It was with the greatest interest that John de Brocas listened to the
story brought home by the twin brothers after their visit to the
woodman's hut. Such a story of oppression, cruelty, and wrong truly
stirred him to the very soul; and moreover, as the brothers spoke of
Basildene, they told him also (under the promise of secrecy) of their
own connection with that place, of their kinship with himself, and of
the wrongs they had suffered at the hand of the Sanghursts, father and
son; and all this aroused in the mind of John an intense desire to see
wrong made right, and retribution brought upon the heads of those who
seemed to become a curse wherever they went.
"And so ye twain are my cousins?" he said, looking from one face to the
other with penetrating gaze. "I knew from the very first that ye were no
common youths; and it was a stronger tie than that of Gascon blood that
knit us one to the other. But I will keep your secret. Perchance ye are
wise in wishing it kept. There be something too many hangers-on of our
house already, and albeit I know not all the cause of the estrangement,
I know well that your father was coldly regarded for many years, and it
may be that his sons would receive but sorry welcome if they came as
humble suppliants for place. The unsuccessful members of a house are
scarce ever welcomed, and the claim to Basildene might be but a
hindrance in your path. Sir Hugh Vavasour is high in favour at Court. He
is a warm friend of my father and my uncle; and he and the Sanghursts
are bound together by some close tie, the nature of which I scarce know.
Any claim on Basildene would be fiercely resented by the father and son
who have seized it, and their quarrel would be taken up by others of
more power. Gaston is right in his belief that you must first win credit
and renown beneath the King's banners. As unknown striplings you have no
chance against yon crafty fox of Basildene. Were he but to know who and
what you were, I know not that your very lives would be safe from his
malice."
The twins exchanged glances. It seemed as though they were threatened on
every hand by the malice of those who had usurped their rights and their
lands; yet they felt no fear, rather a secret exultation at the thought
of what lay before them. But their curiosity was strongly stirred about
the strange old man at Basildene, and they eagerly asked John of the
truth of those reports which spoke of him as being a tool and slave of
the devil.
A grave light came into John's eyes as he replied:
"Methinks that every man is the tool of Satan who willingly commits sin
with his eyes open, and will not be restrained. I cannot doubt that old
Peter Sanghurst has done this again and again. He is an evil man and a
wicked one. But whether or no he has visible dealings with the spirits
of darkness, I know not. Men can sin deeply and darkly and yet win no
power beyond that vouchsafed to others."
"But the woodman's son," said Raymond, in awestruck tones, "him he most
certainly bewitched. How else could he have so possessed him that even
his own father could not restrain him from going back to the dread
slavery once again?"
A thoughtful look was on John's face. He was lying on his couch in the
large room where his learned uncle stored all his precious books and
parchments, safely locked away in carved presses; and rising slowly to
his feet -- for he was still feeble and languid in his movements -- he
unlocked one of these, and took from it a large volume in some dead
language, and laid it upon the table before him.
"I know not whether or no I am right, but I have heard before of a
strange power that some men may possess over the minds and wills of
others -- a power so great that they become their helpless tools, and
can be made to act, to see, to feel just as they are bidden, and are as
helpless to resist that power as the snared bird to avoid the
outstretched hand of the fowler. That this power is a power of evil, and
comes from the devil himself, I may not disbelieve; for it has never
been God's way of dealing with men to bind captive their wills and make
them blind and helpless agents of the will of others. Could you read the
words of this book, you would find many things therein as strange as any
you have heard today. For myself, I have little doubt that old Peter
Sanghurst, who has spent years of his life amongst the heathen Moors,
and is, as all men avow, steeped to the lips in their strange and
unchristian lore, has himself the art of thus gaining the mastery over
the minds and wills of others, and that it was no demoniacal possession,
but just the wicked will of the old man exercised upon that of his
helpless victim, which drew the boy back to him when his father had him
safe at home (as he thought) once more. In this book it is written that
young boys, especially if they be beautiful of form and receptive of
mind, make the best tools for this black art. They can be thrown into
strange trances, in which many things are revealed to them. They can be
sent in the spirit to places they have never seen, and can be made to
describe what is passing thousands of miles away. I cannot tell how
these things may be, unless indeed it is the devil working in them; yet
here it is written down as if it were some art which certain men with
certain gifts may acquire, as they may acquire other knowledge and
learning. In truth, I think such things smack of the Evil One himself;
yet I doubt if there be that visible bond with Satan that is commonly
reported amongst the unlettered and ignorant. It is a cruel and a wicked
art without doubt, and it says here that the children who are caught and
subjected to these trances and laid under this spiritual bondage seldom
live long; and that but for this, there seems no end to the wonders that
might be performed. But the strain upon their spirits almost always
results in madness or death, and thus the art never makes the strides
that those who practise it long to see."
