The Siege of Norwich Castle Part 34

Leofric let his great nerveless hand fall listlessly beside him again.

'Thou art the best leech in the world, cousin,' he murmured, and closed his eyes again.

Eadgyth hurried away to the bower.

The days that followed were like an evil dream for all in the castle.

The deadly monotony let them note clearly how, hour by hour, death was creeping nearer.

The mangonels and warrewolves were busy at their work, and the din of their projectiles was ever in the ears of the besieged. But these were not what they feared. These could but splinter a fragment off a stone here and there, but could make no dangerous breach in walls thirteen feet thick; besides, wooden galleries had been projected from the battlements, through which the defenders poured scalding rain of boiling water and molten lead upon the engineers, and so prevented any lengthened attack upon a given spot.

No; the enemy they feared was _Famine_! She stared them in the face.

Day by day more nearly her awful ghoulish eyes came nearer, and the grip of her bony hands was at their throats.

And still the warders scanned the horizon vainly, in hope to see the glimmer of friendly armour, still vainly watched the river for the flash of friendly oars.

Day after day dragged its slow length along, and yet the position remained unchanged, save that the a.s.sailants had almost given up effort, and quietly surrounded them, biding their time, knowing well that it must come if only no relief appeared.

The garrison had long been reduced to the barest rations on which it was possible to sustain life, and the few poor horses which had been taken into the keep, in the hope of some happy chance making their services available, had shared the fate of their brethren.

Gaunt faces and spectre forms dragged wearily from post to post, and strange thoughts flitted across hungry brains when slain men had to be buried in the donjon vaults. If one were to eat a body now, what would happen at the last day? Would it be more difficult for the soul that needed it again than for those whose flesh had been food for worms in the usual way? Would the men who had partaken of the flesh, and incorporated it into their own bodies, have to give it up again when the time of resurrection had arrived, and go scant themselves? Then they shuddered and crossed themselves, and muttered an ave or a paternoster, shunning the hungry eyes of their neighbour, lest he should guess their thoughts, or be thinking like horribleness himself, while they buckled their belts tighter to stay their pangs.

The countess, worn to a shadow, with her arm still bandaged,--for the worry and care she had undergone had hurt her health and kept her wound from healing,--was ever among them, consoling, entreating, commanding, inventing all manner of comforts for their souls and their bodies. She it was who prompted the cooks to make dainty dishes out of most unlikely materials; who sang the song of Rollo as she pa.s.sed on her way, and kept up their hearts with gay jests.

One day an archer had the good fortune to shoot a heron that was flapping with evenly beating wings across the sky, so that it fell fluttering upon the roof of the keep, and was soon killed and presented by the lucky marksman to the countess, as a fit tribute to her private table, the fare on which, as all knew, had been poor enough for some time past.

She thanked the stout bowman heartily, but bade him follow her, and led the way to the great kitchen. Then she bade the scullions pluck the n.o.ble bird; and, after that was done, put it with her own white hands into the great cauldron which was cooking for the men.

'Share and share alike,' she said; and the soldiers cheered her, so that the king's men heard it outside the walls, and wondered what good luck could have come to their prisoners.

One morning Eadgyth met her kinsman, Leofric Ealdredsson, who had so far recovered from his wounds as to be able to keep watch and ward, and to see that the sentinels did their duty. His face bore traces of violent agitation.

'Well met, coosine,' cried he; 'I wanted to see thee. Keep thy lady off the battlements to-day, and go not thither thyself.'

Eadgyth looked in his face, and trembled. 'Thou hast bad news. I will heed thy warning. But wherefore? Is aught more terrible than we daily witness to be seen?'

'By Odin and Thor, yes! It bears not the telling.'

'Oh, Leofric, invoke not those dreadful pagan names in such an hour!

Pray rather to the holy saints.'

'If thou wouldst take me in hand, a good man might perchance be made of me, coosine,' said the wild Leofric, with a laugh half tender and half bitter.

Eadgyth shook her head.

'But thou hast sorely alarmed me, Leofric. I would rather know the worst.'

