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

XXVII.
SAXON SAINTS AND NORMAN SOLDIERS

At the time when William the Conqueror was north of the Humber; when the Normans were ruthlessly ravaging Northumberland with fire and sword; when the bishop and clergy of Durham were carrying off the body of St. Cuthbert to Holy Island; and when the invaders were slaughtering man and beast without a thought of mercy, one spot of ground escaped, as if by miracle, from devastation, and remained cultivated and covered with buildings, when every other part of the country around was laid waste or given to the flames. The land thus miraculously saved from the spoiler's hand lay around, and belonged to, the church of St. John of Beverley.

It appears that, in 1070, when the Normans were encamped about seven miles from Beverley, many Northumbrians, in utter despair of resisting the invaders with the slightest success, remembered, in the hour of darkness, that St. John of Beverley was a saint of Saxon race, and, in accordance with the ideas prevalent at the time, believed he was potent enough to afford them protection. Alarmed beyond measure at the approach of the Conqueror, and at the accounts of atrocities perpetrated by the victorious Normans, many women of rank whose husbands and brothers had fallen, and old men on the verge of the grave, taking with them their most valuable property, gathered to the church of Beverley, and prostrating themselves at the shrine of St. John, prayed to their canonized countryman, "that he, remembering in heaven he was born a Saxon, might protect them and their property from the fury of the foreigners." Having thus committed themselves to the care of St. John, the refugees awaited the issue, with fear and trembling indeed, but not without hope of salvation.

In the meantime, there reached the Norman camp tidings that many Northumbrians of great riches had sought shelter in the church of Beverley, and that most of the wealth of the neighbourhood had been lodged in safety within the walls. This report roused the avarice of the invaders; nor did any thought of the sacred character of the edifice, or of the saint to whom it was dedicated, restrain their aspirations after plunder. Whatever an Umfraville or a Merley might think of sacrilege, the crime was one which the majority of the conquerors lightly regarded. Every consideration, however holy, vanished in presence of the temptation presented by the prospect of booty; and the warriors of the Conquest had as little hesitation in robbing a church as in plundering a henhouse.

Among the military adventurers encamped near Beverley was a soldier named Toustain. This man, who seems to have had neither scruples nor fears, on hearing that spoil was to be easily come by, immediately resolved on a foray. Buckling on his mail, calling out his men, and mounting his horse, Toustain, at the head of his troops, rode from the camp, and dashed across the country to Beverley, eager to commence the work of pillage, and only uneasy at the possibility of any one being before him.

But Toustain was destined to disappointment. Entering Beverley with his band at his back, he rode on, and pursued his way towards the church without encountering resistance, and found that the people had taken refuge and crowded together in the cemetery. Giving his horse the spur, Toustain leaped the wall; and running his keen eye along the crowd, he was attracted by an old man, whose attire was of the richest description.

The individual on whose figure the eye of Toustain thus rested was an aged thane – so advanced in years, indeed, that he probably remembered the days of Earl Uchtred. With his long, loose robe, long white hair, and long white moustache, the aspect of the man was venerable and striking. But what attracted Toustain's attention was not the white beard, nor the long robes, but the bracelets with which, according to the custom of the country, the arms of the aged thane were loaded. In fact, the sight of the bracelets caused Toustain's eye to gleam with avarice; and drawing his sword, he spurred forward with the intention of making them his own.

But, according to the proverb, there is much between the cup and the lip; and the truth of this Toustain now found to his cost. Terrified at the Norman's drawn blade and menacing manner, the old thane tottered hastily to the church, to place himself under the protection of the patron saint of the place; and Toustain, who had no more respect for the Saxon saint than for those who invoked his aid, pursued sword in hand. Scarcely, however, had the Norman, with avarice at his heart and blasphemy on his lips, spurred through the doorway, when his horse, touching the pavement, slipped, lost its footing, and fell, bearing its rider to the ground with a crash which seemed sufficient to break every bone in his body.

On seeing their leader fall, and lie as if dead, the Norman soldiers were seized with superstitious terror. It seemed as if the Saxon saint had, in his wrath, struck Toustain down. Hurriedly turning their horses' heads, they left Beverley at a gallop, hastened in terror to their camp, and related to the companions of their enterprise the terrible example which St. John of Beverley had just given of his power. The accident produced a lasting effect on the invading army; and when the Normans again marched to slay and plunder, not one soldier in their ranks was daring enough to expose himself to supernatural vengeance by molesting any person under the protection of St. John of Beverley.

