"Sanghurst dead! Joan free! her father's consent won! I the Lord of
Basildene! Gaston, thou takest away my breath! Art sure thou art not
mocking me?"
"Art sure that thou art indeed thyself, my lord of Basildene?" was
Gaston's merry response, as he looked his brother over from head to foot
with beaming face; "for, in sooth, I scarce should know thee for the
brother I left behind -- that wan and wasted creature, more like a
corpse than a man. The good Brothers have indeed done well by thee,
Raymond. Save that thou hast not lost thine old saintly look, which
stamps thee as something different from the rest of us, I should scarce
have thought it could be thee. This year spent in thine own native clime
has made a new man of thee!"
"In truth I think it has," answered Raymond, who was indeed wonderfully
changed from the time when Gaston had left him, rather more than ten
months before. "We had no snow and no cold in the winter gone by, and I
was able to take the air daily, and I grew strong wondrous fast. Thou
hadst told me to be patient, to believe that all was well if I heard
nothing from thee; and I strove to follow thy maxim, and that with good
success. I knew that thou wouldst not let me go on hoping if hope meant
but a bitterer awaking. I knew that silence must mean there was work
which thou wert doing. Many a time, as a white-winged vessel spread her
sails for England's shores, have I longed to step on board and follow
thee across the blue water to see how thou wast faring; but then came
always the thought that thou mightest be on thy way hither, and that
thou wouldst chide me for having left these sheltering walls. And so I
stayed on day after day, and week after week, until months had rolled
by; and I began to say within myself that, if thou camest not before the
autumn storms, I must e'en take ship and follow thee, for I could wait
no longer for news of thee -- and her."
"And here I am with news of her, and news that to me is almost better.
Raymond, I have not come hither alone. The Prince and the flower of our
English chivalry are here at Bordeaux this day. The hollow truce is at
an end. Insult upon insult has been heaped upon England's King by the
King of France, the King of Navarre (who called himself our ally till he
deserted us to join the French King, who will yet avenge upon him his
foul murder of Charles of Spain), and the Count of Blois in Brittany.
England has been patient. Edward has listened long to the pleadings of
the Pope, and has not rushed into war; but he cannot wait patiently for
ever. They have roused the lion at last, and he will not slumber again
till he has laid his foes in the dust.
"Listen, Raymond: the Prince is here in Bordeaux. The faithful Gascon
nobles -- the Lord of Pommiers, the Lord of Rosen, the Lord of Mucident,
and the Lord de l'Esparre -- have sent to England to say that if the
Prince will but come to lead them, they will make gallant war upon the
French King. John has long been striving to undermine England's power in
his kingdom, to rid himself of an enemy's presence in his country, to be
absolute lord over his vassals without their intermediate allegiance to
another master. It does not suffice that our great King does homage for
his lands in France (though he by rights is King of France himself). He
knows that here, in these sunny lands of the south, the Roy Outremer is
beloved as he has never been. He would fain rob our King of all his
lands; he is planning and plotting to do it."
"But the Roy Outremer is not to be caught asleep," cried Raymond, with a
kindling glance, "and John of France is to learn what it is to have
aroused the wrath of the royal Edward and of his brave people of England."
"Ay, verily; and our good Gascons are as forward in Edward's cause as
his English subjects," answered Gaston quickly. "They love our English
rule, they love our English ways; they will not tamely be transformed
into a mere fief of the French crown. They will fight for their feudal
lord, and stand stanchly by his banner. It is their express request that
brings the Prince hither today. The King is to land farther north -- at
Cherbourg methinks it was to be; whilst my Lord of Lancaster has set
sail for Brittany, to defend the Countess of Montford from the Count of
Blois, who has now paid his ransom and is free once more. His Majesty of
France will have enough to do to meet three such gallant foes in the field.
