The Duke of Brittany
Life Stories for Young People
9781465631541
118 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
Near the close of the twelfth century a hunting-castle stood in the northern part of Brittany, in the midst of dense forests. It belonged to Geoffrey Plantagenet, Duke of Brittany, and his banner was flying from one of its towers, for the master had come for a great hunt. His wife Constance and her ladies accompanied him, though he was very reluctant to have her come into that wild region; but Constance would not be separated from her husband, and feared neither the solitude of the gloomy forest nor the fierce storms which occasionally swept over them from the adjacent shores. Brittany was her home. Her father, the last of the independent dukes, ruled the eastern part of it, and she brought it as her heritage to her husband, son of King Henry the Second of England. West Brittany, which was English, had come into Geoffrey’s possession, before this time, from his father, and the two divisions were consolidated by him into one dukedom. Constance loved the country, and gladly visited this remote hunting-castle. On the second evening after her arrival, Constance found herself alone with her attendants, for the Duke and the nobles, who were taking part in the chase, had ridden to the forest at early morning light with their retinues. There were but few guests, for many an old house had lost its brave master, and many a strong castle stood empty. Many of the stoutest vassals had been drafted into the service of the English king, and others had fallen in the French wars. The country was impoverished and well-nigh deserted; the Duke was no longer powerful enough to protect it from marauding hordes and the ravages of wild animals. He had come at this time not only to indulge in the pleasures of the chase, but to restrain these pillagers as far as possible. The Duchess and her ladies impatiently paced the high stone terrace of the castle, stopping now and then to scan the forest, in whose gloom the road by which the hunters entered was soon lost. As the sun disappeared behind the dense mass of trees the Duchess eagerly listened for the first peal of the horns announcing the return. But as the sun sank still lower and the darkness grew more intense, no peal sounded from the forest. The wind rustled the banner above her, then suddenly ceased, and an ominous silence followed. After a few minutes the neigh of a horse was heard in the distance. “Do you hear that?” joyfully exclaimed the Duchess to her ladies. “It is thus my husband’s faithful steed always announces its approach to the castle. We shall soon hear the signal of the horn, summoning us to make ready for them. Come, let us go to meet the Duke in the hall.” Followed by her ladies, who cast parting and anxious glances at the forest, the Duchess hastened inside, ascended the steep, winding stairs, and entered the large reception hall, brilliantly illuminated by torches, where the remaining inmates of the castle assembled, among them the chaplain in his black vestments. Uttering the greeting, “Peace be with you,” he took his place near the Duchess, the others arranging themselves in a circle around the walls. The warder, with his heavy bunch of keys in his leathern girdle, went out to the courtyard, prepared to open the outer gate, which was protected by the drawbridge, when the hunting-party arrived. At that instant the horn signal was sounded; but what a mournful tone they heard! All were astonished, and anxiously looked at the Duchess, who advanced toward the door with pallid face. Once again the horn sounded a piercingly mournful call, and through the outer gate, which the warder had opened, they saw the party advancing.
