In the Days of Chivalry

A Tale of the Times of the Black Prince

by Evelyn Everett-Green. 

 CHAPTER I. THE TWIN EAGLETS. 

Autumn was upon the world -- the warm and gorgeous autumn of the south-- autumn that turned the leaves upon the trees to every hue of russet, scarlet, and gold, that transformed the dark solemn aisles of thetrackless forests of Gascony into what might well have been palaces offairy beauty, and covered the ground with a thick and soundless carpetof almost every hue of the rainbow. 

The sun still retained much of its heat and power, and came slanting inbetween the huge trunks of the forest trees in broad shafts of quiveringlight. Overhead the soft wind from the west made a ceaseless, dreamymusic and here and there the solemn silence of the forest was broken bythe sweet note of some singing bird or the harsh croak of the raven. Atnight the savage cry of the wolf too often disturbed the rest of thescattered dwellers in that vast forest, and made a belated travellerlook well to the sharpness of his weapons and the temper of hisbowstring; but by day and in the sunlight the forest was beautiful andquiet enough -- something too quiet, perhaps, for the taste of the twohandsome lads who were pacing the dim aisles together, their armsentwined and their curly heads in close proximity as they walked and talked. 

The two lads were of exactly the same height, and bore a strong likenessone to the other. Their features were almost identical, but thecolouring was different, so that no one who saw them in a good lightwould be likely to mistake or confuse them. Both had the oval face anddelicate regular features which we English sometimes call"foreign-looking;" but then again they both possessed the broadshoulders, the noble height, the erect carriage, and frank, fearlessbearing which has in it something distinctively English, and which haddistinguished these lads from their infancy from the children of thecountry of their adoption. Then, though Raymond had the dark, liquideyes of the south, Gaston's were as blue as the summer skies; and again, whilst Gaston's cheek was of a swarthy hue, Raymond's was as fair asthat of an English maiden; and both had some golden gleams in theircurly brown hair --- hair that clustered round their heads in a thick, waving mass, and gave a leonine look to the bold, eager faces. "The lioncubs" had been one of the many nicknames given to the brothers by thepeople round, who loved them, yet felt that they would not always keepthem in their quiet forest. "The twin eaglets" was another such name;and truly there was something of the keen wildness of the eagle's eye inthe flashing blue eyes of Gaston. The eager, delicate features and theslightly aquiline noses of the pair added, perhaps, to this resemblance;and there had been many whispers of late to the effect that the eagletswould not remain long in the nest now, but would spread their wings fora wider flight. 

Born and bred though they had been at the mill in the great forest thatcovered almost the whole of the district of Sauveterre, they were notrue children of the mill. What had scions of the great house of the DeBrocas to do with a humble miller of Gascony? The boys were true sons oftheir house -- grafts of the parent stock. The Gascon peasants looked atthem with pride, and murmured that the day would come when they wouldshow the world the mettle of which they were made. Those were stirringtimes for Gascony -- when Gascony was a fief of the English Crown, sorely coveted by the French monarch, but tenaciously held on to by the"Roy Outremer, " as the great Edward was called; the King who, as wasrumoured, was claiming as his own the whole realm of France. AndGascony, it must be remembered, did not in those days hold herself to bea part of France nor a part of the French monarchy. She held a much moreimportant place than she would have done had she been a mere fief of theFrench Crown. She had a certain independence of her own -- her ownlanguage, her own laws, her own customs and she saw no humiliation inowning the sovereignty of England's King, since she bad passed underEnglish rule through no act of conquest or aggression on England's part, but by the peaceful fashion of marriage, when nearly two centuries agoEleanor of Aquitaine had brought to her lord, King Henry the Second, thefair lands of which Gascony formed a part. Gascony had grown andflourished apace since then, and was rich, prosperous, and content. Herlords knew how important she might be in days to come, when theinevitable struggle between the rival Kings of France and England shouldcommence; and like an accomplished coquette, she made the most of herknowledge, and played her part well, watching her opportunity fordemanding an increase of those rights and privileges of which she hadnot a few already. 

But it was not of their country's position that the twin brothers wereso eagerly talking as they wandered together along the woodland paths. It was little indeed that they knew of what was passing in the wideworld that lay beyond their peaceful home, little that they heard of thestrife of party or the suspicious jealousy of two powerful monarchs --jealousy which must, as all long-sighted men well knew, break into openwarfare before long. It was of matters nearer to their own hearts thatthe brothers spoke as they sauntered through the woodland pathstogether; and Gaston's blue eyes flashed fire as he paused and tossedback the tangled curls from his broad brow. 

"It is our birthright -- our land, our castle. Do they not all say thatin old days it was a De Brocas, not a Navailles, that ruled there?Father Anselm hath told us a thousand times how the English King issuedmandate after mandate bidding him give up his ill-gotten gains, andrestore the lands of his rival; and yet he failed to do it. I trow had Ibeen in the place of our grandsire, I would not so tamely have sat downbeneath so great an affront. I would have fought to the last drop of myblood to enforce my rights, and win back my lost inheritance Brother, why should not thou and I do that one day? Canst thou be content forever with this tame life with honest Jean and Margot at the mill? Are wethe sons of peasants? Does their blood run in our veins? Raymond, thouart as old as I -- thou hast lived as long. Canst thou remember our deadmother? Canst thou remember her last charge to us?"

Raymond had nodded his head at the first question; he nodded it againnow, a glance of strange eagerness stealing into his dark eyes. Althoughthe two youths wore the dress of peasant boys -- suits of undyedhomespun only very slightly finer in make than was common in those parts-- they spoke the English tongue, and spoke it with purity and ease. Itneeded no trained eye to see that it was something more than peasantblood that ran in their veins, albeit the peasant race of Gascony inthose days was perhaps the freest, the finest, the most independent inthe whole civilized world. 

"I remember well, " answered Raymond quickly; "nay, what then?"

"What then? Spoke she not of a lost heritage which it behoved us torecover? Spoke she not of rights which the sons of the De Brocas hadpower to claim -- rights which the great Roy Outremer had given to them, and which it was for them to win back when the time should come? Dostthou remember? dost thou heed? And now that we are approaching to man'sestate, shall we not think of these things? Shall we not be ready whenthe time comes?"

Raymond gave a quick look at his brother. His own eyes were full ofeager light, but he hesitated a moment before asking:

"And thinkest thou, Gaston, that in speaking thus our mother would fainhave had us strive to recover the castle and domain of Saut?"

"In good sooth yea, " answered Gaston quickly. "Was it not reft from ourgrandsire by force? Has it not been kept from him ever since by thathostile brood of Navailles, whom all men hate for their cruelty andoppression? Brother, have we not heard of dark and hideous deeds done inthat same castle -- deeds that shame the very manhood of those thatcommit them, and make all honest folk curse them in their hearts?Raymond, thou and I have longed this many a day to sally forth to fightfor the Holy Sepulchre against the Saracens; yet have we not a crusadehere at home that calls us yet more nearly? Hast thou not thought of it, too, by day, and dreamed of it by night? To plant the De Brocas ensignabove the walls of Saut -- that would indeed be a thing to live for. Methinks I see the banner already waving over the proud battlements. "

Gaston's eyes flashed and glowed, and Raymond's caught an answeringgleam, but still he hesitated awhile, and then said:

"I fain would think that some day such a thing might be; but, Brother, he is a powerful and wily noble, and they say that he is high in favourwith the Roy Outremer. What chance have two striplings like ourselvesagainst so strong a foe? To take a castle, men must be found, and moneylikewise, and we have neither; and all men stand in deadly terror of thewrath of the Sieur de Navailles. Do they not keep even our name a secretfrom him, lest he should swoop down upon the mill with his armedretainers and carry us off thence -- so hates he the whole family thatbears the name of De Brocas? What could we do against power such as his?I trow nothing. We should be but as pygmies before a giant. "

Gaston's face had darkened. He could not gainsay his brother's reluctantwords, but he chafed beneath them as a restive horse beneath the curbrein tightly drawn. 

"Yet our mother bid us watch and be ready. She spoke often of our lostinheritance, and she knew all the peril, the danger. "

Raymond's eyes sought his brother's face. He looked like one striving torecall a dim and almost lost memory. 

"But thinkest thou, Gaston, that in thus speaking our mother wasthinking of the strong fortress of Saut? I can scarce believe that shewould call that our birthright. For we are not of the eldest branch ofour house. There must be many whose title would prove far better thanour own. We might perchance win it back to the house of De Brocas by actof conquest; but even so, I misdoubt me if we should hold it in peace. We have proud kinsfolk in England, they tell us, whose claim, doubtless, would rank before ours. They care not to cross the water to win back thelands themselves, yet I trow they would put their claim before the Kingdid tidings reach them that their strong and wily foe had been oustedtherefrom. We win not back lands for others to hold, nor would wewillingly war against our own kindred. Methinks, my Brother, that ourmother had other thoughts in her mind when she spoke of our rightfulinheritance. "

"Other thoughts! nay, now, what other thoughts?" asked Gaston, withquick impatience. "I have never dreamed but of Saut. I have called it inmy thoughts our birthright ever since we could walk far enow to lookupon its frowning battlements perched upon yon wooded crag. "

And Gaston stretched out his hand in the direction in which the Castleof Saut lay, not many leagues distant. 

"We have heard naught save of Saut ever since we could run alone. Whatbut that could our mother's words have boded? Sure she looked to us torecover yon fortress as our father once meant to do?"

"I know not altogether, and yet I can scarce believe it was so. Wouldthat our father had left some commands we might have followed. But, Brother, canst thou not recall that other name she spoke so many a timeand oft as she lay a-dying? Sure it was some such name as Basildon orBasildene -- the name of some fair spot, I trow, where she must oncehave lived. Gaston, canst thou remember the day when she called us toher, and joined our hands together, and spoke of us as 'the twinbrothers of Basildene'? I have scarce thought of it from that hour tothis, but it comes back now clearly to my mind. In sooth, it might wellhave been of Basildene she was thinking when she gave us that lastcharge. What could she have known or cared for Saut and its domain? Shehad fled hither from England, I know not why. She knew but little of theways and the thoughts of those amongst whom she had come to dwell. Itmight well have been of her own land that she was thinking so oft. Iverily believe that Basildene is our lost inheritance. "

"Basildene!" said Gaston quickly, with a start as of recollectionsuddenly stirred to life; "sure I remember the name right well now thatthy words bring it back to mind. Yet it is years since I have heard itspoke. Raymond, knowest thou where is this Basildene?"

"In England, I well believe, " was the answer of the other brother. "Methinks it was the name of our mother's home. I seem to remember howshe told us of it -- the old house over the sea, where she had lived. Perchance it was once her own in very sooth, and some turbulent baron orjealous kinsman drove her forth from it, even as we of the house of DeBrocas have been ousted from the Castle of Saut. Brother, if that be so, Basildene is more our inheritance than yon gloomy fortress can be. Weare our mother's only children, and when she joined our hands togethershe called us the twins of Basildene. I trow that we have an inheritanceof our very own, Gaston, away over the blue water yonder. "

Gaston's eyes flashed with sudden ardour and purpose. 

Often of late had the twins talked together of the future that laybefore them, of the doughty deeds they would accomplish; yet so farnothing of definite purpose had entered into their minds. Gaston'sdreams had been all of the ancient fortress of Saut, now for long yearspassed into the hands of the hostile family, the terrible andredoubtable Sieur de Navailles, who was feared throughout the length andbreadth of the country round about his house. Raymond had been dimlyconscious of other thoughts and purposes, but memory was only graduallyrecalling to his mind the half-forgotten days of childhood, when thetwin eaglets had stood at their mother's knee to talk with her in herown tongue of the land across the water where was her home -- the landto which their father had lately passed, upon some mission the childrenwere too young to understand. 

Now the faint dim memories had returned clear and strong. The longsilence was broken. Eagerly the boys strove to recall the past, and bitby bit things pieced themselves together in their minds till they couldnot but marvel how they had so long forgotten. Yet it is often so inyouth. Days pass by one after the other unnoticed and unmarked. Then allin a moment some new train of thought or purpose is awakened, a newelement enters life, making it from that day something different; and bya single bound the child becomes a youth -- the youth a man. 

Some such change as this was passing over the twin brothers at thistime. A deep-seated dissatisfaction with their present surroundings hadlong been growing up in their hearts. They were happy in a fashion inthe humble home at the mill, with good Jean the miller, and Margot hiswife who had been their nurse and a second mother to them all theirlives; but they knew that a great gulf divided them from the Gasconpeasants amongst whom they lived -- a gulf recognized by all those withwhom they came in contact, and in nowise bridged by the fact that thebrothers shared in a measure the simple peasant life, and had known noother. 

Their very name of De Brocas spoke of the race of nobles who had longheld almost sovereign rights over a large tract of country watered bythe Adour and its many tributary streams; and although at this time, theyear of grace 1342, the name of De Brocas was no more heard, but that ofthe proud Sieur de Navailles who now reigned there instead, the old namewas loved and revered amongst the people, and the boys were bred up inall the traditions of their race, till the eagle nature at last asserteditself, and they felt that life could no longer go on in its oldaccustomed groove. Had they not been taught from infancy that a greatfuture lay before them? and what could that future be but the winningback of their old ancestral lands and rights?

Perhaps they would have spoken more of this deeply-seated hope had itnot been so very chimerical -- so apparently impossible of presentfulfilment. To wrest from the proud and haughty Sieur de Navailles thevast territory and strong castle that had been held by him in opendefiance of many mandates from a powerful King, was a task that even thesanguine and ambitious boys knew to be a hundred times too hard forthem. If they had dreamed of it in their hearts, they had scarce namedthe hope even to each other. But today the brooding silence had beenbroken. The twins had taken counsel one with the other; and now burningthoughts of this other fair inheritance were in the minds of both. Whatgolden possibilities did not open out before them? How small a matter itseemed to cross the ocean and claim as their own that unknown Basildene!Both were certain that their mother had held it in her own right. Sure, if there were right or justice in the kingdom of the Roy Outremer, theywould but have to show who and what they were, to become in very factwhat their mother had loved to call them -- the twin brothers of Basildene. 

How their young hearts swelled with delighted expectation at the thoughtof leaving behind the narrow life of the mill, and going forth into thewide world to seek fame and fortune there! And England was no suchforeign land to them, albeit they had never been above ten leagues fromthe mill where they had been born and brought up. Was not their motheran Englishwoman? Had she not taught them the language of her country, and begged them never to forget it? And could they not speak it now aswell as they spoke the language of Gascony -- better than they spoke theFrench of the great realm to which Gascony in a fashion belonged?

The thought of travel always brings with it a certain exhilaration, especially to the young and ardent, and thoughts of such a journey onsuch a quest could not but be tinged with all the rainbow hues of hope. 

"We will go; we will go right soon!" cried Gaston. "Would that we couldgo tomorrow! Why have we lingered here so long, when we might have beenup and doing years ago?"

"Nay, Brother, we were but children years ago. We are not yet sixteen. Yet methinks our manhood comes the faster to us for that noble bloodruns in our veins. But we will speak to Father Anselm. He has alwaysbeen our kindest friend. He will best counsel us whether to go forth, orwhether to tarry yet longer at home --"

"I will tarry no longer; I pant to burst my bonds, " cried the impetuousGaston; and Raymond was in no whit less eager, albeit he had somethingmore of his mother's prudence and self-restraint. 

"Methinks the holy Father will bid us go forth, " he said thoughtfully. "He has oft spoken to us of England and the Roy Outremer, and has everbidden us speak our mother's tongue, and not forget it here in theseparts where no man else speaks it. I trow he has foreseen the day whenwe should go thither to claim our birthright. Our mother told him manythings that we were too young to hear. Perchance he could tell us moreof Basildene than she ever did, if we go to him and question him thereupon. "

Gaston nodded his head several times. 

"Thou speakest sooth, Brother, " said he. "We will go to him forthwith. We will take counsel with him, albeit --"

Gaston did not finish his sentence, for two reasons. One was that hisbrother knew so well what words were on his lips that speech waswell-nigh needless; the other, that he was at that moment rudelyinterrupted. And although the brothers had no such thought at the time, it is probable that this interruption and its consequences had a verydistinct bearing upon their after lives, and certainly it produced amarked effect upon the counsel they subsequently received from theirspiritual father, who, but for that episode, might strongly havedissuaded the youths from going forth so young into the world. 

The interruption came in the form of an angry hail from a loud and gruffvoice, full of impatience and resentment. 

"Out of my path, ye base-born peasants!" shouted a horseman who had justrounded the sharp angle taken by the narrow bridle path, and was broughtalmost to a standstill by the tall figures of the two stalwart youths, which took up the whole of the open way between the trees and theirthick undergrowth. "Stand aside, ye idle loons! Know ye not how to makeway for your betters? Then, in sooth, I will teach you a lesson;" and athick hide lash came whirling through the air and almost lighted uponthe shoulders of Gaston, who chanced to be the nearer. 

But such an insult as that was not to be borne. Even a Gascon peasantmight well have sprung upon a solitary adversary of noble blood had heventured to assault him thus, without support from his train offollowers. As for Gaston, he hesitated not an instant, but with flashingeyes he sprang at the right arm of his powerful adversary, and hadwrested the whip from him and tossed it far away before the words werewell out of the angry lord's mouth. 

With a great oath the man drew his sword; but the youth laughed him toscorn as he stepped back out of reach of the formidable weapon. He wellknew his advantage. Light of foot, though all unarmed, he could defy anyhorseman in this wooded spot. No horse could penetrate to the right orleft of the narrow track. Even if the knight dismounted, the twinbrothers, who knew every turn and winding of these dim forest paths, could lead him a fine dance, and then break away and let him find hisway out as best he could. Fearless and impetuous as Gaston ever was, atthis moment his fierce spirit was stirred more deeply within him than ithad ever been before, for in this powerful warrior who had dared toinsult both him and his brother, ay, and their mother's fair fame too --he recognized the lineaments of the hated Sieur de Navailles. 

The more cautious Raymond had done the same, and now he spoke in lowthough urgent accents. 

"Have a care, Brother! Knowest thou who it be?"

"Know? ay, that I do. It is he who now holds by force and tyranny thosefair lands which should be ours -- lands which our forefathers held fromgeneration to generation, which should be theirs now, were right andjustice to be had, as one day it may be, when the Roy Outremer comes inperson, as men say he will one day come, and all men may have access tohis royal presence. And he, the tyrant, the usurper, dares to call usbase born, to call us peasants, we who own a nobler name than he!

"The day will come, proud man, when thou shalt rue the hour when thouspakest thus to me -- to me who am thy equal, ay, and more than thyequal, in birth, and who will some day come and prove it to thee at thesword's point!"

Many expressions had flitted over the rider's face as these bold wordshad been spoken -- anger, astonishment, then an unspeakable fury, whichmade Gaston look well to the hand which held the shining sword; last ofall an immense astonishment of a new kind, a perplexity not unmixed withdismay, and tinged with a lively curiosity. As the youth ceased speakingthe knight sheathed his sword, and when he replied his voice was pitchedin a very different key. 

"I pray you pardon, young sirs, " he said, glancing quickly from onehandsome noble face to the other. "I knew not that I spoke to those ofgentle birth. The dress deceived me. Tell me now, good youths, who andwhence are ye? You have spoken in parables so far; tell me more plainly, what is your name and kindred?"

Raymond, who had heard somewhat of the enmity of the Sieur de Navailles, and knew that their identity as sons of the house of De Brocas hadalways been kept from his knowledge, here pressed his brother's arm asthough to suggest the necessity for caution; but Gaston's hot blood wasup. The talk they had been holding together had strung his nerves to theutmost pitch of tension. He was weary of obscurity, weary of the peasantlife. He cared not how soon he threw off the mask. Asked a downrightquestion, even by a foe, it was natural to him to make a straightforwardanswer, and he spoke without fear and without hesitation. 

"We are the sons of Arnald de Brocas. De Brocas is our name; we canprove it whenever such proof becomes needful. Our fathers held thesefair lands long ere you or yours did. The day may come when a De Brocasmay reign here once more, and the cursed brood of Navailles be rootedout for ever. "

And without waiting to see the effect produced by such words upon thehaughty horseman, the two brothers dashed off into the wood, and werespeedily lost to sight. 

 CHAPTER II. FATHER ANSELM. 

The mill of Sainte-Foi, which was the home of the twin brothers of theDe 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 thegreat King Edward the First of England during his long regency of theprovince of Gascony in the lifetime of his father. It was one of thoseso-called "Filleules de Bordeaux" which, bound by strong ties to theroyal city, the queen of the Garonne, stood by her and played so large apart in the great drama of the Hundred Years' War. Those cities had beenbuilt by a great king and statesman to do a great work, and to them weregranted charters of liberties such as to attract into their walls largenumbers of persons who helped originally in the construction of the newtownships, and then resided there, and their children after them, proudof the rights and immunities they claimed, and loyally true to the causeof the English Kings, which made them what they were. 

It is plain to the reader of the history of those days that Gasconycould never have remained for three hundred years a fief of the EnglishCrown, had it not been to the advantage of her people that she should soremain. Her attachment to the cause of the Roy Outremer, her willinghomage 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 ownadvancement and welfare thus to accord this homage and fealty. 

Nor is the cause for this advantage far to seek. Gascony was of immensevalue to England, and of increasing value as she lost her hold upon themore northerly portions of France. The wine trade alone was soprofitable that the nobility, and even the royal family of England, traded on their own account. Bordeaux, with its magnificent harbour andvast trade, was a queen amongst maritime cities. The vast "landes" ofthe province made the best possible rearing ground for the chargers andcavalry horses to which England owed much of her warlike supremacy;whilst the people themselves, with their strength and independence ofcharacter, their traditions of personal and individual freedom which canbe clearly traced back to the Roman occupation of the province, andtheir long attachment to England and her King, were the most valuable ofallies; and although they must have been regarded to a certain extent asforeigners when on English soil, they still assimilated better andworked more easily with British subjects than any pure Frenchman hadever been found to do. 

Small wonder then that so astute a monarch as the First Edward had takenvast pains to draw closer the bond which united this fair province toEngland. The bold Gascons well knew that they would find no suchliberties as they now enjoyed did they once put themselves beneath therule of the French King. His country was already overgrown and almostunmanageable. He might cast covetous eyes upon Gascony, but he would notpour into it the wealth that flowed steadily from prosperous England. Hewould 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 butarouse the jealousy of its neighbours. No: the shrewd Gaseous knew thatfull well, and knew when they were well off. They could often obtain anincrease of liberty and an enlarged charter of rights by coquetting withthe French monarch, and thus rousing the fears of the English King; butthey had no wish for any real change, and lived happily and prosperouslybeneath the rule of the Roy Outremer; and amongst all the freemen of theGascon world, none enjoyed such full privileges as those who livedwithin the walls of the "villes Anglaises, " of which Sauveterre was oneamongst the smaller cities. 

The construction of these towns (now best seen in Libourne) is verysimple, and almost always practically the same -- a square in the centreformed by the public buildings, with eight streets radiating from it, each guarded by a gate. An outer ditch or moat protected the wall orpalisade, and the towns were thus fortified in a simple but effectivemanner, and guarded as much by their own privileges as by any outerbulwarks. The inhabitants were bound together by close ties, and eachsmaller city looked to the parent city of Bordeaux, and was proud of thetitle of her daughter. 

Sauveterre and its traditions and its communistic life were familiarenough, and had been familiar from childhood to the twin brothers. 

Halfway between the mill and the town stood a picturesque and scatteredhamlet, and to this hamlet was attached a church, of which a piousecclesiastic, by name Father Anselm, had charge. He was a man of muchpersonal piety, and was greatly beloved through all the countryside, where he was known in every hut and house for leagues around the doorsof his humble home. He was, as was so frequently the case in thosetimes, the doctor and the scribe, as well as the spiritual adviser, ofhis entire flock; and he was so much trusted and esteemed that all mentold him their affairs and asked advice, not in the confessional alone, but as one man speaking to another in whom he has strong personalconfidence. 

The twin brothers knew that during the years when their dead mother hadresided at the mill with honest Jean and Margot (they began greatly towonder now why she had so lived in hiding and obscurity), she had beenconstantly visited by the holy Father, and that she had told him thingsabout herself and her history which were probably known to no otherhuman being beside. Brought up as the youths had been, and trained in ameasure beneath the kindly eye of the priest, they would in any casehave asked his counsel and blessing before taking any overt step inlife; 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 tellthem anything as to their own parentage and history that they did notknow already. 

"We will go to him upon the morrow, " said Gaston with flashing eyes. "Wewill rise with the sun -- or before it -- and go to him ere his day'swork is begun. He will surely find time to talk with us when he hearsthe errand upon which we come. I trow now that when he has sat at ourboard, and has bent upon our faces those glances I have not known how toread aright, he has been wondering how long it would be ere we shouldawake to the knowledge that this peasant life is not the life of the DeBrocas race, guessing that we should come to him for counsel andinstruction ere we spread our wings to flee away. They call us eagletsin sooth; and do eaglets rest for ever in their mountain eyry? Nay, theyspread their wings as strength comes upon them, and soar upwards andonwards to see for themselves the great world around; even as thou and Iwill soar away, Brother, and seek other fortunes than will ever be ourshere in Sauveterre. "

With these burning feelings in their hearts, it was no wonder that thetwins uttered a simultaneous exclamation of satisfaction and pleasurewhen, as they approached the mill, they were aware of the familiarfigure of Father Anselm sitting at the open door of the living house, engaged, as it seemed, in an animated discussion with the worthy millerand his good wife. 

The look which the Father bent upon the two youths as they approachedbetrayed a very deep and sincere affection for them; and when aftersupper they asked to speak with him in private, he readily acceded totheir request, accepting the offer of a bed from the miller's wife, asalready 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 thatof the priest seemed to reflect something of the same expression; forduring the course of the simple meal which all had shared together, Gaston had told of the unlooked-for encounter with the proud Sieur deNavailles in the forest, and of the defiance he had met with from thetwin eaglets. As the good miller and his wife heard how Gaston hadopenly declared his name and race to the implacable foe of his house, they wrung their hands together and uttered many lamentableexclamations. The present Lord of Saut was terribly feared throughoutthe neighbourhood in which he dwelt. His fierce and cruel temper hadbroken forth again and again in acts of brutality or oppression fromwhich there was practically no redress. Free as the Gascon peasant wasfrom much or the serfdom and feudal servitude of other lands, he was insome ways worse off than the serf, when he chanced to have roused theanger of some great man of the neighbourhood. The power of the noblesand barons -- the irresponsible power they too often held -- was one ofthe crying evils of the age, one which was being gradually extinguishedby the growing independence of the middle classes. But such changes wereslow of growth, and long in penetrating beyond great centres; and it wasa terrible thing for a brace of lads, unprotected and powerless as thesetwin brothers, to have brought upon themselves the hostility andperchance the jealousy of a man like the Sieur de Navailles. If hewished to discover their hiding place, he would have small difficulty indoing so; and let him but once find that out, and the lives of the boyswould not be safe either by night or day. The retainers of the proudbaron might swoop down at any moment upon the peaceful mill, and carryoff the prey without let or hindrance; and this was why the secret oftheir birth and name had been so jealously kept from all (save a few wholoved the house of De Brocas) by the devoted miller and his wife. 

