The Little Duke [43]
Raven has spread its wings. Fifty keels are in the Seine, and Harald Blue-tooth's Long Serpent at the head of them."
"The King of Denmark! Come to my aid!"
"Ay, that he is! Come at Bernard's secret call, to right you, and put you on your father's seat. Now call honest Harcourt a traitor, because he gave not up your fair dukedom to the flame and sword!"
"No traitor to me," said Richard, pausing. "No, verily, but what more would you say?"
"I think, when I come to my dukedom, I will not be so politic," said Richard. "I will be an open friend or an open foe."
"The boy grows too sharp for us," said Sir Eric, smiling, "but it was spoken like his father."
"He grows more like his blessed father each day," said Fru Astrida.
"But the Danes, father, the Danes!" said Osmond. "Blows will be passing now. I may join the host and win my spurs?"
"With all my heart," returned the Baron, "so my Lord here gives you leave: would that I could leave him and go with you. It would do my very spirit good but to set foot in a Northern keel once more."
"I would fain see what these men of the North are," said Osmond.
"Oh! they are only Danes, not Norsemen, and there are no Vikings, such as once were when Ragnar laid waste--"
"Son, son, what talk is this for the child's ears?" broke in Fru Astrida, "are these words for a Christian Baron?"
"Your pardon, mother," said the grey warrior, in all humility, "but my blood thrills to hear of a Northern fleet at hand, and to think of Osmond drawing sword under a Sea-King."
The next morning, Osmond's steed was led to the door, and such men- at-arms as could be spared from the garrison of Senlis were drawn up in readiness to accompany him. The boys stood on the steps, wishing they were old enough to be warriors, and wondering what had become of him, until at length the sound of an opening door startled them, and there, in the low archway of the smithy, the red furnace glowing behind him, stood Osmond, clad in bright steel, the links of his hauberk reflecting the light, and on his helmet a pair of golden wings, while the same device adorned his long pointed kite-shaped shield.
"Your wings! our wings!" cried Richard, "the bearing of Centeville!"
"May they fly after the foe, not before him," said Sir Eric. "Speed thee well, my son--let not our Danish cousins say we learn Frank graces instead of Northern blows."
With such farewells, Osmond quitted Senlis, while the two boys hastened to the battlements to watch him as long as he remained in view.
The highest tower became their principal resort, and their eyes were constantly on the heath where he had disappeared; but days passed, and they grew weary of the watch, and betook themselves to games in the Castle court.
One day, Alberic, in the character of a Dragon, was lying on his back, panting hard so as to be supposed to cast out volumes of flame and smoke at Richard, the Knight, who with a stick for a lance, and a wooden sword, was waging fierce war; when suddenly the Dragon paused, sat up, and pointed towards the warder on the tower. His horn was at his lips, and in another moment, the blast rang out through the Castle.
With a loud shout, both boys rushed headlong up the turret stairs, and came to the top so breathless, that they could not even ask the warder what he saw. He pointed, and the keen-eyed Alberic exclaimed, "I see! Look, my Lord, a speck there on the heath!"
"I do not see! where, oh where?"
"He is behind the hillock now, but--oh, there again! How fast he comes!"
"It is like the flight of a bird," said Richard, "fast, fast--"
"If only it be not flight in earnest," said Alberic, a little anxiously, looking into the warder's face, for he was a borderer, and tales of terror of the inroad of the Vicomte du Contentin were rife on the marches of the Epte.
"No, young Sir," said the warder, "no fear of that. I know how men ride when they flee from the battle."
"No, indeed, there is no discomfiture in the pace of that steed," said Sir Eric, who had by this time joined them.
"The King of Denmark! Come to my aid!"
"Ay, that he is! Come at Bernard's secret call, to right you, and put you on your father's seat. Now call honest Harcourt a traitor, because he gave not up your fair dukedom to the flame and sword!"
"No traitor to me," said Richard, pausing. "No, verily, but what more would you say?"
"I think, when I come to my dukedom, I will not be so politic," said Richard. "I will be an open friend or an open foe."
"The boy grows too sharp for us," said Sir Eric, smiling, "but it was spoken like his father."
"He grows more like his blessed father each day," said Fru Astrida.
"But the Danes, father, the Danes!" said Osmond. "Blows will be passing now. I may join the host and win my spurs?"
"With all my heart," returned the Baron, "so my Lord here gives you leave: would that I could leave him and go with you. It would do my very spirit good but to set foot in a Northern keel once more."
"I would fain see what these men of the North are," said Osmond.
"Oh! they are only Danes, not Norsemen, and there are no Vikings, such as once were when Ragnar laid waste--"
"Son, son, what talk is this for the child's ears?" broke in Fru Astrida, "are these words for a Christian Baron?"
"Your pardon, mother," said the grey warrior, in all humility, "but my blood thrills to hear of a Northern fleet at hand, and to think of Osmond drawing sword under a Sea-King."
The next morning, Osmond's steed was led to the door, and such men- at-arms as could be spared from the garrison of Senlis were drawn up in readiness to accompany him. The boys stood on the steps, wishing they were old enough to be warriors, and wondering what had become of him, until at length the sound of an opening door startled them, and there, in the low archway of the smithy, the red furnace glowing behind him, stood Osmond, clad in bright steel, the links of his hauberk reflecting the light, and on his helmet a pair of golden wings, while the same device adorned his long pointed kite-shaped shield.
"Your wings! our wings!" cried Richard, "the bearing of Centeville!"
"May they fly after the foe, not before him," said Sir Eric. "Speed thee well, my son--let not our Danish cousins say we learn Frank graces instead of Northern blows."
With such farewells, Osmond quitted Senlis, while the two boys hastened to the battlements to watch him as long as he remained in view.
The highest tower became their principal resort, and their eyes were constantly on the heath where he had disappeared; but days passed, and they grew weary of the watch, and betook themselves to games in the Castle court.
One day, Alberic, in the character of a Dragon, was lying on his back, panting hard so as to be supposed to cast out volumes of flame and smoke at Richard, the Knight, who with a stick for a lance, and a wooden sword, was waging fierce war; when suddenly the Dragon paused, sat up, and pointed towards the warder on the tower. His horn was at his lips, and in another moment, the blast rang out through the Castle.
With a loud shout, both boys rushed headlong up the turret stairs, and came to the top so breathless, that they could not even ask the warder what he saw. He pointed, and the keen-eyed Alberic exclaimed, "I see! Look, my Lord, a speck there on the heath!"
"I do not see! where, oh where?"
"He is behind the hillock now, but--oh, there again! How fast he comes!"
"It is like the flight of a bird," said Richard, "fast, fast--"
"If only it be not flight in earnest," said Alberic, a little anxiously, looking into the warder's face, for he was a borderer, and tales of terror of the inroad of the Vicomte du Contentin were rife on the marches of the Epte.
"No, young Sir," said the warder, "no fear of that. I know how men ride when they flee from the battle."
"No, indeed, there is no discomfiture in the pace of that steed," said Sir Eric, who had by this time joined them.