Danes, Saxons and Normans; or, Stories of our ancestors

XXXVII.
FITZOSBORNE AND DE GAEL

One day in the course of the year 1074, when William the Conqueror was in Normandy fighting with his Continental foes, and while Archbishop Lanfranc governed England in the king's absence, a great marriage took place in the castle of Norwich. Many guests of high rank were bidden; and the occasion was rendered memorable by the circumstance that the feast with which it was celebrated proved fatal to almost every individual who happened to be present.

About the year 1073, William Fitzosborne, the Conqueror's famous comrade in arms, departed this life, leaving two sons, named William and Roger, and a daughter, named Emma. William, succeeding to his father's lands in Normandy, was known as Lord of Breteuil; Roger, inheriting his father's English possessions, became Earl of Hereford; and Emma was sought in marriage by a young Breton, who figured as Earl of Norfolk, and naturally felt ambitious of allying himself with the high Norman nobility. But a union between Ralph de Gael and the daughter of Fitzosborne did not meet with the Conqueror's approval. In fact, William set his face decidedly against the matrimonial project, and, being at the time in Normandy, sent a messenger to forbid, in the most peremptory tone, the celebration of the marriage.

The interference of William was more than the high spirit of Roger Fitzosborne could brook. He resolved at once to set the Conqueror's prohibition at defiance; and, on a day appointed for the wedding, conveyed his sister to Norwich.

The ceremony was performed with a pomp worthy of the rank of the parties; and when the feast was spread in the castle hall, Norman bishops, and lords of high degree, both Norman and Welsh, and ladies fair to look upon, gathered around the board. So far all went smoothly. But as dishes were carved and cups emptied the master of the feast and his guests became rapidly excited and frank to excess. The habitual respect displayed by the Norman nobles for the great war-chief who had led them to conquest and plunder vanished as wine flowed in abundance, and the two earls especially vociferated in a strain which caused many present to stare in silent surprise.

"What is this man?" asked Roger Fitzosborne, in accents of supreme contempt – "what is this man, who dictates who are to be the husbands of ladies descended from the comrades of Rollo? – A bastard, owing this kingdom to my father, to whose memory this interference is an insult."

"He is a bastard, and a man of low birth," cried the Normans. "He may call himself a king; but 'tis clear that he is not made for one, and that he is not agreeable in the sight of God."

"And," exclaimed the Saxons, "he invaded England, he massacred the legitimate heirs of our kings and nobles, or obliged them to expatriate themselves."

"What is worst of all," roared the military adventurers who had followed William's banner in hopes of high reward, "he has not honoured as he might those who came to his aid – those who raised him higher than any of his predecessors."

"Yes," cried others; "what has he given to us, the conquerors covered with wounds? Sterile tracts of land, of which he deprives us whenever he sees them improving."

"It is true!" shouted the guests, tumultuously; "the man is odious to all; his death would gladden the hearts of all. Let him die!"

After further vociferation, the two earls, several bishops and abbots, many Normans and Saxons, and the Welsh chieftains, bound themselves by oath to rise against William, and arranged to ask the aid of Sweyn, King of Denmark, to insure the success of their perilous project. Perhaps, with the morning, repentance came, and many rued the words they had spoken and the promises they had made over wine at the festive board. But it was too late to retreat; and the two earls, to lessen the danger of being betrayed, resolved on immediate action. Roger Fitzosborne hastened home to raise his banner at Hereford; and Ralph de Gael prepared to shorten his honeymoon, leave the company of his bride, and raise his banner at Cambridge.

On reaching the province of which he was earl, Roger Fitzosborne lost no time in rallying his friends around him. Not only did he gather the discontented Normans to his standard. The Welsh on the Marches rose at his summons, and, with wild and vague hopes of recovering independence, rushed with enthusiasm to his aid. Having assembled a force which he deemed sufficiently formidable to inspire foes with terror, he commenced his march eastward, with the intention of joining De Gael. But, on reaching the Severn, and attempting to pass that river by the bridge at Worcester, he found, somewhat to his surprise, that preparations had been made to stop his progress.

In fact, the conspirators at Norwich had not very faithfully kept their secret. By some means or other, Lanfranc had become acquainted with the whole project; and when in possession of such intelligence the great archbishop was not the man to sleep at his post. He despatched soldiers from London to throw themselves in Roger's path; and he so far made use of the spiritual artillery at his command as to level a sentence of excommunication against the Norman earl.

