CHAPTER XXXII.
HOW KING WILLIAM TOOK COUNSEL OF A CHURCHMAN.
If Torfrida was exhausted, so was Hereward likewise. He knew well that arepulse was not a defeat. He knew well the indomitable persistence, theboundless resources, of the mastermind whom he defied; and he knew wellthat another attempt would be made, and then another, till--though ittook seven years in the doing--Ely would be won at last. To hold outdoggedly as long as he could was his plan: to obtain the best terms hecould for his comrades. And he might obtain good terms at last. Williammight be glad to pay a fair price in order to escape such a thorn inhis side as the camp of refuge, and might deal--or, at least, promiseto deal--mercifully and generously with the last remnant of the Englishgentry. For himself yield he would not: when all was over, he would fleeto the sea, with Torfrida and his own housecarles, and turn Viking; orgo to Sweyn Ulfsson in Denmark, and die a free man.
The English did not foresee these things. Their hearts were lifted upwith their victory, and they laughed at William and his French, anddrank Torfrida's health much too often for their own good. Hereward didnot care to undeceive them. But he could not help speaking his mindin the abbot's chamber to Thurstan, Egelwin, and his nephews, andto Sigtryg Ranaldsson, who was still in Ely, not only because he hadpromised to stay there, but because he could not get out if he would.
Blockaded they were utterly, by land and water. The isle furnished afair supply of food; and what was wanting, they obtained by foraging.But they had laid the land waste for so many miles round, that theirplundering raids brought them in less than of old; and if they went far,they fell in with the French, and lost good men, even though they weregenerally successful. So provisions were running somewhat short, andwould run shorter still.
Moreover, there was a great cause of anxiety. Bishop Egelwin, AbbotThurstan, and the monks of Ely were in rebellion, not only againstKing William, but more or less against the Pope of Rome. They might beexcommunicated. The minster lands might be taken away.
Bishop Egelwin set his face like a flint. He expected no mercy. All hehad ever done for the French was to warn Robert Comyn that if he stayedin Durham, evil would befall him. But that was as little worth to him asit was to the said Robert. And no mercy he craved. The less a man had,the more fit he was for Heaven. He could but die; and that he had knownever since he was a chanter-boy. Whether he died in Ely, or in prison,mattered little to him, provided they did not refuse him the sacraments;and that they would hardly do. But call the Duke of Normandy hisrightful sovereign he would not, because he was not,--nor anybody elsejust now, as far as he could see.
Valiant likewise was Abbot Thurstan, for himself. But he had--unlikeBishop Egelwin, whose diocese had been given to a Frenchman--an abbey,monks, and broad lands, whereof he was father and steward. And he mustdo what was best for the abbey, and also what the monks would let himdo. For severe as was the discipline of a minster in time of peace, yetin time of war, when life and death were in question, monks had ere nowturned valiant from very fear, like Cato's mouse, and mutinied: and somight the monks of Ely.
And Edwin and Morcar?
No man knows what they said or thought; perhaps no man cared much, evenin their own days. No hint does any chronicler give of what manner ofmen they were, or what manner of deeds they did. Fair, gentle, noble,beloved even by William, they are mere names, and nothing more, inhistory: and it is to be supposed, therefore, that they were nothingmore in fact. The race of Leofric and Godiva had worn itself out.
One night the confederates had sat late, talking over the future moreearnestly than usual. Edwin, usually sad enough, was especially sad thatnight.
Hereward jested with him, tried to cheer him; but he was silent, wouldnot drink, and went away before the rest.
The next morning he was gone, and with him half a dozen of his privatehousecarles.
Hereward was terrified. If defections once began, they would be endless.The camp would fall to pieces, and every man among them would be hanged,mutilated, or imprisoned, one by one, helplessly. They must stand orfall together.
He went raging to Morcar. Morcar knew naught of it. On the faith andhonor of a knight, he knew naught. Only his brother had said to him aday or two before, that he must see his betrothed before he died.
"He is gone to William, then? Does he think to win her now,--an outcastand a beggar,--when he was refused her with broad lands and a thousandmen at his back? Fool! See that thou play not the fool likewise, nephew,or--"
"Or what?" said Morcar, defiantly.
