The capture of York had not discouraged the Northumbrians; they attacked the Normans in Durham, and massacred them in numbers; they had also received important reinforcements. Sweyn, king of Denmark, at the solicitation of the sons of Harold, had sent assistance to the insurgents; two hundred and forty Danish vessels were approaching the coasts. Edgar Atheling, having sought refuge in Scotland with King Malcolm, who had married his sister Margaret, had lately joined the Saxon army and promised support to his brother-in-law. Before the Conqueror was apprised of this new danger York was recaptured by the insurgents, and Edgar Atheling had assumed once more the title of king, which he had formerly laid at the feet of the Norman. But winter came, and William was already assembling his army. Settling hastily the affairs which had called him Southward he took once more the road towards the North, and entered into secret negotiations with the Danes, insomuch that at the moment that he appeared under the walls of York the pirates weighed anchor and sailed again down the coast, pillaging the Saxon villages which the king had abandoned to them before taking again the road towards their country.
Malcolm, the king of Scotland, had now come to the assistance of the insurgents. York was again taken and put to fire and sword. King William then carried his anger and his vengeance into all the counties of the North; not a village which was not burnt, not a domain which was not confiscated. The churches, and even the monasteries found no shelter against Norman rapacity. The inhabitants of Beverley had amassed their treasures in the church dedicated to St. John of Beverley, a Saxon like themselves, who owed them protection. This, however, had no effect on the Normans, and Toutain, one of the battle chiefs of William, penetrated on horseback into the church of the monastery, in pursuit of the fugitives who had taken refuge there. His horse slipped upon the marble pavement of the sanctuary and the horseman was killed. St. John of Beverley had protected his countrymen, and the Normans withdrew from his abbey. Edgar Atheling had taken refuge again in Scotland; but this time the insurrection had found a true chief. Hereward, lord of Born, a warrior celebrated by his adventures abroad, had intrenched himself in the isle of Ely, which he called the Camp of Refuge, and from all sides the oppressed English gathered around him. William ordered the Earls Edwin and Morcar, who had returned to his court, to be carefully watched. They were apprised of the fact and secretly fled. Edwin was overtaken and slain by the soldiers who pursued him; but Morcar succeeded in reaching the isle of Ely. Thence Hereward undertook expeditions into the surrounding country, and kept at bay all the troops which William sent against him. He even defied Yves Taillebois, one of the king's favorites, whom William had recently induced to marry Lucy, a sister to Edwin and Morcar, and whose intolerable tyranny contributed to maintain the insurrection in the Eastern counties. But King William caused the little isle to be invested, cutting off from it provisions and reinforcements. The monks of the monastery grew weary of that compulsory fast, and indicated to the Normans the points of attack. The Saxons were beaten: the Bishop of Durham and Earl Morcar were taken and cast into prison for the remainder of their lives. Hereward succeeded in escaping, and in maintaining an irregular warfare; but, won over at last by the proposals of William, who sincerely admired his indomitable courage, he consented to lay down his arms. He lived long afterwards upon his domains, which the Conqueror permitted him to enjoy.
The Camp of Refuge was destroyed, and the county of Northumberland was given by William to the Saxon Waltheof, a warrior esteemed by his countrymen, whom William had attached to him by giving him the hand of his niece Judith. Being called away into Normandy in consequence of a rising of the inhabitants of Maine, the king took with him an English army, which fought as valiantly for him as it had against him shortly before. During his sojourn on the Continent he received into favor Edgar Atheling, who had recently failed in a new attempt instigated by the king of France, Philippe I.; the descendant of King Alfred took up his abode at Rouen, where he passed eleven years of his life in amusing himself with his horses and dogs.
A fresh insurrection recalled William into England. On this occasion it was the Normans themselves who revolted against him. His faithful companion, William FitzOsbern, was dead, and his son Roger, earl of Hereford like his father, had contracted a marriage with the sister of Ralph de Waher, or Guader, a Breton knight, who had accompanied William, and had been created Earl of Norfolk. This union was distasteful to the king, who had endeavored to prevent it, for he did not like the Bretons. After the nuptials the party was excited: FitzOsbern and Waher spoke of the tyranny of King William, and proposed his overthrow. Waltheof, who was present, had listened, but without taking part in the conspiracy. He had merely promised secrecy; but the secret was betrayed by his wife, who disliked him, and desired to rid herself of her husband. Lanfranc, who had become Archbishop of Canterbury upon the deposition of Stigand, and who was invested with power in the absence of his master, despatched an army against the rebels. The latter had been obliged lo declare themselves before their preparations were completed. When the king recrossed the sea the insurrection was already almost suppressed. Waher was banished, together with a great number of Bretons; FitzOsbern was put in prison; the unfortunate Waltheof, who had not taken up arms, but who was a Saxon, son of the glorious Siward, and Earl of Northumbria, was executed, to the great indignation of his fellow-countrymen, who came in crowds to pray at his tomb, and attributed to him numerous miracles. William did not allow Judith to marry the man for whom she had sacrificed her husband. She, on her part, refused the marriage which he offered her; and the king, having stripped her of all her possessions, this wicked woman was reduced to wander sometimes in England, sometimes on the Continent, bearing with her everywhere tokens of her misery and shame.
Thus ended the great insurrection in England. William was master of the country, and the harsh repressive measures which he had employed at length bore their fruits. The Saxons murmured under the weight of their misfortunes, but no longer dared to revolt. The king, frequently called into Normandy by his quarrels with his eldest son, Robert Curthose, was able now to leave England without anxiety. When he arrived at manhood Robert had called on his father to divest himself in his favor of the duchy of Normandy.
Robert's Encounter With His Father.
"I am not accustomed to throw off my clothing before going to bed," replied William, and Robert irritated, had revolted against his father and endeavored to arouse against him embarrassments and enemies on all sides. In vain had his mother Matilda, who loved him tenderly, endeavored many times to reconcile him with his father. Robert could not endure the yoke of paternal authority. He journeyed about the Continent, expatiating on his grievances and squandering the money which his mother sent to him secretly, to the great vexation of William. He received assistance from the king of France, Philippe I., who detested his father, and who installed him in the fortress of Gerberoi, on the confines of Normandy, whence it was easy for him to pillage the neighboring territory. William besieged Gerberoi. During a sortie Robert found himself face to face with a knight of robust form, concealed by his armor, and having his vizor lowered, with whom he contended for some time. At length he unseated him, and was on the point of despatching his antagonist, when the wounded knight called his people to his aid, and Robert recognized the voice of his father. In spite of his vanity Robert's heart was accessible to generous sentiments. He threw himself on his knees before his prostrate father, entreated his pardon, raised him with his own hands and set him on his horse. A reconciliation followed, for Robert was softened and penitent. But a fresh quarrel soon hurried the son out of Normandy. He set forth bearing with him a malediction which his father never revoked.