Meanwhile, the king's friends were not idle in the west. Walter de Lacy, a Norman baron, and Eghelwig, the Saxon abbot of Evesham, roused the people of the country to take arms against Roger Fitzosborne and his Welshmen; and the people, regarding the Welsh as their natural enemies, obeyed the call of Walter and Eghelwig, and crowded to the royal standard.

At length the royal soldiers and the insurgents met face to face. It was on the banks of the Severn that the hostile armies encountered and fought a sanguinary battle. The Welsh, however, were defeated, and with such slaughter that the river was crimsoned with their blood. Roger Fitzosborne was made prisoner, and with him many adherents were taken with arms in their hands. The chief was kept in secure custody till the Conqueror should decide what was to be his fate. But the inferior captives were summarily disposed of. Some were hung on gibbets, some had their eyes put out, and others underwent such mutilation as to render them incapable of further mischief.

While such disasters attended the adventure of Roger Fitzosborne on the Severn, Ralph de Gael did not yield to the temptation of lingering with his fair bride at Norwich. Leaving that city, the bold Breton encamped in the neighbourhood of Cambridge, and succeeded in alluring a multitude of Saxons to his standard. But Ralph de Gael's part of the enterprise proved little more successful than that of Roger Fitzosborne had been. While the Breton earl was still gathering men to his camp, William de Warren, with Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, and Geoffrey, Bishop of Coutance, took the field, and the insurgents found themselves menaced by a force decidedly superior to them in number. Not shrinking, however, from a conflict, they bravely faced the royal force at a place named Fagadon. There a stubborn battle was fought; but Ralph de Gael's men were completely defeated; and the chief escaped from the lost field, while many of his adherents were taken and treated with the utmost cruelty. Indeed, the victors are said to have been so merciless as to cut off the right foot of every captive, no matter what his rank or nation.

In the midst of this operation, Ralph de Gael had the fortune to reach Norwich. He threw himself into the citadel with some vague and desperate notions of defending himself to the last. Seeing, however, the impossibility of holding out, he left the fortress under the charge of his bride, and sailed to Brittany to implore the aid of his friends. The daughter of Fitzosborne made a brave defence, but her resistance proved vain. After a somewhat protracted struggle, the men-at-arms, seeing famine staring them in the face, recognised the necessity of yielding, and agreed, not only to surrender Norwich, but to leave England in case of their lives being spared. Almost every Breton who had come to England with the Conqueror was involved in the ruin of Ralph de Gael, and departed from the English shores. "Glory be to God in the highest!" Lanfranc wrote joyfully to King William, "your kingdom is freed from the filthy Bretons."

On returning to England, William, at Christmas, held a great council of barons, and dealt with the rebel chiefs. Both were condemned to lose their estates. De Gael, being absent, could not, of course, be punished in person; but Fitzosborne, who appeared before the assembly, was sentenced to perpetual imprisonment.

When matters had reached this stage, a son of Sweyn, King of Denmark, unaware of the ruin of those who had craved assistance, approached the eastern coast. But the Danes made no attempt to land. On learning what had happened they turned their helms towards Flanders, and left Fitzosborne to his fate.

But even captivity and chains could not break the strong spirit nor humble the haughty pride of Fitzosborne. Even in his dungeon he found a way of braving and insulting the king whom he had attempted to dethrone. One day, during Easter, the Conqueror, according to a Norman custom, sent him a magnificent suit of precious stuff, as if he had been at liberty. Fitzosborne received the vestments with a smile, examined the coat and mantle of silk, and handled the jacket, trimmed with foreign furs, as if highly pleased. Having done so, however, Roger ordered a fire to be kindled, and committed coat, mantle, and jacket to the flames.

"Thus," said he, "does the son of William Fitzosborne treat the gifts of the bastard to whom his father gave a crown."

"By the splendour of God!" exclaimed the Conqueror, boiling with anger, when informed of this scene, "the man who has thus insulted me shall never leave his prison alive."