"Or thou wilt go, whither Edwin is gone,--to betrayal and ruin."
"Why so? He has been kind enough to Waltheof and Gospatrick, why not toEdwin?"
"Because," laughed Hereward, "he wanted Waltheof, and he does not wantyou and Edwin. He can keep Mercia quiet without your help. Northumbriaand the Fens he cannot without Waltheof's. They are a rougher set asyou go east and north, as you should know already, and must have one ofthemselves over them to keep them in good humor for a while. When he hasused Waltheof as his stalking-horse long enough to build a castle everyten miles, he will throw him away like a worn bowstring, Earl Morcar,nephew mine."
Morcar shook his head.
In a week more he was gone likewise. He came to William at Brandon.
"You are come in at last, young earl?" said William, sternly. "You arecome too late."
"I throw myself on your knightly faith," said Morcar. But he had come inan angry and unlucky hour.
"How well have you kept your own, twice a rebel, that you should appealto mine? Take him away."
"And hang him?" asked Ivo Taillebois.
"Pish! No,--thou old butcher. Put him in irons, and send him intoNormandy."
"Send him to Roger de Beaumont, Sire. Roger's son is safe in Morcar'scastle at Warwick, so it is but fair that Morcar should be safe inRoger's.".
And to Roger de Beaumont he was sent, while young Roger was Lord ofWarwick, and all around that once was Leofric and Godiva's.
Morcar lay in a Norman keep till the day of William's death. On hisdeath-bed the tyrant's heart smote him, and he sent orders to releasehim. For a few short days, or hours, he breathed free air again. ThenRufus shut him up once more, and forever.
And that was the end of Earl Morcar.
A few weeks after, three men came to the camp at Brandon, and theybrought a head to the king. And when William looked upon it, it was thehead of Edwin.
The human heart must have burst up again in the tyrant, as he looked onthe fair face of him he had so loved, and so wronged; for they say hewept.
The knights and earls stood round, amazed and awed, as they saw irontears ran down Pluto's cheek.
"How came this here, knaves?" thundered he at last.
They told a rambling story, how Edwin always would needs go toWinchester, to see the queen, for she would stand his friend, and do himright. And how they could not get to Winchester, for fear of the French,and wandered in woods and wolds; and how they were set upon, and hunted;and how Edwin still was mad to go to Winchester: but when he could not,he would go to Blethwallon and his Welsh; and how Earl Randal of Chesterset upon them; and how they got between a stream and the tide-way of theDee, and were cut off. And how Edwin would not yield. And how then theyslew him in self-defence, and Randal let them bring the head to theking.
This, or something like it, was their story. But who could believetraitors? Where Edwin wandered, what he did during those months, no manknows. All that is known is, three men brought his head to William, andtold some such tale. And so the old nobility of England died up and downthe ruts and shaughs, like wounded birds; and, as of wounded birds, noneknew or cared how far they had run, or how their broken bones had achedbefore they died.
"Out of their own mouths they are condemned, says Holy Writ," thunderedWilliam. "Hang them on high."
And hanged on high they were, on Brandon heath.
Then the king turned on his courtiers, glad to ease his own conscienceby cursing them.
"
This is your doing, sirs! If I had not listened to your base counsels,Edwin might have been now my faithful liegeman and my son-in-law; andI had had one more Englishman left in peace, and one less sin upon mysoul."
"And one less thorn in thy side," quoth Ivo Taillebois.
"Who spoke to thee? Ralph Guader, thou gavest me the counsel: thou wiltanswer it to God and his saints."
"That did I not. It was Earl Roger, because he wanted the man'sShropshire lands."
Whereon high words ensued; and the king gave the earl the lie in histeeth, which the earl did not forget.
"I think," said the rough, shrewd voice of Ivo, "that instead of cryingover spilt milk,--for milk the lad was, and never would have grown togood beef, had he lived to my age--"
"Who spoke to thee?"
"No man, and for that reason I spoke myself. I have lands in Spalding,by your Majesty's grace, and wish to enjoy them in peace, having workedfor them hard enough--and how can I do that, as long as Hereward sits inEly?"
