The next few days were spent in taking precautions against the danger
intimated by the mysterious message. Gaston gathered together a few of
the ancient Lances of Lynwood, who were glad to enlist under the blue
crosslet, and these, with some men-at-arms, who had recently come to
Bordeaux to seek employment, formed a body with whom Eustace trusted to
be able to keep the disaffected in check. Through vineyards and over
gently swelling hills did their course lead them, till, on the evening
of the second day's journey, the view to the south was shut in by more
lofty and bolder peaks, rising gradually towards the Pyrenees, and on
the summit of a rock overhanging a small rapid stream appeared the tall
and massive towers of a Castle, surmounted by the broad red cross of
St. George, and which their guide pronounced to be the Chateau Norbelle.
"A noble eyrie!" said Eustace, looking up and measuring it with his
eye. "Too noble to be sacrificed to the snaring of one poor Knight."
"Shame that such a knightly building should serve for such a nest of
traitors!" said Gaston. "Saving treachery, a dozen boys could keep it
against a royal host, provided they had half the spirit of your little
nephew."
"Let us summon the said traitors," said Eustace, blowing a blast on his
bugle. The gates were thrown wide open, the drawbridge lowered, and
beneath the portcullis stood the Seneschal, his bunch of keys at his
girdle. Both Eustace and Gaston cast searching glances upon him, and
his aspect made them for a moment doubt the truth of the warning. A
patch covered the lost eye, his moustache was shaved, his hair appeared
many shades lighter, as well as his beard, which had been carefully
trimmed, and altogether the obsequious Seneschal presented a strong
contrast to the dissolute reckless man-at-arms. The Knight debated
with himself, whether to let him perceive that he was recognized; and
deciding to watch his conduct, he asked by what name to address him.
"Thibault Sanchez," replied Le Borgne Basque, giving his real name,
which he might safely do, as it was not known to above two men in the
whole Duchy of Aquitaine. "Thibault Sanchez, so please you, noble Sir,
a poor Squire from the mountains, who hath seen some few battles and
combats in his day, but never one equal to the fight of Najara, where
your deeds of prowess--"
"My deeds of prowess, Sir Seneschal, had better rest in silence until
our horses have been disposed of, and I have made the rounds of the
Castle before the light fails us."
"So late, Sir Knight! and after a long and weary journey? Surely you
will drink a cup of wine, and take a night's rest first, relying on me,
who, though I be a plain man, trust I understand somewhat of the duties
of mine office."
"I sleep not until I have learnt what is committed to my charge,"
replied the Knight. "Lead the way, Master Sanchez."
"Ah! there is what it is to have a Knight of fame," cried Le Borgne
Basque. "What vigilance! what earnestness! Ah, this will be, as I
told my comrades even now, the very school of chivalry, the pride of
the country."
They had by this time crossed the narrow court, and passing beneath a
second portcullised door defended on either side by high battlement
walls, nearly double as thick as the steps themselves were wide. At
the head was an arched door, heavily studded with nails, and opening
into the Castle hall, a gloomy, vaulted room, its loop-hole windows, in
their mighty depth of wall, affording little light. A large wood fire
was burning in the hearth, and its flame cast a bright red light on
some suits of armour that were hung at one end of the hall, as well as
on some benches, and a long table in the midst, where were placed some
trenchers, drinking horns, and a flask or two of wine.
"A drop of wine, noble Knight," said the Seneschal. "Take a cup to
recruit you after your journey, and wash the dust from your throat."
A long ride in full armour beneath the sun of Gascony made this no
unacceptable proposal, but the probability that the wine might be
drugged had been contemplated by Eustace, who had not only resolved to
abstain himself, but had exacted the same promise from d'Aubricour,
sorely against his will.
"We will spare your flasks till a time of need," said Eustace, only
accepting the basin of fair water presented to him to lave his hands.
"And now to the walls," he added, after he had filled a cup with water
from the pitcher and refreshed himself with it. Gaston followed his
example, not without a wistful look at the wine, and Sanchez was
obliged to lead the way up a long flight of spiral steps to two other
vaulted apartments, one over the other--the lower destined for the
sleeping chamber of the Knight and his Squire, the higher for such of
the men-at-arms as could not find accommodation in the hall, or in the
offices below. Above this they came out on the lead-covered roof,
surrounded with a high crenellated stone parapet, where two or three
warders were stationed. Still higher rose one small octagonal
watch-tower, on the summit of which was planted a spear bearing St.
George's pennon, and by its side Sir Eustace now placed his own.
