to occupy a high position and exercise important functions.
It appears that after the installation of Cospatrick as Earl of Northumberland, the peace of the North was unbroken save by the terrible inroad of Malcolm, King of Scots. On that occasion, Cospatrick, having no force sufficiently powerful to oppose that of theScottish king, endeavoured to draw Malcolm from Northumberland by making an incursion into Cumberland in the direction of Carlisle, which then lay in ruins. But finding the Scots too intent on carnage and plunder to move, he was fain to return, to shut himself up in Bamburgh, and in that fortress to listen, with unavailing regret, to accounts of the barbarous atrocities perpetrated by the invaders.
At length affairs began to settle; and the Bishop of Durham and his clergy, hearing that William had departed for the South, ventured back to their church. They found everything in disorder. Even the magnificent crucifix, the gift of Tostig and Judith, was stripped of all its ornaments, and tossed upon the floor. Nor was this the worst that was to befall. Ere long the bishop was degraded, and a native of Lorraine, named Vaulcher, instituted in his place.
When Vaulcher, accompanied by a numerous train of Norman knights, reached York, Cospatrick presented himself, and conducted the new bishop to Durham. Perhaps, by this attention to Vaulcher, Cospatrick hoped to escape such a fate as had befallen every other Saxon of high rank. But if so, he was mistaken. Between the Norman king and the Saxon earl no real confidence existed. Every movement in Northumberland hostile to the Normans had exposed Cospatrick to suspicion; and, after having received Malcolm's homage, William, thinking he could dispense with the aid of the grandson of Uchtred, alleged that he had taken part in the murder of Robert Comine and in the siege of York, and formally deprived him of his earldom.
Cospatrick was now at his wits' end. Mortified at his own reverses, and grieving at the oppression under which his countrymen were labouring, but against which it seemed vain to struggle single-handed, he left England and passed over to Flanders, to which the Saxons still looked with hope of aid. But all efforts proved vain; and he returned to die in poverty on the verge of the great northern province which he had lately ruled.
It would seem that Cospatrick had, by advising the flight of the bishop from Durham, lost favour with the clergy, and that they used all their efforts to terrify him with threats of the wrath of St. Cuthbert. An aged priest of Durham, while in Holy Island, professed tohave had a dream, in which he saw a great Northumbrian thane, who had maltreated the bishop and his company during their flight, suffering the torments of hell, and in which St. Cuthbert appeared denouncing woes against Cospatrick. This dream derived importance from the circumstance of the Northumbrian thane having died at the very time; and when related to Cospatrick, now grown old and infirm, it caused him much trouble of spirit. Indeed, he is said to have forthwith taken the shoes from his feet, and set out on a pilgrimage to Holy Island, to propitiate St. Cuthbert by prayers and offerings.
After his pilgrimage to Holy Island, Cospatrick found rest for a time at Norham, on the Tweed. At that place, weary with adversity and woe, he soon felt himself sinking under his infirmities. At length, sick unto death, he bethought him of religious consolation, and intimated his wish to have the spiritual aid of Aldwin and Turgot, two monks in whose piety and prayers he had great confidence.
At Melrose—not on the spot occupied by the magnificent ruins of that great abbey, to which Sir Walter Scott has, in our day, given so wide a fame, but in a flat peninsula, described by Bede as "almost inclosed by the windings of the river Tweed"—the Culdees had, in the seventh century, erected a religious house. After flourishing for two hundred years, this edifice had suffered at the hand of King Kenneth, and gradually dwindled down to a chapel sacred to St. Cuthbert. In this chapel Aldwin and Turgot were "living in poverty and contrite in spirit for the sake of Christ." On receiving Cospatrick's message, these holy men hurried down the Tweed, eager to comfort the expiring sinner.
On reaching Norham the monks found the Saxon earl loudly lamenting his shortcomings, and expressing penitence for his sins, and they confessed him with all the ceremonies usual on such occasions. Before their departure he gave them two dorsals, or pieces of tapestry which were hung against walls as screens for the back, and begged that, in whatever place the monks might chance to take rest, they would hang the dorsals up in memory of him. This scene over, Cospatrick yielded up his breath.
It was destined that the posterity of this great Saxon, who passed his last days hovering between two countries, in neither of which he could find a home, and who died in misery, and with lamentations on his lips, should exercise the very highest authority in centuries then to come. He left two sons. One of these was Cospatrick, founder of the House of Dunbar, whose chiefs were so great in war and peace; the other was Dolfin, male ancestor of the Nevilles, who became famous for making and unmaking kings.
