Stories of the Olden Time Part 17

1. In the north of Scotland, where the cliffs bordering Moray Firth face the auroral heavens, are two ancient towns, Inverness and Forres, whose names are immortalized in Shakespeare's great tragedy of Macbeth, for it is in their vicinity that most of its scenes are laid.

2. It is a wild, lonely country, and must have been wilder and lonelier still eight hundred years ago, when from the neighboring Norway coast the black boats of the vikings, or North Sea rovers, used to come flocking into the quiet harbors of Moray and Cromarty Firths, like so many swift birds of prey swooping suddenly in from the gray horizon, s.n.a.t.c.hing their plunder and flitting away on never-resting wings only to return in greater numbers and depart with richer booty.

3. In 1033-1039, when the sons of Canute the Dane were wearing the English crown, and not long after a few of the roving Nors.e.m.e.n had drifted away to plant a little history and a great mystery across the wide Atlantic, there reigned in Scotland a king by the name of Duncan MacCrinan. Among his n.o.bles was a certain Macbeth, Thane of Glamis, about whom a great many stories are told, some of which would no doubt have made their subject open his eyes, for if we may credit the sober historians he was rather respectable than otherwise, and probably slept much better o' nights than Mr. Shakespeare would have us believe. It is even said that he made a pilgrimage to Rome and saw the Pope, which certainly ought to establish his virtue to anybody's satisfaction.

4. At all events he was a brave soldier and able general, and Duncan naturally thought that he had the right man in the right place when he gave him command of the royal army and sent him off to drive out Thorfinn and Thorkell, two Norse chiefs who had come over to conquer Scotland.

5. Macbeth had wedded a lady named Grnoch MacBdhe, which made him cousin to the king, and very likely put strange notions into his head, even if they never were there before. He was what we call "a rising man," and so, having gloriously defeated Thorfinn and Thorkell, or, some say, making them allies, he gloriously turned around and made war upon Duncan MacCrinan. In this struggle Duncan was killed or mortally wounded near Elgin, on Moray Firth, and Macbeth usurped the throne.

6. Others claim that Thorfinn had conquered that part of Scotland, that Macbeth was his va.s.sal and merely fulfilled his duty to his over-lord in repelling an invasion by Duncan, in which the latter deservedly met the common fate of war.

7. It is very difficult to learn the real truth about people who lived before history was anything more than oral tradition, because, as in the case of Macbeth, a great many legends gradually cl.u.s.tered about their names, which were not committed to writing until many, many years after the events actually occurred. The very earliest Scotch writing ever discovered is only a charter, and is dated 1095, more than fifty years after Duncan was "in his grave," and it was more than three hundred years later that a Scotch prior, named Androwe of Wyntonne, wrote a long historical poem which he called an Orygynale Cronykil of Scotland. In it he relates the story of Macbeth and the three witches, and the murder of Duncan, though he says that Macbeth afterward made a very wise and just king, whose reign of seventeen years was marked by great abundance, and by royal almsgiving and zeal for "holy kirk."

8. But a Latin history of Scotland, written about a hundred years before Shakespeare by an Aberdeen professor, and translated into English under the t.i.tle of Holinshed's Chronicle, supplied the great dramatist with his plot, though it suited his purpose to combine the true story of Macbeth with the murder of an earlier king. Then, adding a great deal about ghosts and witches, and, above all, breathing into these dry, long-dead mummies the quickening breath of genius, the immortal playwright recreated a Macbeth who seems a far more real and living character than many of our contemporaries.

9. By whatever means Macbeth secured the throne, history and fiction agree as to the manner of his losing it. Duncan's sons, in reality mere infants at their father's death, were hurried away by their friends, and Malcolm, the elder, was committed to his mother's brother, Siward, Earl of Northumbria, who in good time aided his young kinsman to recover his birthright.

