altar, and, having received a sword from the hands of the senior noble present, struck the young prince thrice upon the shoulder, at the same time exclaiming :

“In the name of God and Our Lady, I dub thee knight! Be wise in council, brave in the field, loyal to thy prince, and faithful in thy allegiance! So may St. Michael, the archangel, strengthen thee, and the saints hold thee in their holy keeping!"

It is to be observed that, in the ceremony of knighting the son of William the Conqueror, the name of St. George was not used.

It was not till the marriage of Henry II. with Eleanora of Aquitaine, that St. George had been the war-cry and patron saint of England.

After a brief conference with Lanfranc, at the end of the ceremony, the new-made knight started for Rye, to join his father's forces, which were already on the point of sailing for Normandy.

CHAPTER XIX.

It is the curse of civil war to arm

The brother 'gainst the brother's life; the sire
Against the son. We do offence to heaven,
When we do rend the bowels of our country.

OLD DRAMATIST.

WILLIAM's first interview with his queen, after his landing in Normandy, as our readers may suppose, was a stormy one. He had been wounded by her conduct, both as a sovereign and a husband. For her blind partiality to Robert made her overlook the fact, that, in aiding him in his rebellion, she became virtually a conspirator against his father and her sovereign.

Odericus Vitalis has preserved the exact words in which the Conqueror addressed her when they met. The discovery of her agent, Sampson, had placed her in participation and assistance in the crime of Robert, beyond the shadow of a doubt.

"The observation of a certain philosopher is true,” exclaimed the king; "and I have only too much cause to admit the force of his words:

Naufragium rerum est, mulier malefida marito.

(A perfidious wife is the ruin of her husband.)

Where" he continued, "could you have found a companion so devoted in his affection? Behold my wife-she whom I have loved as my own soul-to whom I have confided the government of my realms, my treasure, and all that I possessed in the world of power and greatness-she hath supported mine adversary against me! She hath strengthened and enriched him with the wealth which I confided to her keeping. She hath secretly employed her zeal and subtilty in his cause, and encouraged him against me!"

Beausire," replied Matilda, "be not surprised if I feel a mother's tenderness for my first-born son! By the virtue of the Most High, I protest that if my son Robert were dead, and hid from the sight of the living, seven feet deep in the earth, and the price of my blood could restore him to life, I would cheerfully bid it flow! For his sake I would endure any suffering-yea, things from which, on any other occasion, the feebleness of my sex would bid me shrink! How, then, could you suppose that I could endure pomp, and luxury, and know that he was pining in want and misery? Far from my heart," she added, “be such hardness, nor ought your authority to impose such insensibility upon a mother!"

To the further reproaches of her husband, Matilda replied only by her tears. The heart of her husband was not proof against the grief of the woman whom he had passionately loved. It was not upon her that the Conqueror determined to wreak his vengeance, but upon her agent, Sampson, through whose means her letters and assistance had been conveyed to her rebellious son.

""Tis well, madam!" he said. "I cannot forget the past affection between us, although you have thought proper to do so; but there is one on whom my vengeance shall fall, who shall

long remember that the wrath of kings is terrible as that of heaven ! Your unworthy agent is known to me!"

Matilda turned deadly pale; for, however vindictive she had proved herself as an enemy, she was incapable of deserting a friend, or one who had served her.

"Spare his life!" she faltered. ders!"

"He acted but by my or

"I will spare his life!" exclaimed her husband bitterly, “that he may live a warning to all who would plot treason against their sovereign! By the splendor of God," he added-his usual oath when excited to anger-" before the sun is twenty-four hours older, I will have his eyes torn out!"

With this fearful menace her husband left the apartment, calling loudly for his guards, in order to carry his dreadful purpose into execution. Not an instant was to be lost. Approaching the window of the palace, she hastily beckoned a young nobleman to her, and dropped into his hands her tablets, on which she had written the words, "Fly-Duche !"

Duche was the name of a monastery of Benedictines, to whom Matilda had been a liberal patroness, and its abbot, Munier, she felt assured, would afford shelter to the fugitive, even against her husband.

"And what, your grace, am I to do with these ?" demanded the noble, who had caught the tablets of the queen, and who doubtless felt proud of the mark of confidence reposed in him by his sovereign.

Convey them to Sampson, my squire, instantly! Life hangs upon your haste! Stay!" she added, as the young man was about to withdraw. "Have you a horse ?"

"As good a steed, your grace, as any in all Normandy." "And fleet?"

"The wind could scarce outstrip him."

"For my sake," said the agitated queen, "lend him to my esquire, who hath fallen under the displeasure of the king-I will replace him; and rely on Matilda's gratitude!"

The youth waited for no second request; but, proud of the

confidence reposed in him by a woman and his sovereign, sought out the unlucky confidant of Matilda and Robert, and placed the tablets in his hand. A few words explained the rest. Scarcely had he started, when the guard commanded to arrest him, sought him in every part of the palace; but the fugitive had the start of them.

William was still giving orders to his minister, Roger De Beaumont, when the news was brought him of Sampson's escape. The infuriated monarch gave orders for an immediate pursuit, offering a considerable reward to him who should bring the offender, dead or alive, into his presence.

So keen was the pursuit-for the zeal of the soldiers was excited by the promised recompense-that the unlucky fugitive had barely time to reach the place of his appointed refuge, before the messengers of William thundered for admittance at the gates of the abbey church. Sampson had already presented to the abbot the tablets of the queen, and explained the cause of his flight.

"Father!" he exclaimed, alarmed at the increased knocking at the gates, "will you not protect me-your abbey is privileged ?"

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'It is," said the dignitary; "but the question is, will the king respect it? I have no means to enforce the observance of sanctuary against armed men, unless," he added, after a moment's pause, "in the person of a professed brother of our holy order."

"What mean you?" falteringly demanded the young man, who certainly did not feel the least inclination to become a monk, for he was on the point of marriage with one of the attendants of the queen.

"That the only means of shielding you from the wrath of William, is to assume the habit of our order!"

"But I have no vocation, holy father!"

"Perhaps not,” replied the abbot, drily; "but that will come in time!"

"I am betrothed to a fair girl!”

"I can absolve you from your vow!" interrupted the digni

tary, who, knowing that the fugitive was rich, determined not to lose so favorable an occasion of adding to the wealth of his community, by receiving the vows of the esquire. "Decide,” he added; "for the messengers of William are growing impatient for their prey !"

Overcome by the terror of falling into the hands of the Conqueror, whose pitiless nature he well knew, Sampson consented to receive the habit from the hands of the crafty abbot, who, by the same stroke of policy, obliged the queen, and obtained a rich accession to his order. The unfortunate esquire was accordingly shaven and professed in the same hour that he arrived. When the gates of the church were entered, he was no longer a layman subject to secular jurisdiction, but Brother Sampson, of the order of St. Benedict. The soldiers, disappointed of their prey and their reward, sullenly retired.

Strange as it may appear to our readers, this little episode in the history of Matilda is historically correct. The names of the unlucky confidant of the queen of William the Conqueror, and the politic Abbot of Duche, have both been handed down to us by Odericus Vitalis.

CHAPTER XX.

'Tis Nature's cry; all, save the dead, must hear it.

TIMON.

ROBERT and his allies, on hearing of the arrival of the Conqueror in Normandy, were neither dispirited nor alarmed. On the contrary, they resolved on commencing the war, and advanced upon Rouen, on which city they made a formidable assault; but although repulsed, the rebellious prince displayed such headlong courage and military skill, and was so successful in several of his enterprises, that his father began to be seriously alarmed, and hastily assembled his troops to meet him. He found that the