John was turning the leaves of the book as he spoke, reading a word here
and there as if to refresh his memory. The Gascon brothers listened with
breathless interest, and suddenly Raymond started to his feet, saying:
"John, thou hast spoken of a knightly quest that would win no praise
from man, but yet be such as a true knight would fain undertake. Would
not the rescue of yon wretched boy from the evil thraldom of that wicked
sorcerer be such a task as that? Is not Basildene ours? Is it not for us
to free it from the curse of such pollution? Is not that child one of
the oppressed and wronged that it is the duty of a true servant of the
old chivalry to rescue at all costs?
"Gaston, wilt thou go with me? Shall we snatch from the clutches of this
devilish old man the boy whose story we have heard today? Methinks I can
never rest happy till the thing is done. Will not a curse light upon the
very house itself if these dark deeds go on within its walls? Who can
have a better right to avert such curse than we -- its rightful lords?"
Gaston sprang to his feet, and threw back his head with a proud and
defiant gesture.
"Verily I will go with thee, Brother. I would gladly strike a blow for
the freedom of the boy and against the despoiler of our mother's house.
I would fain go this very day."
Both brothers looked to John, as if asking his sanction for the act. He
closed his book, and raised his eyes with a smile; but he advocated
prudence, and patience too.
"In truth, methinks it would be a deed of charity and true chivalry, yet
one by no means without its peril and its risk. Old Sanghurst is a wily
and a cruel foe, and failure would but mean more tyranny and suffering
for the miserable victim he holds in his relentless hands. It might lead
also to some mysterious vengeance upon you yourselves. There are ugly
whispers breathed abroad about the old man and his evil practices.
Travellers through these forest tracks, richly laden, have been known to
disappear, and no man has heard of them more. It is rumoured that they
have been seized and done to death by the rapacious owners of Basildene,
and that the father and son are growing wealthy beyond what any man
knows by the plunder they thus obtain."
"But if they hold the secret of the philosopher's stone, sure they would
not need to fall upon travellers by the way!"
John slowly shook his head, a thoughtful smile upon his face.
"For mine own part," he said quietly, "I have no belief in that stone,
or in that power of alchemy after which men since the beginning of time
have been vainly striving. They may seek and seek, but I trow they will
never find it; and I verily believe if found it would but prove a
worthless boon. For in the hands of a rapacious master, so quickly would
gold be poured upon the world that soon its value would be lost, and it
would be no more prized than the base metals we make our horseshoes of.
It is not the beauty of gold that makes men covet it. It is because it
is rare that it is precious. If this philosopher's stone were to be
found, that rareness would speedily disappear, and men would cease to
prize a thing that could be made more easily than corn may be grown."
The brothers could scarce grasp the full meaning of these words; but it
was not of the philosopher's stone that their minds were full, and
John's next words interested them more.
"No: I believe that the wealth which is being accumulated at Basildene
is won in far different fashion, and that this miserable boy, who is the
helpless slave and tool of his master's illicit art, is an unwilling
agent in showing the so-called magician the whereabouts of hapless
travellers, and in luring them on to their destruction. But that the old
man is wealthy above all those about him may not now be doubted; and it
is this growing wealth, gotten no man knows how, that makes men believe
in his possession of the magic stone."
"And if we rescue the boy, some part of his power will be gone, and he
will lose a tool that he will not easily replace," cried Gaston, with
eager animation. "Brother, let us not delay. We have long desired to
look upon Basildene; let us sally forth this very day."
But John laid a detaining hand upon his arm.
"Nay now, why this haste? Thou art a bold lad, Gaston, but something
more than boldness is needed when thou hast such a subtle foe to deal
with. Then there is another thing to think of. What will it avail to
rescue the boy, if his master holds his spirit so in thrall that he can
by no means be restrained from rising in the dead of night to return to
him again? There be many things to think of ere we can act. And we must
take counsel of one who knows Basildene, as we do not. I have never seen
the house, and know nothing of its ways. Till these things were recalled
to my memory these last days, I had scarce remembered that such a place
existed."
