Читать книгу: «Danes, Saxons and Normans; or, Stories of our ancestors», страница 17

XLVIII.
RUFUS AND THE SCOTS

While William Rufus, having set honour and decency at defiance, was playing the part of a tyrant and oppressor in England, he ever and anon gave indications, not to be mistaken, of a desire to play the part of a usurper in Normandy.

Repairing to the Continent, with some idea of taking possession of his brother's duchy, Rufus expelled from Normandy the unfortunate heir of the Saxon kings, who had returned from Apulia. Homeless and well-nigh desperate, Edgar Atheling once more sought refuge in Scotland; and Malcolm Canmore, irritated, perhaps, at the treatment with which his brother-in-law had met, resolved on making Rufus feel his enmity.

"Years since," said the King of Scots, "I was fain to recognise William the Norman as my liege lord; and I acknowledge Robert Curthose as the heir of William the Norman; but as for this Red King, I can only recognise him as a usurper, and he shall only know me as a foe."

Rufus was still in Normandy, when intelligence reached him that Malcolm, accompanied by the Atheling, had, in the month of May, 1091, crossed the frontier; and he was seriously alarmed at tidings of an invasion that might lead to important consequences. Under such circumstances he perceived the policy of going craftily to work; and, after patching up a peace with his brother Robert, prevailed on the Norman duke to attend him to England, and aid in bringing Malcolm to reason. It was in the autumn of 1091 when, with Curthose by his side, an army at his back, and a fleet at sea, Rufus moved northward to try conclusions with the royal Scot.

On hearing of the approach of the King of England, Malcolm fell back in some dismay. Nevertheless, Rufus was not quite in a position to congratulate himself on the success of his expedition. In fact, everything went wrong. The weather proved altogether unfavourable. Before the close of September, the English fleet was destroyed by a storm; and, soon after Michaelmas, the army began to suffer so fearfully from cold and want, that there appeared little prospect of the enterprise having other than a disastrous termination.

While such was the state of affairs, Malcolm Canmore, turning to bay, sent a messenger to the English camp with expressions of friendship to Curthose, and of scornful defiance to Rufus. Curthose, however, with characteristic generosity, stood firmly by Rufus at this crisis. Mounting his steed, he rode to the Scottish camp, had an interview with Edgar Atheling, persuaded the Saxon prince that, for all parties, peace was the wisest policy, and finally succeeded in negotiating a treaty between the two kings.

Rufus now deemed himself secured against Malcolm's hostility; and scarcely had Curthose rendered this service when the Norman duke began to experience the gross ingratitude of the Red King. In utter disgust, Curthose resolved forthwith to leave England, and, crossing the sea, he established himself at Rouen with the intention of securing himself against further hostility.

Meanwhile Rufus, while keeping his court at Gloucester, fell so sick, that physicians despaired of his life. Stretched on a bed of suffering, the Red King became extremely penitent and anxious to atone for his sins. While in this frame of mind, William invited Malcolm Canmore to come and settle all disputes. But ere the King of Scots reached Gloucester, Rufus was in a fair way of recovering, and in no mood to sacrifice either to justice or righteousness. Without even condescending to see Malcolm, he disdainfully ordered him to submit his disputes to his peers, the Anglo-Norman nobles; and Malcolm – his blood boiling at the treatment with which he had met – returned home, vowing to make the Red King repent his insolence.

No sooner, accordingly, did Malcolm reach Scotland, than he assembled a great army, and marched towards England. Attended by his eldest son, Edward, he entered Northumberland, ravaged the country with fire and sword, advanced as far as Alnwick, invested the castle of Ivo de Vesci, and besieged that stronghold so closely that the garrison lost all hope.

It was the month of November, 1093 – a Sunday, and the day of St. Brice. The rain had fallen in torrents; the river Alne was in flood; and the garrison had given way to perplexity and despair. No chance of the siege being raised, or of escape by any other means, could be entertained; and the remembrance of the savage cruelty of the Scots under Malcolm, twenty years earlier, filled every heart with consternation. In this emergency, Hammond Morael, of Bamburgh, a soldier of courage and determination, undertook to deliver the garrison, or die in the attempt. Mounting a fleet steed, he issued from the castle, and, carrying the keys on the point of his spear, he rode towards the Scottish camp. On being challenged, he professed his willingness to surrender the keys of the fortress, but demanded permission to present them to the King of Scots in person. Malcolm, informed of Hammond's approach, immediately came forth; and Morael, spurring forward, pierced the Scottish king through the heart.

A loud cry arose as Malcolm fell, and the Scotch camp was in commotion. Hammond, however, had well calculated his danger and his chances of escape. Turning rein without the delay of an instant, he gave his horse the spur, galloped towards a wood, made for the Alne, then swollen with rain, and, dashing in at all hazards, escaped by swimming the river at a place long afterwards known as "Hammond's Ford."

