The Conqueror Read online

  ‘Beau sire, do you like him?’ Raoul asked curiously.

  ‘Yes,’ replied the Duke, without hesitation.

  Raoul blinked. ‘And yet you will use him thus!’ He shook his head. ‘I do not understand that way of liking.’

  ‘He is the first of all mine enemies for whom I have felt respect,’ said the Duke. ‘I am a greater man than he is, because I think he has the heart you say I lack, but he is a man, which France was not, and Anjou was not, and certainly Guy of Burgundy was not. Yet for all his strength, and for all his craft, you will see that Harold will not prevail against me, for when his heart is moved he will follow its impulse, sweeping aside the colder counsel of his brain. That I shall never do. Like me the less if you will, but grant me this: I do not fail.’

  ‘No, you do not fail,’ Raoul said. He smiled. ‘I will not like you less, William my lord. But Harold, has he not asked you why you hold him captive?’

  ‘No, and will not. I do not hold him captive; I entreat his company a while longer, and my Duchess beguiles the time pleasantly for him.’

  ‘Yes, but he must surely guess that something you want of him!’

  ‘But as little as I desire to tell it does he desire to ask it of me. Too hasty speech today might ruin all his plans and mine. He waits, hoping for guidance, or some lucky chance; and I wait, biding my time.’

  He had fairly plumbed Earl Harold’s mind. When he threw himself upon the Duke’s protection the Earl knew very well that he was walking into a snare from which he would not easily escape. The Duke’s courtesy did not deceive him, and when William said: ‘Let me not hear you talk of leaving us soon, Earl Harold,’ he knew just how he stood, and wasted no dignity upon further argument. No restriction was put upon him, he was the Duke’s honoured guest, but about his person were placed Norman servants who, he did not doubt, had strict orders not to let him from their sight. He lifted a thoughtful eyebrow at these gentlemen and made full use of them. Earl Harold’s Norman servants were kept hard at work to fulfil all his behests; they groaned in the spirit, and had an uneasy suspicion that the Earl was amusing himself at their expense.

  It seemed he had a way of amusing himself, however hazardous his position. No shadow of anxiety wrinkled his brow, no trace of resentment marred his easy address. One day he would ride out with the Duke with his tercelet on his wrist, flying at the brook for mallard; another day he would accompany Robert of Mortain to hunt deer at force, with a fine horse between his legs, and fleet greyhounds coursing to bring down the wounded bucks; a third day he would be absent till sundown with FitzOsbern, or Hugh de Grantmesnil, boar hunting in the depths of the forest of Quévilly. He took part in jousts, and showed how a Saxon wielded his great battle-axe; he was present at feasts, laughed like a man without a care in the world at Galet’s quips, gave a purse filled with saluz d’or to Taillefer, the Duke’s favourite minstrel, and was on the best of terms with his hosts. But escaping once from a company of his new associates he went away to his own apartments with his arm flung across Edgar’s shoulders, and when the door was shut and he knew himself unwatched the smile was wiped from his face, and he said abruptly: ‘I am a prisoner.’ He moved silently to the curtain that shut off his bed-chamber and pulled it back. No one was there. After a swift glance round the room he came back into the solar and sat down on a chair covered with marten-skins. He brushed the soft pelts contemptuously with his hand. ‘Lodged nobly, and nobly served, but as much a prisoner as though chains still fettered my ankles as they did at Beaurain.’ He laughed, and looked lazily up at Edgar. ‘What, so long a face? Laugh, man, it is a good jest.’

  ‘Lord, FitzOsbern, whom I would trust, swore to me no harm was purposed towards you!’ Edgar said, disregarding this behest.

  ‘Why, not the least in the world!’ Harold agreed. ‘Was ever man so courteously used as I? Servants at my commands – stand away from the door: one may be listening there – horses, hounds, and hawks for my pleasure; sports devised to while away the time for me; feasts in mine honour; a Duchess to lure my thoughts from England: what more princely entreatment could I desire? But if I ride abroad a spy rides behind me.’

  Edgar gave a little shiver, and said in a low voice: ‘If that is so, lord, then touch no food or drink the taster has not first assayed!’

  A gleam of amusement shone in Harold’s eyes. ‘You think I stand in danger of being poisoned? I am sure I do not.’

  ‘If William is holding you captive, lord, you can trust in nothing here in Normandy!’ Edgar said, with a kind of suppressed violence. ‘Poison has not hitherto been his way, no, nor lack of chivalry, but he has set his will upon the getting of a crown, and I tell you nothing, nothing will be let stand between him and his purpose! I have not believed it, but it is true that when certain among his foes died suddenly, disloyal men whispered –’

  ‘Oh yes, yes!’ Harold said impatiently. ‘I have no doubt men whispered that the Duke had sent his foes a subtle poison. So have men whispered about me, with as little truth. Leave poison to lesser men: neither William nor I deal in such base tools. Not my life is threatened, but my freedom, which is more precious.’

  Edgar went to him, and dropped on his knee beside his chair, grasping his hand. ‘Dear my lord, if I might but give my life for yours, or stay a prisoner for ever that you might be freed!’ he said. He raised Harold’s hand to his lips. ‘Ah, what accursed hap cast you on these shores!’

  ‘Why, Edgar, what is this?’ the Earl said gently. ‘Your life for mine? We shall go hence together presently, and laugh at this day’s boding.’

  Edgar rose up from his knee, and began to pace about the room. ‘What does Duke William want of you?’ he threw over his shoulder.

  Harold was playing with a long chain he wore about his neck. ‘He has not told me,’ he said, watching the swing of the golden links. ‘Nor have I asked him.’ He began to smile a little. ‘And I do not think I shall ask him.’

  Edgar stopped short to stare at him. ‘Is it not England?’

  ‘Well, of course it is England,’ Harold answered. ‘But he has not said so. And that is what I do not understand.’ He paused, and added thoughtfully: ‘Nor dare I ask.’

  ‘Dare!’ Edgar exclaimed. ‘What words are these on Harold’s tongue?’

  ‘Wise ones, I promise you. I must wait. Some chance word may yet show me the Duke’s intent. Is it to hold me until Edward is dead, and himself crowned King of England? I do not think it. Never a Saxon would bow his neck for William’s yoke while Harold was known to live. No, William is not the man to make so great a blunder.’ He bit one of the links of his chain reflectively, his eyes narrow as though they tried to probe the future. ‘Something to bind me,’ he said at last. ‘I have never needed to walk more warily. Maybe Ponthieu was after all the less dangerous foe. But William is more generous.’

  ‘If you will own him master,’ Edgar said dryly.

  ‘You have him wrong. He knows I should never do that.’ He let fall his chain, and turned his head to look at Edgar. ‘For many years I have desired to meet William of Normandy, and I will stake my honour he has also desired to meet me. Well, we have met, and measured each one the other, and behold! we are agreed we like each other very well, and will fight to the death.’ He laughed, but was grave again very soon. ‘This I swear to you: while there is life in me William shall never wrest England from Saxon hold. When you see him crowned King of England I shall have taken the swan’s path.’ He saw the frown in Edgar’s eyes, and said: ‘So little faith in Harold?’

  Edgar started. ‘Liege-lord!’

  ‘You frown.’

  ‘Not from want of faith in you, lord. But you lie in William’s power, and I am afraid because I know him. Maybe you will say, as Alfric says, that I am become like a Norman, holding their Duke in too great respect, but –’

  ‘Alfric is a fool,’ interrupted Harold. ‘I see little of t