Meanwhile, Cospatrick was laid at rest in the porch of the church of Norham. In the chancel of that ancient edifice, a recumbent effigy, in the decorated style of the fourteenth century, when his descendants on both sides of the Tweed were in all their glory, still recalls his memory, when the places that once knew them know them no more—when the castle of Dunbar is desolate, and when Raby no longer owns a Neville as its lord.
ATHELING AND HIS ALLIES.
When Edgar Atheling, after the disastrous defeat of the Saxons at York, took refuge in Scotland, he found himself treated with great respect. Malcolm Canmore, saluting the exiled prince as true King of England, assured him of a secure asylum, and influenced, doubtless, by the charms of the fair Margaret, still further evinced his sympathy with the Saxon cause by bestowing offices and lands on the expatriated chiefs. Moreover, he promised Atheling every aid to regain the throne of his ancestors.
The King of Scots was probably quite sincere in his professions of friendship and promises of support; but his power to assist the Saxons was by no means equal to his will. Besides, the mighty energy of William, bearing down all opposition, was calculated to daunt the boldest foe. Malcolm was brave as a lion; yet he might, without exposing himself to the imputation of cowardice, feel somedegree of alarm as he conjured up visions of Norman warriors crossing the river Tweed, sweeping through the Merse and Lothian, and pursuing their victorious career as far north as to cool the hoofs of their horses in the waters of the Tay, and plant their standard on the towers of the palace of Scone.
At all events, it is certain that, after a brief residence in Scotland, Atheling recognised the necessity of seeking a reconciliation with the Conqueror. This was, without difficulty, obtained. Then, as ever, William was kind and forgiving to the heir of Alfred. But, as the work of the Conquest went on, and as the Saxons, exasperated by the deposition of their bishops and abbots, indicated their intention of making a great effort to recover their liberty, Atheling discovered that he was the object of suspicion. Indeed, it was natural that such should have been the case; for his name was in the mouth of all ardent patriots, and songs were sung in which he was described as "the brave, the beautiful darling of England." Perceiving that snares were set for him, Atheling effected his escape from court; and, with all the haste he could, made for Scotland.
"Curse him!" exclaimed the Normans; "he is the most fickle of human beings."
"Ah!" cried the Saxons, "he is young and handsome, and descended from the true race—the best race of the country."
It must be admitted that, so far as appearances went, the Saxons had reason to be proud of the heir of their ancient kings. Atheling was now approaching manhood, and looked worthy, indeed, of a nation's regard. His person was handsome, his figure tall and graceful, his manner courteous to excess, his temper serene to a fault, and he spoke with taste and eloquence. Brave he was beyond question, but somewhat slow in action; and while ever and anon giving proof that he inherited the courage of Ironsides, he constantly showed symptoms of having in his veins the sluggish blood of Ethelred.
Indeed, the prospects of Edgar Atheling were at no time so encouraging as to tempt him to heroic ventures to regain the crown which had, for a brief season, been his. After the day on which Malcolm Canmore did homage to William the Norman, aid fromScotland could not reasonably be expected. Not yet content, however, to submit tamely to circumstances, Atheling, in 1075, repaired to Flanders, probably when Cospatrick, after being deprived of Northumberland, went thither to crave the alliance of Count Robert, who, though Matilda's kinsman, was William's political enemy, and, moreover, a descendant of Alfred the Great. But Atheling's application was not attended with success, and he returned to Scotland with the impression that the Saxon cause was too hopeless to enlist the alliance of any European prince, when, somewhat to his surprise, he was favoured with a friendly message from the King of France.
Philip, though young, was no longer the mere boy whose countenance and support William the Norman had asked before undertaking his expedition against Harold. The heir of Hugh Capet was now in his thirty-third year, perfectly capable of comprehending his position, and of estimating the power of a Duke of Normandy who was also King of England. In fact, he had somewhat recent evidence of William's strength and his own weakness. While William, who had left England in 1073, was on the Continent, carrying on war in Maine with signal success, Philip had taken up arms against the Count of Flanders, and sustained a shameful defeat before Cassel. The idea of a man who had been vanquished by Count Robert of Flanders having to encounter William the Conqueror was not pleasant; and the French king, eager in the extreme to multiply William's enemies on the English side of the Channel, resolved to afford the Saxons such encouragement as to enable them to keep their conqueror in his insular dominions.