"Of whom then shall we take counsel?" asked Gaston, with a touch of
impatience, for to him action and not counsel was the mainspring of
life. "Of thine uncle, who thou sayest is a friend of this unholy man?"
"Scarce a friend," answered John, "albeit he has no quarrel with Master
Sanghurst; and if thou knewest more of the temper of the times, thou
wouldst know that the King's servants must have a care how they in any
wise stir up strife amongst those who dwell in the realm. We have
enemies and to spare abroad -- in Scotland, in Flanders, in France. At
home we must all strive to keep the peace. It behoves not one holding
office under the crown to embroil himself in private quarrels, or stir
up any manner of strife. This is why I counsel you to make no claim on
Basildene for the nonce, and why my uncle could give no help in the
matter of this boy, kindly as his heart is disposed towards the poor and
oppressed. He moved once in the matter, with the result that you know.
It could scarce be expected of him to do more."
"Who then will help or counsel us?"
"I can think of but one, and that is but a slim maiden, whom ye bold
lads might despise. I mean Mistress Joan Vavasour herself."
"What!" cried Gaston in amaze -- "the maiden whom Peter Sanghurst is to
wed? Sure that were a strange counsellor to choose! Good John, thou must
be dreaming."
"Nay, I am no dreamer," was the smiling answer; and a slight access of
colour came slowly into John's face. "I have not seen fair Mistress Joan
of late; yet unless I be greatly mistaken in her, I am very sure that by
no deed of her own will she ever mate with one of the Sanghurst brood. I
have known her from childhood. Once it was my dream that I might wed her
myself; but such thoughts have long ago passed from my mind never to
enter it again. Yet I know her and I love her well, and to me she has
spoken words which tell me that she will never be a passive tool in the
hands of her haughty parents. She has the spirit of her sire within her,
and I trow he will find it no easy task to bend the will even of a child
of his own, when she is made after the fashion of Mistress Joan. If
Peter Sanghurst has gone a-wooing there, I verily believe that the lady
will by this time have had more than enough of his attentions. It may be
that she would be able to give us good counsel; at least I would very
gladly ask it at her hands."
"How can we see her?" asked the brothers quickly.
"So soon as I can make shift to ride once more we will to horse and away
to Woodcrych. It is time I paid my respects to fair Mistress Joan, for I
have not seen her for long. I would that you twain could see her. She is
as fair as a lily, yet with all the spirit of her bold sire, as fearless
in the saddle as her brother, as upright as a dart, beautiful
exceedingly, with her crown of hair the colour of a ripe chestnut. Ah!
if she were but taken to the King's Court, she would be its fairest
ornament. But her sire has never the money to spend upon her adornment;
and moreover if she appeared there, she would have suitors and to spare
within a month, and he would be called upon to furnish forth a rich
dower -- for all men hold him to be a wealthy man, seeing the broad
lands he holds in fief. Wherefore I take it he thinks it safer to
betroth her to this scion of the Sanghurst brood, who will be heir to
all his father's ill-gotten wealth. But if I know Mistress Joan, as I
think I do, she will scarce permit herself to be given over like a
chattel, though she may have a sore fight to make for her liberty."
Raymond's eyes brightened and his hands closely clinched themselves.
Surely this quest after Basildene was bringing strange things to light.
Here was a miserable child to be rescued from bondage that was worse
than death; and a maiden, lovely and brave of spirit, to be saved from
the clutches of this same Sanghurst faction. What a strange combination
of circumstances seemed woven around the lost inheritance! Might it not
be the very life's work he had longed after, to fulfil his mother's
dying behest and make himself master of Basildene again?
That night his dreams were a strange medley of wizards, beauteous
maidens, and ruinous halls, through which he wandered in search of the
victim whose shrill cries he kept hearing. He rose with the first of the
tardy light, to find that Gaston was already off and away upon some
hunting expedition planned overnight. Raymond had not felt disposed to
join it; the attraction of John's society had more charm for him.
The uncle was absent from home on the King's business. The two cousins
had the house to themselves. They had established themselves beside the
glowing hearth within their favourite room containing all the books,
when the horn at the gate announced the arrival of some guest, and a
message was brought to John saying that Mistress Joan Vavasour was even
then dismounting from her palfrey, and was about to pay him a visit.
"Nay now, but this is a lucky hap!" cried John, as he went forward to be
ready to meet his guest.
