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

by John G. Edgar

On learning what had occurred, Philip swore to be avenged. Rousing himself from apathy, and availing himself of William's absence from the Continent, the French king made a hostile incursion into Normandy; and, ere long, the Conqueror, while in England, learned that his liege lord was ravaging his territory and besieging his towns.

William was, by this time, in his sixty-third year, and by no means so energetic as in days gone by. Nevertheless, his spirit was high as ever. Resolved to go in person to face the danger and punish the aggression, he prepared to cross the Channel. Before doing so, however, he determined to remove from the vanquished islanders the temptation of making a last desperate effort to restore their national royalty.

At this time, Edgar Atheling, and his sister, Christina, were both in England. The Atheling, with some touch of sentiment for the land over which his sires had reigned, had, in the previous year, returned from Normandy; and Christina, having perhaps exhausted the patience of King Malcolm, had returned from Scotland. The presence of the royal Saxons could hardly, under all the circumstances, have been of vital consequence. But suspicion had now become a disease with the Conqueror, and he could not embark without having first disposed of them to his satisfaction. Accordingly, he so strongly impressed upon Christina the propriety of becoming a religious, that the princess, albeit not yet forty, still comely to behold, and perhaps by no means averse to the veil of a bride, was fain to take the veil of a nun in the convent of Rumsey; and he demonstrated so clearly to Atheling the propriety of undertaking an expedition to the Holy Land, that the prince, after being promised money to support his dignity, consented to set out on a pilgrimage.

Matters having thus been settled, William, with Edgar Atheling under his wing, and Rufus in attendance, embarked for the Continent. Having set his iron heel once more on Norman soil, the Conqueror first shipped off the grandson of Ironside to Apulia, with a retinue of two hundred knights, and then applied himself to his dispute with the heir of Hugh Capet.

It appears that the real cause of debate between William and Philip was the country of Vexin, situated between the Epte and the Oise. This territory had been wrested from Normandy and united to France during the troubles consequent upon the rumoured death of Robert the Devil. William, less inclined than of yore to submit the question of possession to the arbitrament of the sword, flattered himself that he should be able to regain the Vexin by peaceful means, and with this hope opened negotiations.

While negotiations were pending, William, whose corpulence had caused him serious inconvenience, felt the necessity of placing himself in the hands of his physicians and, by their advice, he kept his bed, and attempted to reduce himself by a rigorous diet. Philip, deeming that he had little to fear from such an adversary, returned evasive replies to William's demands, and found that the Conqueror bore the delay so patiently, that he ventured one day, at Paris, to indulge, at William's expense, in a coarse jest, which was faithfully repeated at Rouen.

"By my faith!" said Philip, "our cousin, the King of England, is very long about his lying-in! What rejoicings there will be when he gets up! What a number of candles I must provide for his churching!"

"Ha!" angrily exclaimed William, when told what Philip had said, "no cost shall the King of France incur on that day for candles or lights. For," added he, his anger rising and swelling into fury, "by the splendour and birth of God! I will be churched at Notre Dame de Paris with ten thousand lances for my candles."

While the blood of William was boiling with indignation at his liege lord's insulting jest, an incident occurred which must have added much to his annoyance. Curthose, falling under Philip's influence, and allured by Philip's promises, broke once more with his father, and prepared for the third time to leave the Norman court. William stormed as was his wont on such occasions, cursed his son's folly, and heaped maledictions on his head. Curthose, however, paid no regard to the reproaches of a sire with whom he could not agree; though it could hardly have been without reluctance that he left the duchy of which he was the recognised heir, to sit at the hearth, and feed at the board, and climb the stairs of strangers. But, whatever his feelings, Curthose did go; and the grim Conqueror cursed him as he departed.

William now shook off sickness, discarded his physicians, rose from his bed, mustered his men-at-arms, buckled on his mail, and entered the territory of Philip. More than threescore years had passed since the son of Arlette drew his first breath; but he proved, in a manner not to be mistaken, that time had not bent his spirit nor softened his heart. It was late in July, the harvest was at hand, and the summer's sun shone on fields of yellow corn, on vineyards rich with grapes, and orchards laden with fruit. William spared nothing. He ordered his cavalry to burn the corn, to tear up the vines, and to cut down the fruit-trees. Slaughtering, destroying, and ravaging with all the fury he had seventeen years earlier displayed in Northumberland, William reached Mantes, on the Seine.