The mill of Sainte-Foi, which was the home of the twin brothers of the
De Brocas line, was situated upon a tributary stream of the river Adour,
and was but a couple of leagues distant from the town of Sauveterre --
one of those numerous "bastides" or "villes Anglaises" built by the
great King Edward the First of England during his long regency of the
province of Gascony in the lifetime of his father. It was one of those
so-called "Filleules de Bordeaux" which, bound by strong ties to the
royal city, the queen of the Garonne, stood by her and played so large a
part in the great drama of the Hundred Years' War. Those cities had been
built by a great king and statesman to do a great work, and to them were
granted charters of liberties such as to attract into their walls large
numbers of persons who helped originally in the construction of the new
townships, and then resided there, and their children after them, proud
of the rights and immunities they claimed, and loyally true to the cause
of the English Kings, which made them what they were.
It is plain to the reader of the history of those days that Gascony
could never have remained for three hundred years a fief of the English
Crown, had it not been to the advantage of her people that she should so
remain. Her attachment to the cause of the Roy Outremer, her willing
homage to him, would never have been given for so long a period of time,
had not the people of the land found that it was to their own
advancement and welfare thus to accord this homage and fealty.
Nor is the cause for this advantage far to seek. Gascony was of immense
value to England, and of increasing value as she lost her hold upon the
more northerly portions of France. The wine trade alone was so
profitable that the nobility, and even the royal family of England,
traded on their own account. Bordeaux, with its magnificent harbour and
vast trade, was a queen amongst maritime cities. The vast "landes" of
the province made the best possible rearing ground for the chargers and
cavalry horses to which England owed much of her warlike supremacy;
whilst the people themselves, with their strength and independence of
character, their traditions of personal and individual freedom which can
be clearly traced back to the Roman occupation of the province, and
their long attachment to England and her King, were the most valuable of
allies; and although they must have been regarded to a certain extent as
foreigners when on English soil, they still assimilated better and
worked more easily with British subjects than any pure Frenchman had
ever been found to do.
Small wonder then that so astute a monarch as the First Edward had taken
vast pains to draw closer the bond which united this fair province to
England. The bold Gascons well knew that they would find no such
liberties as they now enjoyed did they once put themselves beneath the
rule of the French King. His country was already overgrown and almost
unmanageable. He might cast covetous eyes upon Gascony, but he would not
pour into it the wealth that flowed steadily from prosperous England. He
would not endow it with charters, each one more liberal than the last,
or bind it to his kingdom by giving it a pre-eminence that would but
arouse the jealousy of its neighbours. No: the shrewd Gaseous knew that
full well, and knew when they were well off. They could often obtain an
increase of liberty and an enlarged charter of rights by coquetting with
the French monarch, and thus rousing the fears of the English King; but
they had no wish for any real change, and lived happily and prosperously
beneath the rule of the Roy Outremer; and amongst all the freemen of the
Gascon world, none enjoyed such full privileges as those who lived
within the walls of the "villes Anglaises," of which Sauveterre was one
amongst the smaller cities.
The construction of these towns (now best seen in Libourne) is very
simple, and almost always practically the same -- a square in the centre
formed by the public buildings, with eight streets radiating from it,
each guarded by a gate. An outer ditch or moat protected the wall or
palisade, and the towns were thus fortified in a simple but effective
manner, and guarded as much by their own privileges as by any outer
bulwarks. The inhabitants were bound together by close ties, and each
smaller city looked to the parent city of Bordeaux, and was proud of the
title of her daughter.
Sauveterre and its traditions and its communistic life were familiar
enough, and had been familiar from childhood to the twin brothers.
Halfway between the mill and the town stood a picturesque and scattered
hamlet, and to this hamlet was attached a church, of which a pious
ecclesiastic, by name Father Anselm, had charge. He was a man of much
personal piety, and was greatly beloved through all the countryside,
where he was known in every hut and house for leagues around the doors
of his humble home. He was, as was so frequently the case in those
times, the doctor and the scribe, as well as the spiritual adviser, of
his entire flock; and he was so much trusted and esteemed that all men
told him their affairs and asked advice, not in the confessional alone,
but as one man speaking to another in whom he has strong personal
confidence.