"And listen still farther, Raymond, for the Prince has promised this
thing to me -- that as he marches through the land, warring against the
French King, he will pause before the Castle of Saut and smoke out the
old fox, who has long been a traitor at heart to the English cause. And
the lands so long held by the Navailles are to be mine, Raymond -- mine.
And a De Brocas will reign once more at Saut, as of old! What dost thou
think of that?"
"Brother, I am glad at heart. It seemeth almost like a dream. Thou the
lord of Saut and I of Basildene! Would that she were living yet to see
the fulfilment of her dream!"
"Ay, truly I would she were. But, Raymond, thou wilt join the Prince's
standard; thou wilt march with us to strike a blow for England's honour
and glory? Basildene and fair Mistress Joan are safe. No harm will come
to them by thine absence. And thou owest all to the Prince. Surely thou
wilt not leave him in the hour of peril; thou wilt march beneath his
banner and take thy share of the peril and the glory?"
Gaston spoke with eager energy, looking affectionately into his
brother's face; and as he saw that look, Raymond felt that he could not
refuse his brother's request. For just a few moments he hesitated, for
the longing to see Joan once again and to clasp her in his arms was very
strong within him; but his brother's next words decided him.
"Thy brother and the Prince have won Basildene for thee; surely thou
wilt not leave us till Saut has yielded to me!"
Raymond held out his hand and grasped that of Gaston in a warm clasp.
"We will go forth together once again as brothers in arms," he said,
with brightening eyes. "It may be that our paths in life may henceforth
be divided; wherefore it behoves us in the time that remains to us to
cling the more closely together. I will go with thee, brother, as thy
faithful esquire and comrade, and we will win back for thee the right to
call the old lands thine. How often we have dreamed together in our
childhood of some such day! How far away it then appeared! and yet the
day has come."
"And thou wilt then see my Constanza," said Gaston, in low, exultant
tones -- "my lovely and gentle mistress, to whom thou, my brother, owest
thy life. It is meet that thou shouldst be one to help to set her free
from the tyranny of her rude uncle and the isolation of her dreary life
in yon grim castle walls. Thou hast seen her, hast thou not? Tell me,
was she not the fairest, the loveliest object thine eyes had ever looked
upon, saving of course (to thee) thine own beauteous lady?"
"Methought it was some angel visitor from the unseen world," answered
Raymond, "flitting into yon dark prison house, where it seemed that no
such radiant creature could dwell. There was fever in my blood, and all
I saw was through a misty veil, I scarce believed it more than a sweet
vision; but I will thank her now for the whispered word of hope breathed
in mine ear in the hour of my sorest need."
"Ay, that thou shalt do!" cried Gaston, with all a lover's delight in
the thought of the near meeting with the lady of his heart. "And when,
in days to come, thou and I shall bring our brides to Edward's Court,
men will all agree that two nobler, lovelier women never stepped this
earth before -- my fairy Constanza, a creature of fire and snow; thy
Joan, a veritable queen amongst women, stately, serene, full of dignity
and courage, and beautiful as she is noble."
"And thou art sure that she is safe?" questioned Raymond, his heart
still longing for the moment of reunion after the long separation,
albeit those were days when the separation of years was no infrequent
thing, even betwixt those most closely drawn by bonds of love. "There is
none else to come betwixt her and me? Her father will not strive to
sunder us more?"