XXVIII.
THE REDUCTION OF CHESTER

While the conquerors of Northumberland passed the winter of 1070 at York, and rested from the fatigues they had undergone in their campaign north of the Humber, William occupied his mind with schemes for the reduction of the country around Chester – "the one great city of England that had not yet heard the tramp of the foreigners' horses." When winter passed, and spring began to bring back the grass to the fields and leaves to the trees, the Norman king intimated his intention of setting out on the important expedition.

But the effect produced by William's orders, that war-steeds should be saddled, and warriors should mount, to encounter new perils, was such as he could hardly have anticipated. Loud murmurs immediately arose in the army, especially among the auxiliaries from Anjou and Brittany. Exaggerated accounts of the ruggedness of the province of Chester and of the ferocity of the inhabitants circulated through the camp; and the terrible hardships suffered in Northumberland utterly disinclined the soldiers for a campaign on the banks of the Dee.

"This service," said they, "is more intolerable than slavery. We demand leave to return to our homes."

"Wait awhile," said William, coaxingly: "after victory I promise you repose; and with repose, great estates, as the reward of your exertions."

After some difficulty the murmurs of the Normans were silenced; and William, leading his army over the intervening mountains by paths till then deemed impracticable for cavalry, entered the city of Chester as a conqueror. Having erected a strong castle to keep the natives in awe, he gave the command of the province to a Fleming, named Gherbaud, with the title of Earl of Chester.

Elate, doubtless, with his good fortune, Gherbaud entered on his duties with vigour. His ardour, however, was speedily damped. It appeared that the accounts of the ferocity of the men of Chester that had reached York were not altogether without foundation. The English and Welsh, hitherto sworn foes, and continually at strife, seemed to vie with each other in their attacks on the invaders. Harassed on every hand, and exposed to continual anxiety and peril, Gherbaud grew tired of Chester, abandoned his earldom, and intensely disgusted with his taste of the conquered country, retired to Flanders.

It now appeared necessary to place the earldom of Chester in the hands of a man who, while gifted with the governing faculty, could laugh at danger, and fatigue, and ferocious foes. Accordingly, William, duly weighing the circumstances of the case, conferred the post of danger on that feudal personage who figures in the history of the period as Hugh d'Avranches, and who, from bearing a wolf's head painted on his shield, was familiarly known among his contemporaries as Hugh le Loup.

Hugh le Loup was son of Richard Gosse, and, on the mother's side, stood to William in the relationship of nephew. Full of courage and ambition, he shrunk neither from the perils nor the toils that had disgusted and dismayed Gherbaud. Passing the Dee with his two lieutenants, Robert de Malpas and Robert d'Avranches, Hugh conquered Flintshire, and built a castle at Rhuddlan, which was occupied by Robert d'Avranches; while Robert de Malpas having built a castle on a high hill, gave the place his name, which it still bears. Both of these warriors exhibited high courage, carried on a fierce war with the natives, and fought sanguinary battles, in which they dyed their spears in Welsh blood.

When Hugh le Loup found himself installed as Earl of Chester, but surrounded on all sides by implacable foes, he naturally felt desirous of having some of his countrymen at hand to share his fortunes. With this view he sent to Normandy for an old friend, named Nigel, who brought with him five brothers, to whom Hugh granted lands in the earldom of Chester. Besides appointing Nigel Constable and Hereditary Marshal of Chester, Hugh granted him the town of Halton, near the Mersey, and all four-legged beasts of more than one colour taken from the Welsh, besides other privileges; and the five brothers were all provided for. One was gifted with the office of Constable of Halton, and the lands of Weston and Ashton, with all the bulls taken from the Welsh, and the best ox for the man-at-arms who carried his banner; the second of the brothers received as much land as an ox could plough in two days; the third, who was a priest, was gifted with the church of Runcorn; and two others became lords of a domain in that village.

About the time that Hugh le Loup was consolidating his power in Chester, Gilbert de Lacy, to whom William had granted the magnificent domain of Pontefract, passed the mountains west of York, advancing boldly into the county of Lancaster, which then formed part of Chester. Gilbert took possession of this immense territory, extending south and east to the borders of Yorkshire, forcibly expelled the ancient proprietors, and constituted himself lord of the towns of Blackburn and Rochdale, and all the land which he overran.

