Sir Eric, "that save with consent of the council of
Normandy, the child leaves not my hands."

"He says," called back Osmond, after a moment, "that you shall guard him
yourself, with as many as you choose to bring with you. He declares on
the faith of a free Baron, that the King has no thought of ill--he wants
to show him to the Rouennais without, who are calling for him, and
threaten to tear down the tower rather than not see their little Duke.
Shall I bid him send a hostage?"

"Answer him," returned the Baron, "that the Duke leaves not this chamber
unless a pledge is put into our hands for his safety. There was an
oily-tongued Count, who sat next the King at supper--let him come hither,
and then perchance I may trust the Duke among them."

Osmond gave the desired reply, which was carried to the King. Meantime
the uproar outside grew louder than ever, and there were new sounds, a
horn was winded, and there was a shout of "_Dieu aide_!" the Norman
war-cry, joined with "Notre Dame de Harcourt!"

"There, there!" cried Sir Eric, with a long breath, as if relieved of
half his anxieties, "the boy has sped well. Bernard is here at last!
Now his head and hand are there, I doubt no longer."

"Here comes the Count," said Osmond, opening the door, and admitting a
stout, burly man, who seemed sorely out of breath with the ascent of the
steep, broken stair, and very little pleased to find himself in such a
situation. The Baron de Centeville augured well from the speed with
which he had been sent, thinking it proved great perplexity and distress
on the part of Louis. Without waiting to hear his hostage speak, he
pointed to a chest on which he had been sitting, and bade two of his
men-at-arms stand on each side of the Count, saying at the same time to
Fru Astrida, "Now, mother, if aught of evil befalls the child, you know
your part. Come, Lord Richard."

Richard moved forward. Sir Eric held his hand. Osmond kept close behind
him, and with as many of the men-at-arms as could be spared from guarding
Fru Astrida and her hostage, he descended the stairs, not by any means
sorry to go, for he was weary of being besieged in that turret chamber,
whence he could see nothing, and with those friendly cries in his ears,
he could not be afraid.

He was conducted to the large council-room which was above the hall.
There, the King was walking up and down anxiously, looking paler than his
wont, and no wonder, for the uproar sounded