The next moment the light footfall along the polished boards of the
anteroom announced the coming of the lady, and Raymond's eager eyes were
fixed upon a face so fair that he gazed and gazed and could not turn his
eyes away.
Mistress Joan was just his own age -- not yet seventeen -- yet she had
something of the grace and dignity of womanhood mingling with the fresh
sweet frankness of the childhood that had scarcely passed. Her eyes were
large and dark, flashing, and kindling with every passing gust of
feeling; her delicate lips, arched like a Cupid's bow, were capable of
expressing a vast amount of resolution, though now relaxed into a merry
smile of greeting. She was rather tall and at present very slight,
though the outlines of her figure were softly rounded, and strength as
well as grace was betrayed in every swift eager motion. She held John's
hands and asked eagerly after his well-being.
"It was but two days ago I heard that you lay sick at Guildford, and I
have been longing ever since for tidings. Today my father had business
in the town, and I humbly sued him to let me ride with him, and rest,
whilst he went his own way, in the hospitable house of your good uncle.
This is how I come to be here today. And now tell me of thyself these
many months, for I hear no news at Woodcrych. And who is this fair youth
with thee? Methinks his face is strange to me, though he bears a look of
the De Brocas, too."
A quick flush mounted in Raymond's cheek; but John only called him by
the name by which he was known to the world, and Mistress Joan spoke no
more of the fancied likeness. She and John, who were plainly well
acquainted, plunged at once into eager talk; and it was not long before
the question of Joan's own marriage was brought up, and he plainly asked
her if the news was true which gave her in wedlock to Peter Sanghurst.
A change came over Joan's face at those words. A quick gleam shot out of
her dark eyes. She set her teeth, and her face suddenly hardened as if
carved in flint. Her voice, which had been full of rippling laughter
before, now fell to a lower pitch, and she spoke with strange force and
gravity.
"John, whatever thou hearest on that score, believe it not. I will die
sooner than be wedded to that man. I hate him. I fear him -- yes, I do
fear him, I will not deny it -- I fear him for his wickedness, his evil
practices, his diabolic cruelty, of which I hear fearful whispers from
time to time. He may be rich beyond all that men credit. I doubt not he
has many a dark and hideous method of wringing gold from his wretched
victims. Basildene holds terrible secrets; and never will I enter that
house by my own free will. Never will I wed that man, not if I have to
plunge this dagger into mine own heart to save myself from him. I know
what is purposed. I know that he and his father have some strange power
over my sire and my brother, and that they will do all they can to bend
my will to theirs. But I have two hopes yet before me. One is appeal to
the King, through his gentle and gracious Queen; another is the Convent
-- for sooner would I take the veil (little as the life of the recluse
charms me) than sell myself to utter misery as the wife of that man.
Death shall call me its bride before that day shall come. Yet I would
not willingly take my life, and go forth unassoiled and unshriven. No; I
will try all else first. And in thee, good John, I know I shall find a
trusty and a stalwart friend and champion."
"Trusty in all truth, fair lady, but stalwart I fear John de Brocas will
never be. Rather enlist in thy service yon gallant youth, who has
already distinguished himself in helping to save the Prince in the
moment of peril. I trow he would be glad enough to be thy champion in
days to come. He has, moreover, a score of his own to settle one day
with the present Master of Basildene."
Joan's bright eyes turned quickly upon Raymond, who had flushed with
boyish pride and pleasure and shame at hearing himself thus praised. He
eagerly protested that he was from that time forward Mistress Joan's
loyal servant to command; and at the prompting of John, he revealed to
her the fact of his own claim on Basildene (without naming his kinship
with the house of De Brocas), and gave an animated account of the recent
visit to the woodman's hut, and told the story of his cruel wrongs.
Joan listened with flashing eyes and ever-varying colour. At the close
of the tale she spoke.
"I have heard of that wretched boy -- the tool and sport of the old
man's evil arts, the victim of the son's diabolic cruelty when he has no
other victim to torment. They keep him for days without food at times,
because they say that he responds better to their fiendish practices
when the body is well-nigh reduced to a shadow. Oh, I hear them talk! My
father is a dabbler in mystic arts. They are luring him on to think he
will one day learn the secret of the transmutation of metals, whilst I
know they do but seek to make of him a tool, to subdue his will, and to
do with him what they will. They will strive to practise next on me --
they have tried it already; but I resist them, and they are powerless,
though they hate me tenfold more for it, and I know that they are
reckoning on their revenge when I shall be a helpless victim in their
power. Art thou about to try to rescue the boy? That were, in truth, a
deed worth doing, though the world will never praise it; though it might
laugh to scorn a peril encountered for one so humble as a woodman's son.