"Splendeur Dex!" said William, "them art right, old butcher."
So they laid their heads together to slay Hereward. And after they hadtalked awhile, then spoke William's chaplain for the nonce, anItalian, a friend and pupil of Lanfranc of Pavia, an Italian also, thenArchbishop of Canterbury, scourging and imprisoning English monks in thesouth. And he spoke like an Italian of those times, who knew the ways ofRome.
"If his Majesty will allow my humility to suggest--"
"What? Thy humility is proud enough under the rose, I will warrant: butit has a Roman wit under the rose likewise. Speak!"
"That when the secular and carnal arm has failed, as it is written[Footnote: I do not laugh at Holy Scripture myself. I only insert thisas a specimen of the usual mediaeval "cant,"--a name and a practicewhich are both derived, not from Puritans, but from monks.]--He pourethcontempt upon princes, and letteth them wander out of the way in thewilderness--or fens; for the Latin word, and I doubt not the Hebrew, hasboth meanings."
"Splendeur Dex!" cried William, bitterly; "that hath he done with avengeance! Thou art right so far, Clerk!"
"Yet helpeth He the poor, videlicet, His Church and the religious, whoare vowed to holy poverty, out of misery, videlicet, the oppression ofbarbarous customs, and maketh them households like a flock of sheep."
"They do that for themselves already, here in England," said William,with a sneer at the fancied morals of the English monks and clergy.[Footnote: The alleged profligacy and sensuality of the English Churchbefore the Conquest rests merely on a few violent and vague expressionsof the Norman monks who displaced them. No facts, as far as I canfind, have ever been alleged. And without facts on the other side,an impartial man will hold by the one fact which is certain, that theChurch of England, popish as it was, was, unfortunately for it, notpopish enough; and from its insular freedom, obnoxious to the Church ofRome, and the ultramontane clergy of Normandy; and was therefore to bebelieved capable--and therefore again accused--of any and every crime.]
"But Heaven, and not the Church, does it for the true poor, whom yourMajesty is bringing in, to your endless glory."
"But what has all this to do with taking Ely?" asked William,impatiently. "I asked thee for reason, and not sermons."
"This. That it is in the power of the Holy Father,--and that power hewould doubtless allow you, as his dear son and most faithful servant, toemploy for yourself, without sending to Rome, which might cause painfuldelays--to--"
It might seem strange that William, Taillebois, Guader, Warrenne,short-spoken, hard-headed, hard-swearing warriors, could allow,complacently, a smooth churchman to dawdle on like this, counting hisperiods on his fingers, and seemingly never coming to the point.
But they knew well, that the churchman was a far cunninger, as well asa more learned, man than themselves. They knew well that they could nothurry him, and that they need not; that he would make his point at last,hunting it out step by step, and letting them see how he got thither,like a cunning hound. They knew that if he spoke, he had thought longand craftily, till he had made up his mind; and that, therefore, hewould very probably make up their minds likewise. It was--as usual inthat age--the conquest, not of a heavenly spirit, though it boasteditself such, but of a cultivated mind over brute flesh.
They might have said all this aloud, and yet the churchman would havegone on, as he did, where he left off, with unaltered blandness of tone.
"To convert to other uses the goods of the Church,--to convert them toprofane uses would, I need not say, be a sacrilege as horrible to Heavenas impossible to so pious a monarch--"
Ivo Taillebois winced. He had just stolen a manor from the monks ofCrowland, and meant to keep it.
"Church lands belonging to abbeys or sees, whose abbots or bishops arecontumaciously disobedient to the Holy See, or to their lawful monarch,he being in the communion of the Church and at peace with the saidHoly See. If, therefore,--to come to that point at which my incapacity,through the devious windings of my own simplicity, has been tending, butwith halting steps, from the moment that your Majesty deigned to hear--"
"Put in the spur, man!" said Ivo, tired at last, "and run the deer tosoil."
"Hurry no man's cattle, especially thine own," answered the churchman,with so shrewd a wink, and so cheery a voice, that Ivo, when herecovered from his surprise, cried,--
"Why, thou art a good huntsman thyself, I believe now."