It was under the influence of such apprehensions, and with a view of accomplishing such an object, that Philip invited Atheling to France.
"Come hither," wrote the French king to the English prince—"come and aid me with your counsel. I will give you the fortress of Montreuil, which is so situated that thence you can either make a descent on England or ravage Normandy."
Atheling was not proof against such temptation. On receiving Philip's message, he prepared, with the companions of his exile, to embark for France, and made arrangements for his voyage. Malcolm,as William's liegeman, could not openly lend his countenance to the enterprise of his brother-in-law. Nevertheless, he secretly supplied Atheling with money, and furnished the companions of the exiled prince with arms.
But the expedition, and all the projects to which it was to lead, were destined to come to nought. The voyage of the adventurers proved the very reverse of fortunate. Scarcely had Atheling's fleet lost sight of the Scottish shores when a violent tempest arose. The vessels were scattered like leaves in autumn. Some sank, and others, going to pieces on the northern coast of England, left their crews at the mercy of the Norman officials, who made them prisoners. Atheling, and those who sailed in his ship, were wrecked, but escaped captivity. However, they lost everything; and in sadness and gloom they made their way, some on foot, others miserably mounted, back to the Scottish court, where Atheling, with his wonted eloquence, narrated to Malcolm and Margaret the misfortunes of the voyage.
"And now," asked Atheling, in conclusion, "what is to be done?"
"It seems to me," answered Malcolm, "that fortune is decidedly against you. Wherefore, struggle no longer with fate, but seek peace, once more, of William the Norman."
At all times Atheling was easily persuaded; and, on this occasion, he was in no frame of mind to dispute the wisdom of Malcolm's counsel. Accordingly he sent a message to William, who was still on the Continent; and William, responding frankly, asked him to repair to Normandy. Entering England by the north, passing through the country escorted by Norman counts, and entertained by them in the tall and turretted castles which already crowned every height, and which contrasted strangely with the low, irregular buildings, surrounded by woods, in which dwelt such of the Saxons of rank as had escaped death or banishment, Atheling could not fail to be impressed with a conviction of the fact that the work of the Conquest had gone much too far to be undone by force of arms, and that any thought of resistance was absurd.
Embarking for the Continent, he reached Rouen in safety, and was received by the Conqueror with kindness. A pension wasgranted to the banished prince to defray his personal expenses; but, taking a fancy to a charger in the stables of the palace, he afterwards parted with his pension in order to become master of the animal. For years Atheling remained at the palace of Rouen, amusing himself with hawks, dogs, and horses, and reflecting, with philosophic calmness, on the crown he had lost and the land from which he was exiled.
Hawk striking the quarry.
Oneday in the course of the year 1074, when William the Conqueror was in Normandy fighting with his Continental foes, and while Archbishop Lanfranc governed England in the king's absence, a great marriage took place in the castle of Norwich. Many guests of high rank were bidden; and the occasion was rendered memorable by the circumstance that the feast with which it was celebrated proved fatal to almost every individual who happened to be present.About the year 1073, William Fitzosborne, the Conqueror's famous comrade in arms, departed this life, leaving two sons, named William and Roger, and a daughter, named Emma. William, succeeding to his father's lands in Normandy, was known as Lord of Breteuil; Roger, inheriting his father's English possessions, became Earl of Hereford; and Emma was sought in marriage by a young Breton, who figured as Earl of Norfolk, and naturally felt ambitious of allying himself with the high Norman nobility. But a union between Ralph de Gael and the daughter of Fitzosborne did not meet with the Conqueror's approval. In fact, William set hisface decidedly against the matrimonial project, and, being at the time in Normandy, sent a messenger to forbid, in the most peremptory tone, the celebration of the marriage.The interference of William was more than the high spirit of Roger Fitzosborne could brook. He resolved at once to set the Conqueror's prohibition at defiance; and, on a day appointed for the wedding, conveyed his sister to Norwich.The ceremony was performed with a pomp worthy of the rank of the parties; and when the feast was spread in the castle hall, Norman bishops, and lords of high degree, both Norman and Welsh, and ladies fair to look upon, gathered around the board. So far all went smoothly. But as dishes were carved and cups emptied the master of the feast and his guests became rapidly excited and frank to excess. The habitual respect displayed by the Norman nobles for the great war-chief who had led them to conquest and plunder vanished as wine flowed in abundance, and the two earls especially vociferated in a strain which caused many present to stare in silent surprise."What is this man?" asked Roger Fitzosborne, in accents of supreme contempt—"what is this man, who dictates who are to be the husbands of ladies descended from the comrades of Rollo?—A bastard, owing this kingdom to my father, to whose memory this interference is an insult."