The twin brothers knew that during the years when their dead mother had
resided at the mill with honest Jean and Margot (they began greatly to
wonder now why she had so lived in hiding and obscurity), she had been
constantly visited by the holy Father, and that she had told him things
about herself and her history which were probably known to no other
human being beside. Brought up as the youths had been, and trained in a
measure beneath the kindly eye of the priest, they would in any case
have asked his counsel and blessing before taking any overt step in
life; but all the more did they feel that they must speak to him now,
since he was probably the only person within their reach who could tell
them anything as to their own parentage and history that they did not
know already.
"We will go to him upon the morrow," said Gaston with flashing eyes. "We
will rise with the sun -- or before it -- and go to him ere his day's
work is begun. He will surely find time to talk with us when he hears
the errand upon which we come. I trow now that when he has sat at our
board, and has bent upon our faces those glances I have not known how to
read aright, he has been wondering how long it would be ere we should
awake to the knowledge that this peasant life is not the life of the De
Brocas race, guessing that we should come to him for counsel and
instruction ere we spread our wings to flee away. They call us eaglets
in sooth; and do eaglets rest for ever in their mountain eyry? Nay, they
spread their wings as strength comes upon them, and soar upwards and
onwards to see for themselves the great world around; even as thou and I
will soar away, Brother, and seek other fortunes than will ever be ours
here in Sauveterre."
With these burning feelings in their hearts, it was no wonder that the
twins uttered a simultaneous exclamation of satisfaction and pleasure
when, as they approached the mill, they were aware of the familiar
figure of Father Anselm sitting at the open door of the living house,
engaged, as it seemed, in an animated discussion with the worthy miller
and his good wife.
The look which the Father bent upon the two youths as they approached
betrayed a very deep and sincere affection for them; and when after
supper they asked to speak with him in private, he readily acceded to
their request, accepting the offer of a bed from the miller's wife, as
already the sun had long set, and his own home was some distance away.
The faces of Jean and Margot were grave with anxious thought, and that
of the priest seemed to reflect something of the same expression; for
during the course of the simple meal which all had shared together,
Gaston had told of the unlooked-for encounter with the proud Sieur de
Navailles in the forest, and of the defiance he had met with from the
twin eaglets. As the good miller and his wife heard how Gaston had
openly declared his name and race to the implacable foe of his house,
they wrung their hands together and uttered many lamentable
exclamations. The present Lord of Saut was terribly feared throughout
the neighbourhood in which he dwelt. His fierce and cruel temper had
broken forth again and again in acts of brutality or oppression from
which there was practically no redress. Free as the Gascon peasant was
from much or the serfdom and feudal servitude of other lands, he was in
some ways worse off than the serf, when he chanced to have roused the
anger of some great man of the neighbourhood. The power of the nobles
and barons -- the irresponsible power they too often held -- was one of
the crying evils of the age, one which was being gradually extinguished
by the growing independence of the middle classes. But such changes were
slow of growth, and long in penetrating beyond great centres; and it was
a terrible thing for a brace of lads, unprotected and powerless as these
twin brothers, to have brought upon themselves the hostility and
perchance the jealousy of a man like the Sieur de Navailles. If he
wished to discover their hiding place, he would have small difficulty in
doing so; and let him but once find that out, and the lives of the boys
would not be safe either by night or day. The retainers of the proud
baron might swoop down at any moment upon the peaceful mill, and carry
off the prey without let or hindrance; and this was why the secret of
their birth and name had been so jealously kept from all (save a few who
loved the house of De Brocas) by the devoted miller and his wife.
But Gaston little recked of the threatened peril. The fearless nature of
his race was in him, and he would have scorned himself had he failed to
speak out boldly when questioned by the haughty foe of his house. If the
De Brocas had been ruined in all else, they had their fearless honour
left them still.
But the priest's face was grave as he let the boys lead him into the
narrow bedchamber where they slept -- a room bare indeed of such things
as our eyes would seek, but which for the times was commodious and
comfortable enough. He was pondering in his mind what step must now be
taken, for it seemed to him as though the place of safety in the mill in
which their mother had left her sons could hide them no longer. Go they
must, of that he felt well assured; but where? That was a question less
easily answered offhand.