"All things to all men, if by any means--But to return. If your Majestyshould think fit to proclaim to the recalcitrants of Ely, that unlessthey submit themselves to your Royal Grace--and to that, of course,of His Holiness, our Father--within a certain day, you will convert toother uses--premising, to avoid scandal, that those uses shall be forthe benefit of Holy Church--all lands and manors of theirs lying withoutthe precincts of the Isle of Ely,--those lands being, as is known,large, and of great value,--Quid plura? Why burden your exaltedintellect by detailing to you consequences which it has, long ere now,foreseen."
"----" quoth William, who was as sharp as the Italian, and had seen itall. "I will make thee a bishop!"
"Spare to burden my weakness," said the chaplain; and slipt away intothe shade.
"You will take his advice?" asked Ivo.
"I will."
"Then I shall see that Torfrida burn at last."
"Burn her?" and William swore.
"I promised my soldiers to burn the witch with reeds out of Haddenhamfen, as she had burned them; and I must keep my knightly word."
William swore yet more. Ivo Taillebois was a butcher and a churl.
"Call me not butcher and churl too often, Lord King, ere thou hast foundwhether thou needest me or not. Rough I may be, false was I never."
"That thou wert not," said William, who needed Taillebois much, andfeared him somewhat; and remarked something meaning in his voice, whichmade him calm himself, diplomat as he was, instantly. "But burn Torfridathou shalt not."
"Well, I care not. I have seen a woman burnt ere now, and had no fancyfor the screeching. Beside, they say she is a very fair dame, and has afair daughter, too, coming on, and she may very well make a wife for aNorman."
"Marry her thyself."
"I shall have to kill Hereward first."
"Then do it, and I will give thee his lands."
"I may have to kill others before Hereward."
"You may?"
And so the matter dropped. But William caught Ivo alone after an hour,and asked him what he meant.
"No pay, no play. Lord King, I have served thee well, rough and smooth."
"Thou hast, and hast been well paid. But if I have said aught hasty--"
"Pish, Majesty. I am a plain-spoken man, and like a plain-spoken master.But, instead of marrying Torfrida or her daughter, I have more mind toher niece, who is younger, and has no Hereward to be killed first."
"Her niece? Who?"
"Lucia, as we call her,--Edwin and Morcar's sister,--Hereward's niece,Torfrida's niece."
"No pay, no play, saidst
thou?--so say I. What meant you by having tokill others before Hereward?"
"Beware of Waltheof!" said Ivo.
"Waltheof? Pish! This is one of thy inventions for making me hunt everyEnglishman to death, that thou mayest gnaw their bones."
"Is it? Then this I say more. Beware of Ralph Guader!"
"Pish!"
"Pish on, Lord King." Etiquette was not yet discovered by Norman baronsand earls, who thought themselves all but as good as their king, gavehim their advice when they thought fit, and if he did not take it,attacked him with all their meinie. "Pish on, but listen. Beware ofRoger!"
"And what more?"
"And give me Lucia. I want her. I will have her."
William laughed. "Thou of all men! To mix that ditch-water with thatwine?"
"They were mixed in thy blood, Lord King, and thou art the better manfor it, so says the world. Old wine and old blood throw any lees to thebottom of the cask; and we shall have a son worthy to ride behind--"
"Take care!" quoth William.
"The greatest captain upon earth."
William laughed again, like Odin's self.
"Thou shalt have Lucia for that word."
"And thou shalt have the plot ere it breaks. As it will."
"To this have I come at last," said William to himself, as they parted."To murder these English nobles, to marry their daughters to my grooms.Heaven forgive me! They have brought it upon themselves by contumacy toHoly Church."
"Call my secretary, some one."
The Italian re-entered.
"The valiant and honorable and illustrious knight, Ivo Taillebois, Lordof Holland and Kesteven, weds Lucia, sister of the late earls Edwin andMorcar, now with the queen; and with, her, her manors. You will preparethe papers.
"I am yours to death," said Ivo.
"To do you justice, I think thou wert that already. Stay--here--SirPriest--do you know any man who knows this Torfrida?"
"I do, Majesty," said Ivo. "There is one Sir Ascelin, a man of Gilbert's,in the camp."
"Send for him."