Oneday in the course of the year 1074, when William the Conqueror was in Normandy fighting with his Continental foes, and while Archbishop Lanfranc governed England in the king's absence, a great marriage took place in the castle of Norwich. Many guests of high rank were bidden; and the occasion was rendered memorable by the circumstance that the feast with which it was celebrated proved fatal to almost every individual who happened to be present.
About the year 1073, William Fitzosborne, the Conqueror's famous comrade in arms, departed this life, leaving two sons, named William and Roger, and a daughter, named Emma. William, succeeding to his father's lands in Normandy, was known as Lord of Breteuil; Roger, inheriting his father's English possessions, became Earl of Hereford; and Emma was sought in marriage by a young Breton, who figured as Earl of Norfolk, and naturally felt ambitious of allying himself with the high Norman nobility. But a union between Ralph de Gael and the daughter of Fitzosborne did not meet with the Conqueror's approval. In fact, William set hisface decidedly against the matrimonial project, and, being at the time in Normandy, sent a messenger to forbid, in the most peremptory tone, the celebration of the marriage.
The interference of William was more than the high spirit of Roger Fitzosborne could brook. He resolved at once to set the Conqueror's prohibition at defiance; and, on a day appointed for the wedding, conveyed his sister to Norwich.
The ceremony was performed with a pomp worthy of the rank of the parties; and when the feast was spread in the castle hall, Norman bishops, and lords of high degree, both Norman and Welsh, and ladies fair to look upon, gathered around the board. So far all went smoothly. But as dishes were carved and cups emptied the master of the feast and his guests became rapidly excited and frank to excess. The habitual respect displayed by the Norman nobles for the great war-chief who had led them to conquest and plunder vanished as wine flowed in abundance, and the two earls especially vociferated in a strain which caused many present to stare in silent surprise.
"What is this man?" asked Roger Fitzosborne, in accents of supreme contempt—"what is this man, who dictates who are to be the husbands of ladies descended from the comrades of Rollo?—A bastard, owing this kingdom to my father, to whose memory this interference is an insult."
"He is a bastard, and a man of low birth," cried the Normans. "He may call himself a king; but 'tis clear that he is not made for one, and that he is not agreeable in the sight of God."
"And," exclaimed the Saxons, "he invaded England, he massacred the legitimate heirs of our kings and nobles, or obliged them to expatriate themselves."
"What is worst of all," roared the military adventurers who had followed William's banner in hopes of high reward, "he has not honoured as he might those who came to his aid—those who raised him higher than any of his predecessors."
"Yes," cried others; "what has he given to us, the conquerors covered with wounds? Sterile tracts of land, of which he deprives us whenever he sees them improving."
"It is true!" shouted the guests, tumultuously; "the man is odious to all; his death would gladden the hearts of all. Let him die!"
After further vociferation, the two earls, several bishops and abbots, many Normans and Saxons, and the Welsh chieftains, bound themselves by oath to rise against William, and arranged to ask the aid of Sweyn, King of Denmark, to insure the success of their perilous project. Perhaps, with the morning, repentance came, and many rued the words they had spoken and the promises they had made over wine at the festive board. But it was too late to retreat; and the two earls, to lessen the danger of being betrayed, resolved on immediate action. Roger Fitzosborne hastened home to raise his banner at Hereford; and Ralph de Gael prepared to shorten his honeymoon, leave the company of his bride, and raise his banner at Cambridge.
On reaching the province of which he was earl, Roger Fitzosborne lost no time in rallying his friends around him. Not only did he gather the discontented Normans to his standard. The Welsh on the Marches rose at his summons, and, with wild and vague hopes of recovering independence, rushed with enthusiasm to his aid. Having assembled a force which he deemed sufficiently formidable to inspire foes with terror, he commenced his march eastward, with the intention of joining De Gael. But, on reaching the Severn, and attempting to pass that river by the bridge at Worcester, he found, somewhat to his surprise, that preparations had been made to stop his progress.
