Epigram.
We pass over the details of the sturdy struggle and victory over the Danes at Battle-bridge, and the disastrous defeat of Hastings, except just to note that the young chieftain Oswald left his father dead on the battle-field. The next three years were ones of immunity from the rapacity of the Normans, so far as we were concerned, for they never ventured so far north. But in the year 1069, whilst William was absent in Normandy, there was a powerful conspiracy entered into for the purpose of wresting the kingdom from him. The Danes landed in the Humber. The Saxons rallied throughout the North. York was taken, and its garrison of three thousand Normans put to the sword.
Immediately after the wonderful successes which attended the insurrectionary movement, the leaders of the rebellion hastily called together at York what was known as a "Thing," or council. All the leaders of note were summoned. A somewhat motley company they were, their aims being far from identical, and the elements of disruption and disunion were on the surface. All of them were excessively elated and flushed with the complete and wonderful victories achieved—I am sorry to say, also, very much demoralised by them. The Danish leaders in particular were so, for they had taken much spoil, plundering friend or foe pretty much as they listed—plunder being, in fact, their sole reason for taking part in the movement. Very conspicuous, both by their dress and demeanour, were these Danish leaders. They were deeply bronzed and hardy-looking, rough and fierce as warrior seamen who had been wont all their lives to do battle with foes on land, and often with the fiercer and still more deadly foe of old ocean. They carried daggers at their belts, and heavy swords dangled by their sides. The young chieftain Oswald, whom we have already introduced to the readers, was there. The few years of stress and struggle since last we met him had had a marked effect upon him. He had stood by Harold's side at Stanford Bridge, and marched with him to Hastings, and stood in the forefront of that historic "wedge" of sturdy Saxons, who defied the utmost efforts of William's horse and foot to dislodge them. The playfulness of youth had given place to the stern thoughtfulness of manhood; whilst the tall figure had broadened in sturdy proportions. He was of commanding presence, young, handsome, and daring, yet wise as any elder, known intimately by me, and a very great favourite with me also, and destined to figure prominently in these records. By his side, as a near neighbour, as well as a compatriot, sat the young Thane Beowulf—aforementioned—of another lineage, but still identified with the Saxon cause, being native born, though by his father's side a descendant of the Danes who settled in the north of England three generations earlier. Other leaders also there were, of whom it is not necessary to speak, as they occupy no further place in these pages.
At the appointed hour Waltheof, the leader of the Saxon forces, entered. He was a man gifted by nature with the physical proportions which attract attention. But there was a hesitancy, irresolution, and lack of force depicted in his countenance, and a wariness and suspicion about his small, shrinking grey eyes, that were the reverse of reassuring. Accompanying Waltheof was a Norman knight at whose appearance many sprang to their feet in amazement. Seeing which, Waltheof introduced the Norman to the company.
"Worthy thanes and nobles," said he, "this gallant Norman is Baron Vigneau, one of William's bravest knights, who has been assigned some lands bordering on the Fen country, and had tacked on to the beggarly gift, the duty of defending that coast against our allies the Danes, as well as to assist in keeping in check our brave countryman Hereward. A weighty charge, I warrant, for such a beggar's dole of barren acres. This gallant knight comes as emissary of a still more famous Norman, the Count de Montfort, whose lance wrought such havoc in our ranks at Hastings. Count de Montfort has good and weighty reasons against the king, or his councillors, for the base ingratitude with which his services have been rewarded; and he offers to join hands with us, and will lead into the field seventeen knights, fully equipped and accoutred, together with three hundred of foot; all of them men-at-arms, trained and stout. This worthy knight, Baron Vigneau, of whose prowess also I have ample proof, is bearer of letters—which I have carefully examined—from the Count de Montfort, duly signed and sealed, and bearing ample evidence of good faith. Under the circumstances, I have taken the liberty to introduce this worthy knight to our council."
This speech was received by many in blank astonishment, and there was loud and angry murmuring amongst the company, but no one seemed willing to voice the discontent. Oswald, however, sprang to his feet and said, "Noble sir, no doubt the credentials presented by this Norman knight are such as meet with your approval, but I would respectfully urge that no one should sit at our Council who has not attested his fidelity to our cause by services rendered in the field of battle; for when this is the case we have pledges which cannot be shaken off at pleasure."
"A plague on your impudence, boy! You are too ready of the tongue! Let the elders speak if they have any objections to make!—but I am not in the habit of having my conduct called in question by a mere youth; and what is sufficient for me must be sufficient for such as you, and without cavil. What say our Danish allies? No objection, I see. Then let us proceed to business." So saying, he took his place at the head of the board, and the bulky Norman slid into a back seat.
The question to deliberate upon was how to prosecute the war so auspiciously begun. The Council, however, proceeded to discuss the question in a very unpromising fashion, the discussion being characterised by a good deal of blatant braggadocio, and accompanied by a very free use of the wine-cup.
The chief of the Danes reared aloft his stalwart form and said,—