This done, Eustace could not help standing for a few moments to look
forth upon the glorious expanse of country beneath him--the rich fields
and fair vineyards spreading far away to the west and north, with towns
and villages here and there rising among them; while far away to the
east, among higher hills, lay the French town of Carcassonne, a white
mass, just discernible by the light of the setting sun; and the south
was bounded by the peaks of the Pyrenees, amongst which lay all
Eustace's brightest recollections of novelty, adventure, and hopes of
glory.
Descending the stairs once more, after traversing the hall, they found
themselves in the kitchen, where a large supper was preparing. Here,
too, was the buttery, some other small chambers fit for storehouses,
and some stalls for horses, all protected by the great bartizan at the
foot of the stairs, which was capable of being defended even after the
outer court was won. By the time the new-comers had made themselves
acquainted with these localities, the evening was fast closing in, and
Sanchez pronounced that the Knight's survey was concluded in good time
for supper.
"I have not yet seen the vaults," said Eustace.
"The vaults, Sir Knight! what would you see there, save a few rusted
chains, and some whitened bones, that have been there ever since the
days of the Count de Montfort and the heretic Albigenses! They say
that their accursed spirits haunt the place."
"I have heard," returned Sir Eustace, "that these Castles of Gascony
are said to have secret passages communicating with their vaults, and I
would willingly satisfy my own eyes that we are exposed to no such
peril here."
"Nay, not a man in the Castle will enter those vaults after sunset, Sir
Knight. The Albigenses, Sir Eustace!"
"I will take the risk alone," said Eustace. "Hand me a torch there!"
Gaston took another, and Thibault Sanchez, seeing them so resolute,
chose to be of the party. The torches shed their red glare over the
stone arches on which the Castle rested, and there was a chill damp air
and earthy smell, which made both Knight and Squire shudder and start.
No sooner had they entered than Thibault, trembling exclaimed, in a
tone of horror, "There! there! O blessed Lady, protect us!"
"Where?" asked Eustace, scarce able to defend himself from an
impression of terror.
"'Tis gone--yet methought I saw it again.--There! look yonder, Sir
Knight--something white fluttering behind that column!"
Gaston crossed himself, and turned pale; but Eustace had settled his
nerves. "A truce with these vain follies, Master Seneschal," said he,
sternly. "Those who know Le Borgne Basque cannot believe his fears,
either of saints or demons, to be other than assumed."
No ghost could have startled the Seneschal of the Chateau Norbelle as
much as this sobriquet. He fell back, and subsided into complete
silence, as he meditated whether it were best to confess the plot, and
throw himself upon Sir Eustace's mercy, or whether he could hope that
this was merely a chance recognition. He inclined to the latter belief
when he observed that the Knight was at fault respecting the secret
passage, searching in vain through every part of the vault, and twice
passing over the very spot. The third time, however, it so chanced
that his spur rung against something of metal, and he called for Gaston
to hold his torch lower. The light fell not only upon an iron ring,
but upon a guard which evidently covered a key-hole.
Sanchez, after in vain professing great amazement, and perfect
ignorance of any such entrance, gave up his bunch of keys, protesting
that there was nothing there which could unlock the mysterious door:
but the Knight had another method. "Look you, Master Sanchez," said
he, "it may be, as you say, that this door hath not been unclosed for
hundreds of years, notwithstanding I see traces in the dust as if it
had been raised of late. I shall, however, sleep more securely if
convinced that it is an impossibility to lift it. Go, therefore,
Gaston, and call half a dozen of the men, to bring each of them the
heaviest stone they can find from that heap I saw prepared for a
mangonel in the court-yard."
"Oh, excellent!" exclaimed Gaston, "and yet, Sir Eustace--"
There he stopped, but it was evident that he was reluctant to leave his
master alone with this villain. Eustace replied by drawing his good
sword, and giving him a fearless smile, as he planted his foot upon the
trap-door; and fixing his gaze upon Le Borgne Basque, made him feel
that this was no moment for treachery.
Gaston sped fast out of the dungeon, and, in brief space, made his
appearance at the head of the men-at-arms, some bearing torches, others
labouring under the weight of the huge stones, which, as he rightly
thought, they were far more inclined to heave at Sir Eustace's head
than to place in the spot he pointed out. They were, however,
compelled to obey, and, with unwilling hands, built up such a pile upon
the secret door, that it could not be lifted from beneath without
gigantic strength, and a noise which would re-echo through the Castle.
This done, Sir Eustace watched them all out of the vault himself,
closed the door, locked it, and announced to the Seneschal his
intention of relieving him for the future from the care of the keys.
Still watching him closely, he ascended to the hall, and gave the
signal for the supper, which shortly made its appearance.
Thibault Sanchez, who laid claim to some share of gentle blood, was
permitted to enjoy the place of honour together with Sir Eustace and
d'Aubricour--the rather that it gave them a better opportunity of
keeping their eye upon him.