XXIX.
LANFRANC OF PAVIA

About Easter, 1070, three ecclesiastics of high rank, sent by the Pope, at King William's request, arrived in England in the capacity of legates. One was bishop of Sion, the other two were cardinals, and their errand was to set the Church of England in order. After being received by William with great honour, and magnificently entertained in the castle of Winchester, the legates convoked a great assembly of Norman priests and warriors, and summoned to it the Anglo-Saxon prelates and abbots. Having opened the business of the assembly by solemnly placing the Confessor's crown on the Conqueror's head, they proceeded to the discharge of their harsh duties, and pronounced sentence of deposition on many abbots and prelates.

Among those who were deposed, the most important, from his position and influence, was Robert Stigand, Archbishop of Canterbury. The difficulty of finding a proper successor to Stigand was not overlooked. Without delay, the legates prepared to bestow the archbishopric of Canterbury on Lanfranc of Pavia, one of the greatest scholars and most remarkable men of the century in which he lived.

Lanfranc was a native of the city of Pavia, and a man of gentle blood. A scholar by nature, he early applied himself to those studies which enabled him to figure as the leader of the intellectual movement of the age. It has been said that, "to comprehend the extent of his talents, one must be Herodian in grammar, Aristotle in dialectics, Cicero in rhetoric, Augustine and Jerome in scriptural lore."

Becoming a monk of Bec-Hellouin, Lanfranc rapidly raised that humble monastery to the dignity of a university, and came to be acknowledged as the great teacher of Latin Christendom. So signal was his success, and so high his reputation, that, from the remotest parts of Western Europe, and even from Greece, students resorted to Bec-Hellouin as to a new Athens.

While at Bec-Hellouin, Lanfranc had the gratification to gain the confidence of William the Norman, and he became zealously attached to the ambitious duke's fortunes. But a serious difference arose. Lanfranc happened to set himself in opposition to William's marriage with Matilda of Flanders, as being within the degrees of relationship prohibited by the Church; and as, in regard to this affair, the duke would brook no contradiction, the priest of Pavia was commanded to depart. It is related that William, to speed Lanfranc on his way back to his native land, sent him a horse so lame of one foot, that it might be said to go on three legs, and that Lanfranc, meeting William on the road, begged at least to have a quadruped, and not a tripod, for his journey. But however that may have been, Lanfranc found his way to Rome, and placed himself under the wing of the Pope.

Once at Rome, Lanfranc began carefully to examine the case of William's relationship to Matilda in all its bearings. Ere long, his opinion as to its merits underwent a change. After examining canon and precedent, he arrived at the conclusion that, though the letter of the law was against the union of the duke and the Flemish princess, yet that the alliance came under the category of those to which the Church should accord dispensation. Having convinced himself on this point, Lanfranc exerted his efforts earnestly as William's advocate, and though dealing with a Pope decidedly averse to the marriage, he managed matters so skilfully as to obtain a formal dispensation, which not only restored him to the Norman duke's good opinion, but gave him a higher place in the martial magnate's favour than he before occupied.

Removed from the cloisters of Bec-Hellouin to figure as Abbot of Caen, Lanfranc became the soul of William's councils and his plenipotentiary at Rome. He it was who, in that capacity, brought to a successful issue the negotiations regarding the invasion of England.

When the papal legate proposed Lanfranc as Stigand's successor in the archbishopric of Canterbury, William gladly approved of the selection. Lanfranc was then at Caen. No time, however, was lost in sending him to England. Matilda hastened his departure; and his arrival was celebrated by the Normans with joy. "He is," said they, "an institutor sent from God to reform the habits of the English."

The gratification which the elevation of Lanfranc caused was not confined to the conquerors of Neustria and England. The Pope evinced his high satisfaction by sending his own pallium to the new archbishop, with an epistle worded in the most complimentary strain.

"I long to see your face," wrote the Pontiff, "and am only consoled for your absence by reflecting on the happy fruits which England will derive from your care."

When Lanfranc made his entry into Canterbury, the condition to which the church was reduced filled his heart with sadness. During the Conquest the edifice had met with rough treatment. It had been pillaged, despoiled of its ornaments, and even set on fire, and the high altar was half buried beneath a heap of rubbish.

It was not difficult for a man of Lanfranc's influence to repair the church; but there was a grave question, whether Canterbury or York should possess the primacy of England, which had long furnished matter for dispute. It was a serious controversy, and one from which Lanfranc felt that it would ill become him to shrink.

