As Eustace was returning, his attention was caught by repeated groans,
which proceeded from a wretched little hovel almost level with the
earth. "Hark!" said he to Ingram, a tall stout man-at-arms from the
Lynwood estate. "Didst thou not hear a groaning?"
"Some of the Castilians, Sir. To think that the brutes should be
content to live in holes not fit for swine!"
"But methought it was an English tongue. Listen, John!"
And in truth English ejaculations mingled with the moans: "To St.
Joseph of Glastonbury, a shrine of silver! Blessed Lady of Taunton, a
silver candlestick! Oh! St. Dunstan!"
Eustace doubted no longer; and stooping down and entering the hut, he
beheld, as well as the darkness would allow him, Leonard Ashton
himself, stretched on some mouldy rushes, and so much altered, that he
could scarcely have been recognized as the sturdy, ruddy youth who had
quitted the Lances of Lynwood but five weeks before.
"Eustace! Eustace!" he exclaimed, as the face of his late companion
appeared. "Can it be you? Have the saints sent you to my succour?"
"It is I, myself, Leonard," replied Eustace; "and I hope to aid you.
How is it--"
"Let me feel your hand, that I may be sure you are flesh and blood,"
cried Ashton, raising himself and grasping Eustace's hand between his
own, which burnt like fire; then, lowering his voice to a whisper of
horror, "She is a witch!"
"Who?" asked Eustace, making the sign of the cross.
Leonard pointed to a kind of partition which crossed the hut, beyond
which Eustace could perceive an old hag-like woman, bending over a
cauldron which was placed on the fire. Having made this effort, he
sank back, hiding his face with his cloak, and trembling in every limb.
A thrill of dismay passed over the Knight, and the giant, John Ingram,
stood shaking like an aspen, pale as death, and crossing himself
perpetually. "Oh, take me from this place, Eustace," repeated Leonard,
"or I am a dead man, both body and soul!"
"But how came you here, Leonard?"
"I fell sick some three days since, and--and, fearing infection, Sir
William Felton bade me be carried from his lodgings; the robbers, his
men-at-arms, stripped me of all I possessed, and brought me to this
dog-hole, to the care of this old hag. Oh, Eustace, I have heard her
mutter prayers backwards; and last night--oh! last night! at the dead
hour, there came in a procession--of that I would take my oath--seven
black cats, each holding a torch with a blue flame, and danced around
me, till one laid his paw upon my breast, and grew and grew, with its
flaming eyes fixed on me, till it was as big as an ox, and the weight
was intolerable, the while her spells were over me, and I could not
open my lips to say so much as an Ave Mary. At last, the cold dew
broke out on my brow, and I should have been dead in another instant,
when I contrived to make the sign of the Cross, whereat they all
whirled wildly round, and I fell--oh! I fell miles and miles downwards,
till at last I found myself, at morning's light, with the hateful old
witch casting water in my face. Oh, Eustace, take me away!"
Such were the times, that Eustace Lynwood, with all his cool sense and
mental cultivation, believed implicitly poor Leonard's delirious
fancy--black cats and all; and the glances he cast at the poor old
Spaniard were scarcely less full of terror and abhorrence, as he
promised Leonard, whom he now regarded only in the light of his old
comrade, that he should, without loss of time, be conveyed to his own
tent.
"But go not--leave me not," implored Leonard, clinging fast to him,
almost like a child to its nurse, with a hand which was now cold as
marble.
"No; I will remain," said Eustace; "and you, Ingram, hasten to bring
four of the men with the litter in which Master d'Aubricour came from
Burgos. Hasten I tell you."
Ingram, with his eyes dilated with horror, appeared but too anxious to
quit this den, yet lingered. "I leave you not here, Sir Knight."
"Thanks, thanks, John," replied the youth; "but remain I must, and
will. As a Christian man, I defy the foul fiend and all his followers!"
