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

by John G. Edgar

It was Sunday, the 15th of August, when the Conqueror appeared at Mantes; and, on effecting an entrance, he immediately ordered the town to be set on fire. His orders were promptly obeyed; and as the flames leaped from roof to roof, seizing on cottages, and castles, and churches, and shot crackling upwards like a serpent's tongue, William, as if in a frenzy, shouted at the top of his voice, galloped through the conflagration, and seemed to enjoy the terrible scene. But suddenly his haughty spirit was brought low. While riding through the ruins, he spurred his horse towards a ditch which crossed his path. While in the act of springing, the animal set its foot on some burning embers, started, plunged furiously, and came to the ground, throwing the corpulent rider with such violence against the saddle as to cause a severe wound in the stomach.

It soon became apparent that William was not destined to reach Paris or to appear at Notre Dame; in fact, the Conqueror was in no slight danger. Weak from recent confinement, heated by excitement, by the fire, and by the weather, he became feverish, and ordered himself to be conveyed back to Rouen. But when laid in his own chamber he could not rest; and so great was the annoyance he experienced from the noise of the streets, that it was deemed expedient to remove him to the priory of St. Gervase. In that religious house, which belonged to the monks of Fescamp, and stood on a hill outside the city, William, under the care of Gilbert, Bishop of Lysieux, and Goutard, Abbot of Jumieges, who tended him as physicians, languished for weeks. But his condition daily became worse, and, not deluding himself with hopes of recovery, he prepared for death.

When stretched on a bed from which he felt there was no probability of his rising, William reflected seriously on his past life, and regarded many actions in a very different light from that in which he had been in the habit of viewing them during the years of health and vigour. Eager to make atonement, he caused money to be given to the poor, and to be sent to the religious houses of England and Mantes to rebuild the churches which, by his orders, had been burned. At the same time he ordered the prison doors to be opened, and freedom to be given to captives, among whom were Wulnoth, brother of Harold; Morkar, brother of Edwin; and William's own brother, Odo of Bayeux.

It was now Wednesday, the 8th of September, 1087, and the Conqueror became aware that he was on the point of passing that bourne from which no traveller returns. But still he seems to have remained somewhat unconvinced of the vanity of sublunary greatness. Ordering the officers of his household to repair to his chamber, he, weak as he was, delivered an harangue of some length on his military achievements, dilated on the renown he had acquired as a ruler of men, and dictated his last will to his sons. Robert Curthose was at Abbeville; but William Rufus and Henry Beauclerc were by the bed of their dying father.

"I leave Normandy," said the Conqueror, "to my eldest son Robert, in accordance with the wishes of the Normans; but wretched will be the land subject to his rule. As for England, I leave it to no one, because I acquired it by force and bloodshed. I replace it in God's hands, wishing that my son William, who has ever been obedient to me, may, if it please God, obtain that kingdom and prosper in it."

"And," said Henry, stepping forward and speaking with energy, "what, then, will you give me, my father?"

"Give thee?" replied William; "I give thee five thousand pounds in silver from my treasury."

"But," said Henry, "what can I do with this money if I have neither house nor land?"

"Be content, my son," answered the Conqueror, "and have confidence in God. Allow thine elder brothers to precede thee. Thy time will come after theirs."