'Well, the countess must know some time; perhaps it were better told through thee. This, then, is the sight to be seen from the battlements, and it is ugly as sin.' The veins on his forehead swelled, and his strong throat gathered into knots, while his fingers clenched on the hilt of his dagger. 'A tall gallows, right close under our noses, and three men hanged thereon; with an inscription over them, "The traitor Breton's traitor messengers."'

Eadgyth clasped her hands. 'The earl has sent, and they have caught his men!'

'That's it;' and Leofric murmured a few wishes regarding the king's men that at the least were uncharitable. 'Further, one of the men is the poor fool Grillonne--a quick-witted rascal as ever was called wise--he who saved his master so cleverly after the battle.'

'Grillonne! What! Grillonne so entreated?' exclaimed Eadgyth, with a shudder. 'But that will be a sore blow to the earl when he comes to know it. Art thou sure?'

'Ay; the knave's face was one not easily mistaken,' said Leofric.

Eadgyth hurried to the bower, and told the countess what she had heard.

'But it is good news, it is great news!' cried Emma, with sparkling eyes. 'Ralph is alive, and trying to help us! Alacke! I grieve for the poor envoys and Grillonne. Ah, 'tis sad such a fate has befallen him, the poor honest fool! his quick wits have not saved him after all.'

Emma was right, it proved to be good news, for Earl Warrenne and his colleagues, before hanging the messengers, had extracted from them the intelligence that Ralph de Guader had collected a great force in Bretagne and amongst the Danes, and that he was coming to the relief of his beleaguered castle. A day or two later they called a parley, and offered safe-conduct to the whole garrison, without exception, on condition that they left England within forty days, counting from the day on which they surrendered the castle.

Emma would fain have held out still, hoping that the earl was on his way to relieve them; but she had no certain knowledge of his movements, and the famine was so direful that even the fire-eating Leofric was obliged to counsel her to accept the terms.

'It is a victory!' exclaimed Sir Hoel, moved almost to tears; 'and we owe it to thy haught spirit and determined courage, n.o.ble countess. Thy name shall be famous in days to come.'

So the garrison were called together into the great hall, and told how that their lives were saved, and that they were to march out of Castle Blauncheflour with banners flying, and all the honours of war, instead of having their feet cut off like poor Stephen le Hareau and the other prisoners the king's men had taken; and the men, who had looked forward to certain ill-fortune for themselves, whatever might betide their superiors, thought it a victory also.

How the hall rang with cheers, and congratulations, and praise of the countess! Norman and Breton, Saxon and Dane, raised what voices hunger had left them, and verily they shouted l.u.s.tily, notwithstanding a light breakfast.

The countess stood amongst them, sobbing like a child.

'No praise is due to me; it is all to you, my gallant defenders.'

So the answer went back to Earl William de Warrenne that the keys of Castle Blauncheflour should be surrendered on the morrow.

Then all the garrison attended a 'Te Deum' in the chapel of St.

Nicholas.

Afterwards, when the knights had again a.s.sembled in the great hall, the countess said,--

'Leofric Ealdredsson, these gentlemen, thy comrades in arms, shame themselves that they should wear the belt and spurs while one who has fought so knightly should not claim them. We well know thou hast them not solely because thou wert too careless to claim them, but I would not have thee leave Blauncheflour undubbed.'

Leofric's pale hunger-eaten cheeks turned red with pleasure.

'If the men who have fought with me here esteem me peer, I will not reject the honour,' he answered; at which the hall rang with cheers.

Then said the countess, smiling, 'Wilt thou have thine accolade in our Norman fashion, from the hands of a knight, and take Sir Hoel de St.

Brice for thy sponsor, or, in the way of thine own people, at the hands of Father Pierre?'

'Nay,' quoth the turbulent hero, 'there is a better way than either.

Many a good man has taken his knighthood from the hands of a maiden.

Let my fair kinswoman, thy bower-maiden, stand sponsor to me;' and he turned appealingly to Eadgyth.

'A truce to thy jests, Leofric Ealdredsson, this is no time for them!'

answered Eadgyth sharply, fingering the bracelet she always wore upon her arm.

'By the Rood, I mean no jest, coosine! Jourdain took his knighthood from the hands of his lady; why not I from thee?'