CHAPTER VI.
Only in solitude could that strong man give way to his emotions; and
at first they rushed forth so confused and stormy, so hurtling one the
other, that hours elapsed before he could serenely face the terrible
crisis of his position.
The great historian of Italy has said, that whenever the simple and
truthful German came amongst the plotting and artful Italians and
experienced their duplicity and craft, he straightway became more
false and subtle than the Italians themselves: to his own countrymen,
indeed, he continued to retain his characteristic sincerity and good
faith; but, once duped and tricked by the southern schemers, as if
with a fierce scorn, he rejected troth with the truthless; he exulted
in mastering them in their own wily statesmanship; and if reproached
for insincerity, retorted with naive wonder, "Ye Italians, and
complain of insincerity! How otherwise can one deal with you--how be
safe amongst you?"
Somewhat of this revolution of all the natural elements of his
character took place in Harold's mind that stormy and solitary night.
In the transport of his indignation, he resolved not doltishly to be
thus outwitted to his ruin. The perfidious host had deprived himself
of that privilege of Truth,--the large and heavenly security of man;--
it was but a struggle of wit against wit, snare against snare. The
state and law of warfare had started up in the lap of fraudful peace;
and ambush must be met by ambush, plot by plot.
Such was the nature of the self-excuses by which the Saxon defended
his resolves, and they appeared to him more sanctioned by the stake
which depended on success--a stake which his undying patriotism
allowed to be far more vast than his individual ambition. Nothing was
more clear than that if he were detained in a Norman prison, at the
time of King Edward's death, the sole obstacle to William's design on
the English throne would be removed. In the interim, the Duke's
intrigues would again surround the infirm King with Norman influences;
and in the absence both of any legitimate heir to the throne capable
of commanding the trust of the people, and of his own preponderating
ascendancy both in the Witan and the armed militia of the nation, what
could arrest the designs of the grasping Duke? Thus his own liberty
was indissolubly connected with that of his country; and for that
great end, the safety of England, all means grew holy.
When the next morning he joined the cavalcade, it was only by his
extreme paleness that the struggle and agony of the past night could
be traced, and he answered with correspondent cheerfulness William's
cordial greetings.
As they rode together--still accompanied by several knights, and the
discourse was thus general, the features of the country suggested the
theme of the talk. For, now in the heart of Normandy, but in rural
districts remote from the great towns, nothing could be more waste and
neglected than the face of the land. Miserable and sordid to the last
degree were the huts of the serfs; and when these last met them on
their way, half naked and hunger-worn, there was a wild gleam of hate
and discontent in their eyes, as they louted low to the Norman riders,
and heard the bitter and scornful taunts with which they were
addressed; for the Norman and the Frank had more than indifference for
the peasants of their land; they literally both despised and abhorred
them, as of different race from the conquerors. The Norman settlement
especially was so recent in the land, that none of that amalgamation
between class and class which centuries had created in England,
existed there; though in England the theowe was wholly a slave, and
the ceorl in a political servitude to his lord, yet public opinion,
more mild than law, preserved the thraldom from wanton aggravation;
and slavery was felt to be wrong and unchristian. The Saxon Church--
not the less, perhaps, for its very ignorance--sympathised more with
the subject population and was more associated with it, than the
comparatively learned and haughty ecclesiastics of the continent, who
held aloof from the unpolished vulgar. The Saxon Church invariably
set the example of freeing the theowe and emancipating the ceorl, and
taught that such acts were to the salvation of the soul. The rude and
homely manner in which the greater part of the Saxon thegns lived--
dependent solely for their subsistence on their herds and agricultural
produce, and therefore on the labour of their peasants--not only made
the distinctions of rank less harsh and visible, but rendered it the
interest of the lords to feed and clothe well their dependents. All
our records of the customs of the Saxons prove the ample sustenance
given to the poor, and a general care of their lives and rights,
which, compared with the Frank laws, may be called enlightened and
humane. And above all, the lowest serf ever had the great hope both
of freedom and of promotion; but the beast of the field was holier in
the eyes of the Norman, than the wretched villein [200]. We have
likened the Norman to the Spartan, and, most of all, he was like him
in his scorn of the helot.
Thus embruted and degraded, deriving little from religion itself,
except its terrors, the general habits of the peasants on the
continent of France were against the very basis of Christianity--
marriage. They lived together for the most part without that tie, and
hence the common name, with which they were called by their masters,
lay and clerical, was the coarsest word contempt can apply to the sons
of women.