But Gaston little recked of the threatened peril. The fearless nature ofhis race was in him, and he would have scorned himself had he failed tospeak out boldly when questioned by the haughty foe of his house. If theDe Brocas had been ruined in all else, they had their fearless honourleft them still. 

But the priest's face was grave as he let the boys lead him into thenarrow bedchamber where they slept -- a room bare indeed of such thingsas our eyes would seek, but which for the times was commodious andcomfortable enough. He was pondering in his mind what step must now betaken, for it seemed to him as though the place of safety in the mill inwhich their mother had left her sons could hide them no longer. Go theymust, of that he felt well assured; but where? That was a question lesseasily answered offhand. 

"Father, " began Gaston eagerly, so soon as the door had closed behindthe three, and Raymond had coaxed the dim taper into its feeble flicker-- "Father, we have come to thee for counsel -- for help. Father, chideus not, nor call us ingrate; but it has come to this with us -- we canno longer brook this tame and idle life. We are not of the peasantstock; why must we live the peasant life? Father, we long to be up anddoing -- to spread our wings for a wider flight. We know that those whobear our name are not hiding their heads in lowly cots; we know that oursires have been soldiers and statesmen in the days that are past. Are wethen to hide our heads here till the snows of age gather upon them? Arewe, of all our race, to live and die obscure, unknown? Father, we cannotstand it; it shall not be! To thee we come to ask more of ourselves thanyet we know. To thee our mother commended us in her last moments; tothee 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 surelybe an end to all of this. Tell us, Father, of our sire; tell us of ourkinsfolk. Where be they? Where may we seek them? I trow thou knowestall. 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 ofthe two eager youths. Gaston was actually shivering with repressedexcitement; Raymond was more calm, but not, as it seemed, one whit lessinterested. What a strong and manly pair they looked! The priest's eyeslighted with pride as they rested on the stalwart figures and noblefaces. 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 shouldcall marvellously immature in these more modern days. 

"My children, " said the good old man, speaking slowly and with no smallfeeling, "I have long looked for this day to come -- the day when yetwain 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 dayhas marked an era in your lives. Methinks that from this night yourchildhood will pass for ever away, and the life of your manhoodcommence. May the Holy Mother of God, the Blessed Saints, and ourgracious Saviour Himself watch over and guard you in all the perils anddangers of the life that lies before you!"

So solemn were the tones of the Father that the boys involuntarily sankupon their knees, making the sign of the Cross as they did so. Thepriest breathed a blessing over the two, and when they had risen totheir feet, he made them sit one on each side of him upon the narrowpallet bed. 

"The story is something long -- the story which will tell ye twain whoand what ye are, and why ye have been thus exiled and forced to dwellobscure in this humble home; but I will tell all I know, and ye willthen see something of the cause. 

"My children, ye know that ye have a noble name -- that ye belong to thehouse of De Brocas, which was once so powerful and great in these fairlands around this home of yours. I wot that ye know already some thingof the history of your house, how that it was high in favour with thegreat 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 partfidelity to him that was the cause of your kinsfolk's ruin: for whilstthey served him in other lands, following him across the sea when he wasbidden to go thither, the treacherous foe of the house of Navailleswrested from them, little by little, all the lands they had owned here, and not even the many mandates from the Roy Outremer sufficed to gainthem their rights again. It might have been done had the great Edwardlived; but when he died and his son mounted the throne, men found atonce how weak were the hands that held the sovereign power, and theSieur de Navailles laughed in his beard at commands he knew there was nopower to enforce. But listen again, my sons; that feeble King, despitemany and great faults, was not without some virtues also; and he did notforget that the house of De Brocas had ruined itself in the cause ofhimself and his father. "

"Did he do aught to show his gratitude?"

"Thou shalt hear, my son. The younger Edward had not been many yearsupon his father's throne before a great battle was fought by him againstthe Scottish race his father had vanquished and subdued. These rebelsubjects revolted from under his hand, and he fought with them a battleon the field of Bannockburn, in which he was overthrown and defeated, and in which your grandsire, Arnald de Brocas, lost his life, fightinggallantly 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. Heserved the King faithfully in life and death, and his sons reaped somereward for their father's fidelity. At first, whilst they were quiteyoung, his three sons (of whom your father was the third) were sent todwell with their mother's relatives -- the De Campaines of Agen, ofwhom, doubtless, ye have heard; but as they grew to man's estate, theywere recalled to the English Court, and received offices there, as manyanother noble Gascon has done before them. "

"Have we then uncles in England?" asked Raymond eagerly. "Then, if wefind 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 forthacross the seas alone, but he shook his head thoughtfully as hecontinued his narrative as if there had been no interruption. 

"The English King was not unmindful of the service done him by thefather of these youths, and he promoted them to places of honour abouthis 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 haveheard, they greatly endeared themselves to the Prince by loyalty andfaithful service. When he ascended the throne, and purged the Court ofthe false favourites from this and other lands who had done so much illto that country, he was ably helped in the task before him by thy fatherand thy two uncles; and I can well believe that this was so, seeing thatthey 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, "isyour 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 infavour with his master. Second in the line is your uncle Master Bernardde Brocas, a clerk, and the Rector (as it is called in the realm ofEngland) 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 infavour with the Roy Outremer, and, as I have heard, is oft employed byhim in these parts to quell strife or redress grievances; but I know nothow 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 goodthe claim, as in time thou mayest yet. Listen whilst I tell all that Iknow. Thy father -- Arnald -- was the youngest of the three sons of himwho died on the field of Bannockburn, and to him was given the post ofMaster of the Horse to Prince John of Eltham. I misdoubt me if thatPrince is living yet; but of that I cannot speak with certainty. He wasalso valettus or serviens to the King, and might have carved out forhimself as great a career as they, had it not been that he estrangedhimself from his kindred, and even offended the King himself, by themarriage that he made with Mistress Alice Sanghurst of Basildene. "

The brothers exchanged quick glances as the name passed the priest'slips. Their memory had not then played them false. 

"But why were they thus offended? Was not our mother rightful owner ofBasildene? and is it not a fair heritage?"

"The reason for the ill will, my sons, I know not. Your mother did notfully 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 Kinghimself, perchance the young man acted something hastily, and gaveumbrage 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 hiswife, flying from some menaced peril, fearful of capture and discovery;and that here in this lonely mill, amongst those who had ever loved thename of De Brocas, the sweet lady was able to hide her head, and to finda place of safe refuge. Jean, then a youth, had been in the service ofArnald, 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 inwith your father and attached himself to his person. The elder Jean, hisfather, 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 youknow, was your nurse when you were born; she had married Jean a shorttime back, and her own babe had died the very week before you came intothe world. She has always loved you as her own, and though your motherwas taken from you, you have never lost a mother's love. Do not forgetthat, my children, in the years to come; and if the time should ever bewhen 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 yourstory, good Father. "

"You shall hear it all, my sons. It was in the year of grace 1329 thatyour father first brought his wife here, and in the following year youtwain 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 hismaster called him to England, and for a whole long year we heard no newsof him. At the end of that time a messenger arrived with despatches forhis lady. She sent to ask my help in reading these; and together we madeout that the letter contained a summons for her to join her lord inEngland, where he would meet her at the port of Southampton, into whichharbour many of our vessels laden with wine put in for safe anchorage. As for the children, said the letter, she must either bring or leavethem, as seemed best to her at the time; and after long and earnestdebate we resolved that she should go alone, and that you should be leftto good Margot's tender care. I myself escorted our gentle lady toBordeaux, and there it was easy to find safe and commodious transportfor her across the sea. She left us, and we heard no more until morethan a year had passed by, and she returned to us, sorely broken down inmind 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 thouknowest all. She came back to us, and to me she told all her tale, pieceby piece and bit by bit, not all at once, but as time and opportunityserved. And this is what I learned. When your father summoned her backto join him, it was because her one brother was dead -- dead withoutleaving children behind -- and her father, now growing old, wished tosee her once again, and give over to her before he died the fair domainof Basildene, which she would now inherit, but to which she had had notitle when she married your father. It seemed like enow to both of themthat if Arnald de Brocas could lead a well-dowered bride to hisbrothers' halls, all might be well between them and so it came aboutwhen the old man died, and the lady had succeeded to the lands, that hestarted forth to tell the news, not taking her, as the weather wasinclement, and she somewhat suffering from the damp and fog which theysay 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 yourgrandsire 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 afteryour mother, and he, as a male, claimed to call the property his. He hadfailed to make good his claim by law; but so soon as he knew your motherto be alone in the house, he came down upon it with armed retainers anddrove her forth ere she well knew what had befallen; and she, notknowing whither her lord had gone, nor how to find him, and being insore danger from the malice of the wicked man who had wrested from herthe inheritance, and would gladly have done her to death, knew not whatbetter to do than to fly back here, leaving word for her lord where shewas to be found; and thus it came that ere she had been gone from us ayear, she returned in more desolate plight than at the first. "

Gaston's face was full of fury, and Raymond's hands were clenched in anaccess 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 restedquiet under so foul an insult!"

"My sons, your father had been taught patience in a hard school. Hereturned to Basildene, not having seen either of his brothers, who wereboth absent on the King's business, to find his wife fled, and the placein the firm grasp of the wily man, who well knew how to strengthenhimself in the possession of ill-gotten gains. His first care was foryour mother's safety, and he followed her hither before doing aughtelse. When he found her safe with honest Jean and Margot, and when theyhad taken counsel together, he returned to England to see what could bedone to regain the lost inheritance and the favour of his kinsmen whohad been estranged. You were babes of less than three summers when yourfather 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 disobeycame 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 atrusty messenger -- one of his stout Gascon henchmen -- over to us withall needful tidings. But there was little of good to tell. He had seenhis brother, Sir John, the head of the family, and had been received notunkindly by him; but in the matter of the recovery of Basildene theknight had but shaken his head, and had said that the King had too manygreat matters on hand just then to have leisure to consider so small apetition as the one concerning a Manor of no repute or importance. IfArnald had patience to wait, or to interest Prince John in the matter, something might in time be done; but Peter Sanghurst would strive tomake good his claim by any means bad or good, and as he held possessionit might be difficult indeed to oust him. The property belonged to onewho had been a cause of much offence, and perchance that weighed withSir John and made him less willing to bestir himself in the matter. Butbe that as it may, nothing had been done when Arnald de Brocas breathedhis last; and his wife, when she heard the tale, looked at you two youngchildren as you lay upon the grass at play, and she said with a sigh anda smile, 'Father, I will wait till my boys be grown, for what can oneweak woman do alone? and then we will go together to the land that ismine by birth, and my boys shall win back for me and for themselves thelost 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 cowardkinsman 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 sheherself gave to us -- The Twin Brothers of Basildene. "

 CHAPTER III. THE UNKNOWN WORLD. 

So that was the story of their past. That was why they two, with theblood of the De Brocas running in their veins, had lived all their pastlives in the seclusion of a humble mill; why they had known nothing oftheir kinsfolk, albeit they had always known that they must have kindredof their own name and race; and why their mother upon her deathbed hadspoken to them not of any inheritance that they might look to claim fromdescent through their father, but of Basildene, which was theirs in veryright, as it had been hers before, till her ambitious and unscrupulouskinsman had driven her forth. 

And now what should they do? Whither should they go; and what should bethe object of the lives -- the new lives of purpose and resolve whichhad awakened within them?

Gaston had given voice to this feeling in vowing them to the attempt torecover their lost heritage of Basildene, and Father Anselm did notoppose either that desire or the ardent wish of the youths to fare forthinto the great world alone. 

"My sons, " he said a few days later, when he had come to see if thetwins held yet to their first resolve. "You are something young as yetto sally forth into the unknown world and carve for yourselves yourfortunes there; but nevertheless I trow the day has come, for this placeis no longer a safe shelter for you. The Sieur de Navailles, as it istold me, is already searching for you. It cannot be long before he findsyour hiding place, and then no man may call your lives safe by night orday. And not only would ye yourselves be in peril, but peril wouldthreaten good Jean and Margot; and methinks you would be sorely loaththat harm should come to them through the faithful kindness they haveever shown to you and yours. "

"Sooner would we die than that one hair of their head should betouched!" cried both the boys impetuously; "and Margot lives in fear andtrembling ever since we told her of the words we spoke to yon tyrant andusurper of Saut. We told her for her comfort that he would think us toopoor and humble and feeble to vent his rage on us; but she shook herhead at that, and feared no creature hearing the name of De Brocas wouldbe too humble to be a mark for his spite. And then we told her that wewould sally forth to see the world, as we had ever longed to do andthough she wept to think that we must go, she did not bid us stay. Shesaid, as thou hast done, good Father, that she had known that such daywould surely come; and though it has come something early and somethingsuddenly, she holds that we shall be safer facing the perils of theunknown world, than living here a mark for the spite and malice of thefoe of our house. If no man holds us back, why go we not forth tomorrow?"

The priest's face was grave and even sorrowful, but he made no objectioneven to so rapid a move. 

"My sons, if this thing is to be, it is small use to tarry and linger. Iwould not that the Sieur de Navailles should know that you have hiddenyour heads here so long; and a secret, however faithfully kept, thatbelongs to many, may not be a secret always. It is right that you shouldgo, and with the inclement winter season hard upon us, with its dangersfrom heavy snows, tempests at sea, and those raids from wolves that makethe peril of travellers when the cold once sets in, it behoves you, ifgo ye must, to go right speedily. And in the belief that I should findyour minds made up and your preparations well-nigh complete, I havebrought to you the casket given into my charge by your mother on herdying bed. Methinks that you will find therein gold enough to carry yousafe to England, and such papers as shall suffice to prove to your proudkinsmen at the King's Court that ye are in very truth the sons of theirbrother, and that it is of just and lawful right that you make yourclaim to Basildene. "

The brothers looked eagerly at the handsome case, wrought and inlaidwith gold, in which certain precious parchments had lain ever since theyhad been carried in haste from England. The boys looked at these with aspecies of awe, for they had but very scant knowledge of letters, andsuch as they had acquired from the good Father was not enough to enablethem to master the contents of the papers. Learning was almost entirelyconfined to the ecclesiastics in those days, and many were the men ofbirth and rank who could scarce read or write their own name. 

But the devices upon the parchments told a tale more easily understood. There was the golden lion rampant upon the black ground -- the arms ofthe De Brocas family, as the Father told them; whilst the papers thatreferred to Basildene were adorned with a shield bearing a silver stagupon an azure ground. They would have no difficulty in knowing the deedsapart; and good Margot sewed them first into a bag of untanned leather, and then stitched them safely within the breast of Gaston's leathernjerkin. The golden pieces, and a few rings and trinkets that were allthat remained to the boys of their lost inheritance, were sewn in likemanner into Raymond's clothing, and there was little more to be done erethe brothers went forth into the unknown world. 

As for their worldly possessions, they were soon numbered, and comprisedlittle more than their clothing, their bows and arrows, and the poniardswhich hung at their girdles. As they were to proceed on foot toBordeaux, and would probably journey in the same simple fashion whenthey reached the shores of England, they had no wish to hamperthemselves with any needless encumbrances, and all that they took withthem was a single change of under vest and hose, which they were easilyable to carry in a wallet at their back. They sallied forth in the dressthey commonly wore all through the inclement winter season -- anunder-dress of warm blue homespun, with a strong jerkin of leather, softand well-dressed, which was as long as a short tunic, and was secured bythe girdle below the waist which was worn by almost all ranks of thepeople in that age. The long hose were likewise guarded by a species ofgaiter of the same strong stuff. And a peasant clad in his own leathergarments was often a match for a mailed warrior, the tough substanceturning aside sword point or arrow almost as effectually as a coat ofsteel, whilst the freedom and quickness of motion allowed by the simplerdress was an immense advantage to the wearer in attack or defence. 

The good Father looked with tender glances at the brave bright boys asthey stood forth on the morning of their departure, ready to sally outinto the wide world with the first glimpse of dawn. He had spent theprevious night at the mill, and many words of fatherly counsel and goodadvice had he bestowed upon the lads, now about to be subjected totemptations and perils far different from any they had known in theirpast life. And his words had been listened to with reverent heed, forthe boys loved him dearly, and had been trained by him in habits ofreligious exercise, more common in those days than they became, alas inlater times. They had with them an English breviary which had been oneof their mother's most valued possessions, and they promised the Fatherto study it with reverent heed; for they were very familiar with thepetitions, and could follow them without difficulty despite theirrudimentary education. So that when they knelt before him for his lastblessing, he was able to give it with a heart full of hope and tenderconfidence; and he felt sure that whether the lads went forth for wealor woe, he should (if they and he both lived through the followingyears) see their faces again in this selfsame spot. They would notforget old friends -- they would seek them out in years to come; and iffate smiled upon their path, others would share in the sunshine of theirgood fortune. 

And so the boys rose to their feet again to meet a proud, glad smilefrom the eyes of the kind old man; and though Margot's face was buriedin her apron, and honest Jean was not ashamed to let the tears run downhis weatherbeaten face, there was no attempt made to hinder or to saddenthe eager lads. They kissed their good nurse with many protestations oflove and gratitude, telling her of the days to come when they wouldreturn as belted knights, riding on fine horses, and with their esquiresby their side, and how they would tell the story of how they had beenborn and bred in this very mill, and of all they owed to those who hadsheltered them in their helpless infancy. 

The farewells once over, with the inevitable sadness that such scenesmust entail, the boys' spirits rose with wonderful celerity. True, theylooked back with fond glances at the peaceful homestead where theirchildhood had been passed, as they reached the ridge of the undulatingplain from which the last glimpse of the red roofs and tumbling waterwas to be had. Raymond even felt a mist rise before his eyes as he stoodand gazed, and Gaston dashed his hand impatiently across his eyes asthough something hindered his vision; but his voice was steady and fullof courage as he waved his right arm and cried aloud:

"We will come back! we will see this place again! Ah, Raymond, methinksI shall love it better then than I do today; for though it has been atimely place of shelter, it has not been -- it never could be -- ourtrue home. Our home is Basildene, in the fair realm of England's King. Iwill rest neither day nor night until I have looked upon the home ourmother dwelt in, and have won the right to call that home our own. "

Then the brothers strode with light springy steps along the road whichwould in time lead them to the great seaport city of Bordeaux, towardswhich all the largest roads of the whole province converged. 

The royal city of the Garonne was full forty leagues away -- over ahundred British miles -- and the boys had never visited it yet, albeittheir dream had long been to travel thither on their feet, and see thewonders of which travellers spoke. A day's march of ten leagues or morewas as nothing to them. Had the days been longer they would have donemore, but travelling in the dark through these forest-clad countries wasby no means safe, and the Father had bid them promise that they wouldalways strive to seek shelter ere the shades of night fell; for greatpicks of wolves ravaged the forests of Gascony until a much later date, and though the season of their greatest boldness and fierceness had notyet come, they were customers not to be trifled with at any time, and ahunting knife and a crossbow would go but a small way in defence if aresolute attack were to be made by even half-a-dozen of the fierce beasts. 

But the brothers thought not of peril as they strode through the clearcrisp air, directing their course more by the sun than by any otherguide, as they pursued their way engrossed in eager talk. They werepassing through the great grazing pastures, the Landes of Gascony, whichsupplied England with so many of her best horses, and walking was easyand they covered the ground fast. Later on would come dark stretches oflonely forest, but here were smiling pasture and bright sunshine and thebrothers talked together of the golden future before them, of theirproud kinsmen at the King's Court, of the Roy Outremer himself, and ofBasildene and that other treacherous kinsman there. As they travelledthey debated within themselves whether it were better to seek first thecountenance of their uncles on their father's side, or whether to maketheir way first to Basildene and see what manner of place it was, andwhat likelihood there seemed of ousting the intruder. 

How to decide this point themselves the brothers did not know; but as itchanced, fortune was to decide it for them in her own fashion, and thatbefore many suns had set. 

Two days of travel had passed. The brothers had long left behind themevery trace of what had been familiar to them in the old life. Theevening of the third day was stealing fast upon them, and they were yet, as it seemed, in the heart of the vast forest which they had enteredsoon after noon, and which they had hoped to pass completely throughbefore the daylight waned. They had been told that they might look, ifthey pushed on fast, to reach the town of Castres by nightfall; but thepaths through the forest were intricate: they had several times feltuncertain as to whether they were going right. Now that the darkness wascoming on so fast they were still more uncertain, and more than oncethey had heard behind and before them the unmistakable howl of the wolf. 

The hardy twins would have thought nothing of sleeping in the open aireven at this somewhat inclement season; but the proximity of the wolveswas unpleasant. For two days the cold had been sharp, and though it wasnot probable that it had yet seriously interfered with the supplies ofthe wild beasts, yet it was plain that they had emerged from theirsummer retreats in the more remote parts of the forest, and weredisposed to venture nearer to the habitable world on the outskirts. Ifthe brothers slept out of doors at all, it would have to be in the forkof some tree, and in that elevated position they would be likely to feelthe cold rather keenly, though down below in some hollow trunk theycould make themselves a warm nest enough. Mindful of their promise tothe priest, they resolved to try yet to reach some hut or place ofshelter, however rude, before the night absolutely closed in, andmarched quickly forward with the practised tread of those born to forestlife. 

Suddenly Gaston, who was a couple of paces in the front, paused and laida hand upon his brother's arm. 

"Hist!" he said below his breath. "Methought I heard a cry. "

Raymond stopped short and listened, too. Yes; there was certainly sometumult going on a little distance ahead of them. The brothersdistinguished the sound of human voices raised in shrill piercing cries, and with that sound was mingled the fierce baying note that they hadheard too often in their lives to mistake at any time. 

"It is some traveller attacked by wolves!" cried the brothers in abreath, and without a single thought of their own peril the gallant boystore headlong through the dark wood to the spot whence the tumult proceeded. 

Guided by the sound of shouts, cries, and the howling of the beasts, thebrothers were not long in nearing the scene of the strife. 

"Shout aloud!" cried Gaston to his brother as they ran. "Make thecowardly brutes believe that a company is advancing against them. It isthe best, the only chance. They will turn and fly if they think there bemany against them. "

Raymond was not slow to act upon this hint. The next moment the woodrang again to the shouts and calls of the brothers, voice answering tovoice till it seemed as though a score of men were approaching. Thebrothers, moreover, knew and used the sharp fierce call employed by thehunters of the wolves in summoning their dogs to their aid -- a callthat they knew would be heard and heeded by the savage brutes, who wouldwell know what it meant. And in effect the artifice was perfectlysuccessful; for ere they had gained the spot upon which the struggle hadtaken place, they heard the breaking up of the wolf party, as thefrightened beasts dashed headlong through the coverts, whilst theirhowling and barking died away in the distance, and a great silencesucceeded. 

"Thank Heaven for a timely rescue!" they heard a voice say in theEnglish tongue; "for by my troth, good Malcolm, I had thought that thouand I would not live to tell this tale to others. But where are our goodfriends and rescuers? Verily, I have seen nothing, yet there must havebeen a good dozen or more. Light thy lantern, an thou canst, and let uslook well round us, for by the mass I shall soon think we have beenhelped by the spirits of the forest. "

"Nay, fair sir, but only by two travellers, " said Gaston, advancing fromthe shadow of the giant trees, his brother closely following him. "Weare ourselves benighted in this forest, having by some mischance lostour road to Castres, which we hoped to have sighted ere now. Hearing thestruggle, and the shouts with which you doubtless tried to scare off thebrutes, we came to see if we might not aid, and being well acquaintedwith the calls of the hunters of the wolves, succeeded beyond our hopes. I trust the cowardly and treacherous beasts have done you no injury?"

"By my troth, it is strange to hear my native tongue in these parts, andso fairly spoken withal. I trust we are not bewitched, or the sport ofspirits. Who art thou, brave boy? and whence comest thou? How comes itthat thou, being, as it seems, a native of these parts, speakest so wella strange language?"

"It was our mother's tongue, " answered Gaston, speaking neverthelessguardedly, for he had been warned by the Father not to be too ready totell his name and parentage to all the world. "We are bound forBordeaux, and thence to England, to seek our mother's kindred, as shebid us ere she died. "

"If that be so, then let us join forces and travel on together, " said hewhom they had thus succoured, a man well mounted on a fine horse, andwith a mounted servant beside him, so that the brothers took him for aperson of quality, which indeed he was, as they were soon to learn. "There is safety in numbers, and especially so in these inhospitableforest tracks, where so many perils beset the traveller. I have lost myother stout fellows in the windings of the wood, and it were safer totravel four than two. Riding is slow work in this gloom. I trow ye willhave no trouble in keeping pace with our good chargers. "

The hardy Gascon boys certainly found no difficulty about that. Gastonwalked beside the bridle rein of the master, whilst Raymond chattedamicably to the man, whose broad Scotch accent puzzled him a little, andled in time to stories of Border warfare, and to the tale ofBannockburn, told from a Scotchman's point of view; to all of which theboy listened with eager interest. As for Gaston, he was hearing of theKing's Court, the gay tourneys, the gallant feats of arms at home andabroad which characterized the reign of the Third Edward. The lad drankin every item of intelligence, asking such pertinent questions, andappearing so well informed upon many points, that his interlocutor wasincreasingly surprised, and at last asked him roundly of his name andkindred. 

Now the priest had warned the boys at starting not to speak with toomuch freedom to strangers of their private affairs, and had counselledthem very decidedly not to lay claim at starting to the name of DeBrocas, and thus draw attention to themselves at the outset. There wasgreat laxity in the matter of names in ages when penmanship was arecondite art, and even in the documents of the period a name so wellknown as that of De Brocas was written Broc and Brook, Brocaz andBrocazt, and half-a-dozen more ways as well. Wherefore it mattered theless what the lads called themselves, and they had agreed that Broc, without the De before it, would be the best and safest patronymic forthem in the present. 

"We are twin brothers, may it please you, fair sir; English on ourmother's side, though our father was a Gascon. Our father was much inEngland likewise, and, as we hear, held some office about the Court, though of its exact nature we know not. Both our parents died many longyears since; but we have never ceased to speak the tongue of England, and to dream of one day going thither. Our names are Gaston and RaymondBroc, and we are going forth at last in search of the adventures whichmen say in these warlike days may be found by young and old, by rich andpoor. Our faces are set towards England. What may befall us there kindFortune only knows. "

Something in the frank and noble bearing of the lad seemed to please theknightly stranger. He laid a friendly hand on Gaston's shoulder as theyouth paced with springy strides beside him. 

"I trow thou art a mettlesome knave, and I owe thee and thy brothersomething more than fair words for the service ye have rendered me thisnight. I have lost three or four of my followers by disease and accidentsince I left the shores of England. Boy, what sayest thou to takingservice with me for a while -- thou and thy brother likewise -- andjourneying to fair England as two of my young esquires? I like you well, and in these days it is no small thing to rank in one's train those towhom the language of Gascony is familiar. I trow ye be able to speak theFrench tongue likewise, since ye be so ready with our foreign English?"