By this time the Saxon Alred, bowed down with sorrow, had gone where the weary are at rest, and Thomas, one of William's Norman chaplains, figured as Archbishop of York. Thomas was naturally reluctant to give up his claims; and some of the earlier evidences were so ambiguous, that he had a fair excuse for being pertinacious. After a long process, however, Lanfranc established his claim to the primacy; became, as such, first member of the Grand Council of State, and by his success established the great principle, "that whatever rights had legally subsisted before the Conquest were to be preserved and maintained, unaffected by the accession of a new dynasty."

After thus being recognised as primate, Lanfranc was hailed as, "by the grace of God, father of all the churches," and as such undertook a task of great delicacy. Owing to the ignorance of Anglo-Saxon transcribers, the text of the biblical books had become much corrupted; and Lanfranc employed himself in a new edition of the Holy Scriptures, diligently occupying himself with the work, and executing much of it with his own hand. The Saxons, incapable of comprehending the necessity that existed for such revision, raised a cry that the primate was falsifying the sacred books. But Lanfranc went on with his labours, and without heeding the hostile attitude assumed towards him by the vanquished islanders, was ever zealous in standing up for their rights. He endeavoured to enact the part of a father to the conquered populace; he devoted his whole energies to the service of his adopted country, and he ever rejoiced in the name of Englishman.

XXX.
EDWIN AND MORKAR

While Lanfranc was, as Archbishop of Canterbury, establishing his claims to the primacy of England, the year 1071 witnessed the utter ruin of that great Saxon House of which, in the days of Edward the Confessor, Leofric, Earl of Mercia, had been the head.

Edwin and Morkar, the sons of Algar, and grandsons of Leofric and Godiva, were fair to look upon and pleasant to converse with. They were proud, indeed, but their pride did not detract from their popularity. The people rather thought it became them; for it was well known that, while the immediate forefathers of most Saxon thanes had held the plough or enriched themselves by trade, the Mercian earls could justly boast of a long pedigree. Leofric, the husband of Godiva, was sixth in descent from his renowned ancestor of the same name; and his heirs were all the prouder of the circumstance, that their position had been maintained with honour and dignity, while other families, yielding to wars, revolutions, and confiscations, had ceased to exist or degenerated into ceorles.

Edwin, Earl of Mercia, was considered the handsomest man of his age. With the earldom of Leofric, he had inherited the beauty of Godiva. His frank features, valiant spirit, and engaging manners made him a great favourite with men; and few women, whether peasant girls or princesses, could look without admiration upon his fair face, blue eyes, handsome figure, and the long light hair that flowed over his manly shoulders.

Edwin and Morkar had taken no part in the battle of Hastings. That, however, was no fault of theirs, for Harold, rashly as it would seem, had left London to encounter the Normans before his brothers-in-law could possibly bring up the men of the north to his aid. On reaching London they heard of his defeat and fall.

The idea of aspiring to the vacant throne was not unnatural to men situated as Edwin and Morkar were. They accordingly appeared as candidates for the difficult post of King of England. What might have been the result if one of them had been elected it would be useless to speculate. Sufficient it is to say that the adherents of Edgar Atheling were too resolute to be influenced and too numerous to be overawed. Finding their claims disregarded, Edwin and Morkar took their sister Aldith, the widow of Harold, from the palace of Westminster, escorted her to Chester, and then repaired to York with some dream of separating the northern provinces from the rest of England, and defending them to the death against the Norman invaders.

Events speedily opened the eyes of the northern earls to the absurdity of their project. Almost every day brought to York such intelligence as convinced them that they were pursuing an impolitic course; and when they learned that William the Norman had obtained possession of London and the Confessor's crown, they deemed it prudent to hasten southward to present themselves to the Conqueror, to profess their friendship, and offer their allegiance.

William, well understanding the importance of being recognised as king by such men as Edwin and Morkar, treated the sons of Algar with distinction. Moreover, to insure the fidelity of the two brothers, William promised Edwin one of his daughters in marriage; and, fascinated by the prospects opened up to their view, they remained quietly and submissively at the Conqueror's court. It does not appear to have occurred to them that they were regarded in the light either of captives or of hostages.

