The king and the Norman knights, excited with wine, strung their hunting-horns round their necks, called for their horses, sprang into their saddles, and with huntsmen in attendance, their hounds running at their feet, rode down the steep of Malwood, and entered the New Forest. According to the custom of the period, they then dispersed through the wood to pursue the game. Walter Tyrel, however, remained with the king, and all day their dogs hunted together.

At length, as the sun was setting, the king and the knight found themselves at a place known as Charingham, where were the ruins of a chapel which the Conqueror had dismantled. At that instant, a large hart, roused by the huntsmen, came bounding up between Rufus and Tyrel, who were on opposite sides of the glade. The king instantly pulled his trigger; but, the cord of the cross-bow breaking, the arrow did not fly. The stag, however, hearing a sharp sound, halted abruptly; and Rufus, after making a sign to his comrade to shoot, without being understood, cried out impatiently--

"Shoot, Walter, shoot, in the devil's name!"

The knight bent his bow, and at that instant an arrow, whistling through the air, pierced the king's breast. In another moment he dropped from his horse, and expired without having time to utter a word.

When Rufus fell to the ground, Tyrel, in great alarm at what he saw, leaped from his horse and rushed forward. But the king was already a corpse. Perceiving that life was quite extinct, Tyrel sprang upon his horse, spurred through the glade, rode hastily to the coast, embarked for France, and soon set foot on continental soil. Protesting his innocence, but horrified at being suspected of killing a king, even by accident, the knight afterwards went to Palestine.

A rumour that the king was killed ran through the forest; but none of the knights or n.o.bles deemed it their duty to pay any attention to the corpse. For hours the body remained among the rank gra.s.s that grew over the ruins of the chapel of Charingham, as completely abandoned as that of the Conqueror had been in the convent at Rouen.

However, as the evening advanced, a charcoal-burner, pa.s.sing by with his cart, observed the body pierced with an arrow, and recognised it as that of the king. More humane and considerate than Norman knights and n.o.bles, the charcoal-burner wrapped the corpse in rags, placed it in his cart, and conveyed it to the castle of Winchester. Soon after, Rufus was buried in the choir of that cathedral, where Anglo-Saxon kings and their Danish foes reposed in peace together. Scarcely a tear, however, was shed over the grave of the Red King. The Anglo-Normans felt no grief at his death, and the Anglo-Saxons openly rejoiced that the destroyer had struck down their oppressor in the midst of his pride.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

LII.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

A CHANGE OF FORTUNE.

When a rumour ran through the New Forest that Rufus had fallen, never again to rise, Henry Beauclerc, far from manifesting any excessive grief at the death of his rude brother, sprang upon his horse--which was probably a borrowed one--and, with a resolution to turn the circ.u.mstance to the best account, spurred off to Winchester, to secure the royal treasure, as a preliminary step to seizing the crown.

On reaching Winchester, Beauclerc rode straight to the castle, and demanded the keys of the treasury; but, while the officials were still hesitating, William de Breteuil galloped up breathless and in haste, and, in his capacity of treasurer, protested against the keys being surrendered.

"Thou and I," he said to Beauclerc, "ought loyally to remember the fealty we swore to the Duke Robert, thy brother. He has received our homage, and, absent or present, he is ent.i.tled to the crown."

"Nevertheless," answered Beauclerc, who observed that the populace had gathered, "no man shall have possession of the crown of England but whom the people appoint."

As he spoke these words, Beauclerc, seeing it was no time to be squeamish, drew his sword, and a scuffle ensued. But it was not serious. Indeed, Breteuil and other lords, seeing the mob on Henry's side, deemed it prudent to retire; while he secured the public money and the regal ornaments. Hastening then to London, and gaining the support of the bishop, he was elected as king, and solemnly crowned before the high altar in the abbey of Westminster.

Nevertheless, many of the Anglo-Norman barons continued faithful to the cause of Curthose, and prepared to support his claims to the crown. But Beauclerc was not a man to surrender, without a struggle, the prize he had so boldly grasped. Feeling his insecurity, he determined on adopting measures of safety. He set himself to win the hearts and to secure the aid of the Saxons; he reminded them of his being a native of the country, and promised, as their king, to guide himself by their counsel, to maintain their ancient liberties, and to grant them a charter confirming the laws in force during the reign of Edward the Confessor. The Saxons, on hearing Beauclerc's promises, consented to befriend him; and he, to consolidate the alliance, engaged to marry a woman of Saxon race.