"Ay, we can both speak and understand it, " answered Gaston, whose cheekshad crimsoned with eager delight; "but we speak English better. GoodSir, we could desire nothing better than to follow you to the world'send; but we have not been trained to the use of arms, nor to knightlyexercises. I know not if we could make shift to please you, be ourservice never so faithful. "

"In such a case as that, sure I should be a hard master to please, "returned the other, and Gaston knew from his voice that he was smiling. "But we need not settle it all out here in this dark wood. You must waitawhile to see what manner of man it is you speak of serving. And you mayat least be my companions of voyage across the sea, though once onEnglish shores you shall please yourselves whether or not you serve mefarther. As for my name, it is James Audley, and I am one of the King'sknights. I am now bound for Windsor -- thou hast doubtless heard ofWindsor, the mighty fortress where the King holds his Court many a timeand oft. Well, it hath pleased his Majesty of late to strive to bringback those days of chivalry of which our bards sing and of which we hearfrom ancient legend -- days that seem to be fast slipping away, andwhich it grieves our most excellent King to see die out in his time. Hast heard, boy, of the great King Arthur of whom men wrote and sung indays gone by? Has his fame reached as far as thy Gascon home?"

"Yea, verily, " answered Gaston eagerly. "Our mother in long-past dayswould speak to us of that great King, and of his knights, and of theRound Table at which they sat together, their King in their midst --"

"Ay, truly thou knowest well the tale, and it is of this same RoundTable I would speak. The King has thought good to hold such a RoundTable himself, and has sent forth messages to numbers of his knights tohold themselves in readiness to attend it early in the year which willsoon be upon us. Men say that he is building a wondrous round tower athis fortress of Windsor, wherein his Round Table will be placed and thefeast celebrated. I know not with what truth they rumour this, but it islike enough, for his Majesty hath the love of his people and a kinglymind; and what he purposes he makes shift to carry out, and that rightspeedily. But be that as it may, there is no mistaking his royal summonsto his Round Table, and I am hastening back across the water to be atWindsor on the appointed day; and if it will pleasure you twain tojourney thither with me, I trow you will see things the like of whichyou have never dreamed before; and sure a better fashion of enteringlife could scarce be found than to follow one of the King's knights toone of the fairest assemblies of chivalry that the world has ever lockedupon. "

And indeed Gaston thought so too. His breath was taken away by theprospect. He was dazzled by the very thought of such a thing, and hiswords of eager thanks were spoken with the falterings of strong emotion. 

The road had widened out here, and the travellers had got free of theforest. Lights sparkled pleasantly in front of them, and Raymond hadcome up in time to hear the offer just made. The eager delight of thetwo lads seemed to please the brave Sir James, who was not much morethan a youth himself, as we should reckon things now, thoughfour-and-twenty appeared a more advanced age then. 

As the travellers at last found themselves within the precincts of afairly comfortable hostelry, and the horsemen dismounted at the door andentered the inn, Sir James pushed the two lads into the lighted roombefore him, and looked them well over with a pair of searching butkindly blue eyes. He was himself a fine man, of noble stature andprincely hearing. His face was pleasant, though it could be stern too onoccasion, and the features were regular and good. The boys had neverseen such a kingly-looking man, and their hearts went out to him atonce. As for him, he looked from one bright face to the other, andnodded his head with a smile. 

"Methinks you will make a pair of gallant squires, " he said. "So long asit pleases you to remain in my service, you may call yourselves my men, and receive from my hands what my other servants do. "

 CHAPTER IV. THE MASTER OF THE HORSE. 

What a wonderful experience it was for the twin brothers to findthemselves for the first time in their lives upon the great ocean ofwhich they had so many times heard! As the little vessel, with her cargoof wine, plunged merrily through the white-crested waves, bearing herfreight northward through the stormy Bay of Biscay to the white shoresof Albion, the brothers loved to stand in the pointed prow of the bravelittle craft, feeling the salt spray dashing in their faces, andlistening to the swirl of water round the ship's sides as she racedmerrily on her way. Now indeed, were they well embarked upon a career ofadventure and glory. Were they not habited like the servants of anEnglish knight -- their swords by their sides (if need be), theirmaster's badge upon their sleeves? Were they not bound for the greatKing's Court -- for the assembly of the Round Table, of which, as itseemed, all men were now talking? Would they not see their own kinsmen, feel their way perhaps to future friendship with those who bore theirown name? For the present they were dubbed Brook by the English servantswith whom they associated, though more frequently they went by theirChristian names alone. 

It was the fashion in these times to think well of the Gascon race. TheKing set the example, knowing how useful such men were like to be to himin days to come; and these lads, who spoke English almost as theirmother tongue, and were so full of spirit, grace, and vivacity, rapidlyrose in favour both with Sir James himself and with his retinue. Noauspices could well have been more favourable for the lads upon theirfirst entrance into the great world, and they only wished that FatherAnselm could hear of their good fortune. 

They had settled now to let the visit to Basildene stand over for atime. They had but the vaguest idea where to seek their mother's home. The priest could not help them to any information on this point, and theway to Windsor was open. Their kinsfolk there could possibly give themnews of Basildene, even did they decide to keep their own true name asecret for a time. There could be no doubt as to the wisdom of learningsomething of their mother's country and the ways of its sons before theylaunched themselves upon a difficult and possibly dangerous quest. 

With what strange feelings did the brothers first set eyes upon theshores of England, as the little sloop slid merrily into the smootherSolent, after a rough but not unpleasant passage! How they gazed aboutthem as they neared the quays of Southampton, and wondered at thecontrast presented by this seaport with the stately and beautiful cityof Bordeaux, which they had seen a fortnight back! Certainly thisEnglish port could not compare with her a single moment, yet the boys'hearts bounded with joyful exhilaration as they first set foot onEnglish soil. Was not the first step of their wild dream safely andprosperously accomplished? Might they not augur from this a happy andprosperous career till their aim and object was accomplished?

Their master had some business to transact in and about Southamptonwhich detained him there many days; but the Gaston lads found no faultwith this arrangement, for everything they saw was new and full ofinterest; they were well lodged and well fed without cost to themselves, and had full license to go where they would and do what they would, astheir master had no present use for their services. 

Gaston and Raymond had no desire to idle away their time without profitto themselves, and after taking counsel with honest Malcolm, who had agreat liking for the boys, they put themselves under the instruction ofa capable swordsman, who undertook to teach them the art of using thoseweapons with skill and grace. As their natural quickness of eye andstrength of hand made them quickly proficient in this exercise, theybecame anxious to try their skill at the more difficult sport oftilting, then so much in vogue with both knights and gentlemen -- asport which the King greatly encouraged as likely to be excellenttraining for those charges of his picked horsemen which so often turnedthe fortunes of the day in his favour in the sterner game of war. 

Both the Gascon youths were good horsemen; not that they had ever owneda horse themselves, or had ridden upon a saddle after the fashion ofknights and their esquires, but they had lived amongst the droves ofhorses that were bred upon the wide pasture lands of their own country, and from childhood it had been their favourite pastime to get upon theback of one of these beautiful, unbroken creatures, and go careeringwildly over the sweeping plain. That kind of rough riding was as good atraining as they could have had, and when once they had grown used tothe feel of a saddle between their knees, and had learned the right useof rein and spur, they became almost at once excellent and fearlessriders, and enjoyed shivering a lance or carrying off a ring or ahandkerchief from a pole as well as any of their comrades. So that themonth they passed in the seaport town was by no means wasted on them, and when they took to horse once again to accompany Sir James on his wayto Windsor, they felt that they had made great strides, and were verydifferent from the country-bred Gascon youths of two months back. 

There was one more halt made in London, that wonderful city of whichtime fails us to speak here; and in that place a new surprise awaitedthe young esquires, for they and their comrades who wore Sir JamesAudley's livery were all newly equipped in two new suits of clothes, andthese of such a sumptuous description as set the boys agape with wonder. 

Truly as we read of the bravery in which knights and dames and theirservants of old days were attired, one marvels where the money came fromto clothe them all. It could have been no light thing to be a great manin such times, and small wonder was it that those who lived in and aboutthe Court, whose duty it was to make a brave show in the eyes ofroyalty, were so often rewarded for trifling services by the gifts ofManors, benefices, or wardships; for the cost of keeping up such stateas was required was great indeed, and could not have been done withoutsome adequate compensation. 

Sir James had always been a favourite with the King, as he was with thePrince of Wales -- the Black Prince of the days to come. He had atvarious times received marks of the royal favour by substantial grants, and was resolved to appear at this festival of the Round Table in suchguise as should be fitting to his rank and revenues. 

Thus it came about that the Gascon youths found themselves furnishedwith tunics of blue and silver, richly embroidered with their master'scognizances, and trimmed with costly fur, with long mantles of bluecloth fastened with golden clasps, with rich girdles, furnished withgipciere and anelace, and hose and long embroidered shoes, such as theybegan to see were the fashion of the day in England. Their stout nags, which had carried them bravely thus far, were now exchanged for handsomeanimals of a better breed, horses trained to knightly exercises, andcapable of carrying their masters bravely through any game of battle ortourney such as the King loved to organize when he had his knights roundhim. It was often that the esquires as well as the knights competed inthese contests of skill and strength, or followed their masters intosome great melee, and it was a point of honour with the latter thattheir followers should be well and suitably equipped for the sport. 

"By my faith, but I wish good Margot and the holy Father could see usnow, " quoth Gaston, laughing, as Sir James and his followers salliedforth one bright December morning to take their last stage on thejourney to Windsor. 

They had traversed the main distance the day previously, for Sir Jameshad no wish to arrive weary and travel stained at the King's Court. Orders had been given for every man to don his best riding dress andlook well to the trappings of his steed, and it was a gallant-lookingcompany indeed that sallied out from the door of the wayside hostelryand took the road towards the great Castle, glimpses of which began fromtime to time to be visible through the trees. 

"I trow they would scarce know us! There be moments, Raymond, when Iscarce know myself for the same. It seems as though years had passedsince we left the old home, and by the Mass I feel as though I were anew being since then!"

"Yea, verily, and I also, " answered Raymond, looking round him witheager eyes. "Gaston, look well about thee; for by what Malcolm says, these very woods through which we shall pass, and the Manor of oldWindsor hard by, are the property of our uncle Sir John de Brocas, theKing's Master of the Horse; and by what I hear, methinks we shall seehim in the flesh ere the day has passed. "

"Ha!" exclaimed Gaston, with interest; "if that be so let us heed himwell, for much of our future may hang on him. He is in the King'sfavour, they say, and if he did but plead our cause with the RoyOutremer, we might well look to call Basildene our home ere long. "

"We must call him no longer the Roy Outremer, " said Raymond, with asmile. "If we are to be the brothers of Basildene, we must be Englishsubjects and he our liege lord. "

"True, " answered Gaston readily; "and methinks, if he be what all mensay, it will be no hardship to own ourselves his subjects. I would tenthousand times sooner call myself so than be servant to yon weak andtreacherous King of France. "

At that moment an interruption occurred to delay the little cavalcadefor a few moments. The road they were traversing led them past a solidgateway, which showed that upon one side at least the property was thatof a private individual; and just as they were approaching this gatewaythe portal swung open, and out of it rode a fine-looking man of middleage and imposing aspect, followed by three youths richly attired, and bysome dozen mounted attendants. The leader of the party wore a dress thatwas evidently the livery of some office -- a tunic of blue and a cape ofwhite Brussels cloth. His cap was of white and blue, and the King'sbadge of a silver swan was fastened in the front. 

As he rode out, the esquires round Gaston and Raymond drew rein andwhispered one to another:

"It is the King's Master of the Horse!"

Eagerly and curiously the two lads gazed at the face and figure of thekinsman now before them, whilst Sir James spurred his horse forward, asmile lighting up the grave face of the King's servant. 

"Marry well met, good Sir James!" was the hearty greeting of the latter, as the two men grasped hands. "I warrant you will be welcome at theCastle, whither, I doubt not, your steps are bent. It was but two dayssince that his Majesty was asking news of you, no man knowing rightlywhither you had gone, nor upon what errand. There be fine musteringsalready at the Court, and every day brings some fresh faces to thegathering assembly. I trow that such a sight as will shortly bewitnessed within those walls has scarce been seen by England before. "

"Nay, nor since the days of good King Arthur, if all be true that I haveheard, " answered Sir James. "Be these gallant youths your sons, SirJohn? Verily time flies! I have not been in these parts for full threeyears. I scarce know them once again. "

"Yes, these be my three sons, " answered the father, with a proud glanceat the handsome youths, who came up at a sign from him to be presentedto the knight. "It may well be many long years since you saw them, forthey have often been away from my side, travelling in foreign parts withmy good brother, and learning the lessons of life as I have been able tosee occasion. This is John, my first born. Oliver and Bernard followafter him. I trust in years to come they will live to win their spurs inthe King's service. They are often about the Court, and the Prince haschosen them amongst his serviens. But they have not yet seen war, albeitI trow they will not be missing when the day for fighting shall come, which I verily believe will not be long now. "

The youths made their salute to the knight, and then dropped behind. SirJames rode in advance, still in earnest converse with the Master of theHorse; whilst the attendants of the two bands, some of whom wereacquainted, mixed together indiscriminately, and rode after theirmasters in amicable converse. 

Sir John's three sons rode a few paces behind the knights, and as itchanced the Gascon brothers were the next behind them, studying thesecousins of theirs with natural interest and curiosity. They had heardtheir names distinctly as their father had presented them to his friend, and gladly would they have fallen into converse with them had they feltcertain that the advance would be taken in good part. As it was, theywere rather fearful of committing breaches of good manners, andrestrained themselves, though their quick, eager glances towards eachother betrayed what they were feeling. 

All of a sudden something unseen by the rider caused Gaston's horse totake fright. It was a very spirited and rather troublesome animal, whichhad been passed on by two or three riders as too restive for them, andhad been ridden more successfully by Gaston than by any of its formermasters. But the creature wanted close watching, and Gaston had been fora time off his guard. The knowing animal had doubtless discovered this, and had hoped to take advantage of this carelessness to get rid of hisrider and gain the freedom of the forest himself. With a sudden plungeand hound, which almost unseated Gaston, the horse made a dash for thewoodland aisles; and when he felt that his rider had regained his seatand was reining him in with a firm and steady hand, the fiery animalreared almost erect upon his hind legs, wildly pawing the air, anduttering fierce snorts of anger and defiance. But Gaston's blood was upnow, and he was not going to be mastered by his steed, least of all inpresence of so many witnesses. Shouting to Raymond, who had dismountedand appeared about to spring at the horse's head, to keep away, hebrought the angry creature down by throwing himself upon his neck; andthough there were still much plunging and fierce kicking and strugglingto be encountered before the day was won, Gaston showed himself fullyequal to the demands made upon his horsemanship; and before many momentshad passed, had the satisfaction of riding the horse quietly back to thelittle cavalcade, which had halted to witness the struggle. 

"That was good riding, and a fine animal, " remarked the Master of theHorse, whose eyes were well trained to note the points of any steed. "Itrow that lad will make a soldier yet. Who is he, good Sir James?"

"One Gaston Brook, a lad born and brought up in Gascony, together withhis twin brother who rides by his side. They came to my help in theforest round Castres; and as I was in need of service, and they werefaring forth to seek their fortunes, I bid them, an it pleased them, follow me. One parent was a native of Gascony, their mother I trow, since their name is English. I did hear somewhat of their simple tale, but it has fled my memory since. "

"They are proper youths, " said Sir John, not without a passing gleam ofinterest in any persons who hailed from his own country. "Half Gasconand half English makes a fine breed. The lads may live to do goodservice yet. "

Meantime the three sons of Sir John had entered into conversation withthe two youthful esquires, and were making friends as fast ascircumstances would allow. They were some years older than the Gasconbrothers -- that is to say that John was close upon twenty, and Oliverand Bernard followed, each a year younger than his predecessor. They hadseen far more of the world than these country-bred lads, and had beenreared more or less in the atmosphere of the Court; still they werebright, high spirited, and unaffected youths, who were ready enough tomake advances to any comrades of their own standing across whose paththey might be thrown. 

Gaston and Raymond had about them an air of breeding which won themnotice wherever they went. Their speech was refined for the times, andtheir handsome figures and faces gained them speedy and favourableattention. Very soon the five youths were chatting and laughing togetheras though they were old friends. The sons of Sir John heard all aboutthe encounter in the forest, and how the wolves had been scared away;whilst the Gascon brothers, on their side, heard about the vast roundtower built by the King for his Round Table to assemble at, and howbusily everybody had been employed in hastening on the work and gettingeverything in readiness for the great festival that was at hand. 

"Shall we see the feast?" asked Gaston eagerly. "Men say it will be asight not to be forgotten. "

"We shall see it like enough, " answered John, "but only belted knightswill sit at the board. Why, even the Prince of Wales himself will notsit down at the table, but will only stand to serve his father; for hisspurs are not yet won, though he says he will not be long in winningthem if kind fortune will but give him the chance he craves. A greatassembly of esquires will be in attendance on their masters, and I trowye twain might well be amongst these, as we hope ourselves to be. Yourmaster is one of the bidden knights, and will sit not very far from theKing himself. If you can make shift to steal in through the press andstand behind his chair, I doubt not but what ye will see all right well;and perchance the King himself may take note of you. He has a marvellousquick eye, and so has the Prince; and he is ever on the watch forknightly youths to serve him as valettus -- as we do. "

"We are going to win our spurs together, " cried Bernard, who in someways was the leading spirit amongst the brothers, as he was afterwardsthe most noted man of his house. "We have talked of it a thousand times, and the day will come ere long. The King has promised that when next heis called forth to fight the recreant King of France, he will take thePrince with him, and he has promised that we shall go with him. The daywill come when he will lay claim once more to that crown of France whichby rights is his to wear, and we shall all sally forth to drive thecoward Louis from the throne, and place the crown on Edward's royal brow. "

Bernard's eyes flashed fire at the bare thought of the unchecked careerof victory he saw for England's arms when once she had set foot on thelong-talked-of expedition which was to make Edward king over the realmof France. 

"And we will fight for him too!" cried Gaston and Raymond in a breath;"and so, I trow, will all Gascony. We love the English rule there. Welove the Roy Outremer, as he is called there. If he would but come toour land, instead of to treacherous Flanders or feeble, storm-tornBrittany, for his soldiers and for his starting place, I trow his armswould meet with naught but victory. The Sieur d'Albret, men whisper, hasbeen to the Court, and has looked with loving eyes upon one of theKing's daughters for his son. That hope would make him faithful to theEnglish cause, and he is the greatest Lord in Gascony, where all menfear his name. "

"Thou shalt tell all that to the King or to the Prince, " said John in alow tone to Raymond, as they fell a little behind, for the road grewrough and narrow. "I trow he will be glad to learn all he may from thosewho know what the people of the land speak and think -- the humblerfolks, of whom men are growing now to take more account, at least herein England, since it is they, men now say, who must be asked ere eventhe King himself may dare to go to war. For money must be found throughthem, and they will not always grant it unless they be pleased with whathas already been done. The great nobles say hard things of them theycall the 'Commons;' they say that England's doom will surely come if sheis to be answerable to churls and merchant folk for what her King andbarons choose to do. But for my part it seems but just that those whopay the heavy burden of these long wars should know somewhat about them, and should even have the power to check them did they think the countryoppressed beyond what she could bear. A bad king might not care for thesufferings of his people. A weak king might be but the tool of hisbarons -- as we have heard the King's father was -- and hear nothing butwhat they chose for him to know. For my own part, I think it right andjust enough that the people should have their voice in these things. They always grant the King a liberal supply; and if they demand from himthe redress of grievances and the granting of certain privileges inreturn, I can see in that naught that is unfair; nor would England behappier and more prosperous, methinks, were she governed by a tyrant whomight grind her down to the dust. "

John de Brocas was a very thoughtful youth, very different in appearancefrom his younger brothers, who were fine stalwart young men, well versedin every kind of knightly exercise, and delighting in nothing so much asthe display of their energies and skill. John was cast in quite adifferent mould, and possibly it was something of a disappointment tothe father that his first born should be so unlike himself and his othersons. John had had weak health from his cradle, which might account inpart for his studious turn of mind; and the influence of his uncle'straining may have had still greater effect. As the damp air of Windsordid not appear to agree with the boy, he had been sent, when seven yearsold, to his uncle's Rectory of St. Nicholas, and brought up in the morehealthy and bracing air of Guildford. Master Bernard de Brocas, thoughby no means a man of exclusively scholarly tastes, was for the days helived in a learned man, and feeling sure that his eldest nephew wouldnever make a soldier, he tried to train him for a statesman and for anecclesiastic -- the two offices being in those days frequently combined. The great statesmen were nearly always men in the Church's employ, andthe scholarship and learning of the age were almost entirely in theirkeeping. 

John showed no disposition to enter the Church -- probably the hope ofwinning his spurs was not yet dead within him; but he took very kindlyto book lore, and had often shown a shrewdness and aptness in diplomaticnegotiation which had made Master Bernard prophesy great things for him. 

Raymond had never heard such matters discussed before, and knew littleenough about the art of government. He looked with respect at hiscompanion, and John, catching the glance, smiled pleasantly in reply. 

"I trow thou wouldest sooner be with the rest, hearing of the King'sRound Table and the knightly jousts to follow. Let me not weary theewith my graver words. Go join the others an thou wilt. "

"Nay, I will stay with thee, " answered Raymond, who was greatlyattracted by John's pale and thoughtful face, and could not but pity himfor his manifest lack of strength and muscle. The youth was tall androde well, but he was slight to the verge of attenuation, and the hollowcheek and unnaturally bright eyes sunk in deep caverns told a tale thatwas not hard to read. Young De Brocas might make a student, a clerk, aman of letters, but he would never be a soldier; and that in itselfappeared to Raymond the greatest deprivation that could befall a man. But he liked his companion none the less for this sense of pity. 

"I would fain hear more of England -- England's laws, England's ways. Ihave heard that in this land men may obtain justice better than in anyother. I have heard that justice is here administered to poor as well asrich. I would learn more of this. I would learn more of you. Tell mefirst of yourself. I know well the name of De Brocas. We come from thevery place where once you held sway. The village (as you would call it)of Brocas was not so very far away. Tell me of yourself, your father, your uncle. I know all their names right well. I would hear all that youcan tell. "

John's face lighted with interest. He was willing enough to tell ofhimself, his two brothers, two sisters, and their many homes in andabout the Castle of Windsor. Besides his post as Master of the Horse, John explained to Raymond, his father held the office of Chief Foresterof Windsor Forest (equivalent to the modern Ranger), and besides theManor of Old Windsor, possessed property and Manors at Old and New Bray, Didworth and Clewer. He was high in the King's favour and confidence, and, as may well be believed, led a busy and responsible life. Upon himdevolved the care of all those famous studs of horses on which the Kingrelied when he sent his armies into the field; and if his expenditure inthese matters has been condemned in more recent days, the best answerwill be found in the disasters and the ruinous expenditure of the latercampaigns of the reign, when the King, thinking that he had reduced hisFrench possessions to complete order, and that his magnificent cavalrywould not longer be wanted to career over the plains of France, broke upand sold off his studs; so that when his calculation as to the futureproved mistaken, he had no longer any organized supply of war horses todraw upon. 

Raymond's interest in John's talk so won the heart of that youth that awarm friendship sprang up rapidly between them, whilst the youngerbrothers appeared to take almost the same liking for Gaston. By-and-byit became known that the Castle was crowded almost beyond its capacityfor accommodation; and as much of the responsibility of seeing to thelodging of guests fell upon Sir John de Brocas, he gave up his house atClewer for the time being for the use of some of the guests of humblerrank, his son John acting as host there; and to this house the Gastonbrothers were asked, amongst many other youthful esquires of likedegree. Thus it came about that the merry yuletide season was spent bythem actually beneath their uncle's roof, although he had no idea thathe was entertaining kinsmen unawares. 

Mindful of the good priest's warning, and knowing their ignorance of thenew life and the new people amongst whom their fortunes had led them, the twins still carefully preserved the secret of their identity. Theyknew too little of the cause of estrangement between their father andhis brothers to have any confidence how his sons would be received. Theywere both of opinion that by far their wisest course was to wait quietlyand patiently, and watch what befell them; and the only question whichRaymond ever dared to put to John in the days that followed whichsavoured of their own affairs, was an inquiry as to whether he had everheard of a place called Basildene. 

"Basildene?" repeated John slowly. "Yes, I have heard the name. It isthe name of a Manor not very many miles from my uncle's house inGuildford. Dost thou know aught of it?"

"Nay; I knew not rightly if there were such a spot. But I have heard thename. Knowest thou to whom it belongs?"

"Yes, I know that too. It belongs to one Peter Sanghurst, of whom no manspeaks aught but evil. "

 CHAPTER V. THE KING AND THE PRINCE. 

King Edward's assembly of knights that met at his first Round Table wasas typical a gathering as could well have been found of that age ofwarlike chivalry. The King's idea was likewise typical of the age helived in. He had begun to see something of that decline of chivalrywhich was the natural outcome of a real advance in general civilization, and of increasing law and order, however slow its progress might be. Greatly deploring any decay in a system so much beloved and cherished byknights and warriors, and not seeing that its light might merely bepaling in the rise of something more truly bright and beneficent, theKing resolved to do everything in his power to give an impetus to allchivalrous undertakings by assembling together his knights after thefashion of the great King Arthur, and with them to take counsel how theways and usages of chivalry might best be preserved, the old spirit keptalive, and the interests of piety and religion (with which it shouldever be blended) be truly considered. 

How far this festival succeeded in its object can scarcely be told now. The days of chivalry (in the old acceptation of the term) were drawingto a close, and an attempt to galvanize into life a decaying institutionis seldom attended with any but very moderate success. From the factthat we hear so little of the King's Round Table, and from the few timesit ever met, one is led to conclude that the results were small anddisappointing. But the brilliance of the first assembly cannot bedoubted; and for the twins of Gascony it was a wonderful day, and markedan epoch in their lives; for on that occasion they saw for the firsttime the mighty King, whose name had been familiar to them fromchildhood, and had actual speech with the Prince of Wales, that hero ofso many battlefields, known to history as the Black Prince. 

So great was the crowd of esquires who waited upon the knights sittingaround the huge Round Table, that the Gascon brothers only struggled fora few minutes into the gay assemblage to look at what was going onthere. The table was itself a curiosity -- a huge ring round which, inbeautifully carved seats, the knights sat, each seat fitting into thenext, with an arm to divide them, the backs forming a complete circleround the table. The King's seat was adorned with a richer carving, andhad a higher back, than the others, but that was its only distinction. Within the circle of the table were pages flitting about, attending onthe guests; and the esquires who thronged the corridors or supplementedthe attentions of the pages were considerably more numerous than theoccasion required, so that these were to be seen gathering in groupshere and there about the building in the vicinity of the feast, discussing the proceedings or talking of public or private matters. 

