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William had sent Fitz-Osbern, Earl of Hereford, the scourge and tyrant of the Welsh, to help Richilda. Fitz Osbern had married her, there and then. She had asked help of her liege lord, the King of France, and he had sent her troops. Robert and Richilda had fought on St. Peter's day, 1071, nearly two years before, at Bavinchorum, by Cassel.
The thought of Richilda shivering and starving in the squalid darkness of a convent, abode by her thenceforth. Should she ever find herself atoning in like wise for her sorceries, harmless as they had been; for her ambitions, just as they had been; for her crimes? But she had committed none. No, she had sinned in many things: but she was not as Richilda.
Baldwin, the debonnaire marquis, had not lived to see this fruit of his long efforts to please everybody. He had gone to his rest the year before; and now there ruled in Bruges his son, Baldwin the Good, "Count Palatine," as he styled himself, and his wife Richilda, the Lady of Hainault.
And there met him his father and mother, and his brother of Mons, and Richilda the beautiful and terrible sorceress, who had not yet stained her soul with those fearful crimes which she had expiated by fearful penances in after years, when young Arnoul, the son for whom she had sold her soul, lay dead through the very crimes by which she had meant to make him a mighty prince.
Arnoul, the boy, was Count of Flanders, and Richilda, his sorceress-mother, ruled the land in his name. She began to oppress the Flemings; not those of French Flanders, round St. Omer, but those of Flemish Flanders, toward the north. They threatened to send for Robert the Frison to right them. Hereward was perplexed. He was Robert the Frison's friend, and old soldier.
Adela knew that her daughter-in-law considered her husband a fool; and was somewhat of the same opinion, though she hated Richilda. "No," said she; "we will do more. We will marry her to the first man who enters the castle." Torfrida looked at her mistress to see if she were mad. But the Countess-Queen was serene and sane. Then Torfrida's southern heat and northern courage burst forth.
Ascelin told him all about her, not forgetting to say what, according to the chronicler, was a common report that she had compassed Hereward's love by magic arts. She used to practise sorcery, he said, with her sorceress mistress, Richilda of Hainault. All men knew it. Arnoul, Richilda's son, was as a brother to her.
Will that free my soul, and that of your French Archbishop?" And the priest read to himself. How Torfrida of St. Omer, born at Aries in Provence, confest that from her youth up she had been given to the practice of diabolic arts, and had at divers times and places used the same, both alone and with Richilda, late Countess of Hainault.
We hear naught here in the greenwood, and must throw oneself on the kindness of a chance visitor." The Abbot leapt at the bait, and told them news, court gossip, bringing in great folks' names and his own, as often and as familiarly mingled as he could. "What of Richilda?" asked Torfrida. "Ever since young Arnoul was killed at Cassel " "Arnoul killed?" shrieked Torfrida.
"Is it possible that you do not know?" "How should I know, shut up in Ely for years it seems." "But they fought at Cassel three months before you went to Ely." "Be it so. Only tell me. Arnoul killed!" Then the Abbot told, not without feeling, a fearful story. Robert the Frison and Richilda had come to open war, and Gerbod the Fleming, Earl of Clueter, had gone over from England to help Robert.
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