John departed. Never was Leonard so inclined to rejoice in his
friend's clerkly education, or in his knighthood, which was then so
much regarded as a holy thing, that the presence of one whose entrance
into the order was so recent was deemed a protection. The old woman, a
kind-hearted creature in the main, though, certainly forbidding-looking
in her poverty and ugliness, was rejoiced to see her patient visited by
a friend. She came towards them, addressing Eustace with what he took
for a spell, though, had he understood Spanish he would have found it a
fine flowing compliment. Leonard shrank closer to him, pressed his
hand faster, and he, again crossing himself, gave utterance to a charm.
Spanish, especially old Castilian, had likeness enough to Latin for the
poor old woman to recognize its purport; she poured out a voluble
vindication, which the two young men believed to be an attempt at
further bewitching them. Eustace, finding his Latin rather the worse
for wear, had recourse to all the strange rhymes, or exorcisms,
English, French, or Latin, with which his memory supplied him. Thanks
to these, the sorceress was kept at bay, and the spirits of his
terrified companion were sustained till the arrival of all the Lances
of Lynwood, headed by Gaston himself, upon his mule, in the utmost
anxiety for his Knight, looking as gaunt and spectral as the phantoms
they dreaded. He blessed the saints when Eustace came forth safe and
sound, and smiled and shook his head with an arch look when Leonard was
carried out; but his never-failing good-nature prevented him from
saying a word which might savour of reproach when he saw to what a
condition the poor youth was reduced. As four stout men-at-arms took
up the litter, the old woman, coming forth to her threshold, uttered
something which his knowledge of the Romanesque tongues of Southern
France enabled him to interpret into a vindication of her character,
and a request for a reward for her care of the sick Englishman.
"Throw her a gold piece, Sir Eustace, or she may cast at you an evil
eye. There, you old hag," he added in the Provencal patois, "take
that, and thank your stars that 'tis not with a fire that your tender
care, as you call it, is requited."
The men-at-arms meditated ducking the witch after their own English
fashion, but it was growing late and dark, and the Knight gave strict
orders that they should keep together in their progress to their own
tents. Here Leonard was deposited on the couch which Gaston insisted
on giving up to him; but his change of residence appeared to be of
little advantage, for the camp was scarce quiet for the night, before
he shrieked out that the black cats were there. Neither Eustace nor
Gaston could see them, but that was only a proof that they were not
under the power of the enchantment, and John Ingram was quite sure that
he had not only seen the sparkle of their fiery eyes, but felt the
scratch of their talons, which struck him to the ground, with his foot
caught in the rope of the tent, while he was walking about with his
eyes shut.
The scratch was actually on his face the next morning, and he set out
at the head of half the Lances of Lynwood to find the poor old woman,
and visit her with condign punishment; but she was not forthcoming, and
they were obliged to content themselves with burning her house,
assisted by a host of idlers. In the meantime, Sir Eustace had called
in the aid of the clergy: the chaplains of the camp came in procession,
sprinkled the patient's bed with holy water, and uttered an exorcism,
but without availing to prevent a third visit from the enemy. After
this, however, Leonard's fever began to abate, and he ceased to be
haunted.
He had been very ill; and, thoroughly alarmed, he thought himself
dying, and bitterly did he repent of the headstrong insubordination and
jealously which had lead him to quit his best and only friend. He had
not, indeed, the refinement of feeling which would have made Eustace's
generosity his greatest reproach; he clung to him as his support, and
received his attentions almost as a right; but still he was sensible
that he had acted like a fool, and that such friendship was not to be
thrown away; and when he began to recover he showed himself subdued, to
a certain degree grateful, and decidedly less sullen and more amenable
to authority.
In the meantime, the Prince of Wales found himself sufficiently
recovered to undertake to return to Aquitaine, and, weary of the
treacherous delays and flagrant crimes of his ally, he resolved to quit
this fatal land of Castile.
There was a general cry of joy throughout the camp when orders were
given that the tents should be struck and the army begin its march in
the early coolness of the next morning; and, without further adventure,
the Black Prince led his weakened and reduced forces over the Pyrenees
back into France. Here they were again dispersed, as the war was at an
end; and the young Sir Eustace Lynwood received high commendation from
the Prince, and even from Chandos himself, for being able to show his
brother's band as complete in numbers and discipline as on the day when
it was given into his charge.