Very wonderful was all this to Gaston and Raymond, but not quite sobewildering as it would have been a month ago. They had been about theCourt some little time now, and were growing used to the fine dresses, the English ways of speech, and the manners and customs which hadperplexed them not a little at first. They were greatly entertained bywatching the shifting throng of courtiers, and their one glimpse at theroyal countenance of the King had been fraught with keen pleasure andsatisfaction; but so far as they knew it, they had not yet seen thePrince of Wales, and they had not caught sight either of their cousinsOliver or Bernard, though they had found John sitting in the embrasureof a window in the corridor, watching the scene with the same interestwhich they felt in it themselves. 

When they saw him they joined him, and asked the names of some of thegay personages flitting about. John good-naturedly amused them with anumber of anecdotes of the Court; and as the three were thus chattingtogether, they were suddenly joined by another group of three, whoadvanced along the corridor talking in low tones but with eager excitement. 

"Here comes the Prince, " said John, rising to his feet, and the twinbrothers turned eagerly round. 

They knew in an instant which of the three was the Prince, for hiscompanions were John's two brothers, Oliver and Bernard. Young Edwardwas at that time not quite fourteen, but so strong, so upright, so wellgrown, and of such a kingly presence, that it was hard to believe he hadscarcely left his childhood behind. His tunic was of cloth of gold, withthe royal arms embroidered upon it. He wore a golden collar round hisneck, and his golden girdle held a dagger with a richly-jewelled hilt. Ashort velvet mantle lined with ermine hung over his shoulder, and wasfastened by a clasp richly chased and set with rubies. His face wasflushed as if with some great purpose, and his eyes shone brightly withexcitement. 

"It shall never be true -- I will not believe it!" he was saying, inurgent accents. "Let chivalry once die out, and so goes England's glory. May I die ere I live to see that day! Better a thousand times death insome glorious warfare, in some knightly deed of daring, than to drag outa life of ease and sloth with the dying records of the glorious pastalone to cheer and sustain one. Good John, thou art a man of letters --thou canst read the signs of the times -- prithee tell me that there beno truth in this dark whisper. Sure the days of chivalry are not halflived through yet!"

"Nor will be so long as you are spared to England, gentle Prince, "answered John, with his slight peculiar smile. "You and your royal Siretogether will keep alive the old chivalry at which was dealt so sore ablow in your grandsire's days. A reign like that of weakness and follyand treachery leaves its mark behind; but England's chivalry has livedthrough it --"

"Ay, and she shall awake to new and fuller life!" cried the ardent boy. "What use in being born a prince if something cannot thus be done torestore what has been lost? And why should princes stand idle when theworld is all in arms? Comrades, do ye long as I do to show the worldthat though we have not yet won our knighthood's spurs, we are yet readyand willing to sally forth, even as did the knights of old, upon somequest of peril or adventure? Why is it that I, who should by rights beone to show what may be done by a boy's arm with a stout heart behind, am ever held back from peril and danger, have never seen fighting savein the tilt yard, or wound worse than what splintered spear may chanceto inflict? I burn to show the world what a band of youths can do who goforth alone on some errand of true chivalry. Comrades, give me yourears. Let me speak to you of the purpose in my heart. This day has myfather, in the hearing of all men, lamented the wane of chivalry, hasspoken brave words of encouragement to those who will strive with him tolet it be no hollow name amongst us. Then who more fit than his own sonto go forth now -- at once, by stealth if need be -- upon such a questof peril and glory? nay, not for the glory -- that may or may not beours -- but upon a mission of chivalrous service to the weak andhelpless? This thing I purpose to do myself, together with some fewchosen comrades. Brothers of Brocas, will ye go with me?"

"We will! we will!" cried the three brothers in a breath. 

"We will!" echoed the twins of Gascony, forgetting all but their eagerdesire to share the peril and the glory of the Prince's enterprise, whatever it might be. 

Young Edward heard the sound of the strange voices, and turned a quickglance of inquiry upon the youths. He saw that they wore the livery ofSir James Audley, who was a great favourite even then with the Prince. The true kingly courtesy of the Plantagenets was ingrained in the natureof this princely boy, and he looked with a smile at the two eager facesbefore him. 

"And who be ye, fair gentlemen?" he asked. "Methinks the badge you wearis answer almost enough. I know your good lord well, and love him well, and sure there be none of his esquires, be they never so young, whowould disgrace their master by fleeing in an hour of peril. Wherefore ifye would fain be of the band I seek to muster round me, I will bid youready welcome. I seek none that be above twenty years of age. 

"Good John, you shall be the wise man of our party. These lads have notlived many more years than I have myself, or I am much mistaken. "

"We are twin brothers, " said Gaston frankly, "and we are nigh uponsixteen. We have been with Sir James a matter of two months. We --"

"They met him in the woods of Gascony, " cried Oliver, "and rescued himfrom the attacks of a pack of fierce wolves. I trow they would bearthemselves bravely be your quest what it may. "

"Are you Gascons?" asked the Prince, looking with keener interest at thetwo youths; for he shared some of his father's instincts of government, and was always well disposed towards Gascon subjects. 

"We are half Gascon and half English, may it please you, fair Prince, "answered Gaston readily, "and we will follow you to the death. "

"I well believe it, my good comrades, " answered the Prince quickly; "andright glad shall we be of your company and assistance. For our errandlies amidst dark forests with their hidden perils and dangers, and I wotthat none know better what such dangers are nor how they may be escapedthan our brethren of Gascony. "

"Then you know on what quest we are bent, sweet Prince?"

Edward nodded his head as he looked over his shoulder. "Ay, that I doright well, and that will I tell you incontinently if no eavesdroppersbe about. Ye know that of late days brave knights and gentlemen havebeen mustering to our Court from all parts of this land? Now amongstthese is one Sir Hugh Vavasour, who comes from his house of Woodcrych, not half a day's ride from our Royal Palace of Guildford; and with himhe has brought his son, one Alexander, with whom I yestere'en fell intoconverse. I say not that I liked the youth himself. He seemed to mesomething over bold, yet lacking in those graces of chivalry that are sodear to us. Still it was in talking with him that I heard this thingwhich has set my blood boiling in my veins. "

"What thing is that, fair Prince?" asked John. 

And then the young Edward told his tale. It was such a tale as was onlytoo often heard in olden days, though it did not always reach the earsof royalty. The long and expensive, and as yet somewhat fruitless, warsin which Edward had been engaged almost ever since he came to thethrone, had greatly impoverished his subjects, and with poverty therearose those other evils inseparable from general distress -- robbery, freebooting, crime in its darkest and ugliest aspects; bands of hungrymen, ruined and beggared, partly perhaps through misfortune, but partlythrough their own fault, wandering about the country ravaging androbbing, leaving desolation behind them, and too often, if opposed, committing acts of brutal cruelty upon defenceless victims, as a warningto others. 

A band such as this was just now scouring the woods around Guildford. Young Vavasour had heard of depredations committed close against thewalls of his own home, and had heard of many outrages which had beensuffered by the poor folks around. Cattle had been driven off, theirhardly-gathered fuel had vanished in the night; sometimes lonely houseswere attacked, and the miserable inhabitants, if they offeredresistance, stabbed to the heart by the marauders. One or two girls hadbeen missed from their homes, and were said to have fallen a prey to therobber band. All these things, and the latter item especially, stirredthe hot blood in the young Prince's veins, and he was all on fire to dosome doughty deed that should at once exterminate such evildoers fromthe face of the earth, strike terror into the hearts of other bands, andshow that the spirit of chivalry was yet alive in the kingdom, and thatthe King's son was the first to fly to the succour of the distressed andthe feeble. 

"For I will go myself and hunt these miscreants as though they were dogsor wolves -- beasts of prey that needs must be put down with a stronghand. I will not tell my father the tale, else might he appoint warriorsof his own to see to the matter, and the glory be theirs and not ours. No, this is a matter for my arm to settle. I will collect around me aband of our bravest youths -- they shall all be youths like myself. Ourgood John knows well the country around our Palace of Guildford -- intruth I know it indifferently well myself. We will sally forth together-- my father will grant me leave to go thither with a body of youths ofmy own choosing -- and thence we will scour the forests, scatter or slaythese vile disturbers of the peace, restore the lost maidens to theirhomes, and make recompense to our poor subjects for all they havesuffered at their hands. "

It was just the scheme to fascinate the imagination and fire the ardourof a number of high-spirited and generous boys. The proximity of theRoyal Palace of Guildford gave them every facility for carrying out theplan speedily and yet secretly, and the Prince had quickly enlisted ascore of well-trained, well-equipped lads to follow him on hischivalrous quest. Sir James gave ready consent to his petition that theGascon twins might join his train for a few days. The King, when he gavehis sanction to the proposed expedition to Guildford, believed that hisson was going there bent on sport or some boyish pastime, and scarcebestowed a second thought upon the matter. The royal children had eachtheir own attendants and establishment, following wherever theiryouthful master or mistress went; and to the eldest son of the King avery decided liberty was given, of which his father had never yet hadcause to repent. 

Thus it came about that three days after the King's great feast of theRound Table had ended, the Prince of Wales, with a following of twentyyoung comrades, in addition to his ordinary staff of attendants, rodeforth from the Castle of Windsor in the tardy winter's dawn, and beforenight had fallen the gay and gallant little band had reached the Palaceof Guildford, which had received due notice of the approach of theKing's son. Those who were sharp-eyed amongst the spectators of thisdeparture might have noted that the Prince and his immediate followerseach wore round his arm a band of black ribbon with a device embroideredupon it. The device was an eagle worked in gold, and was supposed to beemblematic of the swiftness and the strength that were to characterizethe expedition of the Prince, when he should swoop down upon thedastardly foes, and force them to yield up their ill-gotten gains. Thesebadges had been worked by the clever fingers of Edward's sisters, theyouthful princesses Isabella and Joanna. Joanna, as the wardrobe rollsof the period show, was a most industrious little maiden with herneedle, and must have spent the best part of her time in her favouritepastime of embroidery, judging by the amount of silk and other materialrequired by her for her own private use. Both the sisters were devotedlyattached to their handsome brother, and were the sharers of hisconfidences. They knew all about this secret expedition, and sympathizedmost fully with it. It was Joanna's ready wit which had suggested theidea of the badge, which idea was eagerly caught up by Edward; for to goforth with a token woven by the fair hands of ladies would give to theexploit a spice of romantic chivalry that would certainly add to itszest. So for the past three days the royal sisters had been plying theirneedles with the utmost diligence, and each of the gallant little bandknew that he wore upon his arm a token embroidered for him by the handsof a youthful princess. 

Of the Royal Palace of Guildford nothing now remains -- even the site isnot known with any certainty, though it is supposed to have occupied thespot where Guildford Park farm now stands. Its extensive park covered alarge area of ground, and was a favoured hunting ground for many of theillustrious Plantagenets. 

It need hardly be said with what interest and curiosity the twinbrothers gazed about them as they neared the little town of Guildford, where their uncle, Master Bernard de Brocas, possessed a graduallyincreasing property. They felt that this journey was the first steptowards Basildene; and utterly ignorant as they were of its exactlocality, they wondered if they might not be passing it by whenever someancient Manor House reared its chimneys or gables above the bareencircling trees, and their hearts beat high at the thought that theywere drawing near to their own lost inheritance. 

The Palace was warmly lighted in honour of the arrival of the Prince ofWales; and as the little cavalcade dismounted at the door and enteredthe noble hall, a figure, habited after the fashion of the ecclesiasticsof the day, stepped forth to greet the scion of royalty, and the twinbrothers heard their comrades mutter, "It is the good Rector, Master Bernard de Brocas. "

The young Prince plainly knew the Rector well, and after just bendinghis knee to ask the blessing, as was his reverent custom, he led himinto the banqueting hall, where a goodly meal lay spread, placing him ina seat at his own right hand, and asking him many things as the mealprogressed, leading the talk deftly to the robbers' raids, and seeking, without betraying his purpose, to find out where these miscreants mightmost readily be found. 

The good Rector had heard much about them, but knew little enough oftheir movements. One day they were heard of in one place, and again theywould vanish, and no man would know whither they had gone till theyappeared in another. Everywhere they left behind them desolated homes, and bloodshed and ruin followed in their track. Master Bernard had heardtoo many such tales from all parts of the kingdom to heed overmuch whatwent on in this particular spot. He knew that the winter's privation andcold acted upon savage men almost as it did upon wolves and ravenousbeasts, and that in a country harassed and overtaxed such things mustneeds be. He never suspected the cause of the Prince's eagerness. Hebelieved that the youths had come down bent on sport, and that theywould take far more interest in the news he had to give them, that awild boar had recently been seen in the forest aisles of the Royal Park, and that the huntsmen would be ready to sally forth to slay it at asingle word from the Prince. 

Edward's eyes lighted at this. It seemed to him a fortunate coincidence. Also he would be glad enough to see the killing of the boar, though hewas more interested in the expedition it would involve into the heart ofthe forest. 

"Prithee give orders, good Master Bernard, that the huntsmen be readytomorrow morning at dawn of day. I trow there be horses and to spare tomount us all, as our own beasts will be something weary from the journeythey have taken today. We will be ready ere the sun is up, and if kindfortune smiles upon us, I trust I shall have the good fortune to have apair of fine tusks to offer to my sisters when they join us here, asthey shortly hope to do. "

Master Bernard, who was a man of no small importance all through thisneighbourhood, hastened away to give the needful orders. He had comefrom his own Rectory hard by to receive the Prince and his comrades, andhe suspected that the King would be well pleased for him to remainbeneath the roof of the castle so long as this gay and youthful partydid so. 

When night came and the youths sought the rooms which had been madeready for them, the Prince signed to a certain number of his comrades torepair with him to his chamber, as though he desired their services athis toilet. Amongst those thus summoned were the three sons of Sir Johnde Brocas, and also the Gascon twins, for whom young Edward appeared tohave taken a great liking, and who on their part warmly returned thisfeeling. Shutting the door carefully, and making sure that none butfriends were round him, the Prince unfolded his plan. 

He had learned from the Master Huntsman, whom he had seen for a fewminutes before going to his room, that the boar lay concealed for themost part in some thick underwood lying in the very heart of the forestmany miles distant, right away to the southwest in the direction ofWoodcrych. This part of the forest was fairly well known to the Princefrom former hunting expeditions, and he and John both remembered wellthe hut of a lonely woodman that lay hidden in the very depths of thewood near this spot. It had occurred to Edward as likely that old Ralphwould be better acquainted with the habits of the robbers than any otherperson could be. He was too poor to be made a mark for their rapacity, yet from his solitary life in the forest he might likely enough comeacross their tracks, and be able to point out their hiding places. Therefore the Prince's plan was that he and the picked companions heshould choose should slip away from the main body of the huntsmen, andmake their way to this lonely cabin, joining their comrades later whenthey had discovered all that they could do from the old man. The shoutsof the huntsmen and the baying of the dogs would guide them to the sceneof the chase, and if the rest who remained all the while with theforesters and the dogs missed the Prince from amongst their ranks, theywere not to draw attention to the fact, but were rather to strive toconceal it from the Master Huntsman, who might grow uneasy if he foundthe young Edward missing. It was of importance that all inquiriesrespecting the robbers should be conducted with secrecy, for if thePrince's curiosity on the subject were once to be known, suspicion mightbe aroused, or a regular expedition against them organized, the gloryand credit of which would not belong in anything but empty name to thePrince. 

It was not, perhaps, unnatural that the six lads who had first connedover the plan together should be selected as the ones to make thispreliminary inquiry. John was chosen for his seniority and the prudenceof his counsels, his brothers for their bravery and fleetness of foot, and the Gascon twins for their close acquaintance with forest tracks, and their greater comprehension of the methods employed in following thetrail of foes or fugitives through tangled woods. They would likelyenough understand the old man's counsel better than any of the others;and as the sport of hunting the boar was more esteemed by the otheryouths than the expedition to the woodman's hut, no jealousy was arousedby the Prince's choice, and the scheme was quickly made known to thewhole of the party. 

The morrow proved a first-rate day for a hunting party in the forest. Alight crisp snow lay on the ground, melting where exposed to the sun'srays, but forming a sparkling white carpet elsewhere. It was not deepenough to inconvenience either men or horses, and would scarce havefallen to any depth beneath the trees of the forest; but there was justsufficient to be an excellent guide in tracking down the quarry, and allfelt confident that the wily old boar had seen his last sunrise. 

Merrily rode the party forth through the great gateway and across thefine park in the direction of the forest. The Prince and his five chosencomrades rode together, sometimes speaking in low tones, sometimesjoining in the gay converse on the subject of hunting which went onaround them. But the Prince's thoughts were far less with sport thanwith the wrongs of his father's subjects, and the cruel outrages whichthey had suffered unredressed and almost unpitied. His heart burnedwithin him to think that in merry England, as he liked to call it, andin the days of chivalry, such things were possible; and to put downcruelty and rapacity with a strong hand seemed of infinitely moreimportance to him than the pursuit of a fine sport. 

Thus musing, and thus talking in low tones to the thoughtful John, thePrince dropped a little behind the muster of huntsmen. His chosencomrades followed his example, and straggled rather aimlessly after themain body, till at last a turn in the forest shut these completely fromtheir view. 

"Now, " said the Prince, turning to his five selected comrades, "this, ifI mistake not, is our road. We will soon see if we cannot get upon thetrack of the miscreants whom I am burning to punish and destroy!"

 CHAPTER VI. THE PRINCE'S EXPLOIT. 

The woodman's cottage was quickly reached. It was a little rush-thatchedcabin of mud, lying in the very heart of the dim wood. The party had todismount and tie up their horses at some short distance from the place;but they had the good fortune to find the occupant at home, or ratherjust outside his cabin, gathering a few dried sticks to light his fire. 

He was a grizzled, uncouth-looking old man, but a certain dignity wasimparted to him by a look of deep and unspeakable melancholy upon hisface, which gave it pathos and character of its own. The rustic face isapt to become vacant, bovine, or coarse. Solitude often reduces manalmost to the level of the beasts. This old man, who for many years hadlived hidden away in this vast forest, might well have lost all but thesemblance of humanity; but such was not the case. His eyes had light inthem; his very melancholy showed that the soul was not dead. As he sawthe bright-faced boys approaching him, he first gave a great start ofsurprise, eagerly scanning one face after another; then, as he did sothe light of hope died out from his eyes, and the old despairing lookcame back. 

Something of this was observed by the Prince and his followers, but theywere at present too much bent upon their own mission to have thought tospare for any other concerns. They formed a circle round him, and askedhim of the robbers -- if he ever saw them; if he knew their haunts; ifthey had been near these parts during the past days?

For a moment it seemed as though the old man was disappointed by thequestions asked him. He muttered something they did not rightlycomprehend about robbers worse than these, and a quick fierce lookpassed across his face, and then died out again. The young Prince wascourteous and patient: he allowed the old man's slow wits time to get towork; and when he did begin to speak he spoke to some purpose, and theboys listened and questioned with the most eager attention. 

It took some time to extract the necessary information, not from anyreluctance to speak on the old man's part, but from his inability to puthis thoughts into words. Still when this was by degrees achieved, theinformation was of the highest possible importance. 

The robbers, said the old man, were at that very moment not far away. Hehad seen them sally forth on one of their nocturnal raids about dusk theprevious evening; and they had returned home laden with spoil two hoursbefore the dawn. He was of the opinion that they had carried off somecaptive with them, for he had heard sounds as of bitter though stifledweeping as they passed his hut on their return. Did he know where theylay by day? Oh yes, right well he did! They had a hiding place in a cavedown in a deep dingle, so overgrown with brushwood that only those whoknew the path thither could hope to penetrate within it. Once there, they felt perfectly safe, and would sleep away the day after one oftheir raids, remaining safely hidden there till supplies were exhausted, when they sallied forth again. The old woodman showed them the tracks ofthe party that had passed by that morning, and to the eyes of the Gasconbrothers these tracks were plain enough, and they undertook to followthem unerringly to the lair. The old woodman had no desire to be mixedup in the matter. If he were to be seen in the company of the trackers, he firmly believed that he should be skinned alive before many days hadpassed. He plainly did not put much faith in the power of these lads toovercome a large band of desperate men, and strongly advised them to gohome and think no more of the matter. But his interest was only verypartially aroused, and it was plain that there was something on his ownmind which quite outweighed with him the subject of the forest outlaws. 

John would fain have questioned him about himself, being a youth ofkindly spirit; but the moment was not propitious, for the Prince was allon fire with a new idea. 

"Comrades, " he said gravely and firmly, "the hour has come when we mustput our manhood to the proof. This very day, without the loss of aneedless moment, we must fall, sword in hand, upon yon dastard crew, anddo to them as they have done. You have heard this honest man's tale. Upon the day following a midnight raid they lie close in their caveasleep -- no doubt drunken with the excesses they indulge in, I warrant, when they have replenished their larder anew. This, then, is the daythey must be surprised and slain. If we wait we may never have suchanother chance. My brothers in arms, are you ready to follow me? Shallthe eagles fail for lack of courage when the prey is almost within sight?"

An unanimous sound of dissent ran through the group. All were as eageras the Prince for the battle and the victory; but the face of John worean anxious look. 

"We must not go alone, " he said. "We must summon our comrades to joinus. They are bound on the quest as much as we. "

"True, " answered the Prince, looking round him. "It were madness, Itrow, for the six of us to make the attack alone. Yet did not Jonathanand his armour bearer fall unawares upon a host and put them to flight?Methinks some holy Father has told such a tale to me. Still thou artright, good John. We must not risk losing all because it has been givento godly men in times of old to work a great deliverance. See here, friends, what we will do. Our comrades cannot be very far away. Hark!Surely it is the baying of the hound I hear yonder over that woodedridge! Good Bernard, do thou to horse, gallop to them as fast as thoucanst, and tell them of the hap upon which we have fallen. Bid themfollow fast with thee, but leave the dogs and horses behind with thehuntsmen, lest their noise betray our approach. Master Huntsman may seekto withhold them from the quest, but when he knows that I, the Prince, with but four of my comrades to help me, have gone on in advance, andthat we are even then approaching the robbers' cave, he will not onlybid them all go, but will come himself doubtless, with the best of hisfollowers, and give us what help he may. Lose no time. To horse, andaway! And when thou hast called the band together, come back in allhaste to this spot. The forest trackers will be put upon the trail, andwill follow us surely and swiftly. You will find us there before you, lying in ambush, having fully reconnoitred. Be not afraid for us. HonestJohn will see that we run not into too great peril ere we have help. Isit understood? Good! Then lose not a moment. And for the rest of us, wewill follow these sturdy Gascons, who will secretly lead us to the hauntof the outlaws. "

Bernard was off almost before the last words had been spoken, and verysoon they heard from the sounds that he had mounted his horse and wasgalloping in the direction in which, from the faint baying of thehounds, he knew the hunting party to be. 

John looked somewhat anxious as the Prince signed to Gaston and Raymondto lead the way upon the robbers' track; but he knew the determinednature of the Prince, and did not venture open remonstrance. YetEdward's quick eye caught the uneasy glance, and he replied to it withfrank goodwill. 

"Nay, fear not, honest John; I will run into no reckless peril, for mysweet mother hath ever been forward to counsel me that recklessness isnot true bravery. Some peril there must needs be -- without it therecould be no glory; but that danger shall not be added to by anyhardihood such as my royal Sire would chide in me. Trust me; I will beprudent, as I trust I may yet show that I can be bold. We will use alldue caution in approaching this hiding place, and if it will pleasurethee, I will promise not to leave thy side before our friends come toour aid. "

John was glad enough of this promise. As the eldest of this ardent band, and the one who would be most harshly taken to task did any harm come ofthe enterprise, he was anxious above all things to insure the safety ofthe Prince. If Edward would remain beside him, he could certainly makesure of one thing -- that he himself did not survive his royal master, but died at his side fighting for his safety. The younger spiritsthought only of the glory of victory. John, with his feebler physiqueand more thoughtful mind, saw another possible ending to the day'sadventure. Still his heart did not fail; only his unspoken prayer wasthat no harm should befall the brave young Prince, who was so eager toshow the world that chivalry was not yet dead. 

The brothers from Gascony had no trouble whatever in finding and keepingthe trail the robbers had left behind them. Slowly but surely theypursued their way through the labyrinth of the gloomy forest. NeitherJohn nor any of his companions had ever been here before. The dense woodwas gloomy enough to be almost terrible. Craggy rocks were visible fromtime to time as the party proceeded, and the thickness of the forest wasso great that almost all light was excluded. 

At last a spot was reached where the forest-bred boys paused. Theylooked back at those who were following, and beckoned them silentlyforward. So quietly had the party moved that the stillness of the foresthad scarce been broken. Mute and breathless, John and his companionstole up. They found that they had now reached the edge of a deepravine, so thickly wooded as to appear impassable to human foot. Butjust where they stood there were traces of a narrow pathway, wellconcealed by the sweeping boughs of a drooping willow; and that this wasthe dell and the path of which the old woodman had spoken the littleparty did not doubt for a moment. 

"It is doubtless the place, " said the Prince, in a whisper. "Let ussoftly reconnoitre whilst our forces are assembling. "

"I and my brother will make the round of the dell, " answered Gaston, ina like cautious tone. "Sweet Prince, stay you hither, where the restwill doubtless find us. It boots not for us to make too much stir. Soundcarries well in this still frosty air. "

The Prince made a sign of assent, and Gaston and Raymond crept away indifferent directions to make the circuit of this secluded hollow, andtry to ascertain how the land lay, and what was the chance of capturingthe band unawares. In particular they desired to note whether there wereany other pathway into it, and whether, if the robbers were taken bysurprise and desirous of flight, there was any way of gaining the forestsave by the overgrown path the exploring party had already found. 

The dell proved to be a cup-like hollow of no very great extent. On theside by which the party had approached it the ground shelved downgradually, thickly covered with bushes and undergrowth; but on theopposite side, as the Gascon boys discovered, the drop was almost sheer, and though trees grew up to the very edge of the dell, nothing couldgrow upon the precipitous sandy sides. 

"We have them like rats in a trap, " cried Gaston, with sparkling eyes, as he once more joined the Prince, his brother with him. "They can onlyescape up these steep banks thickly overgrown, and we know that there isbut this one path. On the other side it is a sheer drop; a goat couldnot find foothold. If we can but take them by surprise, and post anambush ready to fall upon escaped stragglers who reach the top, therewill not be one left to tell the tale when the deed is done. "

The Prince set his teeth, and the battle light which in after days menlearned to regard with awe shone brightly in his eyes. 

"Good, " he said briefly: "they shall be served as they have servedothers -- taken in their slumber, taken in the midst of their security. Nay, even so it will not be for them as it has been for their victims, for doubtless they will have their arms beside them, and will springfrom their slumber to fight like wild wolves trapped; but I trow thevictory will lie with us, and he who fears may stay away. Are we not allclad in leather, and armed to repulse the savage attacks of the wildboar of the woods? Thus equipped, need we fear these human wild beasts?Methinks we shall sweep this day from the face of the earth a foulerscourge than ever beasts of the forest prove. "

"Hist!" whispered Oliver de Brocas cautiously; "methinks I hear a soundapproaching. It is our fellows joining us. "

Oliver was right. The trail had now been cautiously followed by thehuntsmen and their young charges, and the next moment the whole twentystood at the head of the pathway, together with the Master Huntsman, andsome half-dozen stout fellows all armed with murderous-looking huntingknives, and betraying by their looks the same eagerness for the fight asthe band of youthful warriors. 