10. Macbeth, notwithstanding his prosperous reign, was regarded as a usurper, and was consequently very unpopular with the loyal Scotch, who, though proud and quarrelsome, were always devotedly true where they recognized an obligation of fealty. So when Malcolm returned they flocked around the beloved young heir, and defeated his enemy at Dunsinane, though Macbeth was not killed at this place, as Shakespeare says, but fled across the Grampians to rally at Lumphanan. Here he was slain and the victorious Malcolm--called in history Malcolm Canmore--now went to Scone and was crowned upon a famous stone, believed by the Scotch to be the same that Jacob used for his pillow.

It is certainly the one that Edward I of England afterward took away and made the seat of the coronation chair at Westminster Abbey, where it is still to be seen.

11. But, like many another evil that has been wrought before now, Macbeth's treason resulted in the ultimate good of his country; for Malcolm, during his long exile, had become accustomed to the superior civilization of the English, and now introduced many improvements among his subjects. Having known, too, the sorrows of a fugitive, he welcomed to his court the Saxon princes fleeing from Norman William, among whom was Margaret Atheling, the gentle granddaughter of Edmund Ironsides, who became his bride, and whose winning graces went far toward refining the rude manners of the warlike Scots. One of their sons was the saintly King David, who founded Melrose Abbey, and who is said to have been to Scotland "all that Alfred was to England, and more than Louis was to France."

12. Another n.o.ble, called Banquo, seems to have had some part in Duncan's overthrow, but as the play of Macbeth was written in the reign of James I, who was a Scot and traced his descent back to Banquo, it was not deemed prudent or polite to represent the character in an unflattering light; so he was pictured as n.o.ble and incorruptible, and was so unfortunate, poor man, as to have to be murdered to make the story end well.

13. Sir Walter Scott, in his "Tales of a Grandfather," gives us a story differing little from the outline of Shakespeare's drama, but then, who that has spent enraptured hours over Rob Roy and the Black Dwarf could wish the charming wizard to spoil a good story for the sake of mere historical exactness? not I, surely! And the Macbeth of history, no matter how zealously we may try to discover him, or how faithfully we may attempt, at this late day, to reconstruct his damaged reputation, he can never be to us anything better than a very misty tradition. Whatever he may have been eight hundred years ago, the Macbeth _we_ know, the only real Macbeth there is or ever can be, is after all the one that met the witches in the thunder-storm on Forres Heath and then went home and murdered the gentle old king who "had so much blood in him," and a moment later, startled by the knocking at the gate, exclaimed in bitterest remorse: "Wake Duncan with thy knocking! I would thou could'st!"

14. If you read this scene in the silent hours when every one else in the house is sleeping, you will almost believe that you murdered Duncan yourself, and that you hear Lady Macbeth's hoa.r.s.e whisper in your ear: "To bed, to bed, there's knocking at the gate. Come, come, come, come, give me your hand. What's done can not be undone. To bed, to bed, to bed."

15. Then you will shut the book in sudden terror of the lonely midnight, and scramble into bed with the blood curdling in your veins, and presently, aided by the darkness, your imagination will bridge the gulf of centuries, and you will seem to see a long vaulted hall in a mediaeval palace, and in the hall a banquet spread, around which gather lords of high degree, while on the canopied dais at the upper end sit King Macbeth and his white-haired, pitiless, guilty queen. And from the rainy outer darkness you may catch the faint echo of a mortal cry: "Fly, good Fleance, fly, fly, fly!" And then as you picture the king stepping down from his royal seat to meet a blood-stained murderer at the door, you will have a momentary glimpse of Banquo lying in the roadside ditch "with twenty trenched gashes in his head," and of Fleance speeding away alone through the stormy night.