"Her father is but too joyous to be free from the power of the
Sanghurst; and the Prince spoke words that brought the flush of shame
tingling to his face. An age of chivalry, and a man selling his daughter
for filthy lucre to one renowned for his evil deeds and remorseless
cruelties! A lady forced to flee her father's house and brave the perils
of the road to escape a terrible doom! I would thou hadst heard him,
Raymond our noble young Prince, with scorn in his voice and the light of
indignation in his eyes. And thy Joan stood beside him; he held her hand
the while, as though he would show to all men that the heir of England
was the natural protector of outraged womanhood, that the upholder of
chivalry would stand to his colours, and be the champion of every
distressed damsel throughout the length and the breadth of the land. And
the lady looked so proud and beautiful that I trow she might have had
suitors and to spare in that hour; but the Prince, still holding her
hand, told her father all the story of her plighted troth to thee --
that truest troth plight of changeless love. And he told him how that
Basildene and all its treasure had been secured to thee, and asked him
was he willing to give his daughter to the Lord of Basildene? And Sir
Hugh was but too glad that no more than this was asked of him, and in
presence of the Prince and of us all he pledged his daughter's hand to
thee, I standing as thy proxy, as I have told thee. And now thy Joan is
well-nigh as fully thine as though ye had joined your hands in holy
wedlock. Thou hast naught to fear from her father's act. He is but too
much rejoiced with the fashion in which all has turned out. His word is
pledged before the Prince; and moreover thou art the lord of Basildene
and its treasure, and what more did he ever desire? It was a share in
that gold for which he would have sold his daughter."
Raymond's face took a new look, one of shrinking and pain.
"I like not that treasure, Gaston," he said. "It is like the price of
blood. I would that the King had taken it for his own. It seemeth as
though it could never bring a blessing with it."
"Methinks it could in thy hands and Joan's," answered Gaston, with a
fond, proud glance at his brother's beautiful face; "and as the Prince
truly said, since this scourge has swept through the land, claiming a
full half of its inhabitants, it would be a hopeless task to try to
discover the real owners; and moreover a part may be the Sanghurst
store, which men have always said is no small thing, and which in very
truth is now thine. But thou canst speak to Father Paul of all that. The
Church will give thee holy counsel. Methinks that gold in thy hands
would ever be used so as to bring with it a blessing and not a curse.
"But come now with me to the Prince. He greatly desires to see thee
again. He has not forgot thee, brother mine, nor that exploit of thine
at the surrender of Calais."
Father Paul was not at that time within the Monastery walls, his duties
calling him hither and thither, sometimes in one land and sometimes in
another. Raymond had enjoyed a peaceful time of rest and mental
refreshment with the good monks, but he was more than ready to go forth
into the world again. Quiet and study were congenial to him, but the
life of a monk was not to his taste. He saw clearly the evils to which
such a calling was exposed, and how easy it was to forget the high
ideal, and fall into self indulgence, idleness, and sloth.
Not that the abuses which in the end caused the monastic system to fall
into such contempt were at that time greatly developed; but the germs of
the evil were there, and it needed a nature such as that of Father Paul
and men of his stamp to show how noble the life of devotion could be
made. Ordinary men fell into a routine existence, and were in danger of
letting their duties and even their devotions become purely mechanical.
Raymond said adieu to his hospitable entertainers with some natural
regrets, yet with a sense that there was a wider work for him to do in
the world than any he should ever find between Monastery walls. Even
apart from all thoughts of love and marriage, there was attraction for
him in the world of chivalry and warfare. His ambition took a different
form from that of the average youth of the day, but none the less for
that did it act upon him like a spur, driving him forth where strife and
conflict were being waged, and where hard blows were to be struck.
Gaston's brother was warmly welcomed in the camp of the Prince. Many
there were who remembered the dreamy-faced lad, who had seemed like a
young Saint Michael amongst them, and still bore about with him
something of that air of remoteness which was never without its effect
even upon the rudest of his companions. Indeed the ordeal through which
he had passed had left an indelible stamp upon him. If the face looked
older than of yore, it was not that the depth and spirituality of the
expression had in any wise diminished.
The two brothers standing together formed a perfect picture in
contrasted types -- the bronzed, stalwart soldier in his coat of mail,
looking every inch the brave knight he was; and the slim, pale-faced
Raymond, with the haunting eyes and wonderful smile, which irradiated
his face like a gleam of light from another world, bearing about with
him that which seemed to stamp him as somewhat different from his
fellows, and yet which always commanded from them not only admiration,
but affection and respect.