It was vain to plead with the Prince to be one of those told off toremain in ambush in order to intercept and slay any fugitive who mightescape the melee below. No, the young heir of England was resolved to beforemost in the fray; and the utmost that he would consent to was thatthe party should be led down by the Master Huntsman himself, whilst hewalked second, John behind him, the rest pressing on in single file, oneafter the other, as quickly as might be. Down went the gallant littleband -- with the exception of two stalwart huntsmen and four of theyounger amongst the boys, who were left to guard the head of the path --not knowing the risk they ran: whether they would find an alert andwell-armed foe awaiting them at the bottom, or whether they might fallupon the enemy unawares. Very silent and cautious were their movements. The Huntsman and the Gascon brothers moved noiselessly as cats, and eventhe less trained youths were softly cautious in their movements. Downwards they pressed in breathless excitement, till they foundthemselves leaving the thick scrub behind and emerging upon a rockyplatform of rude shape. Here the Master Huntsman made an imperative signto the Prince to stop, whilst he crept forward a few paces upon handsand knees, and peeped over the edge. 

After gazing for a moment at something unseen to those behind, he made acautious sign to the Prince to approach. Edward at once did so, andGaston and Raymond followed him, their agile, cat-like movements beingas circumspect as those of the leader himself. 

What they saw as they peeped down into the heart of the dell was awelcome spectacle indeed. Some distance below them, but in full view, was the opening into what looked like a large cavern, and at theentrance to this cavern lay two stout ruffians, armed to the teeth, butboth in a sound sleep, their mouths open, their breath coming noisilybetween their parted lips. There were no dogs to be seen. Nothing brokethe intense stillness that prevailed. It was plainly as the old woodmanhad said. Their nocturnal raid had been followed by a grand carouse onthe return home, and now the party, overcome by fatigue and strongdrink, and secure in the fancied privacy of their isolated retreat, hadretired to rest within the cave, leaving two fellows on guard, to besure, but plainly without the smallest apprehension of attack. 

"Good!" whispered the Prince, with eyes that shone like his father's inthe hour of action; and softly rising to his feet, he made a sign to hiscomrades to draw their long knives and follow him in a compact body. 

"No quarter, " he whispered, as he surveyed with pride the brave facesround him: "they have shown no mercy; let no mercy be shown to them. Those who rob the poor, who slay the defenceless, who commit brutaloutrages upon the persons of women and children, deserve naught butdeath. Let them fight like men; we will slay them in fair fight, but wewill give no quarter. We will, if God fights for us, sweep the carrionbrood from off the very face of the earth!"

And then, to the dismay of the Master Huntsman, who had hoped to stepupon the sleeping sentries unawares, and rid themselves of at least twoof the foe before the alarm was given, the Prince raised his voice in ashrill battle cry, and dashing down the slope with his comrades at hisheels, flung himself upon the taller of the guards and plunged his knifeinto the fellow's throat. 

Gaston and Raymond had simultaneously sprung upon the other, and with asharp cry of astonishment and rage he too fell lifeless to the ground. 

But the Prince's shout, the man's cry, and the sound of clashing armsaroused from their deep slumbers the robber crew within the cavern, andwith the alertness that comes of such a lawless life, every man of themsprang to his feet and seized his weapon almost before he was awake. 

The Master Huntsman, however, had not waited to see the end of thestruggle upon the platform outside. At the very moment that the Princeburied his weapon in the sentry's throat, this bold fellow, with threeof his underlings at his side, had sprung inside the cave itself, andluckily enough it was upon the prostrate figure of the chief of the bandthat his eye first lighted. Before the man could spring to his feet, ablow from that long shining knife had found its way to his heart. Theother hunters had set each upon his man, and taken unawares, thoseattacked were slain ere they had awakened sufficiently to realize whatwas happening. Thus the number had been diminished by six before therest came swarming out, as bees from a disturbed hive. 

It was well indeed then for the brave boys, who had thought themselvesthe match for armed men, that these latter were dazed with deeppotations and but half armed after throwing aside their weapons erelying down to rest. Well was it also that they had amongst them theMaster Huntsman and his trusty satellites, who had the strength of men, as well as the trained eye, quick hand, and steady nerve that belong totheir calling in life. Then, again, the dress of these huntsmen was solike in character to that worn by many of the band, that the robbersthemselves suspected each other of treachery, and many turned one uponthe other, and smote his fellow to the earth. Yet notwithstanding allthese things in their favour, the Prince's youthful followers werehardly beset, and to his rage and grief young Edward saw more than onebright young head lying in the dust of the sandy platform. 

But this sight filled him with such fury that he was like a veritabletiger amongst the assailants who still came flocking out of the cave. His battle cry rang again and again through the vaulted cavern, hisshining blade seemed everywhere, dealing death and destruction. Boythough he was, he appeared endued with the strength of a man, and thatwonderful hereditary fighting instinct, which was so marked in his ownsire, seemed handed down to him. He took in the whole scope of the scenewith a single glance. Wherever there was an opening to deal a fatalblow, that blow was dealt by the Prince's trusty blade. It almost seemedas though he bore a charmed life in that grim scene of bloodshed andconfusion, though perhaps he owed his safety more to the faithfulsupport of the two Gascon brothers, who together with John de Brocasfollowed the Prince wherever he went, and averted from his head many afurious stroke that else might have settled his mortal career for ever. 

But the robbers began to see that this boy was their chiefest foe. Ifthey could but slay him, the rest might perchance take flight. Alreadytheir own ranks were terribly thinned, and they saw that mischief wasmeant by the deadly fury with which their assailants came on at them. They were but half armed, and the terror and bewilderment of the momentput them at great disadvantage; but amongst those who still retainedtheir full senses, and could distinguish friend from foe, were threebrothers of tall stature and mighty strength, and these three, takingmomentary counsel together, resolved to fling themselves upon the littleknot surrounding the person of the Prince, and slay at all cost theyouthful leader who appeared to exercise so great a power over the restof the gallant little band. 

It was a terrible moment for good John de Brocas, already wearied andready to drop with the exertions of the fight -- exertions to which hewas but little habituated -- when he saw bearing down upon them thegigantic forms, as they looked to him, of these three black-browedbrothers. The Prince had separated himself somewhat from the rest of theband. He and his three immediate followers had been pursuing somefugitives, who had fallen a prey to their good steel blades. They werejust about to return to the others, round whom the fight still raged, though with far less fierceness than at first, when these newadversaries set upon them from behind. John was the only one who hadseen the approach, and he only just in time to give one warning shout. Before the Prince could turn, an axe was whirling in the air above hishead; and had not John flung himself at that instant upon the Prince, covering his person and dragging him aside at the same moment, aglorious page in England's history would never have been written. ButJohn's prompt action saved the young Edward's life, though a frightfulgash was inflicted upon his own shoulder, which received the weight ofthe robber's blow. With a gasping moan he sank to the ground, and knewno more of what passed, whilst Gaston and Raymond each sprang upon oneof their assailants with a yell of fury, and the Prince flung himselfupon the fellow who had so nearly caused his death, and for all he knewhad slain the trusty John before his very eyes. 

The Prince soon made sure of his man. The fellow, having missed hisstroke, was taken at a disadvantage, and was unable to free his axe ordraw his dagger before the Prince had stabbed him to the heart. Gastonand Raymond were sore beset with their powerful adversaries, and wouldscarce have lived to tell the tale of that fell struggle had not helpbeen nigh at hand from the Master Huntsman. But he, missing the Princefrom the cave's mouth, and seeing the peril he was in, now came runningup, shouting to his men to follow him, and the three giant brothers weresoon lying together stark and dead, whilst poor John was tenderly liftedand carried out of the melee. 

The fighting was over now. The robbers had had enough of it. Some fewhad escaped, or had sought to do so; but by far the greater number laydead on or about the rocky platform, where the fiercest of the fightinghad been. They had slain each other as well as having been slain by thePrince's band, and the place was now a veritable shambles, at which someof the lads began to look with shuddering horror. 

Several of their own number were badly hurt. Three lay dead and cold. Victory had indeed been theirs, but something of the sense of triumphwas dashed as they bore away the bodies of their comrades and lookedupon the terrible traces of the fray. 

But the Prince had escaped unscathed -- that was the point of paramountimportance in the minds of many -- and he was now engrossed in strivingto relieve the sufferings of his wounded comrades by seeing their woundsskilfully bound up by the huntsmen, and obtaining for them draughts ofclear cold water from a spring that bubbled up within the cavern itself. 

Gaston and Raymond had escaped with minor hurts; but John's case wasplainly serious, and the flow of blood had been very great before anyhelp could reach him. He was quite unconscious, and looked like death ashe lay on the floor of the cave; and after fruitless efforts to revivehim, the Prince commanded a rude litter to be made wherein he might betransported to the Palace by the huntsmen who had not taken part in thestruggle, and were therefore least weary. The horses were not very faraway, and the rest of the wounded and the rescued captives could makeshift to walk that far, and afterwards gain the Palace by the help oftheir sturdy steeds. 

Thus it came about that Master Bernard de Brocas, who had believed thePrince and his party to be engaged in the harmless and (to them) safesport of tracking and hunting a boar in the forest, was astounded beyondall power of speech by seeing a battered and ghastly procession enterthe courtyard two hours before dusk, bearing in their midst a litterupon which lay the apparently inanimate form of his eldest nephew, hisbrother's first-born and heir. 

 CHAPTER VII. THE RECTOR'S HOUSE. 

"It was well thought and boldly executed, my son, " said the King ofEngland, as he looked with fatherly pride at his bright-faced boy. "Thouwilt win thy spurs ere long, I doubt not, an thou goest on thus. But itmust be an exploit more worthy thy race and state that shall win theethe knighthood which thou dost rightly covet. England's Prince must beknighted upon some glorious battlefield -- upon a day of victory that Itrow will come ere long for thee and me. And now to thy mother, boy, andask her pardon for the fright thou madest her to suffer, when thysisters betrayed to her the wild chase upon which thou and thy boycomrades were bent. Well was it for all that our trusty huntsmen werewith you, else might England be mourning sore this day for a life cutoff ere it had seen its first youthful prime. Yet, boy, I have not heartto chide thee; all I ask is that when thou art bent on some quest ofglory or peril another time, thou wilt tell thy father first. Trust himnot to say thee nay; it is his wish that thou shouldst prove a worthyscion of thy house. He will never stand in thy path if thy purpose beright and wise. "

The Prince accepted this paternal admonition with all becoming grace andhumility, and bent his knee before his mother, to be raised and warmlyembraced both by her and the little princesses, who had come in allhaste to the Palace of Guildford before the good Rector had had time tosend a message of warning to the King. Queen Philippa had heard from herdaughters of the proposed escapade on the part of the little bandsurrounding the Prince, and the fear lest the bold boy might exposehimself to real peril had induced the royal family to hasten toGuildford only two days after the Prince had gone thither. They had meta messenger from Master Bernard as they had neared the Palace, and theKing, after assuring himself of the safety of his son, made kindlyinquiries after those of his companions who had been with him on hissomewhat foolhardy adventure. 

John de Brocas was lying dangerously ill in one of the apartments of thePalace. The King was greatly concerned at hearing how severely he hadbeen hurt; and when the story came to be told more in its details, andit appeared that to John's fidelity and the stanch support of Audley'stwo youthful esquires the heir of England owed his life, Edward and hisQueen both paid a visit to the room where the sick youth lay, and withtheir own hands bestowed liberal rewards upon the twin brothers, who hadstood beside the Prince in the stress of the fight, and had bothreceived minor hurts in shielding him. 

Sir James Audley was himself in the King's train; but he was about toleave the south for a secret mission in Scotland, entrusted to him byhis sovereign. He was going to travel rapidly and without any largeescort, and for the present he had no further need for the services ofthe Gascon twins. Neither of the lads would be fit for the saddle formore than a week to come, and they had already made good use of theirtime in England, and had interested both the King and the Prince inthem, and had also earned liberal rewards. In their heart of hearts theywere anxious to remain in the neighbourhood of Guildford, for they knewthat there they were not far from Basildene. Wherefore when theyunderstood that their master had no present occasion for any furtherservice from them, they were not a little excited and pleased by thethought that they were now in a position to prosecute their own quest insuch manner as seemed best to them. 

They had made a wonderfully good beginning to their life of adventure. They had won the favour not only of their own kinsfolk, but of the Kingand the Prince. They had money and clothes and arms. They had theprospect of service with Sir James in the future, when he should havereturned from his mission and require a larger train. Everything seemedto be falling in with their own desires; and it was with faces of eagersatisfaction that they turned to each other when the knight had leftthem alone again, after a visit to the long rush-carpeted room, by theglowing hearth of which they were sitting when he had come to seek themsoon after the King had visited John's couch. 

John lay in a semi-conscious state upon the tall canopied bed, beneath aheavy pall of velvet, that gave a funereal aspect to the whole room. Hehad been aroused by the King's visit, and had spoken a few words inreply to the kind ones addressed to him; but afterwards he had sunk backinto the lethargy of extreme weakness, and the brothers were to allintents and purposes alone in the long dormitory they had shared withJohn, and with two more comrades who had also received slight hurts, butwho had now been summoned to attend the Prince on the return journey toWindsor, which was to be taken leisurely and by short stages. 

Oliver and Bernard de Brocas had likewise gone, and John was, they knew, to be moved as soon as possible to Master Bernard's rectory, not faraway. The kindly priest had said something about taking the brothersthere also till they were quite healed of their wounds and bruises, andJohn invariably asked for Raymond if ever he awoke to consciousness. What was to be the end of it all the twins had no idea, but it certainlyseemed as though for the present they were to be the guests of their ownuncle, who knew nothing of the tie that existed betwixt them. 

"Shall we say aught to him, Gaston?" asked Raymond, in a low whisper, asthe pair sat over the glowing fire together. "He is a good man and akind one, and perchance if he knew us for kinsmen he might --"

"Might be kinder than before?" questioned Gaston, with a proud smile. "Is it that thou wouldst say, brother? Ay, it is possible, but it isalso likely enough that he would at once look coldly and harshly uponus. Raymond, I have learned many lessons since we left our peacefulhome, and one of these is that men love not unsuccess. It is theprosperous, the favoured of fortune, upon whom the smiles of the greatare bent. Perchance it was because he succeeded not well that by his ownbrothers our father was passed by. Raymond, I have seen likewise this --if our kinsmen are kind, they are also proud. They have won kinglyfavour, kingly rewards; all men speak well of them; they are placed highin the land. Doubtless they could help us if they would; but are we tocome suing humbly to them for favours, when they would scarce listen toour father when he lived? Shall we run into the peril of having theirsmiles turned to frowns by striving to claim kinship with them, whenperchance they would spurn us from their doors? And if in days to comewe rise to fame and fortune, as by good hap we may, shall we put it intheir power to say that it is to their favour we owe it all? No -- athousand times no! I will carve out mine own fortune with mine own goodsword and mine own strong arm. I will be beholden to none for that whichsome day I will call mine own. The King himself has said that I shallmake a valiant knight. I have fought by the Prince's side once; I trowthat in days to come I shall do the like again. When my knighthood'sspurs are won, then perchance I will to mine uncle and say to him, 'Sire, I am thy brother Arnald's son -- thine own nephew;' but not tillthen will I divulge the secret. Sir John de Brocas -- no, nor MasterBernard either -- shall never say that they have made Sir Gaston'sfortune for him!"

The lad's eyes flashed fire; the haughty look upon his face was notunlike the one sometimes to be seen upon that of the King's Master ofthe Horse. 

Raymond listened with a smile to these bold words, and then said quietly:

"Perhaps thou art right, Gaston; but I trust thou bearest no ill willtowards our two uncles?"

Gaston's face cleared, and he smiled frankly enough. 

"Nay, Brother, none in the world. It is only as I think sometimes of thestory of our parents' wrongs that my hot blood seems to rise againstthem. They have been kind to us. I trow we need not fear to take suchkindness as may be offered to us as strangers; but to come as suppliantkinsmen, humble and unknown, I neither can nor will. Let us keep oursecret; let us carve out our own fortunes. A day shall come when we maystand forth before all the world as of the old line of De Brocas, butfirst we will win for ourselves the welcome we would fain receive. "

"Ay, and we will seek our lost inheritance of Basildene, " added Raymond. "That shall be our next quest, Gaston. I would fain look upon ourmother's home. Methinks it lies not many miles from here. "

"I misdoubt me if Basildene be aught of great moment, " said Gaston, shaking back his curly hair. "Like enough it is but a Manor such as wehave seen by the score as we have ridden through this land. It may be nosuch proud inheritance when we do find it, Raymond. It is of our lostpossessions in Gascony that I chiefly think. What can any English house, of which even here scarce any man has heard, be as compared with ourvast forest lands of Gascony -- our Castle of Saut -- of Orthez -- wherethe false Sieur de Navailles rules with the rod of iron? It is therethat I would be; it is there that I would rule. When the Roy Outremerwages war with the French King, and I fight beneath his banner and winhis favour, as I will do ere many years have passed, and when he callsme to receive my rewards at his kingly hands, then will I tell him ofyon false and cruel tyrant there, and how our people groan beneath hisharsh rule. I will ask but his leave to win mine own again, and then Iwill ride forth with my own knights in my train, and there shall be onceagain a lord of the old race ruling at Saut, and the tyrant usurpershall be brought to the very dust!"

"Ay, " answered Raymond, with a smile that made his face look older forthe moment than that of his twin brother, "thou, Gaston, shalt reign inSaut, and I will try to win and to reign at Basildene, content with thesmaller inheritance. Methinks the quiet English Manor will suit me well. By thy side for a while will I fight, too, winning, if it may be, myspurs of knighthood likewise; but when the days of fighting be past, Iwould fain find a quiet haven in this fair land -- in the very placewhere our mother longed to end her days. "

It may be seen, from the foregoing fragment of talk, that already thetwin brothers were developing in different directions. So long as theyhad lived in the quiet of the humble home, they had scarce known athought or aspiration not shared alike by both; but the experiences ofthe past months had left a mark upon them, and the mark was notaltogether the same in the case of each. They had shared all adventures, all perils, all amusements; their hearts were as much bound up as everone with the other; but they were already looking at life differently, forming a different ideal of the future. The soldier spirit was comingout with greater intensity in one nature than in the other. Gaston hadno ambition, no interest beyond that of winning fame and glory by thesword. Raymond was just beginning to see that there were other aims andinterests in life, and to feel that there might even come a day whenthese other interests should prove more to him than any laurels of battle. 

In the days that followed, this feeling grew more and more upon him. Hishurt was more slow to heal than Gaston's, and long after his brother wasriding out daily into the forest with the keepers to slay a fat buck forthe prelate's table or fly a falcon for practice or sport, Raymondremained within the house, generally the companion of the studious John;and as the latter grew strong enough to talk, he was always impartingnew ideas to the untutored but receptive mind of the Gascon boy. 

They had quickly removed from the Royal Palace to the more cozy andcomfortable quarters within the Rectory, which belonged to MasterBernard in right of his office. John was as much at home in his uncle'shouse as in his father's, having spent much of his youth with thepriest. Indeed it may be questioned whether he felt as much at easeanywhere as he did in this sheltered and retired place, and Raymondbegan to feel the subtle charm of the life there almost at once. 

The Rector possessed what was for that age a fine collection of books. These were of course all manuscripts, and very costly of their kind, some being beautifully illuminated and others very lengthy. Thesemanuscripts and books were well known to John, who had read the majorityof them, and was never weary of reading them again and again. Some werewritings of the ancient fathers; others were the works of pagan writersand philosophers who had lived in the dark ages of the world's history, yet who had had thoughts and aspirations in advance of their day, andwho had striven without the light of Christianity to construct a code ofmorals that should do the work for humanity which never could have beendone till the Light came into the world with the Incarnation. 

As Raymond sat day by day beside John's couch, hearing him read out ofthese wonderful books, learning himself to read also with a sense ofquickened pleasure that it was a surprise to experience, he began torealize that there was a world around and about him of which he had hadno conception hitherto, to feel his mental horizon widening, and to seethat life held weightier questions than any that could be settled at thesword's point. 

"In truth I have long held that myself, " answered John, to whom somesuch remark had been made; and upon the pale face of the student thereshone a light which Raymond had seen there before, and marked with a dimsense of awe. "We hear men talk of the days of chivalry, and mournbecause they seem to be passing away. Yet methinks there may be a holierand a higher form of chivalry than the world has yet seen that may riseupon the ashes of what has gone before, and lead men to higher andbetter things. Raymond, I would that I might live to see such a day -- aday when battle and bloodshed should be no longer men's favouritepastime, but when they should come to feel as our Blessed Lord hasbidden us feel, brothers in love, for that we love Him, and that we walkforward hand in hand towards the light, warring no more with ourbrethren of the faith, but only with such things as are contrary to HisWord, and are hindering His purpose concerning the earth. "

Raymond listened with but small comprehension to a thought so vastly inadvance of the spirit of the day; but despite his lack of trueunderstanding, he felt a quick thrill of sympathy as he looked intoJohn's luminous eyes, and he spoke with reverence in his tone eventhough his words seemed to dissent from those of his companion. 

"Nay, but how would the world go on without wars and gallant feats ofarms? And sure in a good cause men must fight with all their might andmain? Truly I would gladly seek for paynim and pagan foes if they mightbe found; but men go not to the Holy Land as once they did. There befoes nigher at home against whom we have to turn our arms. Good John, thou surely dost not call it a wicked thing to fight beneath the bannerof our noble King when he goes forth upon his wars?"

John smiled one of those thoughtful, flickering smiles that puzzled hiscompanion and aroused his speculative curiosity. 

"Nay, Raymond, " he answered, speaking slowly, as though it were no easymatter to put his thought in such words as would be comprehensible tohis companion, "it is not that I would condemn any man or any cause. Weare placed in the midst of warlike and stirring times, and it may bethat some great purpose is being worked out by all these wars andtumults in which we bear our share. It is only as I lie here and think(I have, as thou knowest, been here many times before amongst thesebooks and parchments, able for little but study and thought) that therecomes over me a strange sense of the hollowness of these earthlystrivings and search after fame and glory, a solemn conviction -- Iscarce know how to frame it in words -- that there must be other work tobe done in the world, stronger and more heroic deeds than men will everdo with swords and spears. Methinks the holy saints and martyrs who wentbefore us knew something of that work; and though it be not given to usto dare and suffer as they did, yet there come to me moments when I feelassured that God may still have works of faith and patience for us to dofor Him here, which (albeit the world will never know it) may be moreblessed in His eyes than those great deeds the fame of which goesthrough the world. Perchance were I a man of thews and sinews like mybrothers, I might think only of the glory of feats of arms and thestress and strife of the battle. But being as I am, I cannot but thinkof other matters; and so thinking and dreaming, there has come to me thesense that if I may never win the knighthood and the fame which mayattend on others, I may yet be called upon to serve the Great King insome other way. Raymond, I think that I could gladly die content if Imight but feel that I had been called to some task for Him, and havingbeen called had been found faithful. "

John's eyes were shining brightly as he spoke. Raymond felt a slightshiver run through his frame as he answered impulsively:

"Thou hast done a deed already of which any belted knight might well beproud. It was thou who saved the life of the Prince of Wales by takingupon thy shoulder the blow aimed at his head. The King himself hasspoken in thy praise. How canst thou speak as though no fame or glorywould be thine?"

A look of natural pride and pleasure stole for a moment over John's paleface; but the thoughtful brightness in his eyes deepened during thesilence that followed, and presently he said musingly:

"I am glad to think of that. I like to feel that my arm has struck onegood blow for my King and country; though, good Raymond, to thee and toGaston, as much as to me, belongs the credit of saving the young Prince. Yet though I too love deeds of glory and chivalry, and rejoice to haveborne a part in one such struggle undertaken in defence of the poor andthe weak, I still think there be higher tasks, higher quests, yet to beundertaken by man in this world. "

"What quest?" asked Raymond wonderingly, as John paused, enwrapped, asit seemed, in his own thoughts. 

It was some time before the question was answered, and then John spokedreamily and slow, as though his thoughts were far away from hiswondering listener. 

"The quest after that whose glory shall not be of this world alone; thequest that shall raise man heavenward to his Maker. Is that thought newin the heart of man? I trow not. We have heard of late much of thatgreat King Arthur, the founder of chivalry, and of his knights. Werefeats of arms alone enough for them? or those exploits undertaken in thecause of the helpless or oppressed, great and noble as these must everbe? Did not one or more of their number feel that there was yet anotherand a holier quest asked of a true knight? Did not Sir Galahad leave allelse to seek after the Holy Grail? Thou knowest all the story; have wenot read it often together? And seems it not to thee to point us everonward and upward, away from things of earth towards the things ofheaven, showing that even chivalry itself is but an earthly thing, unless it have its final hopes and aspirations fixed far above this earth?"

John's face was illumined by a strange radiance. It seemed to Raymond asthough something of the spirit of the Knight of the Grail shone out fromthose hollow eyes. A subtle sympathy fired his own soul, and taking hiscousin's thin hand in his he cried quickly and impetuously:

"Such a knight as that would I fain be. Good John, tell me, I pray thee, where such a quest may be found. "

At that literal question, put with an air of the most impulsive goodfaith, John's face slightly changed. The rapt look faded from his eyes, and a reflective smile took its place, as the young man gazed long andearnestly into the bright face of the eager boy. 

"Why shouldst thou come to me to know, good lad?" he questioned. "It isof others that thou wilt learn these matters better than of me. Do theynot call me the man of books -- of dreams -- of fancies?"

"I know not and I care not, " answered Raymond impetuously. "It is ofthee and of thee only that I would learn. "

"And I scarce know how to answer thee, " replied the youth, "thoughgladly would I help thee to fuller, clearer knowledge if I knew how. Itrow that many men would smile at me were I to put my thoughts intowords, for it seems to me that for us who call ourselves after thesacred name of Christ there can be no higher or holier service than theservice in which He himself embarked, and bid His followers do likewise-- feeding the hungry, ministering to the sick, cheering the desolate, binding up the broken heart, being eyes to the blind and feet to thelame. He that would be the greatest, let him be the servant of all. Those were His own words. Yet how little do we think of them now. "

Raymond sat silent and amazed. Formerly such words would have seemedcomprehensible enough to him; but of late he had seen life under vastlydifferent aspects than any he had known in his quiet village home. Thegreat ones of the earth did not teach men thus to think or speak. Not toserve but to rule was the aim and object of life. 

"Wouldst have me enter the cloister, then?" he asked, a look of distasteand shrinking upon his face; for the quiet, colourless life (as itseemed to him) of those who entered the service of the Church was littleto the taste of the ardent boy. But John's answer was a bright smile anda decided negative; whereupon Raymond breathed more freely. 