"Father," began Gaston eagerly, so soon as the door had closed behind
the three, and Raymond had coaxed the dim taper into its feeble flicker
-- "Father, we have come to thee for counsel -- for help. Father, chide
us not, nor call us ingrate; but it has come to this with us -- we can
no longer brook this tame and idle life. We are not of the peasant
stock; why must we live the peasant life? Father, we long to be up and
doing -- to spread our wings for a wider flight. We know that those who
bear our name are not hiding their heads in lowly cots; we know that our
sires have been soldiers and statesmen in the days that are past. Are we
then to hide our heads here till the snows of age gather upon them? Are
we, of all our race, to live and die obscure, unknown? Father, we cannot
stand it; it shall not be! To thee we come to ask more of ourselves than
yet we know. To thee our mother commended us in her last moments; to
thee she bid us look in days to come when we needed guidance and help.
Wherefore to thee we have come now, when we feel that there must surely
be an end to all of this. Tell us, Father, of our sire; tell us of our
kinsfolk. Where be they? Where may we seek them? I trow thou knowest
all. Then tell us, I beseech thee tell us freely all there is to know."
The good priest raised his eyes and thoughtfully scanned the faces of
the two eager youths. Gaston was actually shivering with repressed
excitement; Raymond was more calm, but not, as it seemed, one whit less
interested. What a strong and manly pair they looked! The priest's eyes
lighted with pride as they rested on the stalwart figures and noble
faces. It was hard to believe that these youths were not quite sixteen,
though man's estate was then accounted reached at an age which we should
call marvellously immature in these more modern days.
"My children," said the good old man, speaking slowly and with no small
feeling, "I have long looked for this day to come -- the day when ye
twain should stand thus before me and put this selfsame question."
"You have looked for it!" said Gaston eagerly; "then, in very sooth,
there is something to tell?"
"Yes, my children, there is a long story to tell; and it seemeth to me,
even as it doth to you, that the time has now come to tell it. This day
has marked an era in your lives. Methinks that from this night your
childhood will pass for ever away, and the life of your manhood
commence. May the Holy Mother of God, the Blessed Saints, and our
gracious Saviour Himself watch over and guard you in all the perils and
dangers of the life that lies before you!"
So solemn were the tones of the Father that the boys involuntarily sank
upon their knees, making the sign of the Cross as they did so. The
priest breathed a blessing over the two, and when they had risen to
their feet, he made them sit one on each side of him upon the narrow
pallet bed.
"The story is something long -- the story which will tell ye twain who
and what ye are, and why ye have been thus exiled and forced to dwell
obscure in this humble home; but I will tell all I know, and ye will
then see something of the cause.
"My children, ye know that ye have a noble name -- that ye belong to the
house of De Brocas, which was once so powerful and great in these fair
lands around this home of yours. I wot that ye know already some thing
of the history of your house, how that it was high in favour with the
great King of England, that first Edward who so long dwelt amongst us,
and made himself beloved by the people of these lands. It was in part
fidelity to him that was the cause of your kinsfolk's ruin: for whilst
they served him in other lands, following him across the sea when he was
bidden to go thither, the treacherous foe of the house of Navailles
wrested from them, little by little, all the lands they had owned here,
and not even the many mandates from the Roy Outremer sufficed to gain
them their rights again. It might have been done had the great Edward
lived; but when he died and his son mounted the throne, men found at
once how weak were the hands that held the sovereign power, and the
Sieur de Navailles laughed in his beard at commands he knew there was no
power to enforce. But listen again, my sons; that feeble King, despite
many and great faults, was not without some virtues also; and he did not
forget that the house of De Brocas had ruined itself in the cause of
himself and his father."
"Did he do aught to show his gratitude?"
"Thou shalt hear, my son. The younger Edward had not been many years
upon his father's throne before a great battle was fought by him against
the Scottish race his father had vanquished and subdued. These rebel
subjects revolted from under his hand, and he fought with them a battle
on the field of Bannockburn, in which he was overthrown and defeated,
and in which your grandsire, Arnald de Brocas, lost his life, fighting
gallantly for England's King."
"Our grandsire?" cried both the boys in a breath. "Tell us more of him."
"It is little that I know, my children, save what I have just said. He
served the King faithfully in life and death, and his sons reaped some
reward for their father's fidelity. At first, whilst they were quite
young, his three sons (of whom your father was the third) were sent to
dwell with their mother's relatives -- the De Campaines of Agen, of
whom, doubtless, ye have heard; but as they grew to man's estate, they
were recalled to the English Court, and received offices there, as many
another noble Gascon has done before them."
"Have we then uncles in England?" asked Raymond eagerly. "Then, if we
find but our way across the water, we may find a home with one of them?