_XL.--DUKE WILLIAM OF NORMANDY._

1. Now Duke William was in his park at Rouen, and in his hands he held a bow ready strung, for he was going hunting, and many knights and squires with him. And behold, there came to the gate a messenger from England; and he went straight to the duke and drew him aside, and told him secretly how King Edward's life had come to an end, and Harold had been made king in his stead. And when the duke had heard the tidings, and understood all that was come to pa.s.s, those that looked upon him perceived that he was greatly enraged, for he forsook the chase, and went in silence, speaking no word to any man, clasping and unclasping his cloak, neither dared any man speak to him; but he crossed over the Seine in a boat, and went to his hall, and sat down on a bench; and he covered his face with his mantle, and leaned down his head, and there he abode, turning about restlessly for one hour after another in gloomy thought. And none dared speak a word to him, but they spake to one another, saying: "What ails the duke? Why bears he such a mien?"

2. "That is it that troubles me," said the duke. "I grieve because Edward is dead, and that Harold has done me a wrong; for he has taken my kingdom who was bound to me by oath and promise." To these words answered Fitz-Osbern the bold: "Sir, tarry not, but make ready with speed to avenge yourself on Harold, who has been disloyal to you; for if you lack not courage, there will be left no land to Harold. Summon all whom you may summon, cross the sea and seize his lands; for no brave man should begin a matter and not carry it on to the end."

3. Then William sent messengers to Harold to call upon him to keep the oath that he had sworn; but Harold replied in scorn that he would not marry his daughter, nor give up his land to him. And William sent to him his defiance; but Harold answered that he feared him not, and he drove all the Normans out of the land, with their wives and children, for King Edward had given them lands and castles, but Harold chased them out of the country; neither would he let one remain. And at Christmas he took the crown, but it would have been well for himself and his land if he had not been crowned, since for the kingdom he perjured himself, and his reign lasted but a short s.p.a.ce.

4. Then Duke William called together his barons, and told them all his will, and how Harold had wronged him, and that he would cross the sea and revenge himself; but without their aid he could not gather men enough, nor a large navy; therefore, he would know of each one of them how many men and ships he would bring. And they prayed for leave to take counsel together, and the duke granted their request. And their deliberations lasted long, for many complained that their burdens were heavy, and some said that they would bring ships and cross the sea with the duke, and others said they would not go, for they were in debt and poor. Thus some would and some would not, and there was great contention between them.

5. Then Fitz-Osbern came to them and said: "Wherefore dispute you, sirs? Ye should not fail your natural lord when he goes seeking honors. Ye owe him service for your fiefs, and where ye owe service ye should serve with all your power. Ask not delay, nor wait until he prays you; but go before, and offer him more than you can do. Let him not lament that his enterprise failed for your remissness." But they answered: "Sir, we fear the sea, and we owe no service across the sea. Speak for us, we pray you, and answer in our stead. Say what you will, and we will abide by your words." "Will ye all leave yourselves to me?" he said. And each one answered: "Yes. Let us go to the duke, and you shall speak for us."

6. And Fitz-Osbern turned himself about and went before him to the duke, and spoke for them, and he said: "Sir, no lord has such men as you have, and who will do so much for their lord's honor, and you ought to love and keep them well. For you they say they would be drowned in the sea or thrown into the fire. You may trust them well, for they have served you long and followed you at great cost. And if they have done well, they will do better; for they will pa.s.s the sea with you, and will double their service. For he who should bring twenty knights will gladly bring forty, and he who should serve you thirty will bring sixty, and he from whom one hundred is due will willingly bring two hundred. And I, in loving loyalty, will bring in my lord's business sixty ships, well arrayed and laden with fighting men."

7. But the barons marveled at him, and murmured aloud at the words that he spake and the promises he made, for which they had given him no warrant. And many contradicted him, and there arose a noise and loud disturbance among them; for they feared that if they doubled their service it would become a custom, and be turned into a feudal right. And the noise and outcry became so great that a man could not hear what his fellow said. Then the duke went aside, for the noise displeased him, and sent for the barons one by one, and spoke to each one of the greatness of the enterprise, and that if they would double their service, and do freely more than their due, it should be well for them, and that he would never make it a custom, nor require of them any service more than was the usage of the country, and such as their ancestors had paid to their lord. Then each one said he would do it, and he told how many ships he would bring, and the duke had them all written down in brief. Bishop Odo, his brother, brought him forty ships, and the Bishop of Le Mans prepared thirty, with their mariners and pilots. And the duke prayed his neighbors of Brittany, Anjou, and Maine, Ponthieu, and Boulogne, to aid him in this business; and he promised them lands if England were conquered, and rich gifts and large pay. Thus from all sides came soldiers to him.

