The Siege of Norwich Castle: A story of the last struggle against the ConquerorBlake, M. M. (Matilda Maria)
General
The Siege of Norwich Castle: A story of the last struggle against the Conqueror
Blake, M. M. (Matilda Maria)
Historical fiction; William I, King of England, 1027 or 8-1087 -- Fiction
'And are we to stand here and gape at them, and do nought to stop
them?' demanded the countess eagerly. 'Good St. Nicholas! how the
cattle bellow in the castle meadow! Are the poor beasts in danger?'
'The fire frightens them, and no wonder!' answered Sir Hoël. 'But they
are in safety, unless, perhaps, some fragment, here and there, may be
carried from the fire, and somewhat scorch their hides. As for thy
former question, I see not that anything can be done. Having possession
of the ford, I know not how we can dislodge them.'
'It would be but throwing away good lives to attempt it,' said De
Gourin, who cared little whether a few Saxons more or less were burned
on their own hearthstones.
'Eadgyth!' exclaimed the countess impetuously to her bower-maiden, who
had followed her, notwithstanding her terror, 'hast thou not told me
there was a way through the marshes, that Harold used against the
Vikings?'
Eadgyth, with wild eyes and teeth chattering in the extremity of her
horror, gazed at the countess as if her fear had taken away her reason.
The countess repeated her question, and Eadgyth, with an effort, forced
herself to attend.
'Ay, that is so. My kinsman Leofric would be familiar with it. He has
fought every inch of this ground against the Danes under your lord!'
she said.
'Where is this Leofric? Let him be summoned,' commanded the countess.
'He is yonder helping his countrymen to save their skins from the
fire,' said Sir Alain contemptuously.
Again the countess commanded, 'Let him be summoned!'
And when, not long after, Leofric Ealdredsson stood before her, still
breathing hard after his exertions, his face begrimed with dust and
smoke, and the wild firelight gleaming on his torc and mail corselet
and bracelets, she asked him if he knew of any way by which he could
steal unperceived through the marshes, and take the artillerymen of the
foe by surprise.
'By Asgaard! yes!' exclaimed Leofric, turning to De Gourin. 'And so I
told this fair sir an hour ago, and offered to show him how he might
take them in flank, and stuff their accursed red-hot balls down their
own throats; or I would have taken a band under my own order, twenty of
my house-carles, if he would add twenty stout men from the garrison.
But he would hear none of it.'
'We shall be the safer that the buildings yonder are burned,' said De
Gourin. 'Why throw away good lives to stop it?'
'Why was I not told of this suggestion?' asked Sir Hoël, frowning.
'Thou takest over much upon thyself, Sir Alain!'
'Grant me the men now, countess!' said Leofric eagerly.
'My lord owed his life to thee, Leofric Ealdredsson!' answered the
countess. 'I know I may trust thee! Take thy stout carles, and twenty
men beside.'
'Ahoi! By Freya! thou art a pearl among women!' cried the wild Leofric,
who was much of a Viking himself.
'Ah, kinsman Leofric, leave those heathen names alone!' said Eadgyth.
'Thou hast a better symbol in the hilt of thy sword!'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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