As months passed on, however, and William, anxious to display himself on the Continent in his new character, prepared to embark at Pevensey for Normandy, Edwin and Morkar suddenly learned their real position. The Conqueror peremptorily commanded the attendance of the two Saxon earls, and they were fain to obey. But it was with sullen reluctance; and when, after having been duly admired and criticised by the dames and damsels at the court of Rouen, they returned to England, it was with a determination to break their chains without delay.

Matters were soon brought to a crisis. Edwin reminded William of the promise of his daughter's hand, and demanded her in marriage. William made a reply which sounded like a refusal, and seemed to savour of insult. The Saxon earl tossed back his head with an air of defiance, as if to indicate his opinion that the granddaughter of Arlette would have been highly honoured by becoming the wife of the grandson of Godiva. Soon after, it was publicly known that Edwin and Morkar, having escaped from the court, had departed for the north; and the prayers of the people accompanied them in their flight, while monks and priests offered up fervent orisons for their safety and success.

The prayers and orisons, however, cannot be said to have proved of much avail. The enterprise of Edwin and Morkar resulted in failure; the Saxon earls were fain to retreat to the borders of Scotland; and events ere long seeming to render the Saxon cause hopeless, the chiefs, after William's coronation at York, lost heart and hope, and consented to capitulate. On the banks of the Tees, where William was encamped, a formal reconciliation took place. Edwin and Morkar, with other Saxons of high name, made their peace with the Conqueror, and with a sigh for the freedom they left behind, returned to his court.

Brief, however, was the residence of the Saxon earls in the halls of the Norman king. In fact, the deposition of the Saxon bishops, and the sufferings they had to endure, fired the soul of every Saxon with fierce indignation. A mighty conspiracy was formed, with ramifications over all England; and men, driven to the last stage of despair, determined to establish an extensive armed station.

At that time the district to the north of Cambridgeshire, of which Ely and Croyland formed part, was almost a moving bog, intersected by rivers, overgrown with rushes and willows, clouded with fogs and vapours, and presenting the appearance of a vast lake interspersed with islands. On these islands there stood, as monuments of the piety of the Saxon kings, religious houses, built on piles and earth brought from a distance – here an abbey, there a hermitage.

It was to this district, wholly impracticable for cavalry and heavily-armed troops, that Saxon chiefs despoiled of their lands, and Saxon priests deprived of their livings, repaired in great numbers. Constructing intrenchments of earth and wood, they formed what was called the Camp of Refuge. Thither, from Scotland, came Robert Stigand, the deposed Archbishop of Canterbury, and Eghelwin, the deposed Bishop of Durham; and thither, from the court of the Norman, after having escaped countless perils, and wandered for months in woods and solitary places, came Edwin and Morkar, the Saxon earls.

William was startled at this second escape of his long-haired captives, and by no means easy at the idea of their being at liberty. He immediately contrived to convey to them promises never intended to be kept, and Morkar was sufficiently credulous to listen. Yielding to the temptations held out, the young earl abandoned the camp at Ely. Scarcely, however, had he left the intrenchments when he was seized, bound hand and foot, carried to a Norman castle, put forcibly in irons, and left under the custody of Robert de Beaumont – one of those men from whose keeping there was small chance of escaping.

Edwin, hearing of his brother's imprisonment, became somewhat desperate. He resolved to leave Ely, not to surrender, but to struggle so long as life remained. With a few adherents he wandered for six months from place to place, vainly endeavouring to rouse his countrymen to a great effort for their deliverance. While thus occupied he was betrayed by three of his officers, who basely sold him to the Normans. Warned of his danger, Edwin was one day riding, with twenty attendants, towards the sea, with some notion of reaching the coast of Scotland, when a band of Normans suddenly rushed upon him. Endeavouring to escape, the Saxon earl galloped on; but stopped by a brook so swollen with the tide that it was impossible to cross, he dismounted from his steed and turned desperately to bay.

Nor in that hour did the young and popular Saxon earl bear himself in a manner unworthy of his position as one of the great race which for six centuries had given kings and war-chiefs to the British isles. For a long time he defended himself with heroic courage against a host of assailants; and at last – when overborne by numbers and forced to his knees, he fell as, in such circumstances, a brave man should – he died without fear, as he had fought without hope.

The death of Edwin was lamented by Normans as well as Saxons; even the grim Conqueror's heart was touched to the core. When the head of the Saxon earl, with its long, flowing hair, was carried to London, William could not restrain his tears. The king, says the chronicler, wept over the fate of one whom he loved, and whom he would fain have attached to his fortunes.