The Prince's greeting was warm and hearty. He felt towards Raymond all
that goodwill which naturally follows an act of generous interference on
behalf of an injured person. He made him sit beside him in his tent at
supper time, and tell him all his history; and the promise made to
Gaston with reference to the tyrant Lord of Saut was ratified anew as
the wine circulated at table. The chosen comrades of the Prince, who had
most of them known the twin brothers for many years, vowed themselves to
the enterprise with hearty goodwill; and had the Lord of Navailles been
there to hear, he might well have trembled for his safety, despite the
strong walls and deep moat that environed Saut.
"Let his walls be never so strong, I trow we can starve or smoke the old
fox out!" quoth young Edward, laughing. "There be many strong citadels,
many a fortified town, that will ere long open their gates at the
summons of England's Prince. How say ye, my gallant comrades? Shall the
old Tower of Saut defy English arms? Shall we own ourselves beaten by
any Sieur de Navailles?"
The shout with which these words were answered was answer sufficient.
The English and Gascon lords, assembled together under the banner of the
Prince, were bent on a career of glory and plunder. The inaction of the
long truce, with its perpetual sources of irritation and friction, had
been exasperating in the extreme. It was an immense relief to them to
feel that war had at last been declared, and that they could unfurl
their banners and march forth against their old enemy, and enrich
themselves for life at his expense.
With the march of the Prince through south France we have little concern
in this history. It was one long triumphal progress, not over and above
glorious from a military standpoint; for there were no real battles, and
the accumulation of plunder and the infliction of grievous damage upon
the French King's possessions seemed the chief object of the expedition.
Had there been any concerted resistance to the Prince's march, doubtless
he might have shown something of his great military talents in directing
his forces in battle; but as it was, the country appeared paralyzed at
his approach: place after place fell before him, or bought him off by a
heavy price; and though there were several citadels in the vanquished
towns which held out for France, the Prince seldom stayed to subdue
them, but contented himself with plundering and burning the town. Not a
very glorious style of warfare for those days of vaunted chivalry, yet
one, nevertheless, characteristic enough of the times. Every
undertaking, however small, gave scope for deeds of individual gallantry
and the exercise of individual acts of courtliness and chivalry; and
even the battles were often little more than a countless number of
hand-to-hand conflicts carried on by the individual members of the
opposing armies. The Prince and his chosen comrades, always on the watch
for opportunities of showing their prowess and of exercising their
knightly chivalry towards any miserable person falling in their own way,
were doubtless somewhat blinded to the ignoble side of such a campaign.
However that may be, Raymond often felt a sinking at heart as he saw
their path marked out by blazing villages and wasted fields; and almost
all his own energies were concentrated in striving to do what one man
could achieve to mitigate the horrors of war for some of its helpless
victims.
Narbonne, on the Gulf of Lions, was the last place attacked and taken by
the Prince, who then decided to return with his spoil to Bordeaux, and
pass the remainder of the winter in the capture of certain places that
would be useful to the English.
Nothing had all this time been spoken as to Saut, which lay out of the
line of their march in the heart of friendly Gascony. But the project
had by no means been abandoned, and the Prince was but waiting a
favourable opportunity to carry it into effect.
The Sieur de Navailles had not attempted to join the Prince's standard,
as so many of the Gascon nobles had done, but had held sullenly aloof,
probably watching and waiting to see the result of this expedition, but
by no means prepared to adventure his person into the hands of a feudal
lord against whom his own sword had more than once been drawn. He was
well aware, no doubt, that there were pages in his past history with
regard to his relations with France that would not bear inspection by
English eyes, and perhaps he trusted to the remoteness and obscurity of
his two castles to save him from the notice of the Prince.