At that time there was in the convent of Rumsey, in Hampshire, where she had been educated under the care of her aunt Christina, a daughter of Malcolm Canmore and of Margaret Atheling. The hand of the princess, whose name was Edith, had been sought by Norman lords of high rank; and Beauclerc and she had loved in other days. But a somewhat serious objection was made to their union. It was said that she had taken the veil of a nun. An inquiry, however, was inst.i.tuted, and it appeared that she had never been consecrated to G.o.d.

"I must confess," she said, "that I have sometimes appeared veiled, but only for this reason: in my youth, when I was under the care of my aunt Christina, she, to protect me, as she said, from the Normans--who then a.s.sailed the honour of every woman they met--used to place a piece of black stuff on my head; and when I refused to wear it, she treated me harshly. In her presence I wore this cloth, but as soon as she left me I threw it on the ground, and trampled on it in childish anger."

In order, however, that the position of Edith might be formally investigated, an a.s.sembly of clergy and lay lords was convoked at Rochester, and this a.s.sembly decided that "the girl was free to marry." Accordingly she was united to Beauclerc, and exchanged her name of Edith for that of Maude. Even envy itself could not discover a flaw in her conduct as wife; but it is said that the Anglo-Norman barons favourable to Curthose affected to regard Henry's marriage with a princess in whose veins ran the blood of the vanquished race as a _mesalliance_, and, in derision, nicknamed the regal pair G.o.drick and G.o.diva. Beauclerc, perhaps, did not relish the joke, but, like a man of sense, he laughed at the allusion.

In fact, Henry had more serious business to think of, for the partisans of his brother were watching their opportunity, and only awaiting the presence of Curthose to do their utmost to overturn Beauclerc's throne. And where, in reality, had that eccentric son of chivalry been at the time of the crisis of his fate? Had he been carried away to Fairyland, between death and life, like King Arthur, or borne to another region on the backs of fiends, like his grandsire, Robert the Devil? In order to ascertain his "whereabouts," we must follow his steps on an expedition which at that time excited universal interest, and which was destined to exercise no slight influence on the destinies of Europe and of Asia.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

LIII.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Peter the Hermit preaching the first Crusade]

CURTHOSE AT THE CRUSADE.

In the autumn of 1095, a little man, of mean aspect and eccentric manners, arrayed in a coa.r.s.e woollen mantle, and mounted on a mule, rode about Europe, exhorting Christians to arm for the rescue of the Holy Sepulchre. Sometimes he preached in a church, or at the market-cross; at others, under a tree by the wayside; and wherever he went people crowded round him, hung on his eloquent words, and seemed delighted if they could touch the hem of his mantle, or pluck a hair from the mane of his mule. This remarkable man was known as Peter the Hermit, who had recently visited Jerusalem as a pilgrim, and vowed to deliver the Holy Land from the domination of the Turks.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

The preaching of Peter the Hermit was marvellously successful. Peasant and peer alike confessed the grandeur of his idea; and, as the conquest of England by the Normans had inspired feudal warriors with a desire for adventurous enterprise, mult.i.tudes expressed their willingness to take part in a crusade. Many men of princely rank, among whom the chief was G.o.dfrey de Bouillon, Duke of Lorraine, a.s.sumed the cross, alienated their possessions, and mustered armies to fight in Palestine. At length the idea which was agitating all Christendom, penetrating to the castle of Rouen, excited the ardent imagination of Robert Curthose, and stirred the somewhat sluggish blood of Edgar Atheling.

Both princes resolved to take part in the Holy War. But a serious obstacle presented itself. Money was necessary, and neither the heir of the Conqueror nor the heir of the Saxon kings had the means of defraying their expenses. The difficulty, however, was overcome.

Rufus, who was glad to hear of his brother's wish to leave Europe, agreed to furnish ten thousand marks on condition of being put in possession of Normandy for five years; and Curthose, having received the sum, made his preparations, and set up his white banner embroidered with gold.