"The hounds glare at us," said Odo, as a drove of these miserable
serfs passed along. "They need ever the lash to teach them to know
the master. Are they thus mutinous and surly in England, Lord
Harold?"
"No: but there our meanest theowes are not seen so clad, nor housed in
such hovels," said the Earl.
"And is it really true that a villein with you can rise to be a
noble?"
"Of at least yearly occurrence. Perhaps the forefathers of one-fourth
of our Anglo-Saxon thegns held the plough, or followed some craft
mechanical."
Duke William politicly checked Odo's answer, and said mildly:
"Every land its own laws: and by them alone should it be governed by a
virtuous and wise ruler. But, noble Harold, I grieve that you should
thus note the sore point in my realm. I grant that the condition of
the peasants and the culture of the land need reform. But in my
childhood, there was a fierce outbreak of rebellion among the
villeins, needing bloody example to check, and the memories of wrath
between lord and villein must sleep before we can do justice between
them, as please St. Peter, and by Lanfranc's aid, we hope to do.
Meanwhile, one great portion of our villeinage in our larger towns we
have much mitigated. For trade and commerce are the strength of
rising states; and if our fields are barren our streets are
prosperous."
Harold bowed, and rode musingly on. That civilisation he had so much
admired bounded itself to the noble class, and, at farthest, to the
circle of the Duke's commercial policy. Beyond it, on the outskirts
of humanity, lay the mass of the people. And here, no comparison in
favour of the latter could be found between English and Norman
civilisation.
The towers of Bayeux rose dim in the distance, when William proposed a
halt in a pleasant spot by the side of a small stream, overshadowed by
oak and beech. A tent for himself and Harold was pitched in haste,
and after an abstemious refreshment, the Duke, taking Harold's arm,
led him away from the train along the margin of the murmuring stream.
They were soon in a remote, pastoral, primitive spot, a spot like
those which the old menestrels loved to describe, and in which some
pious hermit might, pleased, have fixed his solitary home.
Halting where a mossy bank jutted over the water, William motioned to
his companion to seat himself, and reclining at his side, abstractedly
took the pebbles from the margin and dropped them into the stream.
They fell to the botton with a hollow sound; the circle they made on
the surface widened, and was lost; and the wave rushed and murmured
on, disdainful.
"Harold," said the Duke at last, "thou hast thought, I fear, that I
have trifled with thy impatience to return. But there is on my mind a
matter of great moment to thee and to me, and it must out, before thou
canst depart. On this very spot where we now sit, sate in early
youth, Edward thy King, and William thy host. Soothed by the
loneliness of the place, and the music of the bell from the church
tower, rising pale through yonder glade, Edward spoke of his desire
for the monastic life, and of his content with his exile in the Norman
land. Few then were the hopes that he should ever attain the throne
of Alfred. I, more martial, and ardent for him as myself, combated
the thought of the convent, and promised, that, if ever occasion meet
arrived, and he needed the Norman help, I would, with arm and heart,
do a chief's best to win him his lawful crown. Heedest thou me, dear
Harold?"
"Ay, my host, with heart as with ear."
"And Edward then, pressing my hand as I now press thine, while
answering gratefully, promised, that if he did, contrary to all human
foresight, gain his heritage, he, in case I survived him, would
bequeath that heritage to me. Thy hand withdraws itself from mine."
"But from surprise: Duke William, proceed."
"Now," resumed William, "when thy kinsmen were sent to me as hostages
for the most powerful House in England--the only one that could thwart
the desire of my cousin--I naturally deemed this a corroboration of
his promise, and an earnest of his continued designs; and in this I
was reassured by the prelate, Robert, Archbishop of Canterbury, who
knew the most secret conscience of your King. Wherefore my
pertinacity in retaining those hostages; wherefore my disregard to
Edward's mere remonstrances, which I not unnaturally conceived to be
but his meek confessions to the urgent demands of thyself and House.
Since then, Fortune or Providence hath favoured the promise of the
King, and my just expectations founded thereon. For one moment, it
seemed indeed, that Edward regretted or reconsidered the pledge of our
youth. He sent for his kinsman, the Atheling, natural heir to the
throne. But the poor prince died. The son, a mere child, if I am
rightly informed, the laws of thy land will set aside, should Edward
die ere the child grown a man; and, moreover, I am assured, that the
young Edgar hath no power of mind or intellect to wield so weighty a
sceptre as that of England. Your King, also, even since your absence,
hath had severe visitings of sickness, and ere another year his new
Abbey may hold his tomb."