The terror inspired by the English arms in France is a thing that must
always excite the wonder and curiosity of the readers of history. It was
displayed on and after the Battle of Crecy, when Edward's army, if
numbers counted for anything, ought to have been simply annihilated by
the vast musters of the French, who were in their own land surrounded by
friends, whilst the English were a small band in the midst of a hostile
and infuriated population. This same thing was seen again in the march
of the Prince of Wales, soon to be called the Black Prince, when city
after city bought him off, hopeless of resisting his progress; and when
the army mustered by the Count of Armagnac to oppose the retreat of the
English to Bordeaux with their spoil was seized with a panic after the
merest skirmish, and fled, leaving the Prince to pursue his way unmolested.
If the conduct of the English army was somewhat inglorious, certainly
the behaviour of their foes was still more so. The English were always
ready to fight if they could find an enemy to meet them. Possibly the
doubtful character of the Prince's first campaign was less his fault
than that of his pusillanimous enemies.
Bordeaux reached, however, and the Gascon soldiers dismissed to their
homes for the winter months, the Prince promising to lead them next year
upon a more glorious campaign, in which fresh spoil was to be won and
more victories achieved, there was time for the consideration of objects
of minor importance, and a breathing space wherein private interests
could be considered.
Gaston had repressed all impatience during the march of the Prince. He
had not looked that his own affairs should take the foremost place in
the Prince's scheme. Moreover, he saw well that it would give a false
colour to the expedition if the first march of the Prince had been into
Gascony; nor was the capture of so obscure a fortress as the Castle of
Saut a matter to engross the energies of the whole of the allied army.
But now that the army was partially disbanded, whilst the English
contingent was either in winter quarters in Bordeaux or engaged here and
there in the capture of such cities and fortresses as the Prince decided
worth the taking, the moment appeared to be favourable for that
long-wished-for capture of Saut; and Gaston, taking his brother aside
one day, eagerly opened to him his mind.
"Raymond, I have spoken to the Prince. He is ready and willing to give
me men at any time I ask him. Perchance he will even come himself, if
duty calls him not elsewhere. The thing is now in mine own hands.
Brother, when shall the attempt be made?"
Raymond smiled at the eager question.
"Sir Knight, thou art more the warrior than I. Thou best knowest the day
and the hour for such a matter."
Gaston passed his hand through his hair, and a softer light shone in his
eyes. His brother knew of whom he was thinking, and he was not surprised
at the next words.
"Raymond, methinks before I do aught else I must see her once more. My
heart is hungry for her. I think of her by day and dream of her by
night. Perchance there might be some more peaceful way of winning
entrance to Saut than by battering down the walls, and doing by hap some
hurt to the precious treasure within. Brother, wilt thou wander forth
with me once again -- thou and I, and a few picked men, in case of peril
by the way, to visit Saut by stealth? We would go by the way of Father
Anselm's and our old home. I have a fancy to see the dear old faces once
again. Thou hast, doubtless, seen them all this year that has passed by,
but I not for many an one."
"I saw Father Anselm in Bordeaux," answered Raymond; "and good Jean,
when he heard I was there, came all the way to visit me. But I
adventured not myself so near the den of Navailles. The Brothers would
not permit it. They feared lest I might fall again into his power.
Gladly, indeed, would I come and see them once again. I have pictured
many times how, when thou art Lord of Saut, I will bring my Joan to
visit thee, and show her to good Jean and Margot and saintly Father
Anselm. I would fain talk to them of that day. They ever feel towards us
as though we were their children in very truth."
There was no difficulty in obtaining the Prince's sanction to this
absence from Bordeaux. He gave the brothers free leave to carry out
their plan by any means they chose, promising if they sent him word at
any time that they were ready for the assault, he would either come
himself or send a picked band of veterans to their aid; and saying that
Gaston was to look upon himself as Lord of Saut, by mandate from the
English King, who would enforce his right by his royal power if any
usurping noble dared to dispute it with him.
Thus fortified by royal warrant, and with a heart beating high with hope
and love, Gaston set out with some two score soldiers as a bodyguard to
reconnoitre the land; and upon the evening of the second day, the
brothers saw, in the fast-fading light of the winter's day, the red
roofs of the old mill lying peacefully in the gathering shadows of the
early night.