There was an evident attempt, on the part of the garrison, to engage
their new comrades in a carouse in honour of their arrival, but this
was brought to an abrupt conclusion by Sir Eustace, who, in a tone
which admitted no reply, ordered the wine flasks to the buttery, and
the men, some to their posts and others to their beds. Ingram walked
off, muttering his discontent; and great was the ill-will excited
amongst, not only the original garrison, but the new-comers from
Bordeaux, who, from their lairs of straw, lamented the day when they
took service with so severe and rigid a Knight, and compared his
discipline with that of his brother, Sir Reginald, who, strict as he
might be, never grudged a poor man-at-arms a little merriment. "But as
to this Knight, one might as well serve a Cistercian monk!"
As to Le Borgne Basque, he betook himself to the buttery; and there, in
an undertone of great terror, began to mutter to his friend and ally,
Tristan de la Fleche, "It is all over with us! He is a wizard! Sir
Leonard Ashton was right--oaf as he was; I never believed him before;
but what, save enchantment, could have enabled him to recognize me
under this disguise, or how could he have gone straight to yonder door?"
"Think you not that he had some warning?" asked Tristan.
"Impossible, save from Clarenham, or from Ashton himself; and, dolt as
he is, I trow he has sense enough to keep his own counsel. He has not
forgotten the day when he saw this dainty young sprig rise up in his
golden spurs before his eyes. I know how it is! It is with him as it
was with the Lord of Corasse!"
"How was that, Thibault?"
"Why, you must know that Raymond de Corasse had helped himself to the
tithes of a certain Church in Catalonia, whereby the Priest who claimed
them said to him, 'Know that I will send thee a champion that thou wilt
be more afraid of than thou hast hitherto been of me.' Three months
after, each night, in the Castle of Corasse, began such turmoil as
never was known; raps at every door, and especially that of the
Knight--as if all the goblins in fairy-land had been let loose. The
Knight lay silent all one night; but the next, when the rioting was
renewed as loud as ever, he leapt out of his bed, and bawled out, 'Who
is it at this hour thus knocks at my chamber door?' He was answered,
'It is I.' 'And who sends thee hither?' asked the Knight. 'The Clerk
of Catalonia, whom thou hast much wronged. I will never leave thee
quiet until thou hast rendered him a just account.' 'What art thou
called,' said the Knight, 'who art so good a messenger?' 'Orthon is my
name.' But it fell out otherwise from the Clerk's intentions, for
Orthon had taken a liking to the Knight, and promised to serve him
rather than the Clerk--engaging never to disturb the Castle--for,
indeed, he had no power to do ill to any. Often did he come to the
Knight's bed by night, and pull the pillow from under his head--"
"What was he like?" asked Tristan.
"The Lord de Corasse could not tell; he only heard him--he never saw
aught; for Orthon only came by night, and, having wakened him, would
begin by saying, 'he was come from England, Hungary, or elsewhere,' and
telling all the news of the place."
"And what think you was he?"
"That was what our Lord, the Count de Foix, would fain have known, when
he had much marveled at the tidings that were brought him by the Lord
de Corasse, and had heard of the strange messenger who brought them.
He entreated the Knight to desire Orthon to show himself in his own
proper form--and then, having seen, to describe him.
"So at night, when Orthon came again, and plucked away the pillow, the
Knight asked him from whence he came? 'From Prague, in Bohemia,'
answered Orthon. 'How far is it?'--'Sixty days' journey.' 'Hast thou
returned thence in so short a time?'--'I travel as fast as the wind, or
faster.' 'What! hast thou got wings?'--'Oh, no.' 'How, then, canst
thou fly so fast?'--'That is no business of yours!' 'No,' said the
Knight--'I should like exceedingly to see what form thou hast.'--'That
concerns you not,' replied Orthon; 'be satisfied that you hear me.' 'I
should love thee better had I seen thee,' said the Knight,--whereupon
Orthon promised that the first thing he should see to-morrow, on
quitting his bed, should be no other than himself."
"Ha! then, I wager that he saw one of the black cats that played round
young Ashton's bed."
"Nay, the Knight's lady would not rise all day lest she should see
Orthon; but the Knight, leaping up in the morning, looked about, but
could see nothing unusual. At night, when Orthon came, he reproached
him for not having shown himself, as he had promised. 'I have,' replied
Orthon. 'I say No,' said the Knight. 'What! you saw nothing when you
leapt out of bed?'--'Yes,' said the Lord de Corasse, after having
considered awhile, 'I saw two straws, which were turning and playing
together on the floor.' 'That was myself,' said Orthon.