William here paused; again dropped the pebbles into the stream, and
glanced furtively on the unrevealing face of the Earl. He resumed:
"Thy brother Tostig, as so nearly allied to my House, would, I am
advised, back my claims; and wert thou absent from England, Tostig, I
conceive, would be in thy place as the head of the great party of
Godwin. But to prove how little I care for thy brother's aid compared
with thine, and how implicitly I count on thee, I have openly told
thee what a wilier plotter would have concealed--viz., the danger to
which thy brother is menaced in his own earldom. To the point, then,
I pass at once. I might, as my ransomed captive, detain thee here,
until, without thee, I had won my English throne, and I know that thou
alone couldst obstruct my just claims, or interfere with the King's
will, by which that appanage will be left to me. Nevertheless, I
unbosom myself to thee, and would owe my crown solely to thine aid. I
pass on to treat with thee, dear Harold, not as lord with vassal, but
as prince with prince. On thy part, thou shalt hold for me the castle
of Dover, to yield to my fleet when the hour comes; thou shalt aid me
in peace, and through thy National Witan, to succeed to Edward, by
whose laws I will reign in all things conformably with the English
rites, habits, and decrees. A stronger king to guard England from the
Dane, and a more practised head to improve her prosperity, I am vain
eno' to say thou wilt not find in Christendom. On my part, I offer to
thee my fairest daughter, Adeliza, to whom thou shalt be straightway
betrothed: thine own young unwedded sister, Thyra, thou shalt give to
one of my greatest barons: all the lands, dignities, and possessions
thou holdest now, thou shalt still retain; and if, as I suspect, thy
brother Tostig cannot keep his vast principality north the Humber, it
shall pass to thee. Whatever else thou canst demand in guarantee of
my love and gratitude, or so to confirm thy power that thou shalt rule
over thy countships as free and as powerful as the great Counts of
Provence or Anjou reign in France over theirs, subject only to the
mere form of holding in fief to the Suzerain, as I, stormy subject,
hold Normandy under Philip of France,--shall be given to thee. In
truth, there will be two kings in England, though in name but one.
And far from losing by the death of Edward, thou shalt gain by the
subjection of every meaner rival, and the cordial love of thy grateful
William.--Splendour of God, Earl, thou keepest me long for thine
answer!"
"What thou offerest," said the Earl, fortifying himself with the
resolution of the previous night, and compressing his lips, livid with
rage, "is beyond my deserts, and all that the greatest chief under
royalty could desire. But England is not Edward's to leave, nor mine
to give: its throne rests with the Witan."
"And the Witan rests with thee," exclaimed William sharply. "I ask
but for possibilities, man; I ask but all thine influence on my
behalf; and if it be less than I deem, mine is the loss. What dost
thou resign? I will not presume to menace thee; but thou wouldst
indeed despise my folly, if now, knowing my designs, I let thee forth
--not to aid, but betray them. I know thou lovest England, so do I.
Thou deemest me a foreigner; true, but the Norman and Dane are of
precisely the same origin. Thou, of the race of Canute, knowest how
popular was the reign of that King. Why should William's be less so?
Canute had no right whatsoever, save that of the sword. My right will
be kinship to Edward--Edward's wish in my favour--the consent through
thee of the Witan--the absence of all other worthy heir--my wife's
clear descent from Alfred, which, in my children, restore the Saxon
line, through its purest and noblest ancestry, to the throne. Think
over all this, and then wilt thou tell me that I merit not this
crown?" Harold yet paused, and the fiery Duke resumed:
"Are the terms I give not tempting eno' to my captive--to the son of
the great Godwin, who, no doubt falsely, but still by the popular
voice of all Europe, had power of life and death over my cousin Alfred
and my Norman knights? or dost thou thyself covet the English crown;
and is it to a rival that I have opened my heart?"
"Nay," said Harold in the crowning effort of his new and fatal lesson
in simulation. "Thou hast convinced me, Duke William: let it be as
thou sayest."
The Duke gave way to his joy by a loud exclamation, and then
recapitulated the articles of the engagement, to which Harold simply
bowed his head. Amicably then the Duke embraced the Earl, and the two
returned towards the tent.
While the steeds were brought forth, William took the opportunity to
draw Odo apart; and, after a short whispered conference, the prelate
hastened to his barb, and spurred fast to Bayeux in advance of the
party. All that day, and all that night, and all the next morn till
noon, courtiers and riders went abroad, north and south, east and
west, to all the more famous abbeys and churches in Normandy, and holy
and awful was the spoil with which they returned for the ceremony of
the next day.