"Nay; I trow we have priests and monks enow, holy and pious men as theyare. It has often been asked of me if I will not follow in the steps ofmy good uncle here; but I have never felt the wish. It seems to me thatthe habit of the monk or the cassock of the priest too often seems toseparate betwixt him and his fellow man, and that it were not good forthe world for all its holiest men to don that habit and dividethemselves from their brethren. Sir Galahad's spotless heart beatbeneath his silver armour. Would he have been to story and romance thestar and pattern he now is had he donned the monkish vesture and turnedhis armed quest into a friar's pilgrimage?"

"Nay, verily not. "

"I think with thee, and therefore say I, Let not all those who wouldfain lead the spotless life think to do so by withdrawing from theworld. Rather let them carry about the spotless heart beneath the coatof mail or the gay habit. Their quest need not be the less exalted --"

"But what is that quest to be?" cried Raymond eagerly; "that is what Ifain would know. Good John, give me some task to perform. What wouldstthou do thyself in my place?"

"Thou wouldst laugh were I to tell thee. "

"Try me and see. "

"I will. If I were sound and whole tomorrow, I should forth into theforest whence we came, and I should seek and find that aged woodman, whoseemed so sorely bowed down with sorrow, and I should bid him unfold histale to me, and see if in any wise I might help him. He is poor, helpless, wretched, and by the words he spoke, I knew that he hadsuffered heavy sorrow. Perchance that sorrow might be alleviated couldone but know the story of it. His face has haunted my fevered dreams. Tome it seems as though perchance this were an errand of mercy sent to meto do. Deeds of knightly prowess I trow will never now be mine. It mustbe enough for me to show my chivalry by acts of love and care for thehelpless, the sorrowful, the oppressed. "

Raymond's eyes suddenly glowed. Something of the underlying poetry ofthe thought struck an answering chord in his heart, though the wordsthemselves had been plain and bald enough. 

"I will perform that task for thee, good John, " he said. "I wellremember the place, ay, and the old man and his sorrowful mien. I willthither tomorrow, and will bring thee word again. If he may be helped byany act of mine, be assured that act shall not be lacking. "

John pressed his comrade's hand and thanked him; but Raymond little knewto what this quest, of apparently so little moment, was to lead, norwhat a link it was to form with the story of the lost inheritance ofBasildene. 

 CHAPTER VIII. THE VISIT TO THE WOODMAN. 

"Raymond, I am glad of this chance to speak alone together, for sincethou hast turned into a man of books and letters I have scarce seenthee. I am glad of this errand into these dark woods. It seems liketimes of old come back again -- and yet not that either. I would notreturn to those days of slothful idleness, not for all the gold of theKing's treasury. But I have wanted words with thee alone, Brother. Knowest thou that we are scarce ten miles (as they measure distance herein England) from Basildene?"

Raymond turned an eager face upon his brother. 

"Hast seen it, Gaston?"

"Nay. It has not been my hap to go that way; but I have heard enough andto spare about it. I fear me that our inheritance is but a sorry one, Raymond, and that it will be scarce worth the coil that would be setafoot were we to try to make good our claim. "

"Tell me, what hast thou heard?" asked Raymond eagerly. 

"Why, that it is but an ancient Manor, of no great value or extent, andthat the old man who dwells there with his son is little different froma sorcerer, whom it is not safe to approach -- at least not with intentto meddle. Men say that he is in league with the devil, and that he hassold his soul for the philosopher's stone, that changes all it touchesto gold. They say, too, that those who offend him speedily sicken ofsome fell disease that no medicine can cure. Though he must havewondrous wealth, he has let his house fall into gloomy decay. No manapproaches it to visit him, and he goes nowhither himself. His son, Peter, who seems as little beloved as his father, goes hither andthither as he will. But it is whispered that he shares in his father'sdealings with the Evil One, and that he will reap the benefit of thegolden treasure which has been secured to them. However that may be, allmen agree that the Sanghursts of Basildene are not to be meddled withwith impunity. "

Raymond's face was very thoughtful. Such a warning as this, lightly asit would be regarded in the present century, meant something seriousthen; and Raymond instinctively crossed himself as he heard Gaston'swords. But after a moment's pause of thoughtful silence he said gravely:

"Yet perhaps on this very account ought we the rather to strive to winour inheritance out of such polluted hands. Have we not others to thinkof in this thing? Are there not those living beneath the shelter ofBasildene who must be suffering under the curse that wicked man is liketo bring upon it? For their sakes, Gaston, ought we not to do all in ourpower to make good our rights? Are they to be left to the mercy of onewhose soul is sold to Satan?"

Gaston looked quickly into his brother's flushed face, and wondered atthe sudden enthusiasm beaming out of his eyes. But he had alreadyrecognized that a change was passing over Raymond, even as a change of adifferent kind was coming upon himself. He did not entirely understandit, neither did he resent it; and now he threw his arm across hisbrother's shoulder in the old caressing fashion of their boyhood. 

"Nay, I know not how that may be. There may be found those who dare towar against the powers of darkness, and with the help of the holy andblessed saints they may prevail. But that is not the strife after whichmy heart longs. Raymond, I fear me I love not Basildene, I love not thethought of making it our own. It is for the glory of the battlefield andthe pomp and strife of true warfare that I long. There are fairer landsto be won by force of arms than ever Basildene will prove, if all menspeak sooth. Who and what are we, to try our fortunes and temptdestruction by drawing upon ourselves the hatred of this wicked old man, who may do us to death in some fearful fashion, when else we might bewinning fame and glory upon the plains of France? Let us leave Basildenealone, Brother; let us follow the fortunes of the great King, and trustto his noble generosity for the reward of valour. "

Raymond made no immediate reply, though he pressed his brother's handand looked lovingly into his face. Truth to tell, his affections werewinding themselves round his mother's country and inheritance, just asGaston's were turning rather to his father's land, and the thought ofthe rewards to be won there. Then, within Raymond's heart were growingup those new thoughts and aspirations engendered by long talks withJohn; and it seemed to him that possibly the very quest of which he wasin search might be found in freeing Basildene of a heavy curse. Ardent, sensitive, full of vivid imagination -- as the sons of the forest mostlyare -- Raymond felt that there was more in the truest and deepestchivalry than the mere feats of arms and acts of dauntless daring thatso often went by that name. Hazy and indistinct as his ideas were, tinged with much of the mysticism, much of the superstition of the age, they were beginning to assume definite proportions, and to threaten tocolour the whole future course of his life; and beneath all the dimnessand confusion one settled, leading idea was slowly unfolding itself, andforming a foundation for the superstructure that was to follow -- theidea that in self-denial, self-sacrifice, the subservience of selfishambition to the service of the oppressed and needy, chivalry in itshighest form was to be found. 

But in his brother's silence Gaston thought he read disappointment, andwith another affectionate gesture he hastened to add:

"But if thy heart goes out to our mother's home, we will yet win itback, when time has changed us from striplings to tried warriors. See, Brother, I will tell thee what we will do. Men say that it can scarce bea year from now ere the war breaks out anew betwixt France and England, and then will come our opportunity. We will follow the fortunes of theKing. We will win our spurs fighting at the side of the Prince. We willdo as our kindred have done before us, and make ourselves honoured andrespected of all men. It may be that we shall then be lords of Saut oncemore. But be that as it may, we shall be strong, rich, powerful -- asour uncles are now. Then, if thou wilt so have it, we will think againof Basildene; and if we win it back, it shall be thine, and thine alone. Fight thou by my side whilst we are yet too young to bring to good anyprivate matter of our own. Then will I, together with thee, think againof our boyhood's dream; and it may be that we shall yet live to becalled the Twin Brothers of Basildene!"

Raymond smiled at the sound of that name, as he had smiled at Gaston'seager words before. Full of ardent longings and unbounded enthusiasm, aswere most well-born youths in those adventurous days, he was just alittle less confident than Gaston of the brilliant success that was toattend upon their feats of arms. Still there was much of the fightinginstinct in the boy, and there was certainly no hope of regainingBasildene in the present. So that he agreed willingly to his brother'sproposition, although he resolved before he left these parts to lookonce with his own eyes upon the home that had sheltered his mother'schildhood and youth. 

And then they plunged into the thickest of the forest, and could talk nomore till they had reached the little clearing that lay around thewoodman's hut. The old man was not far away, as they heard by the soundof a falling axe a little to the right of them. Following this sound, they quickly came upon the object of their search -- the grizzled oldman, with the same look of unutterable woe stamped upon his face. 

Gaston, who knew only one-half of the errand upon which they had come, produced the pieces of silver that the Rector and John had sent, with amessage of thanks to the old woodman for his help in directing thePrince and his company to the robbers' cave at such a favourable moment. The old man appeared bewildered at first by the sight of the money andthe words of thanks; but recollection came back by degrees, though heseemed as one who in constant brooding upon a single theme has come tolose all sense of other things, and scarce to observe the flight oftime, or to know one day from another. 

This strange, wild melancholy, which had struck John at once, nowaroused in Raymond a sense of sympathetic interest. He had come to tryto seek the cause of the old man's sorrow, and he did not mean to leavewith his task unfulfilled. 

Perhaps John could have found no fitter emissary than this Gascon lad, with his simple forest training, his quick sympathy and keenintelligence, and his thorough knowledge of the details of peasant life, which in all countries possess many features in common. 

It was hard at first to get the old man to care to understand what wassaid, or to take the trouble to reply. The habit of silence is one ofthe most difficult to break; but patience and perseverance generally winthe day: and when it dawned upon this strange old man that it was ofhimself and his own loss and grief that these youths had come to speak, a new look crossed his weatherbeaten face, and a strange gleam ofmingled fury and despair shone in the depths of his hollow eyes. 

"My sorrow!" he exclaimed, in a voice from which the dreary cadence hadnow given place to a clearer, firmer ring: "is it of that you ask, youngsirs? Has it been told to you the cruel wrong that I have suffered?"

Then suddenly clinching his right hand and shaking it wildly above hishead, he broke into vehement and almost unintelligible invective, railing with frenzied bitterness against some foe, speaking so rapidly, and with such strange inflections of voice, that it was but a few wordsthat the brothers could distinguish out of the whole of the impassionedspeech. One of those words was "my son -- my boy, " followed by the namesof Sanghurst and Basildene. 

It was these names that arrested the attention of the brothers, causingthem to start and exchange quick glances. Raymond waited till the oldman had finished his railing, and then he asked gently:

"Had you then a son? Where is he now?"

"A son! ay, that had I -- the light and brightness of my life!" criedthe old man, with a sudden burst of rude eloquence that showed him tohave been at some former time something better than his presentcircumstances seemed to indicate. "Young sirs, I know not who you are; Iknow not why you ask me of my boy. But your faces are kind, andperchance there may be help in the world, though I have found it not. Iknow not how time has fled since that terrible sorrow fell upon me. Perchance not many years by the calendar, but in misery and suffering alifetime. Listen, and I will tell you all. I was not ever as you see menow. I was no lonely woodman buried in the heart of the forest. I wassecond huntsman to Sir Hugh Vavasour of Woodcrych, in favour with mymaster and well contented with my lot. I had a wife whom I loved, andshe had born me a lovely boy, who was the very light of my eyes and thejoy of my heart. I should weary you did I tell you of all his boldpranks and merry ways. He was, I verily believe, the loveliest childthat God's sun has ever looked down upon. When it pleased Him to take mywife away from me after seven happy years, I strove not to murmur; for Ihad still the child, and every day that passed made him more winsome, more loving, more mettlesome and bold. Even the master would draw reinas he passed my door to have a word with the boy; and little MistressJoan gave me many a silver groat to buy him a fairing with, and keep himalways dressed in the smartest little suit of forester's green. Thepriest noticed him too, and would have him to his house to teach himmany things, and told me he would live to carve out a fortune forhimself. I thought naught too good for him. I would have wondered littleif even the King had sent for him to make of him a companion for his son. 

"Perchance I was foolish in the boastings I made. But the beauty and thewisdom of the boy struck all alike -- and thence came his destruction. "

"His destruction?" echoed both brothers in a breath. "What! is he thendead?"

"He is worse than dead, " answered the father, in a hollow, despairingvoice; "he has been bewitched -- undone by foul sorcery, bound over handand foot, and given to the keeping of Satan. Even the priest can donothing for us. He is lost, body and soul, for ever. "

The brothers exchanged wondering glances as they made the sign of thecross, the old man watching the gesture with a bitter smile in his eye. Then Raymond spoke again:

"But what was it that happened? we do not yet understand. "

"I will tell you all. If you know this part of the world, young sirs, you have doubtless heard of the old Manor of Basildene, where dwellsone, Peter Sanghurst by name, who is nothing more nor less than awizard, who should be hunted to death without pity. Men have told me (Iknow not with what truth) that these wizards, who give themselves overto the devil, are required by their master from time to time to furnishhim with new victims, and these victims are generally children -- fairand promising children, who can first be trained in the black arts oftheir earthly master, and are then handed over, body and soul, to thedevil, to be his slaves and his victims for ever. "

The old man was speaking slowly now, with a steady yet despairingferocity that was terrible to hear. His sunken eyes gleamed in theirsockets, and his hands, that were tightly clinched over the handle ofhis axe, trembled with the emotion that had him in its clutches. 

"I was sent upon a mission by my master. I was absent from my home someseven days. When I came back my boy was gone. I had left him in the careof the keeper of the hounds. He was an honest man, and told me all thetale. Perchance you know that Sir Hugh Vavasour is what men call aspendthrift. His estates will not supply him with the money he needs. Heis always in debt, he is always in difficulties. From that it comes thathe cares little what manner of men are his comrades or friends, providedonly that they can supply his needs when his own means fail. This iswhy, when all men else hate and loathe the very name of Sanghurst, hecalls himself their friend. He knows that the old man has the secret bywhich all things may be turned into gold, and therefore he welcomes hisson to Woodcrych. And men say that Mistress Joan is to be given inmarriage to his son one day, because he will take her without dowry; forshe is the fairest creature in the world, and he has vowed that sheshall wed him and none else. "

The brothers were intensely interested by this tale, but were growing alittle confused by all the names introduced, and they wanted the storyof the woodman's son complete. 

"Then was it the old man who took your boy, or was it his son? Are theynot both called Peter?"

"Ay, they have both the same name -- the same name and the same nature:evil, cruel, remorseless. I know not how nor where the old man first seteyes upon my boy; but he must have seen him, and have coveted possessionof him for his devilish practices; for upon the week that I was absentfrom home, he left the solitude of his house, and came with the masterhimself to the house where the boy was. And then Sir Hugh explained tohonest Stephen, who had charge of him, that Master Peter Sanghurst hadoffered the lad a place in his service, where he would learn many thingsthat would stand him in good stead all the days of his life. It soundedfair in all faith. But Stephen stoutly refused to let the boy go till Ireturned; whereupon Sir Hugh struck him a blow across the face with hisheavy whip, and young Peter Sanghurst, leaping to the ground, seized thechild and placed him in front of him upon the horse, and the threegalloped off laughing aloud, whilst the boy in vain implored to be setdown to run home. When I came back he had gone, and all men said thatthe old man had thus stolen him to satisfy the greed for souls of hismaster the devil. "

"And hast thou not seen him since?" asked the boys breathlessly. "Whatdidst thou do when thou camest back?"

For a moment it seemed as though the old man would break out again intothose wild imprecations of frenzied anger which the brothers had heardhim utter before; but by a violent effort he checked the vehement flowof words that rose to his lips, and replied with a calmness far morereally impressive:

"I did all that a poor helpless man might do when his feudal lord was onthe side of the enemy, and met every prayer and supplication either withmockery or blows. I soon saw it all too well. Sir Hugh was under thespell of the wicked old man. What was my boy's soul to him? what myagony? Nothing -- nothing. The wizard had coveted the beautiful boy. Hehad doubtless made it worth my master's while to sell him to him; andwhat could I do? I tried everything I knew; but who would listen to me?Master Bernard de Brocas of Guildford, whom I met upon the road andbegged to listen to my tale, promised he would see if something mightnot be done. I waited and waited in anguish, and hope, and despair, andthere came a day when his palfrey stopped at my door, and he cameforward himself to speak with me. He told me he had spoken to the Masterof Basildene, and that he had promised to restore me my son if I wasresolved to have him back; but he had told the good priest that he knewthe boy would never be content to stay in a woodland cottage with anunlettered father, when he had learned what life elsewhere was like. ButI laughed this warning to scorn, and demanded my boy back. "

"And did he come?"

A strange look swept over the old man's face. His hands were tightlyclinched. His voice was very low, and full of suppressed awe and fury. 

"Ay, he came back -- he came back that same night -- but so changed inthose few months that I scarce knew him. And ah, how he clung to me whenhe was set down at my door! How he sobbed on my breast, entreating me tohold him fast -- to save him -- to protect him! What fearful tales ofunhallowed sights and sounds did his white lips pour into my ears! Howmy own blood curdled at the tale, and how I vowed that never, never, never would I let him go from out my arms again! I held him fast. I tookhim within doors. I fastened the door safely. I fed him, comforted him, and laid him in mine own bed, lying wakeful beside him for fear eventhen that he should be taken from me; and thus the hours sped by. Butthe rest -- ah, how can I tell it? It wrings my very heart. O my child, my son -- my own heart's joy!"

The old man threw up his arms with a wild gesture of despair, and therewas something in his face so terrible that the twins dared ask him noquestion; but after that one cry and gesture, the stony look returnedupon his face, and he went on of his own accord. 

"Midnight had come. I knew it by the position of the moon in theheavens. My boy had been sleeping like one dead beside me, never movingor stirring, scarce breathing; and I had at last grown soothed anddrowsy likewise. I had just fallen into a light sleep, when I wasaroused by feeling Roger stir beside me, and hastily sit up in the bed. His eyes were wide open, and in the moonlight they seemed to shine withunnatural brilliance. It was as if he were listening -- listening withevery fibre of his being, listening to a voice which he could hear and Icould not; for he made quick answers. 'I hear, Sire, ' he said, in astrange, muffled voice. And he rose suddenly to his feet and cried, 'Icome, Master, I come. ' Then a great rage and fear possessed me, for Iknew that my boy was being called by some foul spirit, and that he wasbewitched. I sprang up and seized him in my arms. 'Thou shalt not go!' Icried aloud. 'He has given thee back to me. I am thy father. Thy placeis here. I will not let thee go!' But I might have been speaking to adead corpse for all the understanding I received. My boy's eyes wereopened, but he saw me not. His ears, that heard other voices, were deafto mine. He struggled fiercely against my fatherly embrace; and when Ifelt the strength that had come into that frame, so worn and feeble buta few short hours ago, then I knew that it was the devil himself who hadentered into my child, and that it was his voice that was luring himback to his destruction. O my God! May I never have to live againthrough the agony of that hour in which I fought with the devil for mychild, and fought in vain. Like one possessed (as indeed he was) did hewrestle with me, crying out wildly all the while that he was coming --that he would quickly come; hearing nothing that I could hear, seeingnothing that I could see, and all the time struggling with me with astrength that I knew must at last prevail, albeit he was but a tenderchild and I a man in the prime of manhood's strength. But the devil wasin him that night. It was not my boy's own hand that struck the blowwhich forced me to leave my hold, and sent me staggering back againstthe wall. No, it was but the evil spirit within him; and even as Ireleased him from my embrace, he glided to the door, undid thefastenings, and still calling out that he was coming, that he would bethere anon, he slipped out into the still forest, and vanished amongstthe trees. "

"Did he return to Basildene?"

"Ay, like a bird to its nest, a dog to its master's home. Spent andbreathless, despairing as I was, I yet gathered my strength and followedmy boy -- weeping and calling upon his name, though I knew he heard menot. Scarce could I keep the gliding figure in sight; yet I could notchoose but follow, lest some mischance should befall the child by theway. But he moved onwards as if he trod on air, neither stumbling norfalling, nor turning to the right hand or to the left. I watched him tothe end of the avenue of trees that leads to Basildene. As he reached ita dark figure stepped forth, and the child sank to the ground as ifexhausted. There was the sound of laughter -- fiends' laughter, if everdevils do laugh. It chilled the very blood in my veins, and I stoodrooted to the spot, whilst the hair of my head stood erect. The darkform bent over the boy and seemed to raise it. 

"'You shall suffer for this, ' I heard a cruel voice say in a hissingwhisper; 'you will not ask to leave again!' and at those evil words acry of anguish -- a human cry -- broke from my boy's lips, and with ayell of fury I sprang forward to save him or to die with him. But whathappened then I know not. Whether a human hand or a fiend's struck medown I shall never now know. I remember a blow -- the sense that hell'smouth was opening to receive me; that the mocking laughter of devils wasin my ears. Then I knew no more till (they tell me it was many weekslater) I awoke from a long strange sleep in yon cabin where I live. Anold woodman had found me, and had carried me there. Sir Hugh had givenhim a few silver pieces to take care of me. He had filled my place, andmy old home was occupied by another; but had it not been so, no power onearth would have taken me back there. I had grown old in one night. Ihad lost my strength, my cunning, my heart. I stayed on with the old manawhile, and as he fell sick and died when the next snow fell upon theground, Master Bernard de Brocas appointed me as woodman in his stead, and here I have remained ever since. I know not how the time has sped. Ihave no heart or hope in life. My child is gone -- possessed by fiendswho have him in their clutches, so that I may never win him back to me. I hate my life, yet fear to die; for then I might see him the sport ofdevils, and be, as before, powerless to succour him. I have long ceasedto be shriven for my sins. What good to me is forgiveness, if my childwill be doomed to hellfire for evermore? No hope in this world, no hopeafter death. Woe is me that ever I was born! Woe is me! woe is me!"

The energy which had supported the old man as he told his tale nowappeared suddenly to desert him. With a low moan he sank upon the groundand buried his face in his hands, whilst the boys stood and gazed athim, and then at one another, their faces full of interest and sympathy, their hearts burning with indignation against the wicked foe of theirown race, who seemed to bring misery and wrong wherever he moved. 

"And thou hast never seen thy son again?" asked Raymond softly. "Is heyet alive, knowest thou?"

"I have never seen him again: they say that he still lives. But what islife to one who is sold and bound over, body and soul, to the powers ofdarkness?"

Then the old man buried his face once more in his hands, and seemed toforget even the presence of the boys; and Gaston and Raymond stolesilently away, with many backward glances at the bowed and strickenfigure, unable to find any words either to help or comfort him. 

 CHAPTER IX. JOAN VAVASOUR. 

It was with the greatest interest that John de Brocas listened to thestory brought home by the twin brothers after their visit to thewoodman's hut. Such a story of oppression, cruelty, and wrong trulystirred him to the very soul; and moreover, as the brothers spoke ofBasildene, they told him also (under the promise of secrecy) of theirown connection with that place, of their kinship with himself, and ofthe wrongs they had suffered at the hand of the Sanghursts, father andson; and all this aroused in the mind of John an intense desire to seewrong made right, and retribution brought upon the heads of those whoseemed to become a curse wherever they went. 

"And so ye twain are my cousins?" he said, looking from one face to theother with penetrating gaze. "I knew from the very first that ye were nocommon youths; and it was a stronger tie than that of Gascon blood thatknit us one to the other. But I will keep your secret. Perchance ye arewise in wishing it kept. There be something too many hangers-on of ourhouse 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 itmay be that his sons would receive but sorry welcome if they came ashumble suppliants for place. The unsuccessful members of a house arescarce ever welcomed, and the claim to Basildene might be but ahindrance in your path. Sir Hugh Vavasour is high in favour at Court. Heis a warm friend of my father and my uncle; and he and the Sanghurstsare 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 sonwho have seized it, and their quarrel would be taken up by others ofmore power. Gaston is right in his belief that you must first win creditand renown beneath the King's banners. As unknown striplings you have nochance against yon crafty fox of Basildene. Were he but to know who andwhat you were, I know not that your very lives would be safe from hismalice. "

The twins exchanged glances. It seemed as though they were threatened onevery hand by the malice of those who had usurped their rights and theirlands; yet they felt no fear, rather a secret exultation at the thoughtof what lay before them. But their curiosity was strongly stirred aboutthe strange old man at Basildene, and they eagerly asked John of thetruth of those reports which spoke of him as being a tool and slave ofthe devil. 

A grave light came into John's eyes as he replied:

"Methinks that every man is the tool of Satan who willingly commits sinwith his eyes open, and will not be restrained. I cannot doubt that oldPeter Sanghurst has done this again and again. He is an evil man and awicked one. But whether or no he has visible dealings with the spiritsof darkness, I know not. Men can sin deeply and darkly and yet win nopower beyond that vouchsafed to others. "

"But the woodman's son, " said Raymond, in awestruck tones, "him he mostcertainly bewitched. How else could he have so possessed him that evenhis own father could not restrain him from going back to the dreadslavery once again?"

A thoughtful look was on John's face. He was lying on his couch in thelarge room where his learned uncle stored all his precious books andparchments, safely locked away in carved presses; and rising slowly tohis feet -- for he was still feeble and languid in his movements -- heunlocked one of these, and took from it a large volume in some deadlanguage, and laid it upon the table before him. 

"I know not whether or no I am right, but I have heard before of astrange power that some men may possess over the minds and wills ofothers -- a power so great that they become their helpless tools, andcan be made to act, to see, to feel just as they are bidden, and are ashelpless to resist that power as the snared bird to avoid theoutstretched hand of the fowler. That this power is a power of evil, andcomes from the devil himself, I may not disbelieve; for it has neverbeen God's way of dealing with men to bind captive their wills and makethem blind and helpless agents of the will of others. Could you read thewords of this book, you would find many things therein as strange as anyyou have heard today. For myself, I have little doubt that old PeterSanghurst, who has spent years of his life amongst the heathen Moors, and is, as all men avow, steeped to the lips in their strange andunchristian lore, has himself the art of thus gaining the mastery overthe 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 hishelpless victim, which drew the boy back to him when his father had himsafe at home (as he thought) once more. In this book it is written thatyoung boys, especially if they be beautiful of form and receptive ofmind, make the best tools for this black art. They can be thrown intostrange trances, in which many things are revealed to them. They can besent in the spirit to places they have never seen, and can be made todescribe what is passing thousands of miles away. I cannot tell howthese things may be, unless indeed it is the devil working in them; yethere it is written down as if it were some art which certain men withcertain gifts may acquire, as they may acquire other knowledge andlearning. 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 commonlyreported amongst the unlettered and ignorant. It is a cruel and a wickedart without doubt, and it says here that the children who are caught andsubjected to these trances and laid under this spiritual bondage seldomlive long; and that but for this, there seems no end to the wonders thatmight be performed. But the strain upon their spirits almost alwaysresults in madness or death, and thus the art never makes the stridesthat those who practise it long to see. "

John was turning the leaves of the book as he spoke, reading a word hereand there as if to refresh his memory. The Gascon brothers listened withbreathless interest, and suddenly Raymond started to his feet, saying:

"John, thou hast spoken of a knightly quest that would win no praisefrom man, but yet be such as a true knight would fain undertake. Wouldnot the rescue of yon wretched boy from the evil thraldom of that wickedsorcerer be such a task as that? Is not Basildene ours? Is it not for usto free it from the curse of such pollution? Is not that child one ofthe oppressed and wronged that it is the duty of a true servant of theold chivalry to rescue at all costs?