But it would be a soul snatched from the peril of everlasting death, and
a body saved from the torments of a living hell!"
And then John spoke of the thoughts which had of late possessed them
both of that chivalry that was not like to win glory or renown, that
would not gain the praise of men, but would strive to do in the world a
work of love for the oppressed, the helpless, the lowly. And Joan's eyes
shone with the light of a great sympathy, as she turned her bright gaze
from one face to the other, till Raymond felt himself falling beneath a
spell the like of which he had never known before, and which suddenly
gave a new impulse to all his vague yearnings and imaginings, and a zest
to this adventure which was greater than any that had gone before.
Joan's ready woman's wit was soon at work planning and devising how the
deed might best be done.
"I can do this much to aid," she said. "A day will come ere long when
the two Sanghursts will come at nightfall to Woodcrych, to try, as they
have done before, some strange experiments in the laboratory my father
has had made for himself. We always know the day that this visit is to
be made, and I can make shift to let you know. They stay far into the
night, and only return to Basildene as the dawn breaks. That would be
the night to strive to find and rescue the boy. He will be almost alone
in yon big house, bound hand and foot, I doubt not, or thrown into some
strange trance that shall keep him as fast a prisoner. There be but few
servants that can be found to live there. Mostly they flee away in
affright ere they have passed a week beneath that roof. Those that stay
are bound rather by fear than aught beside; and scarce a human being
will approach that house, even in broadest daylight. There are many
doors and windows, and the walls in places are mouldering away, and
would give easy foothold to the climber. It is beneath the west wing,
hard by the great fish ponds, that the rooms lie which are ever closed
from light of day, and in which the evil men practise their foul arts. I
have heard of a secret way from the level of the water into the cellars
or dungeons of the house; but whether this be true I do not rightly
know. Yet methinks you could surely find entrance within the house, for
so great is the terror in which Basildene is held that Master Sanghurst
freely boasts that he needs neither bolt nor bar. He professes to have
drawn around the house a line which no human foot may cross. He knows
well that no man wishes to try."
Raymond shivered slightly, but he was not daunted, Yet there was still
the question to be faced, what should be done with the boy when rescued
to hold him back from the magician's unholy spell. But Joan had an
answer ready for this objection. Her hands folded themselves lightly
together, her dark eyes shone with the earnestness of her devotion.
"That will I soon tell to you. The spell cast upon the boy is one of
evil, and therefore it comes in some sort from the devil, even though,
as John says, men may have no visible dealings with him. Yet, as all sin
is of the Evil One, and as the good God and His Holy Saints are stronger
than the devil and his angels, it is His help we must invoke when the
powers of darkness strive to work in him again. And we must ask in this
the help of some holy man of God, one who has fasted and prayed and
learned to discern betwixt good and evil, has fought with the devil and
has overcome. I know one such holy man. He lives far away from here. It
is a small community between Guildford and Salisbury -- I suppose it
lies some thirty miles from hence. I could find out something more,
perchance, in time to acquaint you farther with the road. If you once
gain possession of the boy, mount without loss of time, and draw not
rein till you reach that secluded spot. Ask to be taken in in the name
of charity, and when the doors have opened to you, ask for Father Paul.
Give him the boy. Tell him all the tale, and trust him into his holy
hands without fear. He will take him; he will cast out the evil spirit.
I misdoubt me if the devil himself will have power over him whilst he is
within those hallowed walls. At least if he can find entrance there, he
will not be able to prevail; and when the foul spirit is cast out and
vanquished, you can summon his father to him and give him back his son
-- as the son of the father in Scripture was restored to him again when
the devil had been cast out by the voice of the Blessed Jesus."
"I truly think that thou art right," said John. "The powers of evil are
very strong, too strong to be combated by us unaided by the prayers and
the efforts of holy men.
"Raymond, it shall be my work to provide for this journey. My uncle will
be long absent. In his absence I may do what I will and go where I will.
I would myself pay a pilgrimage to the house where this holy man
resides, and make at the shrine of the chapel there my offering of
thanksgiving for my recovery from this hurt. We will go together. We
will take the boy with us; and the boy's father shall be one of our
party. He shall see that the powers of evil can be vanquished. He shall
see for himself the restoration of his child."