XXXVIII.
WALTHEOF, SON OF SIWARD

Siward the Dane, when he expired at York, exhibiting his martial spirit to the last – clad, at his own request, in all the habiliments of war, with his helmet on his head, his coat of mail on his back, his gilt battle-axe in his hand, and that mystic banner, "The Raven of Earthly Terror," waving over his head – left, by his wife, the daughter of Earl Alred, one son to inherit his renown. The name of the son of Siward was Waltheof, and his career was anticipated with hope by the inhabitants of the provinces which his great father had ruled.

At the time of Siward's death, however, Waltheof was too young to succeed to Northumberland. Indeed, Tostig, as one of the sons of Godwin, immediately grasped at the earldom. Waltheof, however, soon began to figure as Earl of Huntingdon, and gave evidence of inheriting his father's courage and prowess in the conflicts of the Northumbrians with Tostig and Harold Hardrada.

After the battle of Hastings, Waltheof made his submission to the Conqueror. As a consequence, when William visited the Continent, the son of Siward was taken, with Edwin and Morkar, to grace the Conqueror's triumphant return to Rouen. But the sympathies of Waltheof were with the vanquished; and when the spirit of the country rose against the invaders he left London, and hurried northward, to take part in the operations of the Northumbrians. He was still very young; but, like his father, he was remarkable for his tall stature, his physical strength, and his strong arm; and the presence of the son of Siward was hailed with delight by those whom Siward had so often led.

When the Northumbrians, after the tragical death of Robert Comine, and the landing of the Danes, marched from Durham and besieged York, Waltheof performed prodigies of valour. Placing himself in ambuscade at one of the gates, battle-axe in hand, he fell upon some Normans who were attempting to escape, and laid twenty of them dead on the ground. A hundred men, who hoped to save themselves by flight, took refuge in a neighbouring wood; but Waltheof, who pursued them closely, was in no humour to allow them to escape.

"I will save myself further trouble," he said, "by setting the wood on fire."

Putting his threat immediately into execution, Waltheof gave the wood to the flames; and a Danish poet, who was also a warrior, celebrating Waltheof's deeds in verse, compared his valour to that of Odin, and congratulated him on having given the English wolves an ample repast on Norman corses.

When William was interrupted, while hunting in the Forest of Dean, with news of the outbreak beyond the Humber, and swore never again to lay aside his lance till he had slain all the Northumbrians, and marched suddenly with his choice troops to York, Waltheof once more fought like a hero of romance. Planting himself in a breach, through which only a single person could enter at a time, he cleft Norman after Norman with his ponderous battle-axe. His prowess on the occasion moved the admiration of his antagonists; and William was unable to refrain from expressions of surprise.

"By the Divine splendour!" he exclaimed, "I must make a friend of the man who dare do such deeds."

Accordingly a reconciliation was proposed; and a meeting was appointed at the Norman camp on the banks of the Tees. Everything went smoothly. Waltheof, in token of homage, placed his bare hand in that of the Conqueror, and William bestowed the earldoms of Huntingdon and Northampton on the son of Siward.

After this submission Waltheof received Judith, one of the Conqueror's nieces, in marriage, became the father of two children, and, after the deprivation of Cospatrick, had his highest ambition gratified by being installed as Earl of Northumberland. In that capacity the Anglo-Dane lived in the closest friendship with Vaulcher of Lorraine, Bishop of Durham. Sitting with Vaulcher in the synods of his clergy, Waltheof humbly and obediently put in execution the decrees of the bishop for reforming religion within the diocese. Nor did he by such conduct lose the favour of the English. All appeared prosperous; and Waltheof, united to the king's niece, and occupying his father's seat, enjoyed the favour of the Conqueror without having forfeited his popularity with the vanquished, when the conspiracy of Norwich, for which he cannot be considered to have been responsible, involved him in ruin and cost him his life.

On that day, when Norman counts, Saxon thanes, and Welsh chiefs assembled at Norwich to celebrate the marriage of Ralph de Gael with the daughter of William Fitzosborne, conspicuous, by his high head and gigantic stature appeared Waltheof, the Anglo-Dane. It would seem, however, that Waltheof took no part in the abuse lavished upon the uncle of his wife. But when the tumult was at the loudest, one of the Norman earls, rising suddenly, hushed the assembly to silence, and solemnly appealed to Waltheof to take part in the revolt.