While the Scots, amazed at the unexpected fall of their king, were in confusion, the soldiers forming the garrison of Alnwick availed themselves of the circumstance. Sallying, they made a fierce attack; and the Scots, put to the rout, either fell by the sword, or were drowned in attempting to pass the river. Among the warriors slain on this occasion was Malcolm's son Edward, a young prince of great promise.

The rout of the Scots was so sudden, and their dispersion so complete, that the victors, without opposition, took possession of Malcolm's body. But though left in the hands of the foe, the corpse was not denied a Christian's grave. Placed in a cart by the Northumbrians, it was conveyed to Tynemouth, and there laid, with funereal honours, in the priory of St. Oswin, a famous religious house, which Robert de Moubray had wrested from the monks of St. Cuthbert, and bestowed on the monks of St. Alban's.

In the meantime, news that Malcolm and his son had fallen at Alnwick reached the Scottish court, and overwhelmed Queen Margaret with grief. Nothing seemed sufficient to console the royal lady for the loss she had sustained. Indeed, she is said to have prayed that she might not survive them, and to have expired within three days of the catastrophe which made her a widow.

The children of Malcolm Canmore and Margaret Atheling, when thus deprived of both parents, were in no enviable plight. The courtiers, being for the most part Normans and Saxons, were regarded and hated by the Scots as strangers or foreigners; and the only man capable of protecting the royal children was their uncle, Donald Bane. But that prince proved the reverse of generous. Instead of maintaining the interests of the eldest of his nephews, he resolved on availing himself of his nephew's nonage to seize the crown.

It was not difficult for Donald Bane to realize his aspirations. The prejudices of the Scots as to the laws of succession, and the claims of Magnus, King of Norway, were in his favour. Without scruple he gratified the patriotism of the Scots by declaring for the banishment of all Normans and Saxons; and at the same time he purchased the support of the Norwegian king by ceding to him the Western Isles. Having thus strengthened his claims, Donald Bane mounted the Scottish throne.

When affairs reached this stage, the Normans and Saxons escaped from Scotland with all convenient speed. With Normans and Saxons to England went Edgar Atheling; and with Atheling, to the country over which his sires had reigned, went the children of Malcolm and Margaret, to seek refuge in the land of their maternal ancestors till the occurrence of events calculated to lead to their restoration to home and country.

XLIX.
ROBERT DE MOUBRAY

About the spring of 1095, William Rufus was menaced with ruin. It was Robert de Moubray, Earl of Northumberland – a man who possessed two hundred and eighty manors – whose influence the Red King now had to dread.

Not without bitter grumbling had the Norman barons hitherto submitted to the law by which the Norman king retained the exclusive right of hunting in the forests of England. Nevertheless, this privilege was maintained by Rufus as vigorously as ever it had been by the mighty Conqueror. The Saxons contemptuously called him "The Wild Beast Herd," while the Normans conspired to take off his crown, and place it on the head of Stephen, Earl of Albemarle, son of the Conqueror's sister. At the head of this conspiracy, which included several of the highest Norman nobles, Robert de Moubray nobly placed himself.

Rufus was not altogether unaware of the conspiracy formed by the Anglo-Norman barons to overturn the throne. Indeed, Moubray drew suspicion on himself by failing to appear at court on the occasion of a great assembly of knights and barons at Easter. In order to bring matters to a crisis, Rufus issued a proclamation that, at the feast of Whitsuntide, every great landholder should attend, or be excluded from the public peace. Moubray, instead of presenting himself, sent Rufus a message, which sounded like a defiance.

"I will not attend," said the Norman earl, "unless the king sends me hostages, and a safe-conduct to protect me going and returning."

"By St. Luke's face!" cried Rufus, stammering with rage, "if he will not come to me, I will go to him!"

According to this threat, the Red King mustered an army and marched northward. Besieging the castle of Tynemouth, which was held by a garrison commanded by Moubray's brother, he, after two months, took that fortress, and then marched on to Bamburgh, where Moubray was spending his time in the company of a young woman of great beauty, whom he had recently married. But Rufus, discovering that Bamburgh was quite impregnable, erected near it a stronghold called Malvoisin, or "Ill Neighbour," and, placing therein a strong garrison to keep that of Bamburgh in check, returned southward with the bulk of his army.

Meanwhile Moubray had established communications with the garrison of Newcastle, and conceived the hope of making himself master of that stronghold. With this object, he one night set out from Bamburgh, attended by thirty horse; but, unfortunately for his scheme, he was observed by the garrison of Malvoisin, closely pursued, and forced to take refuge in the priory of Tynemouth. At that place, after being besieged and wounded in the leg, he was taken prisoner with his comrades.