"This Torfrida," said William, "haunts me."
"Pray Heaven she have not bewitched your Majesty."
"Tut! I am too old a campaigner to take much harm by woman'ssharpshooting at fifteen score yards off, beside a deep stream between.No. The woman has courage,--and beauty, too, you say?"
"What of that, O Prince?" said the Italian. "Who more beautiful--ifreport be true--than those lost women who dance nightly in the forestswith Venus and Herodias,--as it may be this Torfrida has done many atime?"
"You priests are apt to be hard upon poor women."
"The fox found that the grapes were sour," said the Italian, laughingat himself and his cloth, or at anything else by which he could curryfavor.
"And this woman was no vulgar witch. That sort of personage suitsTaillebois's taste, rather than Hereward's."
"Hungry dogs eat dirty pudding," said Ivo, pertinently.
"The woman believed herself in the right. She believed that the saintsof heaven were on her side. I saw it in her attitude, in her gestures.Perhaps she was right."
"Sire?" said both by-standers, in astonishment.
"I would fain see that woman, and see her husband too. They are folksafter my own heart. I would give them an earldom to win them."
"I hope that in that day you will allow your faithful servant Ivo toretire to his ancestral manors in Anjou; for England will be too hotfor him. Sire, you know not this man,--a liar, a bully, a robber, aswash-buckling ruffian, who--" and Ivo ran on with furious invective,after the fashion of the Normans, who considered no name too bad for anEnglish rebel.
"Sir Ascelin," said William, as Ascelin came in, "you know Hereward?"
Ascelin bowed assent.
"Are these things true which Ivo alleges?"
"The Lord Taillebois may know best what manner of man he is since hecame into this English air, which changes some folks mightily," with ahardly disguised sneer at Ivo; "but in Flanders he was a very perfectknight, beloved and honored of all men, and especially of yourfather-in-law, the great marquis."
"He is a friend of yours, then?"
"No man less. I owe him more than one grudge, though all in fairquarrel; and one, at least, which can only be wiped out in blood."
"Eh! What?"
Ascelin hesitated.
"Tell me, sir!" thundered William, "unless you have aught to be ashamedof."
"It is no shame, as far as I know, to confess that I was once a suitor,as were all knights for miles round, for the hand of the once peerlessTorfrida. And no shame to confess, that when Hereward knew thereof, hesought me out at a tournament, and served me as he has served many abetter man before and since"
"Over thy horse's croup, eh?" said William.
"I am not a bad horseman, as all know, Lord King. But Heaven saveme, and all I love, from that Hereward. They say he has seven men'sstrength; and I verily can testify to the truth thereof."
"That may be by enchantment," interposed the Italian.
"True, Sir Priest. This I know, that he wears enchanted armor, whichTorfrida gave him before she married him."
"Enchantments again," said the secretary.
"Tell me now about Torfrida," said William.
Ascelin told him all about her, not forgetting to say--what, accordingto the chronicler, was a common report--that she had compassedHereward's love by magic arts. She used to practise sorcery, he said,with her sorceress mistress, Richilda of Hainault. All men knew it.Arnoul, Richilda's son, was as a brother to her. And after old Baldwindied, and Baldwin of Mons and Richilda came to Bruges, Torfrida wasalways with her while Hereward was at the wars.
"The woman is a manifest and notorious witch," said the secretary.
"It seems so indeed," said William, with something like a sigh. And sowere Torfrida's early follies visited on her; as all early follies are."But Hereward, you say, is a good knight and true?"
"Doubtless. Even when he committed that great crime at Peterborough--"
"For which he and all his are duly excommunicated by the Bishop," saidthe secretary.
"He did a very courteous and honorable thing." And Ascelin told how hehad saved Alftruda, and instead of putting her to ransom, had sent hersafe to Gilbert.
"A very knightly deed. He should be rewarded for it."
"Why not burn the witch, and reward him with Alftruda instead, sinceyour Majesty is in so gracious a humor?" said Ivo.
"Alftruda! Who is she? Ay, I recollect her. Young Dolfin's wife. Why,she has a husband already."
"Ay, but his Holiness at Rome can set that right. What is there that hecannot do?"