"Brave man," said the earl, with that eloquence for which the Normans were so famous, "this is a great moment for your country; this is, for you, the hour of vengeance and fortune. Join us, and we will re-establish the kingdom of England in every respect as it was in the time of King Edward. One of us three shall be king, the other two shall command under him, and all lordships shall be held of us. William is occupied beyond sea; we are satisfied that he will not again cross the Channel. Now, brave warrior, adopt our plan; 'tis the best for thee, for thy family, and for thy crushed and fallen nation."

"It is! it is!" shouted the guests in chorus.

But Waltheof hesitated and remained silent. Warned by former failures, and with the fate of Edwin and Morkar before his mind's eye, he shrunk from embarking in an enterprise which he felt must terminate in disaster. At length he allowed himself so far to be drawn into the league that he promised secrecy.

It would seem, however, that Waltheof did not keep his word. The secret preyed on his mind. Uneasy, restless, and sleepless, he revealed the conspiracy first to his wife, Judith, and then to Archbishop Lanfranc. It is even said that he was persuaded by the primate to repair to Normandy and warn the Conqueror.

At all events, Waltheof did not escape punishment. When, in due time, the fleet invited from Denmark, commanded by the son of King Sweyn, approached the coast, Waltheof was accused of having invited the Danes over, lodged in the Castle of Winchester, and, ere long, brought to trial. He denied the charge. But the evidence given by Judith against her husband, whom she disliked, appeared conclusive, and the court was only divided in opinion as to the punishment to be inflicted.

"He deserves execution as a revolted Englishman," said some.

"No," argued others, "it should be perpetual imprisonment as a revolted officer of the king's."

While Waltheof remained a prisoner in the Castle of Winchester, his fate hung in the balance for nearly a year. But his enemies were eager for his destruction. Judith was eager to be a widow; Ivo Taille-Bois had set his heart on some of Waltheof's land which adjoined his own; and many Normans had a keen eye to the great earldom which had been enjoyed by the son of Siward. William did not resist the pressure, and sentence of death was pronounced.

The 29th of April, 1075, was appointed for the execution of Waltheof. But such was his popularity that the Normans apprehended an insurrection as the consequence of openly beheading him. It was, therefore, determined that the utmost secrecy should be observed. Before daybreak, accordingly, while the citizens of Winchester still slept, Norman officers, appearing in Waltheof's prison, informed him that his hour was come; and Waltheof, rising, arrayed himself in his earl's robes and walked forth to execution. Escorted by soldiers, attended by priests, and followed by some of the poor whose home was the street, the son of Siward directed his steps to a hill outside the city. On reaching this place, where the last scene was to be enacted, he prostrated himself on the ground, and, for a few moments, prayed in a low and earnest tone.

"Rise, that we may fulfil our orders," said the Normans, alarmed at the thought of the news spreading and a rescue being attempted.

"Wait," he replied calmly, "till I have said the Lord's Prayer for myself and for you."

"Yes," said they, consenting.

Waltheof, rising from his prostrate attitude, but remaining on his knees, said, in a loud voice, "Our Father, which art in Heaven." However, when he reached the words "lead us not into temptation," the executioner, growing impatient and uneasy, suddenly drew his large sword, waved it in the air, and with one blow severed the earl's head from his body. Alarmed at the approach of day, the Normans hastily dug a hole between two roads, threw in the body, and covered it with earth.

The possessions of Waltheof, and the earldom of Northampton, devolved upon Judith, his widow; and that lady consoled herself in her bereavement by regaling her imagination with the idea of sharing her wealth and power with a husband of her own choosing. But it soon appeared that in this respect the widow of Waltheof had made a serious miscalculation. William, in fact, without consulting her taste, destined her hand for Simon de Senlis, a French knight of unquestioned courage, but lame and somewhat deformed; and Judith expressed her utter horror of the match.

"What!" she exclaimed, "I marry a man who is lame and ill-shapen? Never!"

"As you will, madam," said the Conqueror, grimly; "but, at all events, Simon de Senlis shall be Earl of Northampton."

Meanwhile, the body of Waltheof was removed from the place where it had been hastily buried to the Abbey of Croyland, and interred in the chapter-house. Judith, disappointed in her hopes of a second husband, and mortified at the spectacle of Simon de Senlis figuring as Earl of Northampton, repaired to Croyland, and, as if to appease the spirit of the man whom she had betrayed, offered a silken cloth at his sepulchre. Left with her two children in poverty and obscurity, the widow of Waltheof passed the remainder of her life mournfully in a remote corner of England.