Hereward, the Last of the English
CHAPTER XXIV.
HOW ARCHBISHOP ALDRED DIED OF SORROW.
In the tragedies of the next few months Hereward took no part; but theymust be looked at near, in order to understand somewhat of the men whowere afterwards mixed up with him for weal or woe.
When William went back to the South, the confederates, Child Edgarthe Atheling, Gospatrick, and their friends, had come south again fromDurham. It was undignified; a confession of weakness. If a Norman hadlikened them to mice coming out when the cat went away, none couldblame him. But so they did; and Osbiorn and his Danes, landing inHumber-mouth, "were met" (says the Anglo-Saxon chronicle) "by ChildEdgar and Earl Waltheof and Marlesweyn, and Earl Gospatrick with the menof Northumberland, riding and marching joyfully with an immense army";not having the spirit of prophecy, or foreseeing those things which werecoming on the earth.
To them repaired Edwin and Morcar, the two young Earls, Arkill and Karl,"the great Thanes," or at least the four sons of Karl,--for accountsdiffer,--and what few else of the northern nobility Tosti had leftunmurdered.
The men of Northumberland received the Danes with open arms. They wouldbesiege York. They would storm the new Norman Keep. They would proclaimEdgar king at York.
In that Keep sat two men, one of whom knew his own mind, the other didnot. One was William Malet, knight, one of the heroes of Hastings, anoble Norman, and chatelain of York Castle. The other was ArchbishopAldred.
Aldred seems to have been a man like too many more,--pious and virtuousand harmless enough, and not without worldly prudence; but his prudencewas of that sort which will surely swim with the stream, and "honor thepowers that be," if they be but prosperous enough. For after all, ifsuccess be not God, it is like enough to Him in some men's eyes todo instead. So Archbishop Aldred had crowned Harold Godwinsson, whenHarold's star was in the ascendant. And who but Archbishop Aldred shouldcrown William, when his star had cast Harold's down from heaven? Hewould have crowned Satanas himself, had he only proved himself king _defacto_--as he asserts himself to be _de jure_--of this wicked world.
So Aldred, who had not only crowned William, but supported his powernorth of Humber by all means lawful, sat in York Keep, and looked atWilliam Malet, wondering what he would do.
Malet would hold it to the last. As for the new keep, it was surelyimpregnable. The old walls--the Roman walls on which had floated theflag of Constantine the Great--were surely strong enough to keep outmen without battering-rams, balistas, or artillery of any kind. Whatmattered Osbiorn's two hundred and forty ships, and their crews of someten or fifteen thousand men? What mattered the tens of thousands ofNorthern men, with Gospatrick at their head? Let them rage and rob roundthe walls. A messenger had galloped in from William in the Forest ofDean, to tell Malet to hold out to the last. He had galloped out again,bearing for answer, that the Normans could hold York for a year.
But the Archbishop's heart misgave him, as from north and south at oncecame up the dark masses of two mighty armies, broke up into columns,and surged against every gate of the city at the same time. They had nobattering-train to breach the ancient walls; but they had--and none knewit better than Aldred--hundreds of friends inside, who would throw opento them the gates.
One gate he could command from the Castle tower. His face turned paleas he saw a mob of armed townsmen rushing down the street towards it; afurious scuffle with the French guards; and then, through the gateway,the open champaign beyond, and a gleaming wave of axes, helms, andspears, pouring in, and up the street.
"The traitors!" he almost shrieked, as he turned and ran down the ladderto tell Malet below.
Malet was firm, but pale as Aldred.
"We must fight to the last," said he, as he hurried down, commanding hismen to sally at once _en masse_ and clear the city.
The mistake was fatal. The French were entangled in the narrow streets.The houses, shut to them, were opened to the English and Danes; and,overwhelmed from above, as well as in front, the greater part of theNorman garrison perished in the first fight. The remnant were shut up inthe Castle. The Danes and English seized the houses round, and shotfrom the windows at every loophole and embrasure where a Norman showedhimself.
"Shoot fire upon the houses!" said Malet.
"You will not burn York? O God! is it come to this?"
"And why not York town, or York minster, or Rome itself, with the Popeinside it, rather than yield to barbarians?"
Archbishop Aldred went into his room, and lay down on his bed. Outsidewas the roar of the battle; and soon, louder and louder, the roar offlame. This was the end of his time-serving and king-making. And he saidmany prayers, and beat his breast; and then called to his chaplain forblankets, for he was very cold. "I have slain my own sheep!" he moaned,"slain my own sheep!"
His chaplain hapt him up in bed, and looked out of the window at thefight. There was no lull, neither was there any great advantage oneither side. Only from the southward he could see fresh bodies of Danescoming across the plain.
"The carcass is here, and the eagles are gathered together. Fetch methe holy sacrament, Chaplain, and God be merciful to an unfaithfulshepherd."
The chaplain went.
"I have slain my own sheep!" moaned the archbishop. "I have given themup to the wolves,--given my own minster, and all the treasures of thesaints; and--and--I am very cold."
When the chaplain came back with the blessed sacrament, ArchbishopAldred was more than cold; for he was already dead and stiff.
But William Malet would not yield. He and his Normans fought, day afterday, with the energy of despair. They asked leave to put forth the bodyof the archbishop; and young Waltheof, who was a pious man, insistedthat leave should be given.
So the archbishop's coffin was thrust forth of the castle-gate, andthe monks from the abbey came and bore it away, and buried it in theCathedral church.
And then the fight went on, day after day, and more and more housesburned, till York was all aflame. On the eighth day the minster was ina light low over Archbishop Aldred's new-made grave. All wasburnt,--minster, churches, old Roman palaces, and all the glories ofConstantine the Great and the mythic past.
The besiegers, hewing and hammering gate after gate, had now won allbut the Keep itself. Then Malet's heart failed him. A wife he had, andchildren; and for their sake he turned coward and fled by night, with afew men-at-arms, across the burning ruins.
Then into what once was York the confederate Earls and Thanes marched intriumph, and proclaimed Edgar king,--a king of dust and ashes.
And where were Edwin and Morcar the meanwhile? It is not told. Were theystruggling against William at Stafford, or helping Edric the Wildand his Welshmen to besiege Chester? Probably they were aiding theinsurrection,--if not at these two points, still at some other of theirgreat earldoms of Mercia and Chester. They seemed to triumph for awhile: during the autumn of 1069 the greater part of England seemedlost to William. Many Normans packed up their plunder and went back toFrance; and those whose hearts were too stout to return showed no mercyto the English, even as William showed none. To crush the heart of thepeople by massacres and mutilations and devastations was the only hopeof the invader; and thoroughly he did his work whenever he had a chance.