"This," as Chandos said, "was a service which really showed him worthy
of his spurs, if he would but continue the good course."
The peace with France, however, prevented the Prince from being
desirous of keeping up the Lances of Lynwood, and he therefore offered
to take their young leader into his own troop of Knights, who were
maintained at his own table, and formed a part of his state; and so
distinguished was this body, that no higher favour could have been
offered. Edward likewise paid to Sir Eustace a considerable sum as the
purchase of his illustrious captive, and this, together with the
ransoms of the two other prisoners, enabled him to reward the faithful
men-at-arms, some of whom took service with other Knights, and others
returned to England. Leonard Ashton having no pleasant reminiscences
of his first campaign, and having been stripped of all his property by
his chosen associates, was desirous of returning to his father; and
Eustace, after restoring his equipments to something befitting an
Esquire of property, and liberally supplying him with the expenses of
his journey, bade him an affectionate farewell, and saw him depart, not
without satisfaction at no longer feeling himself accountable for his
conduct.
"There he goes," said Gaston, "and I should like to hear the tales he
will amaze the good Somersetshire folk with. I trow he will make them
believe that he took Du Guesclin himself, and that the Prince knighted
you by mistake."
"His tale of the witches will be something monstrous," said Eustace;
"but still, methinks he is much the better for his expedition: far less
crabbed in temper, and less clownish in manners."
"Ay," said Gaston, "if he were never to be under any other guidance
than yours, I think the tough ash-bough might be moulded into something
less unshapely. You have a calmness and a temper such as he cannot
withstand, nor I understand. 'Tis not want of spirit, but it is that
you never seem to take or see what is meant for affront. I should think
it tameness in any other."
"Well, poor fellow, I wish he may prosper," said Eustace. "But now,
Gaston, to our own affairs. Let us see what remains of the gold."
"Ah! your bounty to our friend there has drawn deeply on our purse,"
said Gaston.
"It shall not be the worse for you, Gaston, for I had set aside these
thirty golden crowns for you before I broke upon my own store. It is
not such a recompense as Reginald or I myself would have wished after
such loving and faithful service; but gold may never recompense truth."
"As for recompense," said Gaston, "I should be by a long score the
debtor if we came to that. If it had not been for Sir Reginald, I
should be by this time a reckless freebooter, without a hope in this
world or the next; if it had not been for you, these bones of mine
would long since have been picked by my cousins, the Spanish wolves.
But let the gold tarry in your keeping: it were better King Edward's
good crowns should not be, after all else that has been, in my hands."
"But, Gaston, you will need fitting out for the service of Sir William
Beauchamp."
"What! What mean you, Sir Eustace?" cried Gaston. "What have I done
that you should dismiss me from your followers?"
"Nay, kind Gaston, it were shame that so finished a Squire should be
bound down by my poverty to be the sole follower of a banner which will
never again be displayed at the head of such a band as the Lances of
Lynwood."
"No, Sir Eustace, I leave you not. Recall your brother's words, 'Go
not back to old ways and comrades,' quoth he; and if you cast me off,
what else is left for me? for having once served a banneret, no other
shall have my service. Where else should I find one who would care a
feather whether I am dead or alive? So there it ends--put up your
pieces, or rather, give me one wherewith to purvey a new bridle for
Brigliador, for the present is far from worthy of his name."
Accordingly, the Gascon Squire still remained attached to Eustace's
service, while the trusty Englishman, John Ingram, performed the more
menial offices. Time sped away at the court of Bordeaux; the gallant
Du Guesclin was restored to liberty, after twice paying away his ransom
for the deliverance of his less renowned brethren in captivity, and
Enrique of Trastamare, returning to Castile, was once more crowned by
the inhabitants. His brother Pedro, attempting to assassinate him,
fell by his hand, and all the consequences of the English expedition
were undone--all, save the wasting disease that preyed on England's
heir, and the desolation at the orphaned hearth of Lynwood Keep.