Is it not so, good Father?"
The priest did not exclaim at the idea of the boys journeying forth
across the seas alone, but he shook his head thoughtfully as he
continued his narrative as if there had been no interruption.
"The English King was not unmindful of the service done him by the
father of these youths, and he promoted them to places of honour about
his Court. First, they were all made serviens of his own royal person,
and were brought up with his son, who is now the King; then, as I have
heard, they greatly endeared themselves to the Prince by loyalty and
faithful service. When he ascended the throne, and purged the Court of
the false favourites from this and other lands who had done so much ill
to that country, he was ably helped in the task before him by thy father
and thy two uncles; and I can well believe that this was so, seeing that
they were speedily advanced to posts of honour in the royal service."
"What posts?" asked the eager youths.
"The head of your branch of this noble house," continued the priest, "is
your uncle Sir John de Brocas, who is the King's Master of the Horse,
and the lord of many fair Manors and wide lands in England, and high in
favour with his master. Second in the line is your uncle Master Bernard
de Brocas, a clerk, and the Rector (as it is called in the realm of
England) of St. Nicholas, in or near a town that is called Guildford --
if I can frame my lips aright to the strange words. He too is high in
favour with the Roy Outremer, and, as I have heard, is oft employed by
him in these parts to quell strife or redress grievances; but I know not
how that may be. It is of thy father that I would fain speak to thee,
Gaston, for thou art heir to his name and estate if thou canst make good
the claim, as in time thou mayest yet. Listen whilst I tell all that I
know. Thy father -- Arnald -- was the youngest of the three sons of him
who died on the field of Bannockburn, and to him was given the post of
Master of the Horse to Prince John of Eltham. I misdoubt me if that
Prince is living yet; but of that I cannot speak with certainty. He was
also valettus or serviens to the King, and might have carved out for
himself as great a career as they, had it not been that he estranged
himself from his kindred, and even offended the King himself, by the
marriage that he made with Mistress Alice Sanghurst of Basildene."
The brothers exchanged quick glances as the name passed the priest's
lips. Their memory had not then played them false.
"But why were they thus offended? Was not our mother rightful owner of
Basildene? and is it not a fair heritage?"
"The reason for the ill will, my sons, I know not. Your mother did not
fully understand it, and from her lips it was I heard all this tale.
Perchance some nobler alliance was wished by the family and by the King
himself, perchance the young man acted something hastily, and gave
umbrage that might have been spared. I know not how that may have been.
All I for certainty know is that your father, Arnald, brought hither his
wife, flying from some menaced peril, fearful of capture and discovery;
and that here in this lonely mill, amongst those who had ever loved the
name of De Brocas, the sweet lady was able to hide her head, and to find
a place of safe refuge. Jean, then a youth, had been in the service of
Arnald, having been seized with a love of wandering in his boyhood,
which had led him to cross the sea to England, where he had fallen in
with your father and attached himself to his person. The elder Jean, his
father, was miller then and right glad was he to welcome back his son,
and give a shelter to the lady in her hour of need. Good Margot, as you
know, was your nurse when you were born; she had married Jean a short
time back, and her own babe had died the very week before you came into
the world. She has always loved you as her own, and though your mother
was taken from you, you have never lost a mother's love. Do not forget
that, my children, in the years to come; and if the time should ever be
when you can requite the faithful attachment of these two honest hearts,
be sure that you let not the chance slip."
"We will not," answered the boys in a breath. "But the rest of your
story, good Father."
"You shall hear it all, my sons. It was in the year of grace 1329 that
your father first brought his wife here, and in the following year you
twain were born. Your father stayed till he could fold you in his arms,
and bestow upon you the blessing of a father; but then his duties to his
master called him to England, and for a whole long year we heard no news
of him. At the end of that time a messenger arrived with despatches for
his lady. She sent to ask my help in reading these; and together we made
out that the letter contained a summons for her to join her lord in
England, where he would meet her at the port of Southampton, into which
harbour many of our vessels laden with wine put in for safe anchorage.
As for the children, said the letter, she must either bring or leave
them, as seemed best to her at the time; and after long and earnest
debate we resolved that she should go alone, and that you should be left
to good Margot's tender care. I myself escorted our gentle lady to
Bordeaux, and there it was easy to find safe and commodious transport
for her across the sea. She left us, and we heard no more until more
than a year had passed by, and she returned to us, sorely broken down in
mind and body, to tell a sorrowful tale."