8. Then he showed the matter to his lord the King of France, and he sought him at St. Germer, and found him there; and he said that he would aid him, so that by his aid he won his right, he would hold England from him and serve him for it. But the king answered that he would not aid him, neither with his will should he pa.s.s the sea; for the French prayed him not to aid him, saying he was too strong already, and that if he let him add riches from over the sea to his lands of Normandy and all his good knights, there would never be peace. "And when England shall be conquered," said they, "you will hear no more of his service. He pays little service now, but then it will be less. The more he has, the less he will do."

9. So the duke took leave of the king, and came away in a rage, saying: "Sir, I go to do the best I can, and if G.o.d will that I gain my right you shall see me no more but for evil. And if I fail, and the English can defend themselves, my children shall inherit my lands, and thou shalt not conquer them. Living or dead, I fear no menace!"

10. Then the duke sent to Rome clerks that were skilled in speech, and they told the Pope how Harold had sworn falsely, and that Duke William promised that if he conquered England he would hold it of St.

Peter. And the Pope sent him a standard and a very precious ring, and underneath the stone there was, it is said, a hair of St. Peter's. And about that time there appeared a great star shining in the south with very long rays, such a star as is seen when a kingdom is about to have a new king. I have spoken with many men who saw it, and those who are cunning in the stars call it a comet.

11. Then the duke called together carpenters and ship-builders, and in all the ports of Normandy there was sawing of planks and carrying of wood, spreading of sails and setting up of masts, with great labor and industry. Thus all the summer long and through the month of August they made ready the fleet and a.s.sembled the men; for there was no knight in all the land, nor any good sergeant, nor archer, nor any peasant of good courage, of age to fight, whom the duke did not summon to go with him to England.

12. When the ships were ready, they were anch.o.r.ed in the Somme at St.

Valery. And as the renown of the duke went abroad there came to him soldiers one by one or two by two, and the duke kept them with him, and promised them much. And some asked for lands in England, and others pay and large gifts. But I will not write down what barons, knights, and soldiers the duke had in his company; but I have heard my father say (I remember it well, though I was but a boy) that there were seven hundred ships, save four, when they left St. Valery--ships, and boats, and little skiffs. But I found it written (I know not the truth) that there were three thousand ships carrying sails and masts.

13. And at St. Valery they tarried long for a favorable wind, and the barons grew weary with waiting; and they prayed those of the convent to bring out to the camp the shrine of St. Valery, and they came to it and prayed they might cross the sea, and they offered money till all the holy body was covered with it, and the same day there sprang up a favorable wind. Then the duke put a lantern on the mast of his ship, that the other ships might see it and keep their course near, and an ensign of gilded copper on the top; and at the head of the ships, which mariners call the prow, there was a child made of copper holding a bow and arrow, and he had his face toward England, and seemed about to shoot.

14. Thus the ships came to port, and they all arrived together and anch.o.r.ed together on the beach, and together they all disembarked. And it was near Hastings, and the ships lay side by side. And the good sailors and sergeants and esquires sprang out, and cast anchor, and fastened the ships with ropes; and they brought out their shields and saddles, and led forth the horses.

15. The archers were the first to come to land, every one with his bow and his quiver and arrows by his side, all shaven and dressed in short tunics, ready for battle and of good courage; and they searched all the beach, but no armed man could they find. When they were issued forth, then came the knights in armor, with helmet laced and shield on neck, and together they came to the sand and mounted their war-horses; and they had their swords at their sides, and rode with lances raised.

