Hereward, the Last of the English by Charles Kingsley (i am reading a book .TXT) 📖

Heaven as impossible to so pious a monarch—”

Ivo Taillebois winced. He had just stolen a manor from the monks of Crowland, and meant to keep it.

“Church lands belonging to abbeys or sees, whose abbots or bishops are contumaciously disobedient to the Holy See, or to their lawful monarch, he being in the communion of the Church and at peace with the said Holy See. If, therefore,—to come to that point at which my incapacity, through the devious windings of my own simplicity, has been tending, but with halting steps, from the moment that your Majesty deigned to hear—”

“Put in the spur, man!” said Ivo, tired at last, “and run the deer to soil.”

“Hurry no man’s cattle, especially thine own,” answered the churchman, with so shrewd a wink, and so cheery a voice, that Ivo, when he recovered from his surprise, cried,—

“Why, thou art a good huntsman thyself, I believe now.”

“All things to all men, if by any means—But to return. If your Majesty should think fit to proclaim to the recalcitrants of Ely, that unless they submit themselves to your Royal Grace—and to that, of course, of His Holiness, our Father—within a certain day, you will convert to other uses—premising, to avoid scandal, that those uses shall be for the benefit of Holy Church—all lands and manors of theirs lying without the precincts of the Isle of Ely,—those lands being, as is known, large, and of great value,—Quid plura? Why burden your exalted intellect by detailing to you consequences which it has, long ere now, foreseen.”

“——” quoth William, who was as sharp as the Italian, and had seen it all. “I will make thee a bishop!”

“Spare to burden my weakness,” said the chaplain; and slipt away into the shade.

“You will take his advice?” asked Ivo.

“I will.”

“Then I shall see that Torfrida burn at last.”

“Burn her?” and William swore.

“I promised my soldiers to burn the witch with reeds out of Haddenham fen, as she had burned them; and I must keep my knightly word.”

William swore yet more. Ivo Taillebois was a butcher and a churl.

“Call me not butcher and churl too often, Lord King, ere thou hast found whether thou needest me or not. Rough I may be, false was I never.”

“That thou wert not,” said William, who needed Taillebois much, and feared him somewhat; and remarked something meaning in his voice, which made him calm himself, diplomat as he was, instantly. “But burn Torfrida thou shalt not.”

“Well, I care not. I have seen a woman burnt ere now, and had no fancy for the screeching. Beside, they say she is a very fair dame, and has a fair daughter, too, coming on, and she may very well make a wife for a Norman.”

“Marry her thyself.”

“I shall have to kill Hereward first.”

“Then do it, and I will give thee his lands.”

“I may have to kill others before Hereward.”

“You may?”

And so the matter dropped. But William caught Ivo alone after an hour, and asked him what he meant.

“No pay, no play. Lord King, I have served thee well, rough and smooth.”

“Thou hast, and hast been well paid. But if I have said aught hasty—”

“Pish, Majesty. I am a plain-spoken man, and like a plain-spoken master. But, instead of marrying Torfrida or her daughter, I have more mind to her niece, who is younger, and has no Hereward to be killed first.”

“Her niece? Who?”

“Lucia, as we call her,—Edwin and Morcar’s sister,—Hereward’s niece, Torfrida’s niece.”

“No pay, no play, saidst thou?—so say I. What meant you by having to kill others before Hereward?”

“Beware of Waltheof!” said Ivo.

“Waltheof? Pish! This is one of thy inventions for making me hunt every Englishman to death, that thou mayest gnaw their bones.”

“Is it? Then this I say more. Beware of Ralph Guader!”

“Pish!”

“Pish on, Lord King.” Etiquette was not yet discovered by Norman barons and earls, who thought themselves all but as good as their king, gave him their advice when they thought fit, and if he did not take it, attacked him with all their meinie. “Pish on, but listen. Beware of Roger!”

“And what more?”

“And give me Lucia. I want her. I will have her.”

William laughed. “Thou of all men! To mix that ditch-water with that wine?”

“They were mixed in thy blood, Lord King, and thou art the better man for it, so says the world. Old wine and old blood throw any lees to the bottom of the cask; and we shall have a son worthy to ride behind—”

“Take care!” quoth William.

“The greatest captain upon earth.”

William laughed again, like Odin’s self.

“Thou shalt have Lucia for that word.”

“And thou shalt have the plot ere it breaks. As it will.”

“To this have I come at last,” said William to himself, as they parted. “To murder these English nobles, to marry their daughters to my grooms. Heaven forgive me! They have brought it upon themselves by contumacy to Holy Church.”

“Call my secretary, some one.”

The Italian re-entered.

“The valiant and honorable and illustrious knight, Ivo Taillebois, Lord of Holland and Kesteven, weds Lucia, sister of the late earls Edwin and Morcar, now with the queen; and with, her, her manors. You will prepare the papers.

“I am yours to death,” said Ivo.

“To do you justice, I think thou wert that already. Stay—here—Sir Priest—do you know any man who knows this Torfrida?”

“I do, Majesty,” said Ivo. “There is one Sir Ascelin, a man of Gilbert’s, in the camp.”

“Send for him.”

“This Torfrida,” said William, “haunts me.”

“Pray Heaven she have not bewitched your Majesty.”

“Tut! I am too old a campaigner to take much harm by woman’s sharpshooting at fifteen score yards off, beside a deep stream between. No. The woman has courage,—and beauty, too, you say?”

“What of