"At last, my love, at last!"
"Raymond! My own true lord -- my husband!"
"My life! my love!"
At last the dream had fulfilled itself; at last the long probation was
past. Raymond de Brocas and Joan Vavasour had been made man and wife by
good Master Bernard de Brocas in his church at Guildford, and in the
soft sunlight of an October afternoon were riding together in the
direction of Basildene, from henceforth to be their home.
Raymond had not yet seen Basildene. He had hurried to Joan's side the
moment that he left the ship which bore him from the shores of France,
and the marriage had been celebrated almost at once, there being no
reason for farther delay, and Sir Hugh being eager to be at the Court to
receive the triumphant young Prince when he should return to England
with his kingly captive.
All the land was ringing with the news of the glorious victory, of which
Raymond's vessel was the first to bring tidings. He himself, as having
been one of those who had taken part in the battle and having won his
spurs on the field of Poitiers, was regarded with no small admiration
and respect. But Raymond had thoughts of nothing but his beloved; and to
find her waiting for him, her loving heart as true to him as his was to
her, was happiness sweeter than any he had once dreamed could be his.
The time had flown by on golden wings. He scarce knew how to reckon its
flight. He and Joan lived in a world of their own -- a world that
reckons not time by our calendar, but has its own fashion of
computation; and hours that once had crept by leaden footed, now flew
past as if on wings. He and his love were together at last, soon to be
united in a bond that only death could sunder. And neither of them held
that it could be broken even by the stern cold hand of death. Such love
as theirs was not for time alone; it would last on and on through the
boundless cycles of eternity.
And now the holy vows had been spoken. At last the solemn ceremony was
over and past. Raymond and Joan were man and wife, and were riding side
by side through the whispering wood in the direction of Basildene.
Joan had not changed much since the day she and Raymond had plighted
their troth beside the dying bed of John de Brocas. As a young girl she
had looked older than her years; as a woman she looked scarce more.
Perhaps in those great dark eyes there was more of softness; weary
waiting had not dimmed their brightness, but had imparted just a touch
of wistfulness, which gave to them an added charm. The full, curved lips
were calmly resolute as of old, yet touched with a new sweetness and the
gracious beauty of a great happiness.
Raymond had changed more than she, having developed from the youth into
the man; retaining in a wonderful way the peculiar charm of his
boyhood's beauty, the ethereal purity of expression and slim grace of
figure, yet adding to these the dignity and purpose of a more advanced
age, and all the stateliness and power of one who has struggled and
suffered and battled in the world, and who has come forth from that
struggle with a stainless shield, and a name unsullied by the smallest
breath of slander.
Joan's eyes dwelt upon her husband's face with a proud, joyous light in
them. Once she laid her hand upon his as they rode, and said, in low
tones very full of feeling:
"Methinks I have found my Galahad at last. Methinks that thou hast found
a treasure as precious as the Holy Grail itself. Methinks no treasure
could be more precious than that which thou hast won."
He turned his eyes upon her tenderly.
"The treasure of thy love, my Joan?"
"I was not thinking of that," she answered; "we have loved each other so
long. I was thinking of that other treasure -- the love which has
enabled thee to triumph over evil, to forgive our enemies, to do good to
those that have hated us, to fight the Christian's battle as well as
that of England's King. I was thinking of that higher chivalry of which
in old days we have talked so much. Perchance we should give it now
another name. But thou hast been true and faithful in thy quest. Ah, how
proud I am of the stainless name of my knight!"
His fingers closed fast over hers, but he made no reply in words.
Raymond's nature was a silent one. Of his deepest feelings he spoke the
least. He had told his story to Joan; he knew that she understood all it
meant to him. It was happiness to feel that this was so without the need
of words. That union of soul was sweeter to him than even the possession
of the hand he held in his.
And so they rode on to Basildene.
But was this Basildene? Raymond passed his hand across his eyes, and
gazed and gazed again. Joan sat quietly in her saddle, watching him with
smiling eyes.
Basildene! yes, truly Basildene. There was the quaint old house with its
many gables and mullioned casements and twisted chimneys, its warm red
walls and timbered grounds around it; but where was the old look of
misery, decay, neglect, and blight? Who could look at that picturesque
old mansion, with its latticed casements glistening in the sun, and
think of aught but home-like comfort and peace? What had been done to
it? what spell had been at work? This was the Basildene of his boyhood's
dreams -- the Basildene that his mother had described to them. It was
not the Basildene of later years. How had the change come about?
"That has been our uncle's work these last two years," answered Joan,
who was watching the changes passing over her husband's face, and seemed
to read the unspoken thought of his heart. "He and I together have
planned it all, and the treasure has helped to carry all out. The hidden
hoard has brought a blessing at last, methinks, Raymond; for the chapel
has likewise been restored, and holy mass and psalm now ascend daily
from it. The wretched hovels around the gates, where miserable peasants
herded like swine in their sties, have been cleared away, and places fit
for human habitation have been erected in their stead. That fearful
quagmire, in which so many wretched travellers have lost their lives,
has been drained, and a causeway built across it. Basildene is becoming
a blessing to all around it; and so long as thou art lord here, my
Raymond, it will remain a blessing to all who come within shelter of its
walls."
He looked at her with his dreamy smile. His mind was going back in
review over all these long years since first the idea had formed itself
in his brain that they two -- Gaston and himself -- would win back
Basildene. How long those years seemed in retrospect, and yet how short!
How many changes they had seen! how many strange events in the checkered
career of the twin brothers!
"I would that Gaston were with me now; I would that he might see it."
"And so he shall, come next summer," answered Joan. "Is it not a promise
that he comes hither with his bride to see thy home and mine, Raymond,
and that we pass one of England's inclement winters in the softer air of
sunny France? You are such travellers, you brethren, that the journey is
but child's play to you; and I too have known something of travel, and
it hath no terrors for me. There shall be no sundering of the bond
betwixt the twin brothers of Basildene. Years shall only bind that bond
faster, for to their faithful love and devotion one to the other
Basildene owes its present weal, and we our present happiness."
"The twin brothers of Basildene," repeated Raymond dreamily, gazing
round him with smiling eyes, as he held Joan's hand fast in his. "My
mother, I wonder if thou canst see us now -- Gaston at Saut and Raymond
here at Basildene? Methinks if thou canst thou wilt rejoice in our
happiness. We have done what thou biddedst us. We have fought and we
have overcome. Thine own loved home has been won back by thine own sons,
and Raymond de Brocas is Lord of Basildene."
THE END.
i If any reader has taken the trouble to follow this story
closely, he may observe that the expedition of the Black Prince has been
slightly antedated. In order not to interrupt the continuity of the
fictitious narrative, the time spent in long-drawn and fruitless
negotiation at the conclusion of the truce has been omitted.
End of Project Gutenberg's In the Days of Chivalry, by Evelyn Everett-Green