The Little Duke by Charlotte Mary Yonge (e book reading free .txt) 📖

CHAPTER XI

As the Baron had said, there was more peace now that Lothaire had

learnt to know that he must submit, and that no one cared for his

threats of his father’s or his mother’s vengeance. He was very sulky

and disagreeable, and severely tried Richard’s forbearance; but there

were no fresh outbursts, and, on the whole, from one week to another,

there might be said to be an improvement. He could not always hold

aloof from one so good-natured and good-humoured as the little Duke;

and the fact of being kept in order could not but have some

beneficial effect on him, after such spoiling as his had been at

home.

 

Indeed, Osmond was once heard to say, it was a pity the boy was not

to be a hostage for life; to which Sir Eric replied, “So long as we

have not the training of him.”

 

Little Carloman, meanwhile, recovered from his fears of all the

inmates of the Castle excepting Hardigras, at whose approach he

always shrank and trembled.

 

He renewed his friendship with Osmond, no longer started at the

entrance of Sir Eric, laughed at Alberic’s merry ways, and liked to

sit on Fru Astrida’s lap, and hear her sing, though he understood not

one word; but his especial love was still for his first friend, Duke

Richard. Hand-in-hand they went about together, Richard sometimes

lifting him up the steep steps, and, out of consideration for him,

refraining from rough play; and Richard led him to join with him in

those lessons that Father Lucas gave the children of the Castle,

every Friday and Sunday evening in the Chapel. The good Priest stood

on the Altar steps, with the children in a half circle round him—the

son and daughter of the armourer, the huntsman’s little son, the

young Baron de Montemar, the Duke of Normandy, and the Prince of

France, all were equal there—and together they learnt, as he

explained to them the things most needful to believe; and thus

Carloman left off wondering why Richard thought it right to be good

to his enemies; and though at first he had known less than even the

little leather-coated huntsman, he seemed to take the holy lessons in

faster than any of them—yes, and act on them, too. His feeble

health seemed to make him enter into their comfort and meaning more

than even Richard; and Alberic and Father Lucas soon told Fru Astrida

that it was a saintly-minded child.

 

Indeed, Carloman was more disposed to thoughtfulness, because he was

incapable of joining in the sports of the other boys. A race round

the court was beyond his strength, the fresh wind on the battlements

made him shiver and cower, and loud shouting play was dreadful to

him. In old times, he used to cry when Lothaire told him he must

have his hair cut, and be a priest; now, he only said quietly, he

should like it very much, if he could be good enough.

 

Fru Astrida sighed and shook her head, and feared the poor child

would never grow up to be anything on this earth. Great as had been

the difference at first between him and Richard, it was now far

greater. Richard was an unusually strong boy for ten years old,

upright and broad-chested, and growing very fast; while Carloman

seemed to dwindle, stooped forward from weakness, had thin pinched

features, and sallow cheeks, looking like a plant kept in the dark.

 

The old Baron said that hardy, healthy habits would restore the puny

children; and Lothaire improved in health, and therewith in temper;

but his little brother had not strength enough to bear the seasoning.

He pined and drooped more each day; and as the autumn came on, and

the wind was chilly, he grew worse, and was scarcely ever off the lap

of the kind Lady Astrida. It was not a settled sickness, but he grew

weaker, and wasted away. They made up a little couch for him by the

fire, with the high settle between it and the door, to keep off the

draughts; and there he used patiently to lie, hour after hour,

speaking feebly, or smiling and seeming pleased, when any one of

those he loved approached. He liked Father Lucas to come and say

prayers with him; and he never failed to have a glad look, when his

dear little Duke came to talk to him, in his cheerful voice, about

his rides and his hunting and hawking adventures. Richard’s sick

guest took up much of his thoughts, and he never willingly spent many

hours at a distance from him, softening his step and lowering his

voice, as he entered the hall, lest Carloman should be asleep.

 

“Richard, is it you?” said the little boy, as the young figure came

round the settle in the darkening twilight.

 

“Yes. How do you feel now, Carloman; are you better?”

 

“No better, thanks, dear Richard;” and the little wasted fingers were

put into his.

 

“Has the pain come again?”

 

“No; I have been lying still, musing; Richard, I shall never be

better.”

 

“Oh, do not say so! You will, indeed you will, when spring comes.”

 

“I feel as if I should die,” said the little boy; “I think I shall.

But do not grieve, Richard. I do not feel much afraid. You said it

was happier there than here, and I know it now.”

 

“Where my blessed father is,” said Richard, thoughtfully. “But oh,

Carloman, you are so young to die!”

 

“I do not want to live. This is a fighting, hard world, full of

cruel people; and it is peace there. You are strong and brave, and

will make them better; but I am weak and fearful—I could only sigh

and grieve.”

 

“Oh, Carloman! Carloman! I cannot spare you. I love you like my

own brother. You must not die—you must live to see your father and

mother again!”

 

“Commend me to them,” said Carloman. “I am going to my Father in

heaven. I am glad I am here, Richard; I never was so happy before.

I should have been afraid indeed to die, if Father Lucas had not

taught me how my sins are pardoned. Now, I think the Saints and

Angels are waiting for me.”

 

He spoke feebly, and his last words faltered into sleep. He slept

on; and when supper was brought, and the lamps were lighted, Fru

Astrida thought the little face looked unusually pale and waxen; but

he did not awake. At night, they carried him to his bed, and he was

roused into a half conscious state, moaning at being disturbed. Fru

Astrida would not leave him, and Father Lucas shared her watch.

 

At midnight, all were wakened by the slow notes, falling one by one

on the ear, of the solemn passing-bell, calling them to waken, that

their prayers might speed a soul on its way. Richard and Lothaire

were soon at the bedside. Carloman lay still asleep, his hands

folded on his breast, but his breath came in long gasps. Father

Lucas was praying over