In fact, the conspirators at Norwich had not very faithfully kept their secret. By some means or other, Lanfranc had become acquainted with the whole project; and when in possession of such intelligence the great archbishop was not the man to sleep at his post. He despatched soldiers from London to throw themselves in Roger's path; and he so far made use of the spiritual artillery at his command as to level a sentence of excommunication against the Norman earl.
Meanwhile, the king's friends were not idle in the west. Walter de Lacy, a Norman baron, and Eghelwig, the Saxon abbot of Evesham, roused the people of the country to take arms against RogerFitzosborne and his Welshmen; and the people, regarding the Welsh as their natural enemies, obeyed the call of Walter and Eghelwig, and crowded to the royal standard.
At length the royal soldiers and the insurgents met face to face. It was on the banks of the Severn that the hostile armies encountered and fought a sanguinary battle. The Welsh, however, were defeated, and with such slaughter that the river was crimsoned with their blood. Roger Fitzosborne was made prisoner, and with him many adherents were taken with arms in their hands. The chief was kept in secure custody till the Conqueror should decide what was to be his fate. But the inferior captives were summarily disposed of. Some were hung on gibbets, some had their eyes put out, and others underwent such mutilation as to render them incapable of further mischief.
While such disasters attended the adventure of Roger Fitzosborne on the Severn, Ralph de Gael did not yield to the temptation of lingering with his fair bride at Norwich. Leaving that city, the bold Breton encamped in the neighbourhood of Cambridge, and succeeded in alluring a multitude of Saxons to his standard. But Ralph de Gael's part of the enterprise proved little more successful than that of Roger Fitzosborne had been. While the Breton earl was still gathering men to his camp, William de Warren, with Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, and Geoffrey, Bishop of Coutance, took the field, and the insurgents found themselves menaced by a force decidedly superior to them in number. Not shrinking, however, from a conflict, they bravely faced the royal force at a place named Fagadon. There a stubborn battle was fought; but Ralph de Gael's men were completely defeated; and the chief escaped from the lost field, while many of his adherents were taken and treated with the utmost cruelty. Indeed, the victors are said to have been so merciless as to cut off the right foot of every captive, no matter what his rank or nation.
In the midst of this operation, Ralph de Gael had the fortune to reach Norwich. He threw himself into the citadel with some vague and desperate notions of defending himself to the last. Seeing, however, the impossibility of holding out, he left the fortress underthe charge of his bride, and sailed to Brittany to implore the aid of his friends. The daughter of Fitzosborne made a brave defence, but her resistance proved vain. After a somewhat protracted struggle, the men-at-arms, seeing famine staring them in the face, recognised the necessity of yielding, and agreed, not only to surrender Norwich, but to leave England in case of their lives being spared. Almost every Breton who had come to England with the Conqueror was involved in the ruin of Ralph de Gael, and departed from the English shores. "Glory be to God in the highest!" Lanfranc wrote joyfully to King William, "your kingdom is freed from the filthy Bretons."
On returning to England, William, at Christmas, held a great council of barons, and dealt with the rebel chiefs. Both were condemned to lose their estates. De Gael, being absent, could not, of course, be punished in person; but Fitzosborne, who appeared before the assembly, was sentenced to perpetual imprisonment.
When matters had reached this stage, a son of Sweyn, King of Denmark, unaware of the ruin of those who had craved assistance, approached the eastern coast. But the Danes made no attempt to land. On learning what had happened they turned their helms towards Flanders, and left Fitzosborne to his fate.
But even captivity and chains could not break the strong spirit nor humble the haughty pride of Fitzosborne. Even in his dungeon he found a way of braving and insulting the king whom he had attempted to dethrone. One day, during Easter, the Conqueror, according to a Norman custom, sent him a magnificent suit of precious stuff, as if he had been at liberty. Fitzosborne received the vestments with a smile, examined the coat and mantle of silk, and handled the jacket, trimmed with foreign furs, as if highly pleased. Having done so, however, Roger ordered a fire to be kindled, and committed coat, mantle, and jacket to the flames.
"Thus," said he, "does the son of William Fitzosborne treat the gifts of the bastard to whom his father gave a crown."
"By the splendour of God!" exclaimed the Conqueror, boiling with anger, when informed of this scene, "the man who has thus insulted me shall never leave his prison alive."
Thor.
WALTHEOF, SON OF SIWARD.