Rufus, on hearing of Moubray's capture, sent orders to secure Bamburgh without delay. But this was no easy business. The garrison, under the auspices of Moubray's young countess, and Hammond Morael – that warrior who had slain Malcolm Canmore – proved as stubborn as ever, and the besiegers were well-nigh in despair. Rufus, however, was not to be baffled by a woman.

"Carry her husband before the castle," he cried, "and let his eyes be put out if it is not immediately surrendered."

The king's orders were promptly obeyed. The soldiers left by Rufus at Malvoisin led Moubray in chains before the castle of Bamburgh, and summoned the countess to a parley. No sooner did she appear than they intimated their intention of putting out Moubray's eyes unless she instantly yielded the castle. The fair countess could not hesitate; without delay she threw the keys over the walls; and the soldiers of Rufus entering, took all prisoners. Morael, however, earned his pardon by revealing the names of all the conspirators; and Moubray, sentenced to perpetual imprisonment, was conveyed to the castle of Windsor.

After long captivity, however, Moubray was permitted to retire to the Abbey of St. Alban's. In that great religious house, the once haughty Earl of Northumberland assumed the monastic habit, and became a meek shaveling. He appears to have survived his unfortunate rebellion fully thirty years.

"You must know," says the chronicler, "that Robert de Moubray, the brave knight and Earl of Northumberland, was deprived of sight some days before he died. He was a very old man, and devoted to God, and became a monk at St. Alban's, where, after living a holy life for some time, he departed to the Lord, and was honourably buried in a place not far from the chapter-house."

L.
HENRY BEAUCLERC

At the time when Rufus became King of England, and Curthose took possession of Normandy, Henry, third son of the Conqueror, was in his twentieth year. Both in personal appearance and intellectual capacity he was decidedly superior to his brothers. He was a princely personage, of tall stature, and firmly built, with brown hair, a brilliant complexion, and clear, penetrating eyes, thoughtful rather than dreamy, which ever seemed to be looking to the future. He thought much, but spoke little, for his mind was occupied with projects of ambition, which he would not have whispered even to the winds.

Henry had the advantage of being a native of England. It was at Selby, in Yorkshire, where an abbey was afterwards founded by the Conqueror, that Matilda of Flanders, during 1068, the first year of her residence in England, became the mother of her third son. But though a native of "the proud isle of liberty," Henry can hardly be described as an Englishman. His manners were foreign; his habits were those of a Norman; and it does not appear that he could even speak the English language. But he never failed, when such was his interest, to profess ardent love for his native land, and strong sympathy with the struggles of those who were its inhabitants.

In critical moods, William the Conqueror was in the habit of repeating a phrase of one of the old counts of Anjou, as to a king without learning being a crowned ass; and the words sank deep into Henry's mind. The prince, thus strongly impressed with the necessity of acquiring knowledge, exhibited exemplary diligence; and, in 1084, William, when keeping his court at Abingdon, left him under the care of Robert D'Oyly, to be educated by the monks. Subsequently Henry was instructed beyond seas in philosophy and the liberal sciences, and won such renown for his knowledge that he was distinguished by the honourable surname of Beauclerc.

Meanwhile, Henry's military education was not neglected. It was an age, as the grim Conqueror knew full well, in which no prince could hope to prosper who was not prepared to lead fighting men to the field, and ride boldly, through all dangers, into the thickest ranks of foemen. Henry was carefully trained in all the warlike exercises of the period; and, in 1086, he was, with the ceremonies befitting his rank, admitted to the honour of knighthood.

The accomplishments of Henry were not confined to arms and letters. The scene at Laigle, when he and Rufus were playing at dice, after the fashion of soldiers at the time of the Conquest – the scene at Conflans, when he won so much money from Prince Louis that the heir of France lost his temper – lead to the suspicion that Henry was addicted to gaming; and there is evidence that his success in playing for money, if not miraculous, was quite equal to his success in playing for kingdoms and crowns.

When the Conqueror, on his death-bed, left Beauclerc five thousand pounds in white silver, and gave the assurance that, after his brothers had their turn of sovereignty, his would certainly come, Beauclerc, who probably valued the legacy more than the assurance, hastened to secure the treasure. He immediately went to receive the money, had it carefully told and weighed, packed it in chests, strongly locked, and bound with iron. But the silver did not long remain in the strong boxes. Curthose came to Normandy poor, and eager to borrow from any one who would lend on any terms; and Beauclerc was not unwilling to advance on good security. A bargain was accordingly struck between the brothers. Curthose received a sum which gladdened his heart; and Beauclerc, in consideration thereof, took possession of that part of Normandy known as Cotentin.

One morning, when Beauclerc was hunting near Caen, he entered a church to hear mass. The priest, whose name was Roger, comprehending the taste, and consulting the convenience of his visitor, made the service so brief that Beauclerc was impressed with a high admiration of his sense.