"Sorrowful? Had our proud uncles refused to receive her?" asked Gaston,
with flashing eyes. "I trow if that be so --"
But the Father silenced him by a gesture.
"Wait and let me tell my tale, boy. Thou canst not judge till thou
knowest all. She came back to us, and to me she told all her tale, piece
by piece and bit by bit, not all at once, but as time and opportunity
served. And this is what I learned. When your father summoned her back
to join him, it was because her one brother was dead -- dead without
leaving children behind -- and her father, now growing old, wished to
see her once again, and give over to her before he died the fair domain
of Basildene, which she would now inherit, but to which she had had no
title when she married your father. It seemed like enow to both of them
that if Arnald de Brocas could lead a well-dowered bride to his
brothers' halls, all might be well between them and so it came about
when the old man died, and the lady had succeeded to the lands, that he
started forth to tell the news, not taking her, as the weather was
inclement, and she somewhat suffering from the damp and fog which they
say prevail so much in England, but faring forth alone on his embassy,
trusting to come with joy to fetch her anon."
"And did he not?" asked the boys eagerly.
"I will tell you what chanced in his absence. You must know that your
grandsire on your mother's side had a kinsman, by name Peter Sanghurst,
who had long cast covetous eyes upon Basildene. He was next of kin after
your mother, and he, as a male, claimed to call the property his. He had
failed to make good his claim by law; but so soon as he knew your mother
to be alone in the house, he came down upon it with armed retainers and
drove her forth ere she well knew what had befallen; and she, not
knowing whither her lord had gone, nor how to find him, and being in
sore danger from the malice of the wicked man who had wrested from her
the inheritance, and would gladly have done her to death, knew not what
better to do than to fly back here, leaving word for her lord where she
was to be found; and thus it came that ere she had been gone from us a
year, she returned in more desolate plight than at the first."
Gaston's face was full of fury, and Raymond's hands were clenched in an
access of rage.
"And what did our father then? Sure he waged war with the vile usurper,
and won back our mother's lands for her! Sure a De Brocas never rested
quiet under so foul an insult!"
"My sons, your father had been taught patience in a hard school. He
returned to Basildene, not having seen either of his brothers, who were
both absent on the King's business, to find his wife fled, and the place
in the firm grasp of the wily man, who well knew how to strengthen
himself in the possession of ill-gotten gains. His first care was for
your mother's safety, and he followed her hither before doing aught
else. When he found her safe with honest Jean and Margot, and when they
had taken counsel together, he returned to England to see what could be
done to regain the lost inheritance and the favour of his kinsmen who
had been estranged. You were babes of less than three summers when your
father went away, and you never saw him more."
"He did not come again?"
"Nay, he came no more, for all too soon a call which no man may disobey
came for him, and he died before the year was out."
"And had he accomplished naught?"
"So little that it must needs come to naught upon his death. He sent a
trusty messenger -- one of his stout Gascon henchmen -- over to us with
all needful tidings. But there was little of good to tell. He had seen
his brother, Sir John, the head of the family, and had been received not
unkindly by him; but in the matter of the recovery of Basildene the
knight had but shaken his head, and had said that the King had too many
great matters on hand just then to have leisure to consider so small a
petition as the one concerning a Manor of no repute or importance. If
Arnald had patience to wait, or to interest Prince John in the matter,
something might in time be done; but Peter Sanghurst would strive to
make good his claim by any means bad or good, and as he held possession
it might be difficult indeed to oust him. The property belonged to one
who had been a cause of much offence, and perchance that weighed with
Sir John and made him less willing to bestir himself in the matter. But
be that as it may, nothing had been done when Arnald de Brocas breathed
his last; and his wife, when she heard the tale, looked at you two young
children as you lay upon the grass at play, and she said with a sigh and
a smile, 'Father, I will wait till my boys be grown, for what can one
weak woman do alone? and then we will go together to the land that is
mine by birth, and my boys shall win back for me and for themselves the
lost inheritance of Basildene.'"
"And so we will!" cried Gaston, with flashing eyes; "and so we will!
Here as I stand I vow that we will win it back from the false and coward
kinsman who holds it now."
"Ay," answered Raymond, with equal ardour and enthusiasm, "that,
Brother, will we do; and we will win for ourselves the name that she
herself gave to us -- The Twin Brothers of Basildene."