"The Knight now desired importunately that Orthon would show himself in
his own true shape. Orthon told him that it might lead to his being
forced to quit his service--but he persisted, and Orthon promised to
show himself when first the Knight should leave his chamber in the
morning. Therefore, as soon as he was dressed, the Knight went to a
window overlooking the court, and there he beheld nothing but a large
lean sow, so poor, that she seemed nothing but skin and bone, with long
hanging ears, all spotted, and a thin sharp-pointed snout. The Lord de
Corasse called to his servants to set the dogs on the ill-favoured
creature, and kill it; but, as the kennel was opened, the sow vanished
away, and was never seen afterwards. Then the Lord de Corasse returned
pensive to his chamber, fearing that the sow had indeed been
Orthon!--and truly Orthon never returned more to his bed-side. Within
a year, the Knight was dead!"
"Is it true, think you, Sanchez?"
"True! why, man, I have seen the Chateau de Corasse, seven leagues from
Orthes!"
"And what think you was Orthon?"
"It is not for me to say; but, you see, there are some who stand fair
in men's eyes, who have strange means of gaining intelligence! It will
be a merit to weigh down a score of rifled Priests, if we can but
circumvent a wizard such as this!"
"But he has brought his books! I saw that broad-faced Englishman carry
up a whole pile of them," cried Tristan, turning pale. "With his books
he will be enough to conjure us all into apes!"
"Now or never," said Sanchez, encouragingly.
"When all is still, I will go round and waken our comrades, while you
creep forth by the hole beneath the bartizan, and warn Clisson that the
secret passage is nought, but that when he sees a light in old
Montfort's turret--"
Tristan suddenly trod on his foot, as a sign of silence, as a step
descended the stairs, and Sir Eustace stood before them.
"You appear to be agreeably employed, gentlemen," said he, glancing at
the stoup of wine which was before them; "but my orders are as precise
as Norman William's. No lights in this Castle, save my own, after
eight o'clock. To your beds, gentlemen, and a good night to you!" He
was still fully armed, so that it was unsafe to attack him. And he saw
them up the spiral stairs that led from the hall, and watched them
enter the narrow dens that served them as sleeping rooms, where many a
curse was uttered on the watchfulness of the wizard Knight. At the
turn of midnight, Le Borgne Basque crept forth, in some hope that there
might be an opportunity of fulfilling his designs, and earning the
reward promised him both by Clarenham and the French. But he had not
descended far before a red gleam of torchlight was seen on the dark
stairs, and, ere he could retreat, the black head and dark eyes of
Gaston appeared, glancing with mischievous amusement, as he said, in
his gay voice, "You are on the alert, my old comrade. You have not
forgotten your former habits when in command here. But Sir Eustace
intrusts the care of changing the guard to none but me; so I will not
trouble you to disturb yourself another night." And the baffled
miscreant retreated.
In this manner passed day after day, in a tacit yet perpetual war
between the Knight and the garrison. Not a step could be taken, scarce
a word spoken, without some instant reminder that either Sir Eustace or
Gaston was on the watch. On the borders of the enemy's country, there
was so much reason for vigilance, that the garrison could not
reasonably complain of the services required of them; the perpetual
watch, and numerous guards; the occupations which Knight and Squire
seemed never weary of devising for the purpose of keeping them
separate, and their instant prohibition of any attempt at the riotous
festivity which was their only consolation for the want of active
exercises. They grew heartily weary, and fiercely impatient of
restraint, and though the firm, calm, steady strictness of the Knight
was far preferable to the rude familiarity and furious passions of many
a Castellane, there were many of the men-at-arms who, though not
actually engaged in the conspiracy, were impatient of what they called
his haughtiness and rigidity. These men were mercenaries from
different parts of France, accustomed to a lawless life, and caring
little or nothing whatever whether it were beneath the standard of King
Charles or King Edward that they acquired pay and plunder. The
Englishmen were, of course, devoted to their King and Prince, and
though at times unruly, were completely to be depended upon. Yet,
while owning Sir Eustace to be a brave, gallant, and kind-hearted
Knight, there were times when even they felt a shudder of dread and
almost of hatred pass over them, when tales were told of the
supernatural powers he was supposed to possess; when Leonard Ashton's
adventure with the cats was narrated, or the story of his sudden
arrival at Lynwood Keep on the night before the lady's funeral. His
own immediate attendants might repel the charge with honest
indignation, but many a stout warrior slunk off in terror to bed from
the sight of Sir Eustace, turning the pages of one of his heavy books
by the light of the hall fire, and saw in each poor bat that flitted
about within the damp depths of the vaulted chambers the familiar
spirit which brought him exact intelligence of all that passed at
Bordeaux, at Paris, or in London. Nay, if he only turned his eyes on
the ground, he was thought to be looking for the twisting straws.