"Gaston, wilt thou go with me? Shall we snatch from the clutches of thisdevilish old man the boy whose story we have heard today? Methinks I cannever rest happy till the thing is done. Will not a curse light upon thevery house itself if these dark deeds go on within its walls? Who canhave 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 anddefiant gesture. 

"Verily I will go with thee, Brother. I would gladly strike a blow forthe 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. Heclosed his book, and raised his eyes with a smile; but he advocatedprudence, and patience too. 

"In truth, methinks it would be a deed of charity and true chivalry, yetone by no means without its peril and its risk. Old Sanghurst is a wilyand a cruel foe, and failure would but mean more tyranny and sufferingfor the miserable victim he holds in his relentless hands. It might leadalso to some mysterious vengeance upon you yourselves. There are uglywhispers breathed abroad about the old man and his evil practices. Travellers through these forest tracks, richly laden, have been known todisappear, and no man has heard of them more. It is rumoured that theyhave been seized and done to death by the rapacious owners of Basildene, and that the father and son are growing wealthy beyond what any manknows by the plunder they thus obtain. "

"But if they hold the secret of the philosopher's stone, sure they wouldnot 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 timehave been vainly striving. They may seek and seek, but I trow they willnever find it; and I verily believe if found it would but prove aworthless boon. For in the hands of a rapacious master, so quickly wouldgold be poured upon the world that soon its value would be lost, and itwould 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 itis rare that it is precious. If this philosopher's stone were to befound, that rareness would speedily disappear, and men would cease toprize 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 itwas not of the philosopher's stone that their minds were full, andJohn's next words interested them more. 

"No: I believe that the wealth which is being accumulated at Basildeneis won in far different fashion, and that this miserable boy, who is thehelpless slave and tool of his master's illicit art, is an unwillingagent in showing the so-called magician the whereabouts of haplesstravellers, and in luring them on to their destruction. But that the oldman is wealthy above all those about him may not now be doubted; and itis this growing wealth, gotten no man knows how, that makes men believein his possession of the magic stone. "

"And if we rescue the boy, some part of his power will be gone, and hewill lose a tool that he will not easily replace, " cried Gaston, witheager animation. "Brother, let us not delay. We have long desired tolook 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 somethingmore than boldness is needed when thou hast such a subtle foe to dealwith. Then there is another thing to think of. What will it avail torescue the boy, if his master holds his spirit so in thrall that he canby no means be restrained from rising in the dead of night to return tohim again? There be many things to think of ere we can act. And we musttake counsel of one who knows Basildene, as we do not. I have never seenthe house, and know nothing of its ways. Till these things were recalledto my memory these last days, I had scarce remembered that such a placeexisted. "

"Of whom then shall we take counsel?" asked Gaston, with a touch ofimpatience, for to him action and not counsel was the mainspring oflife. "Of thine uncle, who thou sayest is a friend of this unholy man?"

"Scarce a friend, " answered John, "albeit he has no quarrel with MasterSanghurst; and if thou knewest more of the temper of the times, thouwouldst know that the King's servants must have a care how they in anywise stir up strife amongst those who dwell in the realm. We haveenemies and to spare abroad -- in Scotland, in Flanders, in France. Athome we must all strive to keep the peace. It behoves not one holdingoffice under the crown to embroil himself in private quarrels, or stirup any manner of strife. This is why I counsel you to make no claim onBasildene for the nonce, and why my uncle could give no help in thematter of this boy, kindly as his heart is disposed towards the poor andoppressed. 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 boldlads might despise. I mean Mistress Joan Vavasour herself. "

"What!" cried Gaston in amaze -- "the maiden whom Peter Sanghurst is towed? Sure that were a strange counsellor to choose! Good John, thou mustbe dreaming. "

"Nay, I am no dreamer, " was the smiling answer; and a slight access ofcolour came slowly into John's face. "I have not seen fair Mistress Joanof late; yet unless I be greatly mistaken in her, I am very sure that byno deed of her own will she ever mate with one of the Sanghurst brood. Ihave known her from childhood. Once it was my dream that I might wed hermyself; but such thoughts have long ago passed from my mind never toenter it again. Yet I know her and I love her well, and to me she hasspoken words which tell me that she will never be a passive tool in thehands 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 childof his own, when she is made after the fashion of Mistress Joan. IfPeter Sanghurst has gone a-wooing there, I verily believe that the ladywill by this time have had more than enough of his attentions. It may bethat she would be able to give us good counsel; at least I would verygladly 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 awayto Woodcrych. It is time I paid my respects to fair Mistress Joan, for Ihave not seen her for long. I would that you twain could see her. She isas fair as a lily, yet with all the spirit of her bold sire, as fearlessin the saddle as her brother, as upright as a dart, beautifulexceedingly, 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 fairestornament. But her sire has never the money to spend upon her adornment;and moreover if she appeared there, she would have suitors and to sparewithin a month, and he would be called upon to furnish forth a richdower -- for all men hold him to be a wealthy man, seeing the broadlands he holds in fief. Wherefore I take it he thinks it safer tobetroth her to this scion of the Sanghurst brood, who will be heir toall his father's ill-gotten wealth. But if I know Mistress Joan, as Ithink I do, she will scarce permit herself to be given over like achattel, 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 worsethan death; and a maiden, lovely and brave of spirit, to be saved fromthe clutches of this same Sanghurst faction. What a strange combinationof circumstances seemed woven around the lost inheritance! Might it notbe the very life's work he had longed after, to fulfil his mother'sdying behest and make himself master of Basildene again?

That night his dreams were a strange medley of wizards, beauteousmaidens, and ruinous halls, through which he wandered in search of thevictim whose shrill cries he kept hearing. He rose with the first of thetardy light, to find that Gaston was already off and away upon somehunting expedition planned overnight. Raymond had not felt disposed tojoin 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 cousinshad the house to themselves. They had established themselves beside theglowing hearth within their favourite room containing all the books, when the horn at the gate announced the arrival of some guest, and amessage was brought to John saying that Mistress Joan Vavasour was eventhen 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 beready to meet his guest. 

The next moment the light footfall along the polished boards of theanteroom announced the coming of the lady, and Raymond's eager eyes werefixed upon a face so fair that he gazed and gazed and could not turn hiseyes away. 

Mistress Joan was just his own age -- not yet seventeen -- yet she hadsomething of the grace and dignity of womanhood mingling with the freshsweet frankness of the childhood that had scarcely passed. Her eyes werelarge and dark, flashing, and kindling with every passing gust offeeling; her delicate lips, arched like a Cupid's bow, were capable ofexpressing a vast amount of resolution, though now relaxed into a merrysmile of greeting. She was rather tall and at present very slight, though the outlines of her figure were softly rounded, and strength aswell as grace was betrayed in every swift eager motion. She held John'shands and asked eagerly after his well-being. 

"It was but two days ago I heard that you lay sick at Guildford, and Ihave been longing ever since for tidings. Today my father had businessin 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 thesemany months, for I hear no news at Woodcrych. And who is this fair youthwith thee? Methinks his face is strange to me, though he bears a look ofthe De Brocas, too. "

A quick flush mounted in Raymond's cheek; but John only called him bythe name by which he was known to the world, and Mistress Joan spoke nomore of the fancied likeness. She and John, who were plainly wellacquainted, plunged at once into eager talk; and it was not long beforethe question of Joan's own marriage was brought up, and he plainly askedher 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 ofher dark eyes. She set her teeth, and her face suddenly hardened as ifcarved in flint. Her voice, which had been full of rippling laughterbefore, now fell to a lower pitch, and she spoke with strange force andgravity. 

"John, whatever thou hearest on that score, believe it not. I will diesooner than be wedded to that man. I hate him. I fear him -- yes, I dofear him, I will not deny it -- I fear him for his wickedness, his evilpractices, his diabolic cruelty, of which I hear fearful whispers fromtime to time. He may be rich beyond all that men credit. I doubt not hehas many a dark and hideous method of wringing gold from his wretchedvictims. Basildene holds terrible secrets; and never will I enter thathouse by my own free will. Never will I wed that man, not if I have toplunge this dagger into mine own heart to save myself from him. I knowwhat is purposed. I know that he and his father have some strange powerover my sire and my brother, and that they will do all they can to bendmy will to theirs. But I have two hopes yet before me. One is appeal tothe King, through his gentle and gracious Queen; another is the Convent-- for sooner would I take the veil (little as the life of the reclusecharms 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 wouldnot willingly take my life, and go forth unassoiled and unshriven. No; Iwill try all else first. And in thee, good John, I know I shall find atrusty and a stalwart friend and champion. "

"Trusty in all truth, fair lady, but stalwart I fear John de Brocas willnever be. Rather enlist in thy service yon gallant youth, who hasalready distinguished himself in helping to save the Prince in themoment of peril. I trow he would be glad enough to be thy champion indays to come. He has, moreover, a score of his own to settle one daywith the present Master of Basildene. "

Joan's bright eyes turned quickly upon Raymond, who had flushed withboyish pride and pleasure and shame at hearing himself thus praised. Heeagerly protested that he was from that time forward Mistress Joan'sloyal servant to command; and at the prompting of John, he revealed toher the fact of his own claim on Basildene (without naming his kinshipwith the house of De Brocas), and gave an animated account of the recentvisit to the woodman's hut, and told the story of his cruel wrongs. 

Joan listened with flashing eyes and ever-varying colour. At the closeof the tale she spoke. 

"I have heard of that wretched boy -- the tool and sport of the oldman's evil arts, the victim of the son's diabolic cruelty when he has noother victim to torment. They keep him for days without food at times, because they say that he responds better to their fiendish practiceswhen the body is well-nigh reduced to a shadow. Oh, I hear them talk! Myfather is a dabbler in mystic arts. They are luring him on to think hewill one day learn the secret of the transmutation of metals, whilst Iknow they do but seek to make of him a tool, to subdue his will, and todo 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 arereckoning on their revenge when I shall be a helpless victim in theirpower. Art thou about to try to rescue the boy? That were, in truth, adeed worth doing, though the world will never praise it; though it mightlaugh 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, anda body saved from the torments of a living hell!"

And then John spoke of the thoughts which had of late possessed themboth of that chivalry that was not like to win glory or renown, thatwould not gain the praise of men, but would strive to do in the world awork of love for the oppressed, the helpless, the lowly. And Joan's eyesshone with the light of a great sympathy, as she turned her bright gazefrom one face to the other, till Raymond felt himself falling beneath aspell the like of which he had never known before, and which suddenlygave a new impulse to all his vague yearnings and imaginings, and a zestto 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 thedeed might best be done. 

"I can do this much to aid, " she said. "A day will come ere long whenthe two Sanghursts will come at nightfall to Woodcrych, to try, as theyhave done before, some strange experiments in the laboratory my fatherhas had made for himself. We always know the day that this visit is tobe made, and I can make shift to let you know. They stay far into thenight, and only return to Basildene as the dawn breaks. That would bethe night to strive to find and rescue the boy. He will be almost alonein yon big house, bound hand and foot, I doubt not, or thrown into somestrange trance that shall keep him as fast a prisoner. There be but fewservants that can be found to live there. Mostly they flee away inaffright ere they have passed a week beneath that roof. Those that stayare bound rather by fear than aught beside; and scarce a human beingwill approach that house, even in broadest daylight. There are manydoors and windows, and the walls in places are mouldering away, andwould 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 closedfrom light of day, and in which the evil men practise their foul arts. Ihave heard of a secret way from the level of the water into the cellarsor dungeons of the house; but whether this be true I do not rightlyknow. Yet methinks you could surely find entrance within the house, forso great is the terror in which Basildene is held that Master Sanghurstfreely boasts that he needs neither bolt nor bar. He professes to havedrawn around the house a line which no human foot may cross. He knowswell that no man wishes to try. "

Raymond shivered slightly, but he was not daunted, Yet there was stillthe question to be faced, what should be done with the boy when rescuedto hold him back from the magician's unholy spell. But Joan had ananswer ready for this objection. Her hands folded themselves lightlytogether, 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 ofevil, 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 sinis of the Evil One, and as the good God and His Holy Saints are strongerthan the devil and his angels, it is His help we must invoke when thepowers of darkness strive to work in him again. And we must ask in thisthe help of some holy man of God, one who has fasted and prayed andlearned to discern betwixt good and evil, has fought with the devil andhas overcome. I know one such holy man. He lives far away from here. Itis a small community between Guildford and Salisbury -- I suppose itlies some thirty miles from hence. I could find out something more, perchance, in time to acquaint you farther with the road. If you oncegain possession of the boy, mount without loss of time, and draw notrein till you reach that secluded spot. Ask to be taken in in the nameof 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 holyhands 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 iswithin those hallowed walls. At least if he can find entrance there, hewill not be able to prevail; and when the foul spirit is cast out andvanquished, 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 whenthe 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 arevery strong, too strong to be combated by us unaided by the prayers andthe efforts of holy men. 

"Raymond, it shall be my work to provide for this journey. My uncle willbe 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 manresides, and make at the shrine of the chapel there my offering ofthanksgiving for my recovery from this hurt. We will go together. Wewill take the boy with us; and the boy's father shall be one of ourparty. He shall see that the powers of evil can be vanquished. He shallsee for himself the restoration of his child. "

 CHAPTER X. BASILDENE. 

It was in the bright moonlight of a clear March evening that the twinbrothers of Gascony stood hand in hand, gazing for the first time intheir lives upon their lost inheritance of Basildene. It was not yetwholly dark, for a saffron glow in the sky behind still showed where thesun had lately sunk, whilst the moon was shining with frosty brightnessoverhead. Dark as the surrounding woods had been, it was light enoughhere in the clearing around the house. Behind the crumbling red wallsthe forest grew dark and close, but in the front the larger trees hadbeen cleared away, and the long low house, with its heavy timbers andmany gables, stood clearly revealed before the eager eyes of the boys, who stopped short to gaze without speaking a single word to one another. 

Once, doubtless, it had been a beautiful house, more highly decoratedthan was usual at the period. The heavy beams, dark with age, let intothe brickwork were many of them richly carved, and the twisted chimneysand quaint windows showed traces of considerable ingenuity in thebuilder's art. Plainly, too, there had been a time when the groundaround the house had been cared for and kept trim and garden-like. 

Now it was but a waste and wilderness, everything growing wild andtangled around it; whilst the very edifice itself seemed crumbling todecay, and wore the grim look of a place of evil repute. It was hard tobelieve that any person lived within those walls. It was scarce possibleto approach within the precincts of that lonely house without a shudderof chill horror. 

Gaston crossed himself as he stood looking on the house, which, by whatmen said, was polluted by many foul deeds, and tenanted by evil spiritsto boot; but upon Raymond's face was a different look. His heart wentsuddenly out to the lonely old house. He felt that he could love it wellif it were ever given to him to win it back. As he stood there in themoonlight gazing and gazing, he registered anew in his heart the vowthat the day should come when he would fulfil his mother's dying behest, and stand within those halls as the recognized lord of Basildene. 

But the present moment was one for action, not for vague dreamings. Thebrothers had come with a definite purpose, and they did not intend toquit the spot until that purpose was accomplished. The Sanghursts --father and son -- were far away. The gloomy house -- unless guarded bymalevolent spirits, which did not appear unlikely -- was almosttenantless. Within its walls was the miserable victim of cruel tyrannywhom they had come to release. The boys, who had both confessed andreceived the Blessed Sacrament from the hands of the priest who hadinterested himself before in the woodman's son, felt strong in therighteousness of their cause. If they experienced some fear, as was notunlikely, they would not own it even to themselves. Gaston was filledwith the soldier spirit of the day, that scorned to turn back upondanger however great. Raymond was supported by a deep underlying senseof the sacredness of the cause in which he was embarked. It was notalone that he was going to deal a blow at the foes of his house; it wasmuch more to him than that. Vengeance might play a part in the crusade, but to him it was a secondary idea. What he thought of was the higherchivalry of which he and John had spoken so much together -- the rescueof a soul from the clutches of spiritual tyranny; a blow struck in thedefence of one helpless and oppressed; risk run for the sake of thosewho would never be able to repay; the deed done for its own sake, not inthe hope of any praise or reward. Surely this thing might be the firststep in a career of true knightliness, albeit such humble deeds mightnever win the golden spurs of which men thought so much. 

Gaston's eyes had been scanning the whole place with hawk-like gaze. Nowhe turned to his brother and spoke in rapid whispers. 

"Entrance will be none too easy here. The narrow windows, with theirstone mullions, will scarce admit the passage of a human body, and I cansee that iron bars protect many of them still farther. The doors aredoubtless strong, and heavily bolted. The old sorcerer has no wish to beinterrupted in his nefarious occupations, nor does he trust alone toghostly terrors to protect his house. Methinks we had better skirt roundthe house, and seek that other entrance of which we have heard. Raymond, did not our mother tell us oft a story of a revolving stone door to anunderground passage, and the trick by which it might be opened fromwithin and without? I remember well that it was by a secret springcleverly hidden -- seven from above, three from below, those were thenumbers. Can it be that it was of Basildene she was thinking all thattime? It seems not unlikely. Seven from the top, three from the bottom-- those were certainly the numbers, though I cannot recollect to whatthey referred. Canst thou remember the story, Raymond? Dost thou thinkit was of Basildene she spoke?"

"Ay, verily I do!" cried the other quickly, a light coming into hisface. "Why had I not thought of it before? I remember well she spoke ofdark water which lay upon the outside of the house hard by the entranceto the underground way. Rememberest thou not the boat moored in the laketo carry the fugitive across to the other side, and the oars so muffledthat none might hear? And did not Mistress Joan say that the secret wayinto Basildene was hard by the fish ponds on the west side of the house?It can be nothing else but this. Let us go seek them at once. Methinkswe have in our hands the clue by which we may obtain entrance intoBasildene. "

Cautiously, as though their foes were at hand, the brothers slippedround the crumbling walls of the house, marking well as they did so thatdespite the half-ruinous aspect of much of the building, there was noready or easy method of access. Every gap in the masonry was carefullyfilled up, every window that was wide enough to admit the passage of ahuman form was guarded by iron bars, and the doors were solid enough todefy for a long time the assault of battering rams. 

"It is not in ghostly terrors he mainly trusts to guard his house, "whispered Raymond, as they skirted round into the dim darkness of thedense woodland that lay behind the house. "Methinks if he had in verytruth a guard of evil spirits, he would not be so careful of his boltsand bars. "

Gaston was willing enough to believe this; for though he feared no humanfoe, he was by no means free from the superstitious terrors of the age, and it needed all his coolness of head, as well as all his confidence inthe righteousness of his cause, to keep his heart from fluttering withfear as they stepped along beneath the gloom of the trees, which evenwhen not in leaf cast dense shadows around them. It was in truth a weirdspot: owls hooted dismally about them, bats flitted here and there intheir erratic flight, and sometimes almost brushed the faces of the boyswith their clammy wings. The strange noises always to be heard in a woodat night assailed their ears, and mingled with the quick beating oftheir own hearts; whilst from time to time a long unearthly wail, whichseemed to proceed from the interior of the house itself, filled themwith an unreasoning sense of terror that they would not confess even tothemselves. 

"It is like the wail of a lost spirit, " whispered Raymond at the thirdrepetition of the cry. "Brother, let us say a prayer, and go forward inthe power of the Blessed Virgin and her Holy Son. "

For a moment the brothers knelt in prayer, as the priest had bidden themif heart or spirit quailed. 

Then rising, strengthened and supported, they looked carefully aboutthem, and Gaston, grasping his brother by the arm, pointed through thetrees and said:

"The water, the water! sure I see a gleam of moonlight upon it! We havereached the fish ponds, I verily believe! Now for the secret way to thehouse!"

It was true enough. A few steps brought them to the margin of a largepiece of water, which was something between a lake and a series of fishponds, such as are so often seen by old houses. Once the lake hadplainly been larger, but had partially drained away, and was nowconfined to various levels by means of a rude dam and a sort of gatelike that of a modern lock. Still the boys could trace a likeness to thelake of their mother's oft-told tale, and by instinct they both turnedto the right as they reached the margin of the water, and threaded theirway through the coarse and tangled sedges, decaying in the winter'scold, till they reached a spot where brushwood grew down to the veryedge of the water, and the bank rose steep and high above their heads. 

Gaston was a step in advance, Raymond following at his heels, bothkeenly eager over the quest. An exclamation from the leader soon showedthat something had been discovered, and the next minute he had drawnaside the sweeping branches of a great willow, and revealed a darkopening in the bank, around which the giant roots seemed to form aprotecting arch. 

"This is the place, " he said, in a muffled whisper. "Raymond, hast thouthe wherewithal to kindle the torch?"

The boys had not come unprovided with such things as were likely toprove needful for their search, and though it was a matter of some timeto obtain a light, they were skilful and well used to the process, andsoon their torch was kindled and they were treading with cautious stepsthe intricacies of the long and tortuous passage which plainly ledstraight to the house. 

"We never should have found it but for our mother's story, " said Gaston, with exultation in his voice. "Raymond, methinks that this is the firststep in our career of vengeance. We have the key to Basildene in ourhands. It may be that upon another occasion we may use it with adifferent purpose. "

It seemed to the brothers that they had walked a great distance, whentheir steps were arrested by what appeared in the first instance to be asolid wall of stone. Had they not had some sort of clue in their heads, they would certainly have believed that this natural tunnel ended here, and that further progress was impossible. But as it was, they werefirmly convinced that this was but the door of masonry of which theirmother had told them in years gone by. Neither could recollect the storysave in fragments; but the numbers had clung to Gaston's tenaciousmemory, and now he stood before the door saying again and again --"Seven from the top, three from the bottom" -- scanning the wall infront of him with the keenest glances all the while. 

"Ha!" he exclaimed at length; "bring the torch nearer, Raymond. Seehere. This is not one block of stone, as seems at first, but a mass ofmasonry so cunningly joined together as to look like one solid piece. See, here are the joints; I can feel them with my fingernail, though Ican scarce see them with my eyes. Let us count the number of the stonesused. Yes; there are nine in all from top to bottom, each of the samewidth. Therefore the seventh from the top is the third counting from thebottom. This is the stone which is the key. "

So saying, Gaston set his knee against it and pressed with all hismight. Almost to his own surprise he felt it give as he did so, andRaymond uttered a short cry of astonishment: for the whole of what hadlooked like a solid wall revolved slowly inwards, revealing acontinuation of the passage which they had been traversing so long, onlythat now the passage was plainly one in the interior of the house; forthe walls were of masonry, and the dimensions were far more regular. 

"This is the secret door, " said Gaston exultingly. "It is in truth acunning contrivance. Let me have the light here a moment, Brother. Iwill see what the trick of the door upon this side is. "

This point was quickly settled by an inspection of the ingeniouscontrivance, which was one purely of balance, and not dependent eitherupon springs or bolts. Probably it dated back from days when theselatter things were hardly known, and was so satisfactory in the workingthat it had never been improved upon. 

"The way to Basildene is always open to us, " murmured Raymond, with aquick thrill of exultation, as the brothers passed through the doorwayand let it close behind them; and then they forgot all else in theexcitement of the search after the woodman's miserable son. 

What strange places they came upon in this underground region below theill-famed house! Plainly these cells had been built once for prisoners;for there were fragments of rusty chains still fastened to the stonefloors, and in one spot a grinning skull lying broken in a corner sentthrills of horror through the brothers' hearts. From time to time thesound of that unearthly wailing reached their ears, though it was almostimpossible to divine from what direction it proceeded; and it had a farless human sound now that the boys were within the precincts of thehouse than had been the case when they were still outside. 

Whether this was more alarming or less they hardly knew. Everything wasso strange and dreamlike that they could not tell whether or not allwere real. They pressed on eager to accomplish the object of theirsearch, resolved to do that at all cost, and anxious to keep themselvesfrom thinking or feeling too much until that object should be accomplished. 

They had mounted some stairs, and had reached a different level from theunderground passages, when they found their further progress barred by astrong door. This door was bolted, but from the outside, and they had nodifficulty in withdrawing the heavy bolts from their sockets. When thishad been done the door opened of itself, and they found themselves in alarge vaulted room utterly unlike any place they had ever seen before. They grasped each other by the hand and gazed about in wonder. 

"It is the magician's laboratory!" whispered Raymond, whose recentreadings with John had taught him many things. 

He recognized the many crucibles and the strange implements lying on thetable as the things employed by dabblers in magic lore, whilst the greatsullen wood and charcoal fire, which illumined the place with a dull redglow, was all in keeping with the nature of the occupations carried onthere, as was the strange pungent smell that filled the air. 

Rows of jars and bottles upon shelves, strange-looking mirrors andcrystals, some fixed and some lying upon the tables, books andparchments full of cabalistic signs propped open beside the crucibles orhung against the wall, all gave evidence of the nature of the pursuitscarried on in that unhallowed spot. The brothers, burning with curiosityas well as filled with awe, approached the tables and looked into themany vessels lying upon them, shuddering as the crimson contents madethem think of blood. 

Gaston put forth his hand cautiously and touched an ebony rod tippedwith crystal that lay beside the largest crucible. As he did so a heavygroan seemed to arise from the very ground at his feet, and he droppedthe implement with a smothered exclamation of terror. Raymond at thesame moment looking hastily round the dim place, grasped his brother'sarm, and pointed to a dark corner not many paces from them. 

"Brother, see there! see there!" he whispered. "Sure there is the boy wehave come to save!"

Gaston looked and made a quick step forward. Sure enough, there upon thefloor, bound hand and foot with leather thongs that had been pulledcruelly tight, lay the emaciated figure of what had once been a handsomeand healthy boy, but was now little more than a living skeleton. Hisface still retained its beauty of outline, though these outlines wereterribly pinched and sharpened, but the expression of abject terror inthe great blue eyes was pitiful to behold, and as Gaston and Raymondbent over the boy, a shrill cry, as of agony or terror, broke from hispale lips. 

"Who are you?" he gasped. "How have you come? Oh, do not touch me -- donot hurt me! Go -- go quickly from this evil place, or perchance thosedevils will return and capture you as they have captured me, that theymay torture you to death as they are torturing me. Oh, how did you come?I know the doors are locked and bolted. Are you devils in human guise, or hapless prisoners like myself? Oh, if you are still free, go -- goere they can return! They know that they cannot keep me much longer;they are thirsting for another victim. Let them not return to find youhere; and plunge your own dagger into your heart sooner than be made aslave as I have been!"

These words were not all spoken at once, but were gasped out bit by bitwhilst the twin brothers, with wrath and fury in their hearts, cut thetough thongs that bound the wrists and ankles of the boy, and raised hishead as they poured down his throat the strong cordial that had beengiven to them by John, and which was a marvellous restorer of exhaustednature. 