Siward the Dane, when he expired at York, exhibiting his martial spirit to the last—clad, at his own request, in all the habiliments of war, with his helmet on his head, his coat of mail on his back, his gilt battle-axe in his hand, and that mystic banner, "The Raven of Earthly Terror," waving over his head—left, by his wife, the daughter of Earl Alred, one son to inherit his renown. The name of the son of Siward was Waltheof, and his career was anticipated with hope by the inhabitants of the provinces which his great father had ruled.
At the time of Siward's death, however, Waltheof was too young to succeed to Northumberland. Indeed, Tostig, as one of the sons of Godwin, immediately grasped at the earldom. Waltheof, however, soon began to figure as Earl of Huntingdon, and gave evidenceof inheriting his father's courage and prowess in the conflicts of the Northumbrians with Tostig and Harold Hardrada.
After the battle of Hastings, Waltheof made his submission to the Conqueror. As a consequence, when William visited the Continent, the son of Siward was taken, with Edwin and Morkar, to grace the Conqueror's triumphant return to Rouen. But the sympathies of Waltheof were with the vanquished; and when the spirit of the country rose against the invaders he left London, and hurried northward, to take part in the operations of the Northumbrians. He was still very young; but, like his father, he was remarkable for his tall stature, his physical strength, and his strong arm; and the presence of the son of Siward was hailed with delight by those whom Siward had so often led.
When the Northumbrians, after the tragical death of Robert Comine, and the landing of the Danes, marched from Durham and besieged York, Waltheof performed prodigies of valour. Placing himself in ambuscade at one of the gates, battle-axe in hand, he fell upon some Normans who were attempting to escape, and laid twenty of them dead on the ground. A hundred men, who hoped to save themselves by flight, took refuge in a neighbouring wood; but Waltheof, who pursued them closely, was in no humour to allow them to escape.
"I will save myself further trouble," he said, "by setting the wood on fire."
Putting his threat immediately into execution, Waltheof gave the wood to the flames; and a Danish poet, who was also a warrior, celebrating Waltheof's deeds in verse, compared his valour to that of Odin, and congratulated him on having given the English wolves an ample repast on Norman corses.
When William was interrupted, while hunting in the Forest of Dean, with news of the outbreak beyond the Humber, and swore never again to lay aside his lance till he had slain all the Northumbrians, and marched suddenly with his choice troops to York, Waltheof once more fought like a hero of romance. Planting himself in a breach, through which only a single person could enter at a time, he cleft Norman after Norman with his ponderous battle-axe.His prowess on the occasion moved the admiration of his antagonists; and William was unable to refrain from expressions of surprise.
"By the Divine splendour!" he exclaimed, "I must make a friend of the man who dare do such deeds."
Accordingly a reconciliation was proposed; and a meeting was appointed at the Norman camp on the banks of the Tees. Everything went smoothly. Waltheof, in token of homage, placed his bare hand in that of the Conqueror, and William bestowed the earldoms of Huntingdon and Northampton on the son of Siward.
After this submission Waltheof received Judith, one of the Conqueror's nieces, in marriage, became the father of two children, and, after the deprivation of Cospatrick, had his highest ambition gratified by being installed as Earl of Northumberland. In that capacity the Anglo-Dane lived in the closest friendship with Vaulcher of Lorraine, Bishop of Durham. Sitting with Vaulcher in the synods of his clergy, Waltheof humbly and obediently put in execution the decrees of the bishop for reforming religion within the diocese. Nor did he by such conduct lose the favour of the English. All appeared prosperous; and Waltheof, united to the king's niece, and occupying his father's seat, enjoyed the favour of the Conqueror without having forfeited his popularity with the vanquished, when the conspiracy of Norwich, for which he cannot be considered to have been responsible, involved him in ruin and cost him his life.
On that day, when Norman counts, Saxon thanes, and Welsh chiefs assembled at Norwich to celebrate the marriage of Ralph de Gael with the daughter of William Fitzosborne, conspicuous, by his high head and gigantic stature appeared Waltheof, the Anglo-Dane. It would seem, however, that Waltheof took no part in the abuse lavished upon the uncle of his wife. But when the tumult was at the loudest, one of the Norman earls, rising suddenly, hushed the assembly to silence, and solemnly appealed to Waltheof to take part in the revolt.