The barons had their standards and the knights their pennons. After them came the carpenters, with their axes in their hands and their tools hanging by their side. And when they came to the archers and to the knights they took counsel together, and brought wood from the ships and fastened it together with bolts and bars, and before the evening was well come they had made themselves a strong fort. And they lighted fires and cooked food, and the duke and his barons and knights sat down to eat; and they all ate and drank plentifully and rejoiced that they were come to land.

16. When the duke came forth of his ship he fell on his hands to the ground, and there rose a great cry, for all said it was an evil sign; but he cried aloud: "Lords, I have seized the land with my two hands, and will never yield it. All is ours." Then a man ran to land and laid his hand upon a cottage, and took a handful of the thatch, and returned to the duke. "Sir," said he, "take seizin of the land; yours is the land without doubt." Then the duke commanded the mariners to draw all the ships to land and pierce holes in them and break them to pieces, for they should never return by the way they had come.

_"Belt and Spur," Stories of the Old Knights._

_XLI.--THE NORMAN CONQUEST._

1. Poor old Edward the Confessor, holy, weak, and sad, lay in his new choir of Westminster--where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest. The crowned ascetic had left no heir behind.

England seemed as a corpse, to which all the eagles might gather together; and the South-English, in their utter need, had chosen for their king the ablest, and it may be the justest, man in Britain--Earl Harold G.o.dwinson: himself, like half the upper cla.s.ses of England then, of all-dominant Norse blood; for his mother was a Danish princess.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Edward the Confessor's Tomb._]

2. Then out of Norway, with a mighty host, came Harold Hardraade, taller than all men, the ideal Viking of his time. He had been away to Russia to King Jaroslaf; he had been in the Emperor's Varanger guard at Constantinople--and, it was whispered, had slain a lion there with his bare hands; he had carved his name and his comrades' in Runic characters--if you go to Venice you may see them at this day--on the loins of the great marble lion, which stood in his time not in Venice but in Athens. And now, King of Norway and conqueror, for the time, of Denmark, why should he not take England, as Sweyn and Canute took it sixty years before, when the flower of the English gentry perished at the fatal battle of a.s.singdune? If he and his half-barbarous host had conquered, the civilization of Britain would have been thrown back, perhaps, for centuries. But it was not to be.

3. England _was_ to be conquered by the Normans; but by the civilized, not the barbaric; by the Norse who had settled, but four generations before, in the northeast of France under Rou, Rollo, Rolf the Ganger, so called, they say, because his legs were so long that, when on horseback, he touched the ground and seemed to gang, or walk. He and his Nors.e.m.e.n had taken their share of France, and called it Normandy to this day; and meanwhile, with that docility and adaptability which marks so often truly great spirits, they changed their creed, their language, their habits, and had become, from heathen and murderous Berserkers, the most truly civilized people in Europe, and--as was most natural then--the most faithful allies and servants of the Pope of Rome. So greatly had they changed, and so fast, that William Duke of Normandy, the great-great grandson of Rolf the wild Viking, was perhaps the finest gentleman, as well as the most cultivated sovereign and the greatest statesman and warrior in Europe.

4. So Harold of Norway came with all his Vikings to Stamford Bridge by York; and took, by coming, only that which Harold of England promised him, namely, "forasmuch as he was taller than any other man, seven feet of English ground."

5. The story of that great battle, told with a few inaccuracies, but as only great poets tell, you should read, if you have not read it already, in the "Heimskringla" of Snorri Sturluson, the Homer of the North:

High feast that day held the birds of the air and the beasts of the field, White-tailed erm and sallow glede, Dusky raven, with h.o.r.n.y neb, And the gray deer the wolf of the wood.

The bones of the slain, men say, whitened the place for fifty years to come.

6. And remember that on the same day on which that fight befell--September 27, 1066--William, Duke of Normandy, with all his French-speaking Nors.e.m.e.n, was sailing across the British Channel, under the protection of a banner consecrated by the Pope, to conquer that England which the Norse-speaking Normans could not conquer.