"By Heavens!" he exclaimed, "this is the most sensible priest I ever knew. I must attach him to my fortunes."

Roger, who evinced no unwillingness, immediately became Beauclerc's chaplain, and lived to flourish as Bishop of Sarum, and first minister of England.

Beauclerc was figuring as lord of Cotentin, when, in 1090, Rufus invaded Normandy, and threatened Curthose with ruin. The circumstance, doubtless, caused him alarm, and interfered with his plans. With a keen eye to his own interest, however, he took part with Curthose, and exerted himself to prevent Rufus taking possession of the duchy.

It appears that, when the Red King seemed likely to conquer, some of the inhabitants of Rouen, influenced by threats, promises, and bribes, conspired to surrender the city. Beauclerc, informed of their scheme, resolved to baffle it; and, suddenly entering Rouen, he proceeded to a tower, where the chief conspirator was, and, throwing him headlong to the ground, caused such terror among the confederates that the city was saved. But Curthose soon after came to terms with the invader; and Rufus was in no mood to spare the man who had disappointed his hopes of complete success.

Not unaware of his danger, Beauclerc threw himself into Mont St. Michael, and in that fort, situated on a rock, determined to bid the Red King defiance. Rufus, however, induced Curthose to join in bringing Beauclerc to submission; and the two princes, with a powerful army, appeared at Mont St. Michael, and commenced a close siege.

For a time Beauclerc seems to have resisted bravely, and on one occasion the Red King was in the utmost peril of death or captivity. Riding carelessly along the shore one day, Rufus was attacked by three horsemen, who bore him to the ground, and his saddle with him. He was, of course, in extreme danger. But seizing his saddle in one hand, and drawing his sword with the other, he managed to defend himself till his soldiers came to the rescue.

"O king!" exclaimed the soldiers, "how could you be so obstinate to save a saddle?"

"Nay," cried Rufus, "it would have angered me at the very heart if the knaves could have bragged they had won my saddle from me."

Meanwhile, the siege was so closely pressed that provisions ran short, and every man in the fort was suffering from the want of fresh water. Beauclerc, however, sent a messenger to beseech the besiegers not to deny him the enjoyment of that which belonged to all men; and Curthose, touched with compassion, ordered that the garrison should be allowed to take in a supply. Rufus, who, when this occurred, was possibly on the shore fighting about his saddle, was highly enraged on hearing of this permission, and took Curthose to task in no courteous terms.

"You show your warlike skill," stammered the Red King, "in letting your enemy help himself to drink. By St. Luke's face! you have now only to supply him with meat to make him hold out for twelve months."

"And how," asked Curthose, "could I leave a brother to die of thirst? What other brother have we if we lose him?"

Notwithstanding the supply of fresh water, Beauclerc could not much longer hold out. After enduring a rigorous siege he was compelled, for want of provisions, to submit to fate. Rufus despoiled him of all he possessed, and it was with difficulty he obtained leave to depart to Brittany. His escort consisted of one knight, three squires, and a chaplain; and with these adherents, who either disdained to desert him in his distress, or felt strong faith in his destiny, Beauclerc wandered about, sometimes in want of the necessaries of life, and utterly hopeless of reaching any place that could be called a home.

But genius is generally prophetic; and Beauclerc scarcely required to recall his father's dying words to feel assured that he was yet to reign in the land of his birth, and over the land he had just quitted for poverty and exile. The consciousness that he was one day to be great gave the Conqueror's son a dignity in all that he said or did. Even as a vagrant, Beauclerc was an influential personage; and he impressed strangers with so high a notion of his talents and his political wisdom, that he was, ere long, elected by the people of Damfront as governor of their city.

It happened, however, that Beauclerc was soon tempted from the government of Damfront. His high reputation for intellect and decision filled the mind of Rufus with jealousy, and the Red King, deeming, perhaps, that his gifted brother would be much less likely to work mischief under his own eye than when rambling about Europe and ready to head any movement promising a change of fortune, expressed his desire for a reconciliation. Beauclerc, who perfectly comprehended the motives of Rufus, calculated his chances, and, trusting to the chapter of accidents, came to England.

Beauclerc now suffered all the inconveniences likely, in the eleventh century, to surround a prince without land and without money. Even for abilities he got no credit; he was sneered at as "having little in him." He was fond of the chase; and, having no horses, he was forced when hunting to follow the game on foot, but such was his speed that the courtiers of the Red King surnamed him "Deersfoot." Beauclerc, however, bore all inconveniences and taunts with patience; perhaps, remembering the paternal assurance that, after his brothers', his turn would surely come, he hoped he might, by patience, conquer adversity. If so, he was not doomed to disappointment. It has been remarked that generally there is in human affairs an extreme point of depression, from which they naturally ascend in an opposite direction; and Beauclerc's case was not to prove any exception to the general rule.