Their men had been dismissed to find quarters in the village for
themselves, and Roger was their only attendant, as they drew rein before
the door of the mill, and saw the miller coming quickly round the angle
of the house to inquire what these strangers wanted there at such an hour.
"Jean!" cried Gaston, in his loud and hearty tones, the language of his
home springing easily to his lips, though the English tongue was now the
one in which his thoughts framed themselves. "Good Jean, dost thou not
know us?"
The beaming welcome on the miller's face was answer enough in itself;
and, indeed, he had time to give no other, for scarce had the words
passed Gaston's lips before there darted out from the open door of the
house a light and fairy-like form, and a silvery cry of rapture broke
from the lips of the winsome maiden, whilst Gaston leaped from his horse
with a smothered exclamation, and in another moment the light fairy form
seemed actually swallowed up in the embrace of those strong arms.
"Constanza my life -- my love!"
"O Gaston, Gaston! can it in very truth be thou?"
Raymond looked on in mute amaze, turning his eyes from the lovers
towards the miller, who was watching the encounter with a beaming face.
"What means it all?" asked the youth breathlessly.
"Marry, it means that the maiden has found her true knight," answered
Jean, all aglow with delight; but then, understanding better the drift
of Raymond's question, he turned his eyes upon him again, and said:
"You would ask how she came hither? Well, that is soon told. It was one
night nigh upon six months agone, and we had long been abed, when we
heard a wailing sound beneath our windows, and Margot declared there was
a maiden sobbing in the garden below. She went down to see, and then the
maid told her a strange, wild tale. She was of the kindred of the Sieur
de Navailles, she said, and was the betrothed wife of Gaston de Brocas;
and as we knew somewhat of her tale through Father Anselm, who had heard
of your captivity and rescue, we knew that she spoke the truth. She said
that since the escape, which had so perplexed the wicked lord, he had
become more fierce and cruel than before, and that he seemed in some
sort to suspect her, though of what she scarce knew. She told us that
his mind seemed to be deserting him, that she feared he was growing
lunatic. He was so fierce and wild at times that she feared for her own
life. She bore it as long as her maid, the faithful Annette, lived; but
in the summer she fell sick of a fever, and died -- the lady knew not if
it were not poison that had carried her off -- and a great terror seized
her. Not two days later, she fled from her gloomy home, and not knowing
where else to hide her head, she fled hither, trusting that her lover
would shortly come to free her from her uncle's tyranny, as he had
sworn, and believing that the home which had sheltered the infancy of
the De Brocas brothers would give her shelter till that day came."
"And you took her in and guarded her, and kept her safe from harm,"
cried Raymond, grasping the hand of the honest peasant and wringing it
hard. "It was like you to do it, kind, good souls! My brother will thank
you, in his own fashion, for such service. But I must thank you, too.
And where is Margot? for I trow she has been as a mother to the maid. I
would see her and thank her, for Gaston has no eyes nor ears for any one
but his fair lady."
Gaston, indeed, was like one in a dream. He could scarce believe the
evidence of his senses; and it was a pretty sight to see how the winsome
Constanza clung to him, and how it seemed as though she could not bear
to let her eyes wander for a moment from his face.
Only at night, when the brothers stood together in the room they had
occupied of yore, and clasped each other by the hand in warm
congratulation, did Raymond really know how this meeting affected the
object of their journey; then Gaston, looking grave and thoughtful,
spoke a few words of his purpose.
"The Sieur de Navailles is a raging madman. That I can well divine from
what Constanza says. Tomorrow we will to Saut, to see what we may
discover there on the spot. It may be we may have no bloody warfare to
wage; it may be that Saut may be won without the struggle we have
thought. His own people are terrified before him. Constanza thinks that
I have but to declare myself and show the King's warrant to be
proclaimed by all as Lord and Master of Saut."