In spite of his faults, few men of that period were more popular than the Norman duke; and, eager to fight under a chief so brave and generous, a goodly band of warriors, led by feudal barons of great name, came around his standard. Aubrey de Vere, Everard Percy, Girard Gourney, Conan Montacute, Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, and Stephen, Earl of Albemarle, were among those who attended the Conqueror's heir. Edgar Atheling, who was on the point of setting out for Scotland to dethrone Donald Bane, and seat his youthful nephew on the Scottish throne, did not accompany his friend. But he promised to join Curthose in the Holy Land, with a host of Saxons, which he was about to lead against the Scottish usurper.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Church of the Holy Sepulchre Jerusalem]

Meanwhile, Curthose, at the head of his army, and attended by his chaplain, Arnold de Rohes, made his way eastward, met the pious G.o.dfrey de Bouillon, and other pilgrim-princes, under the walls of Constantinople, and, after causing much alarm to the Emperor Alexis, crossed the Bosphorus, and marched towards Nice.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Curthose and the Saracen]

No sooner was Curthose on Asiatic soil than his valour and prowess excited general admiration. At the siege of Nice he repelled the fierce onset of the Sultan's cavalry; at the battle of Dogorgan he performed prodigies of valour, made the most magnificent charge of the day, spurring into the midst of the foe, with his banner flying and his sword flashing, and cutting down three Emirs with his own hand; at Antioch he led the van of the Crusaders, seized the bridge, defended by towers masked with iron, and during one of the subsequent skirmishes when fiercely attacked by a gigantic Saracen, who figured as chief in command, he cleft him with his battle-axe from crown to chest.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Pilgrims in sight of Jerusalem.]

"Pagan dog!" exclaimed Curthose, as the Saracen fell lifeless to the ground; "I devote thy impure soul to the powers of h.e.l.l."

At Laodicea, Curthose was joined by Edgar Atheling. Faithful to his promise, the Saxon prince, after seating his nephew on the Scottish throne, brought the flower of the Saxon race to fight for the Holy Sepulchre. Side by side, like brothers, Curthose and Atheling marched to Jerusalem; side by side they fought at the siege of the Holy City; and side by side, in the hour of victory, they scaled the walls, Saracens bearing back in terror before the Norman's falchion and the Saxon's axe.

[Ill.u.s.tration: G.o.dfrey de Bouillon elected King of Jerusalem]

After taking possession of Jerusalem, the Crusaders a.s.sembled for the purpose of electing a king; and it is understood that Curthose might, if he had chosen, worn the crown of Jerusalem. However, Curthose declined the high honour, which fell to the lot of G.o.dfrey de Bouillon; and, after taking part in the battle of Ascalon, where, at the head of the European cavalry, he broke the Saracens' ranks, penetrated to their centre, and seized the Moslem standard, he left the Holy Land, and returned to Europe.

When Curthose was at Palermo, on his way home, Odo of Bayeux breathed his last. The Norman duke, having buried his uncle in St. Mary's Church, pursued his way, and found himself quite at home among the Normans, whose families had been settled by warlike adventurers in Southern Italy. All these Norman warriors treated the heir of the great William with high honour; and all their daughters manifested interest in a hero who had won such fame as a Champion of the Cross.

But of all the Normans of Southern Italy, none showed Curthose so much hospitality as William, Count of Conversano, a kinsman of the Guiscards, founders of the Norman dynasty in Naples.

The Count of Conversano was the most powerful lord in Lower Apulia.

His possessions extended along the sh.o.r.es of the Adriatic, from Otranto to Bari. His castle was situated on an eminence, amid olive groves, and was replete with all those means for rendering life pleasant which the feudal system brought into existence. Curthose thought Conversano a terrestrial paradise, and was delighted with his host's fine hounds, choice hawks, and mettled steeds; but, above all, he was delighted, charmed, and fascinated with his host's daughter, Sybil, who was still in her teens, and as beautiful as she was young.

It could not be concealed that Curthose was verging on fifty, and that Sybil was just seventeen. But that was no conclusive objection to a match. In fact, such fame as that of a Crusader, and such rank as Duke of Normandy, were strong recommendations; so, when Curthose told his enamoured tale, Sybil smiled on her lover; and, ere long, the daughter of the Count of Conversano was led to the altar, and became d.u.c.h.ess of Normandy.

Even after his marriage Curthose found himself too comfortable to move. Perhaps he was averse to change the splendour of Conversano for the irksome poverty of Rouen. At all events he lingered in the scene of his courtship, and among the olive groves on the sh.o.r.es of the Adriatic wasted months, which, if judiciously spent, might have secured him a duchy and a.s.sured him a crown.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Trieste.]