"Brave man," said the earl, with that eloquence for which the Normans were so famous, "this is a great moment for your country; this is, for you, the hour of vengeance and fortune. Join us, andwe will re-establish the kingdom of England in every respect as it was in the time of King Edward. One of us three shall be king, the other two shall command under him, and all lordships shall be held of us. William is occupied beyond sea; we are satisfied that he will not again cross the Channel. Now, brave warrior, adopt our plan; 'tis the best for thee, for thy family, and for thy crushed and fallen nation."
"It is! it is!" shouted the guests in chorus.
But Waltheof hesitated and remained silent. Warned by former failures, and with the fate of Edwin and Morkar before his mind's eye, he shrunk from embarking in an enterprise which he felt must terminate in disaster. At length he allowed himself so far to be drawn into the league that he promised secrecy.
It would seem, however, that Waltheof did not keep his word. The secret preyed on his mind. Uneasy, restless, and sleepless, he revealed the conspiracy first to his wife, Judith, and then to Archbishop Lanfranc. It is even said that he was persuaded by the primate to repair to Normandy and warn the Conqueror.
At all events, Waltheof did not escape punishment. When, in due time, the fleet invited from Denmark, commanded by the son of King Sweyn, approached the coast, Waltheof was accused of having invited the Danes over, lodged in the Castle of Winchester, and, ere long, brought to trial. He denied the charge. But the evidence given by Judith against her husband, whom she disliked, appeared conclusive, and the court was only divided in opinion as to the punishment to be inflicted.
"He deserves execution as a revolted Englishman," said some.
"No," argued others, "it should be perpetual imprisonment as a revolted officer of the king's."
While Waltheof remained a prisoner in the Castle of Winchester, his fate hung in the balance for nearly a year. But his enemies were eager for his destruction. Judith was eager to be a widow; Ivo Taille-Bois had set his heart on some of Waltheof's land which adjoined his own; and many Normans had a keen eye to the great earldom which had been enjoyed by the son of Siward. William did not resist the pressure, and sentence of death was pronounced.
The 29th of April, 1075, was appointed for the execution of Waltheof. But such was his popularity that the Normans apprehended an insurrection as the consequence of openly beheading him. It was, therefore, determined that the utmost secrecy should be observed. Before daybreak, accordingly, while the citizens of Winchester still slept, Norman officers, appearing in Waltheof's prison, informed him that his hour was come; and Waltheof, rising, arrayed himself in his earl's robes and walked forth to execution. Escorted by soldiers, attended by priests, and followed by some of the poor whose home was the street, the son of Siward directed his steps to a hill outside the city. On reaching this place, where the last scene was to be enacted, he prostrated himself on the ground, and, for a few moments, prayed in a low and earnest tone.
"Rise, that we may fulfil our orders," said the Normans, alarmed at the thought of the news spreading and a rescue being attempted.
"Wait," he replied calmly, "till I have said the Lord's Prayer for myself and for you."
"Yes," said they, consenting.
Waltheof, rising from his prostrate attitude, but remaining on his knees, said, in a loud voice, "Our Father, which art in Heaven." However, when he reached the words "lead us not into temptation," the executioner, growing impatient and uneasy, suddenly drew his large sword, waved it in the air, and with one blow severed the earl's head from his body. Alarmed at the approach of day, the Normans hastily dug a hole between two roads, threw in the body, and covered it with earth.
The possessions of Waltheof, and the earldom of Northampton, devolved upon Judith, his widow; and that lady consoled herself in her bereavement by regaling her imagination with the idea of sharing her wealth and power with a husband of her own choosing. But it soon appeared that in this respect the widow of Waltheof had made a serious miscalculation. William, in fact, without consulting her taste, destined her hand for Simon de Senlis, a French knight of unquestioned courage, but lame and somewhat deformed; and Judith expressed her utter horror of the match.
"What!" she exclaimed, "I marry a man who is lame and ill-shapen? Never!"
"As you will, madam," said the Conqueror, grimly; "but, at all events, Simon de Senlis shall be Earl of Northampton."
Meanwhile, the body of Waltheof was removed from the place where it had been hastily buried to the Abbey of Croyland, and interred in the chapter-house. Judith, disappointed in her hopes of a second husband, and mortified at the spectacle of Simon de Senlis figuring as Earl of Northampton, repaired to Croyland, and, as if to appease the spirit of the man whom she had betrayed, offered a silken cloth at his sepulchre. Left with her two children in poverty and obscurity, the widow of Waltheof passed the remainder of her life mournfully in a remote corner of England.