"There are limits, I fear, even to his power. Eh, priest?"
"What his Holiness's powers as the viceroy of Divinity on earthmight be, did he so choose, it were irreverent to inquire. But ashe condescends to use that power only for the good of mankind, hecondescends, like Divinity, to be bound by the very laws which he haspromulgated for the benefit of his subjects; and to make himself only alife-giving sun, when he might be a destructive thunderbolt."
"He is very kind, and we all owe him thanks," said Ivo, who had aconfused notion that the Pope might strike him dead with lightning, butwas good-natured enough not to do so. "Still, he might think of thisplan; for they say that the lady is an old friend of Hereward's, and notover fond of her Scotch husband."
"That I know well," said William.
"And beside--if aught untoward should happen to Dolfin and his kin--"
"She might, with her broad lands, be a fine bait for Hereward. I see.Now, do this, by my command. Send a trusty monk into Ely. Let him tellthe monks that we have determined to seize all their outlying lands,unless they surrender within the week. And let him tell Hereward, by thefaith and oath of William of Normandy, that if he will surrender himselfto my grace, he shall have his lands in Bourne, and a free pardon forhimself and all his comrades."
The men assented, much against their will, and went out on their errand.
/>
"You have played me a scurvy trick, sir," said Ascelin, "in advising theking to give the Lady Alftruda to Hereward."
"What! Did you want her yourself? On my honor I knew not of it. But havepatience. You shall have her yet, and all her lands, if you will hear mycounsel, and keep it."
"But you would give her to Hereward!"
"And to you too. It is a poor bait, say these frogs of fenmen, that willnot take two pike running. Listen to me. I must kill this Hereward. Ihate him. I cannot eat my meat for thinking of him. Kill him I must."
"And so must I."
"Then we are both agreed. Let us work together, and never mind if one'sblood be old and the other's new. I am neither fool nor weakly, as thouknowest."
Ascelin could not but assent.
"Then here. We must send the King's message. But we must add to it."
"That is dangerous."
"So is war; so is eating, drinking; so is everything. But we must notlet Hereward come in. We must drive him to despair. Make the messengeradd but one word,--that the king exempts from the amnesty Torfrida, onaccount of----You can put it into more scholarly shape than I can."
"On account of her abominable and notorious sorceries; and demandsthat she shall be given up forthwith to the ecclesiastical power, to bejudged as she deserves."
"Just so. And then for a load of reeds out of Haddenham fen."
"Heaven forbid!" said Ascelin, who had loved her once. "Would notperpetual imprisonment suffice?"
"What care I? That is the churchmen's affair, not ours. But I fear weshall not get her. Even so Hereward will flee with her,--maybe escape toFlanders, or Denmark. He can escape through a rat's-hole if he will. Andthen we are at peace. I had sooner kill him and have done with it: butout of the way he must be put."
So they sent a monk in with the message, and commanded him to tell thearticle about the Lady Torfrida, not only to Hereward, but to the abbotand all the monks.
A curt and fierce answer came back, not from Hereward, but from Torfridaherself,--that William of Normandy was no knight himself, or he wouldnot offer a knight his life, on condition of burning his lady.
William swore horribly. "What is all this about?" They told him--as muchas they chose to tell him. He was very wroth. "Who was Ivo Taillebois,to add to his message? He had said that Torfrida should not burn."Taillebois was stout; for he had won the secretary over to his sidemeanwhile. He had said nothing about burning. He had merely supplied anoversight of the king's. The woman, as the secretary knew, could not,with all deference to his Majesty, be included in an amnesty. She wasliable to ecclesiastical censure, and the ecclesiastical courts. Williammight exercise his influence on them in all lawful ways, and more, remither sentence, even so far as to pardon her entirely, if his mercifultemper should so incline him. But meanwhile, what better could he, Ivo,have done, than to remind the monks of Ely that she was a sorceress;that she had committed grave crimes, and was liable to punishmentherself, and they to punishment also, as her shelterers and accomplices?What he wanted was to bring over the monks; and he believed that messagehad been a good stroke toward that. As for Hereward, the king need notthink of him. He never would come in alive. He had sworn an oath, and hewould keep it.
And so the matter ended.