eaths of Sybald and Henry, the alliance
between the King and Arnulf, and the restraint and harshness with which
the Duke was treated; and with this intelligence he went in haste to
Normandy.

Soon after his arrival, a three days' fast was observed throughout the
dukedom, and in every church, from the Cathedral of Bayeux to the
smallest and rudest village shrine, crowds of worshippers were kneeling,
imploring, many of them with tears, that God would look on them in His
mercy, restore to them their Prince, and deliver the child out of the
hands of his enemies. How earnest and sorrowful were the prayers offered
at Centeville may well be imagined; and at Montemar sur Epte the anxiety
was scarcely less. Indeed, from the time the evil tidings arrived,
Alberic grew so restless and unhappy, and so anxious to do something,
that at last his mother set out with him on a pilgrimage to the Abbey of
Jumieges, to pray for the rescue of his dear little Duke.

In the meantime, Louis had sent notice to Laon that he should return home
in a week's time; and Richard rejoiced at the prospect, for the King had
always been less unkind to him than the Queen, and he hoped to be
released from his captivity within the Castle. Just at this time he
became very unwell; it might have been only the effect of the life of
unwonted confinement which he had lately led that was beginning to tell
on his health; but, after being heavy and uncomfortable for a day or two,
without knowing what was the matter with him, he was one night attacked
with high fever.

Osmond was dreadfully alarmed, knowing nothing at all of the treatment of
illness, and, what was worse, fully persuaded that the poor child had
been poisoned, and therefore resolved not to call any assistance; he hung
over him all night, expecting each moment to see him expire--ready to
tear his hair with despair and fury, and yet obliged to restrain himself
to the utmost quietness and gentleness, to soothe the suffering of the
sick child.

Through that night, Richard either tossed about on his narrow bed, or,
when his restlessness desired the change, sat, leaning his aching head on
Osmond's breast, too oppressed and miserable to speak or think. When the
day dawned on them, and he was still too ill to leave the room,
messengers were sent for him, and Osmond could no longer conceal the fact
of his sickness, but parleyed at the door, keeping out every one he
could, and refusing all offers of attenda