Harold groaned in spirit as he realised that the count was going to keep him in prison in the hope of getting a ransom for him from King Edward. With these sturdy men-at-arms in the doorway it was no use for the unarmed Englishmen to try to resist.
'My poor countrymen,' said Harold to himself; 'I wonder how much money he will force them to hand over before he consents to give me up? It grieves me to think of the good English gold which will go to the enriching of this greedy hawk.—And how is the kingdom going to be governed in my absence?—Alack the day!'
The count's dark mocking face was all aglow with triumph as he led his prisoner where some horses were ready waiting for them.
After a short ride they were in the courtyard of the grim frowning castle of Ponthieu, with the drawbridge raised behind them.
'You will allow some of my men to go to England and tell King Edward that I am here?' said Harold to the count.
Once more Guy smiled his mocking smile.
'I was going to ask the whole party to accept my hospitality for a few weeks,' he said. 'His majesty of England will be the more pleased to welcome his brother-in-law after he has lacked tidings of him for a space.'
Harold fumed with anger and indignation. He saw that Guy meant to keep the king and his own family in ignorance of his fate in order that they might be more eager to ransom him once they heard that he was still living.
But one day Guy, Count of Ponthieu, was in a very bad humour. He strode up and down the courtyard with an angry scowl upon his handsome, haughty face; muttering to himself and reading a letter which had been brought to the castle by a mounted messenger. His mailed boots made a noisy clattering upon the pavement, and the men-at-arms felt that it would be safe to keep at a respectful distance that morning.
'Ha!' shouted Guy; 'I am grossly insulted!—What traitor has dared to carry to the duke news of my prisoner? Had I that man, he should hang by the heels for his presumption!—Here is a letter from William of Normandy to say that if I do not instantly release Earl Harold, he will send an army against me and raze my castle to the ground. What right has the duke to interfere, I should like to know? The Earl was wrecked upon my land, not upon his; and if a man may not do as he likes with a prisoner whom the wind and waves have brought to his very door, things have come to a pretty pass!'