They had food, too, in a wallet, and they made the boy eat before theytold him aught of their mission; and after the first gasping words ofwarning and wonder, it seemed as though he obeyed their behestsmechanically, most likely taking it all for part and parcel of somestrange vision. 

But as the sorely-needed nourishment and the powerful restorative didits work upon the boy, he began to understand that this was no vision, and that something utterly inexplicable had befallen him, whether forweal or woe his confused senses would not tell him. He heard as in adream the hurried explanations of the boys, drawing his brows togetherin the effort to understand. But when they spoke of flight he shook hishead, and pointed to the door leading into the house. 

"No man may pass out of that, " he said, in low despairing tones. "Howyou came in I cannot even guess. It is guarded by a fierce hound, whowill tear in pieces any who approaches save his master. There is no wayof escape for me. If you are blessed spirits from the world above, flyhence the way you came. For me, I must ever remain the slave of him who, if not the devil himself, is his sworn servant. "

"We will go, and that quickly, " answered Raymond; "but thou shalt gowith us. We are no spirits, but let us be such to thee for the nonce. Fear nothing; only trust us and obey us. If thou wilt do both thesethings, thou shalt this very night escape for ever from the tyranny ofhim whom thou hast served so long in such cruel bondage. "

The boy looked at the face bending over him, instinct with courage and adeep sympathy and brotherly love, and a strange calm and security seemedto fall upon him. He rose to his feet, though with some difficulty, andlaid his hand in Raymond's. 

"I will go with thee to the world's end. Be my master, and break thehated yoke of that monster of wickedness, and I will serve thee forever. Thou art a ministering spirit sent from Heaven. I verily believethat thou canst free me from this slavery. "

"Kneel then and lift thy heart in prayer to the Great God of Heaven andearth, " answered Raymond, a strange sense of power and responsibilityfalling upon him at this moment, together with a clearer, purerperception of divine things than had ever been vouchsafed him before --"ay, here in this very place, polluted though it may be; for God'spresence is everywhere, and it may be He will give thee, even in thisfearful chamber of abominations, that release of soul which is the rightof each of His human creatures. Kneel, and lift thy heart in prayer. Itoo will pray with thee and for thee. He will hear us, for He loves us. Be not afraid; pray with boldness, pray with love in thine heart. Godalone can loose the bands of the thraldom which binds thee; and He wiltdo it if thou canst trust in Him. "

First making the sign of the cross over the kneeling boy, and thenkneeling by his side, Raymond directed his crushed spirit to rise in anact of devotion and supplication; and the child, believing that mostassuredly a divine messenger had come to deliver him from the hand ofhis persecutor, was able to utter his prayer in a spirit of trust andhope that brought its own immediate answer in a strange calm and confidence. 

"Come, " said Gaston cautiously; "we must not longer delay. We have along night's ride before us, and John will be wondering what detains usthis long while. "

Together they supported the feeble steps of the boy, who was passive andquiet in their hands. He was scarce amazed by the opening of themysterious inner door within a vaulted arch, through which he saw fromtime to time his captors disappear, but which was ever firmly bolted andbarred upon the outer side. He did not even hang back through dread ofwhat might befall him if he were again recalled, as on a formeroccasion, by the diabolic arts of his master. He was so firmly persuadedof the supernatural character of these visitors, that he had faith andstrength to let them do with him what they would without comment, question, or remonstrance. 

When they reached the outer air, after having successfully passed thesecret door again, he gave one great gasp of surprise and reeled as ifalmost intoxicated by the sweet freshness of the spring night; but thestrong arms of his protectors supported him, and hurrying along throughthe woodland tracks already traversed earlier in the evening, theyquickly approached the appointed place just on the outskirts of theBasildene lands, where John, attended by three trusty serving men, together with the old woodman, were impatiently awaiting the return ofthe twins. 

"We have him safe!" cried Gaston, as he bounded on a few paces inadvance; and as the words were spoken there broke from the lips of theold woodman a strange inarticulate cry. 

He sprang forward with a swiftness and agility that seemed impossible inone so bent and bowed, and the next minute he had clasped his son in hisarms, and was weeping those terrible tears of manhood over the emaciatedform clasped to his breast. 

Leaving the father and son for a few moments together, the brothers inrapid words told their tale to John, who heard it with greatsatisfaction. But time was passing, and there was no longer any need fordelay. The journey before them was somewhat rough and tedious, and allwere anxious to put many miles of forest road between themselves andBasildene ere the dawn should break. 

John did not greatly fear pursuit. He did not believe that the old man'soccult powers would enable him to track the fugitive; but he was notcertain of this, and the rest were all of opinion that he both could andwould follow, and that remorselessly, the moment he discovered the lossof his captive. 

Certainly it could do no harm to put all possible distance betwixt theboy and his master, and the party got to horse with the smallestpossible delay. Once let the boy be placed within the precincts of theSanctuary for which he was bound, in the keeping of the holy man of Godwhose power was known to be so great, and none feared for the result. But if the boy should be seized upon the road with one of his fits offrenzy, no one could tell what the result might be, and so there was nodissentient voice raised when a quick start and a rapid pace wassuggested by Gaston. 

The woodman took his boy in front of him upon the strong animal hebestrode. Roger was plainly unfit to sit a horse unsupported by a strongarm, and as they rode through the chill night air a dull lethargy seemedto fall upon him, and he slept in an uneasy, troubled fashion. Everymoment his father feared to hear him answer an unheard call, feared tofeel him struggle wildly in his encircling arm; but neither of thesethings happened. Mile after mile was traversed; the moonlight enabledthe party to push rapidly onward. Mile after mile slipped away; and justas the first dim rays of dawn appeared in the eastern sky, John, who washimself by this time looking white and jaded, pointed eagerly towards aspire rising up against the saffron of the sky to the south. 

"That is the spire of St. Michael's church, " he cried. "The abode of theholy men of whom Father Paul is one is nigh at hand. Ride on, goodGaston, and bid the holy man come forth in the name of the love of theBlessed Saviour. If we may once put the child in his keeping, the powersof hell will not prevail to snatch him thence. "

Gaston, who was the freshest of the little band, eagerly pressed onwardwith his message. His tired horse, seeing signs of habitation, prickedup his ears, and broke into an eager gallop. The youth quicklydisappeared from the eyes of his companions along the road; but whenthey reached the monastery gate they saw that his errand had beenaccomplished. A tall monk, holding in his hand a crucifix, advanced tomeet them, with a word of blessing which bared all heads; and advancingto the side of the woodman's horse, he took the apparently inanimateform of the boy in his arms, and looking into the wan face, said:

"Peace be with thee, my son. Into the care of Holy Church I receivethee. Let him who can prevail against the Church of God pluck thee fromthat keeping!"

 CHAPTER XI. A QUIET RETREAT. 

Little did Raymond de Brocas think, as he stepped across the thresholdof that quiet monastic home, that the two next years of his own lifewere to be spent beneath that friendly and hospitable roof. And yet soit was, and to the training and teaching he received during hisresidence there he attributed much of the strength of mind and force ofcharacter that distinguished him in days to come. 

The small community to which they had brought the persecuted victim ofthe sorcerer's evil practices belonged to the order of the Cistercians, who have been described as the Quakers of their day. At a time when manyof the older orders of monks were falling from their first rigidsimplicity -- falling into those habits of extravagance which in days tocome caused their fall and ultimate suppression -- the Cistercians stillheld to their early regime of austere simplicity and plainness of life;and though no longer absolutely secluding themselves from the sight orsound of their fellow men, or living in complete solitude, they werestill men of austere life and self-denying habits, and retained thereputation for sanctity of life that was being lost in other orders, though men had hardly begun to recognize this fact as yet. 

From the first moment that Raymond's eyes fell upon the wonderful faceof Father Paul, his heart was touched by one of those strangeattractions for which it is difficult to account, yet which often form aturning point in the history of a human life. It was not the venerableappearance of the holy man alone; it was an indescribable something thatdefied analysis, yet drew out all that was best and highest in thespirit of the youth. But after the first glance at the monk, as he cameforward and received the inanimate form of the woodman's son in hisstrong arms, Raymond's attention was differently occupied; for onlooking round at his companions, he saw that John's face was as white asdeath, and that he swayed in his saddle as though he would fall. 

It then occurred to the boy for the first time that this long and tiringnight's ride was an undertaking for which John was little fit. He hadbut recently recovered from a bout of sickness that had left him weakand fit for little fatigue, and yet the whole night through he had beenriding hard, and had only yielded to exhaustion when the object forwhich the journey had been taken had been accomplished. 

The kindly monks came out and bore him into their house, and presentlyhe and the woodman's son lay side by side in the room especially setapart for the sick, watched over by Father Paul, and assiduously tendedby Raymond, to whom John was by this time greatly attached. 

As for Gaston, after a rest extending over two nights and days, he wasdespatched to Windsor with the escort who had accompanied them on theirride hither, to tell John's father what had befallen the travellers, andhow, John's wound having broken out afresh, he purposed to remain forsome time the guest of the holy Fathers. 

Thus, for the first time in their lives, were the brothers separated;for though Gaston had no thought but of speedy return when he set out onhis journey, they saw him no more in that quiet cloistered home, and fortwo long years the brothers did not meet again. Truth to tell, the quietof a religious retreat had no charm for Gaston, as it had for hisbrother, and the stirring doings in the great world held him altogetherin thrall. The King of England was even then engaged in activepreparations for the war with France that did not commence in realearnest till two years later. But all men believed that the invasion ofthe enemy's land was very near. Proclamations of the most warlike naturewere being issued alike by King and Parliament. Edward was again puttingforward his inconsistent and illogical claim to the crown of France. Men's hearts were aflame for the glory and the stress of war, and Gastonfound himself drawn into the vortex, and could only send an urgentmessage to his brother, bidding him quickly come to him at Windsor. Hehad been taken amongst the number of the Prince's attendants. He longedfor Raymond to come and share his good fortune. 

But Raymond, when that message reached him, had other things to think ofthan the clash of arms and the struggle with a foreign foe; and he couldonly send back a message to his brother that for the time at least theirpaths in life must lie in different worlds. Doubtless the day would comewhen they should meet again; but for the present his own work lay herein this quiet place, and Gaston must win his spurs without his brotherbeside him. So Gaston threw himself into the new life with all the zestof his ardent nature, following sometimes the Prince and sometimes theKing, according as it was demanded of him, making one of those whofollowed Edward into Flanders the following year, only to be thwarted oftheir object through the most unexpected tragedy of the murder of VanArtevelde. 

Of wars, adventures, and battles we shall have enough in the pages tofollow; so without farther concerning ourselves with the fortunes ofGaston through these two years of excitement and preparation, we willrather remain with Raymond, and describe in brief the events whichfollowed upon his admission within the walls of the Cistercian monks' home. 

Of those first weeks within its walls Raymond always retained a vividremembrance, and they left upon him a mark that was never afterwardseffaced. He became aware of a new power stirring within him which he hadnever hitherto dreamed of possessing. 

As has before been said, Roger the woodman's son was carried into thebare but spotlessly clean room upon the upper floor of the buildingwhich was used for any of the sick of the community, and John was laidin another of the narrow pallet beds, of which there were four in thatplace. All this while Roger lay as if dead, in a trance that might beone simply of exhaustion, or might be that strange sleep into which theold sorcerer had for years been accustomed to throw him at will. Leavinghim thus passive and apparently lifeless (save that the heart's actionwas distinctly perceptible), Father Paul busied himself over poor John, who was found to be in pitiable plight; for his wound had opened withthe exertion of the long ride, and he had lost much blood before any oneknew the state he was in. For some short time his case was somewhatcritical, as the bleeding proved obstinate, and was checked withdifficulty; and but for Father Paul's accurate knowledge of surgery(accurate for the times he lived in, at any rate), he would likelyenough have bled to death even as he lay. 

Then whilst the kindly monks were bending over him, and Father Paul'sentire time and attention were given up to the case before him, so thathe dared not leave John's bedside for an instant, Roger suddenly uttereda wild cry and sprang up in his bed, his lips parted, his eyes wide openand fixed in a dreadful stare. 

"I come! I come!" he cried, in a strange, muffled voice; and with arapidity and energy of which no one would have believed him capable whohad seen him lifted from the horse an hour before, he rose and strove topush aside his father's detaining hand. 

The old man uttered a bitter cry, and flung his arms about the boy. 

"It has come! it has come! I knew it would. There is no hope, none! Heis theirs, body and soul. He will go back to them, and they will --"

The words were drowned in a wild cry, as the boy struggled so fiercelythat it was plain even the old man's frenzied strength would not sufficeto detain him long. Father Paul and the monk who was assisting him withJohn could not move without allowing the bleeding to recommence. ButRaymond was standing by disengaged, and the keen eyes of the Fatherfixed themselves upon his face. He had heard a brief sketch of therescue of Roger as the boy had been undressed and laid in the bed, andnow he said, in accents of quiet command, "Take the crucifix that hangs at my girdle, and lay it upon his brow. Bid him lie down once again -- adjure him in the name of the Holy Jesus. It is not earthly force that will prevail here. We may save him but bythe Name that is above every name. Go!"

Again over Raymond's senses there stole that sense of mystic unreality, or to speak more truly, the sense of the reality of the unseen over theseen things about and around us that men call mysticism, but which maybe something widely different; and with it came that quickening of thefaculties that he had experienced before as he had knelt in thesorcerer's unhallowed hall, the same sense of fearlessness and power. Hetook the crucifix without a word, and went straight to the frenzied boy, struggling wildly against the detaining clasp of his father's arms. 

"Let him go, " he said briefly; and there was that in the tone thatcaused the astonished old man to loose his hold, and stand gazing in aweand amaze at the youthful face, kindling with its strange look ofresolve and authoritative power. 

It seemed as though the possessed boy felt the power himself; for thoughhis open eyes took in no answering impression from the scenes aroundhim, his arms fell suddenly to his side. The struggles ceased, he madeno attempt to move; whilst Raymond laid the crucifix against his brow, and said in a low voice:

"In the Name of the Holy Son of God, in the Name of the Blessed Jesus, Iforbid you to go. Awake from that unhallowed sleep! Call upon the Nameof all names. He will hear you -- He will save you. "

His eyes were fixed upon the trembling boy; his face was shining withthe light of his own implicit faith; his strong will braced itself tothe fulfilment of the task set him to do. Confident that what the Fatherbid him accomplish, that he could and must fulfil, Raymond did indeedresemble some pictured saint on painted window, engaged in conflict withthe Evil One; and when with a sudden start and cry the boy woke suddenlyto the sense of passing things, perhaps it was small wonder that he sankat Raymond's feet, clasping him round the knees and sobbing wildly hisbroken and incoherent words:

"O blessed Saint George -- blessed and glorious victor! thou hast cometo me a second time to strengthen and to save. Ah, leave me not! To theeI give myself; help, O help me to escape out of this snare, which ismore cruel than that of death itself! I will serve thee ever, blessedsaint. I will be thine in life and death! Only fight my battle with thedevil and his host, and take me for thine own for ever and ever. "

Raymond kindly lifted him up, and laid him upon the bed again. 

"I am no saint, " he said, a little shamefacedly; "I am but a youth likethyself. Thou must not pray to me. But I will help thee all I may, andperchance some day, when this yoke be broken from off thy neck, we willride forth into the world together, and do some service there for thosewho are yet oppressed and in darkness. "

"I will follow thee to the world's end, be thou who thou mayest!"exclaimed the boy ecstatically, clasping his thin hands together, whilsta look of infinite peace came into his weary eyes. "If thou wouldestwatch beside my bed, then might I sleep in peace. He will not dare tocome nigh me; his messengers must stand afar off, fearing to approachwhen they see by whom I am guarded. "

It was plainly useless to try to disabuse Roger of the impression thathis visitor was other than a supernatural one, and Raymond saw that withthe boy's mind so enfeebled and unhinged he had better let him thinkwhat he would. He simply held the crucifix over him once again, andsaid, with a calm authority that surprised even himself:

"Trust not in me, nor in any Saint however holy. In the Name of theBlessed Jesus alone put thy faith. Speak the prayer His lips havetaught, and then sleep, and fear nothing. "

With hands locked together, and a wonderful look of rest upon his face, Roger repeated after Raymond the long-unused Paternoster which he hadnever dared to speak beneath the unhallowed roof of his master atBasildene. With the old sense of restful confidence in prayer came atonce the old untroubled sleep of the little child; and when Raymond atlast looked up from his own devotions at the bedside, it was to see thatRoger had fallen into the tranquil slumber that is the truest restorerof health, and that Father Paul was standing on the opposite side of thebed, regarding him with a very gentle yet a very penetrating andauthoritative gaze. He bent his head once more as if to demand ablessing, and the Father laid a hand upon his head, and said, in grave, full tones:

"Peace be with thee, my son. "

That was all. There was no comment upon what had passed; and afterpartaking of a simple meal, Raymond was advised to retire to resthimself after his long night's ride, and glad enough was he of the sleepthat speedily came to him. 

All the next day he was occupied with Gaston, who had many charges toundertake for John; and only when his brother had gone was he free totake up his place at John's bedside, and be once again his nurse, companion, and fellow student. 

Roger still occupied the bed in the same room where he had first beenlaid. A low fever of a nature little understood had fastened upon him, and he still fell frequently into those strange unnatural trances whichwere looked upon by the brothers of the order as due to purely satanicagency. What Father Paul thought about them none ever knew, and nonedared to ask. 

Father Paul was a man who had lived in the world till past the meridianof life. He was reported to have travelled much, to have seen many landsand many things, and to have been in his youth a reckless and evilliver. Some even believed him to have committed some great crime; butnone rightly knew his history, and his present sanctity and power andholiness were never doubted. A single look into that stern, worn, powerful face, with the coal-black eyes gleaming in their deep sockets, was enough to convince the onlooker that the man was intensely, eventerribly in earnest. His was the leading spirit in that small andaustere community, and he began at once to exercise a strong influenceupon each of the three youths so unexpectedly thrown across his path. 

This influence was the greatest at first over Raymond, in whom heappeared to take an almost paternal interest; and the strange warfarethat they waged together over the mental malady of the unhappy Rogerdrew them still closer together. 

Certainly for many long weeks it seemed as though the boy were labouringunder some demoniacal possession, and Raymond fully believed that suchwas indeed the case. Often it seemed as though no power could restrainhim from at least the attempt to return to the tyrant whom he believedto be summoning him back. Possibly much of the strange malady from whichhe was suffering might be due to physical causes -- overstrained nerves, and even an unconscious and morbid craving after that very hypnoticcondition (as it would now be termed) which had really reduced him tohis present pitiable state; but to Raymond it appeared to proceedentirely from some spiritual possession, and in helping the unhappy boyto resist and conquer the voice of the tempter, his own faith andstrength of spirit were marvellously strengthened; whilst Rogercontinued to regard him in the light of a guardian angel, and followedhim about like a veritable shadow. 

Father Paul watched the two youths with a keen and observant interest. It was by his command that Raymond was always summoned or roused fromsleep whenever the access of nervous terror fell upon Roger and hestrove to obey the summoning voice. He would watch with quiet intensitythe struggle between the wills of the two lads, and mark, with a faintsmile upon his thin lips, the triumph invariably attained by Raymond, and his growing and increasing faith in the power of the Name he invokedin his aid. Seldom indeed had he himself to come to the aid of the boy. He never did so unless Roger's paroxysm lasted long enough to tryRaymond's strength to the verge of exhaustion, and this was very seldom. 

The calm smile in the Father's eyes, and his quiet words ofcommendation, "Well done, my son!" were reward sufficient for Raymondeven when his strength had been most severely tasked; and as little bylittle he and his charge came to know the monk better, and to receivefrom him from time to time words of teaching, admonition, orencouragement, they found themselves growing more and more dominated byhis strong will and personality, more eager day by day to please him, more anxious to win the rare smile that occasionally flashed across theaustere face and illuminated it like a gleam of sunshine. 

John felt almost the same sense of fascination as Raymond, and was by nomeans impatient of the tardy convalescence that kept him so long aprisoner beneath the walls of the small religious house. He would indeedhave fain tarried longer yet, but that his father sent a retinue ofservants at length to bring him home again. 

But Raymond did not go with him. His work for Roger was not yet done, and warmly attached as he was to John, his heart was still more centredupon Father Paul. Besides, no mention was made of him in the letter thataccompanied the summons home. His brother was he knew not where, and hisduty lay with Roger, who looked to him as to a saviour and protector. 

There was no thought of Roger's leaving the retreat he had found in hishour of need. He scarce dared put foot outside the quiet cloisteredquadrangle behind whose gates and walls he alone felt safe. Besides, hisfather lay slowly dying in the hospital hard by. It seemed as though thevery joy of having his son restored to him had been too much for hisenfeebled frame after the long strain of grief that had gone before. Theprocess of decay might be slow, but it was sure, and all knew that theold man would ere long die. He had no desire for life, if only his boywere safe; and to Raymond he presented a pathetic petition that he wouldguard and cherish him, and save him from that terrible possession whichhad well-nigh been his ruin body and soul. 

To Raymond it seemed indeed as if this soul had been given him, and hepassed his word with a solemnity that brought great comfort to the dyingman. 

An incident which had occurred shortly before had added to Raymond'ssense of responsibility with regard to Roger, and had shown him likewisethat a new peril menaced his own path in life, though of personal dangerthe courageous boy thought little. 

One day, some six weeks after his admission to the Monastery, andshortly before John's departure thence, Roger had been strangely uneasyand depressed for many hours. It was no return of the trance-like statein which he was not master of his own words and actions. Those attackshad almost ceased, and he had been rapidly gaining in strength inconsequence. This depression and restless uneasiness was something newand strange. Raymond did not know what it might forebode, but he triedto dissipate it by cheerful talk, and Roger did his best to fightagainst it, though without much success. 

"Some evil presence is near!" he exclaimed suddenly; "I know it -- Ifeel it! I ever felt this sick shuddering when those wicked menapproached me. Methinks that one of them must even now be nigh at hand. Can they take me hence? Do I indeed belong to them? O save me -- helpme! Give me not up to their power!"

His agitation became so violent, that it was a relief to Raymond thatFather Paul at this moment appeared; and as this phase in Roger's statewas something new, and did not partake of the nature of any spiritualpossession, he dismissed Raymond with a smile, bidding him go out forone of the brief wanderings in the woods that were at once pleasant andnecessary for him, whilst he himself remained beside Roger, soothing hisnameless terrors and assuring him that no power in the land, not eventhat of the King himself, would be strong enough to force from thekeeping of the Church any person who had sought Sanctuary beneath hershadow. 

Meantime Raymond went forth, as he was wont to do, into the beech woodthat lay behind the home of the monks. It was a very beautiful place atall times; never more so than when the first tender green of comingsummer was clothing the giant trees, and the primroses and wood sorrelwere carpeting the ground, which was yet brown with the fallen leaves ofthe past autumn. The slanting sunbeams were quivering through thegnarled tree trunks, and the birds were singing rapturously overhead, asRaymond bent his steps along the trodden path which led to the nearestvillage; but he suddenly stopped short with a start of surprise onencountering the intent gaze of a pair of fierce black eyes, and findinghimself face to face with a stranger he had never seen in his life before. 

Never seen? No; and yet he knew the man perfectly, and felt that hechanged colour as he stood gazing upon the handsome malevolent face thatwas singularly repulsive despite its regular features and bold beauty. In a moment he recollected where he had seen those very lineamentsportrayed with vivid accuracy, even to the sinister smile and the gleamin the coal-black eyes. 

Roger possessed a gift of face drawing that would in these days make thefortune of any portrait painter. He had many times drawn with a piece ofrough charcoal pictures of the monks as he saw them in the refectory, the refined and hollow face of John, and the keen and powerfulcountenance of Father Paul. So had he also portrayed for Raymond thefeatures of the two Sanghursts, father and son. The youth knew perfectlythe faces of both; and as he stopped short, gazing at this stranger withwide-open eyes, he knew in a moment that Roger's malevolent foe was nighat hand, and that the sensitive and morbidly acute faculties of the boyhad warned him of the fact, when he could by no possibility have knownit by any other means. 

Sanghurst stood looking intently at this bright-faced boy, a smile onhis lips, a frown in his eyes. 

"Methinks thou comest from the Monastery hard by?" he questionedsmoothly. "Canst tell me if there be shelter there for a weary travellerthis night?"

"For a poor and weary traveller perchance there might be, " answered theboy, with a gleam in his eye not lost upon his interlocutor; "but it isno house of entertainment for the rich and prosperous. Those are sentonwards to the Benedictine Brothers, some two miles south from this. Father Paul opens not his gates save to the sick, the sorrowful, theneedy. Shall I put you in the way of the other house, Sir? Methinks itwould suit you better than any place which calls Father Paul its head. "

The gaze bent upon the boy was searching and distinctly hostile. As thedialogue proceeded, the look of malevolence gradually deepened upon theface of the stranger, till it might have made a timid heart quail. 

"How then came John de Brocas to tarry there so long? For aught I knowhe may be there yet. By what right is he a guest beneath this sohospitable roof?"

"He was sick nigh to the death when he craved admittance, " answeredRaymond briefly. "He --"

"He had aided and abetted the flight from his true masters of a servantboy bound over to them lawfully and fast. If he thinks to deceive PeterSanghurst or if you do either, boy that you are, though with thehardihood of a man and the recklessness of a fool -- you little knowwith whom you have to deal. It was you -- you who broke into our house-- I know not how, but some day I shall know -- and stole away with oneyou fondly hope to hold against my power. Boy, I warn you fairly: noneever makes of Peter Sanghurst an enemy but he bitterly, bitterly ruesthe day. I give you one chance of averting the doom which else will fallupon you. Give back the boy. Lure him out hither some day when I amwaiting to seize him. Place him once again in my hands, and your rashact shall be forgiven. You have the power to do this. Be advised, andaccept my terms. The Sanghursts never forgive. Refuse, and the day willcome when you will so long to have done my bidding now, that you wouldeven sell your soul to undo the deed which has brought my enmity uponyou. Now choose. Will you deliver up the boy, or --"

"Never!" answered Raymond, with flashing eyes, not even waiting to hearthe alternative. "I fear you not. I know you, and I defy you. I willthis moment to Father Paul, to warn him of your approach. The gates willbe closed, and you will be denied all entrance. You may strive as youwill, but your victim has taken Sanctuary, and not all the powers of theworld or the devil you serve can prevail against the walls of that havenof refuge. Go back whence you came, or stay and do your worst. We fearyou not. The Holy Saints and the Blessed Jesus are our protectors anddefenders. You have tried in vain your foul spells. You have seen whattheir power is against that which is from above. Go, and repent yourevil ways ere it be too late. You threaten me with your vengeance; haveyou ever thought of that vengeance of God which awaits those who defyHis laws and invoke the powers of darkness? My trust is in Him;wherefore I fear you not. Do then your worst. Magnify yourself as youwill. Your fate will be like that of the blaspheming giant of Gath whodefied the power of the living God and fell before the sling and thestone of the shepherd boy. "

And without waiting to hear the answer which was hurled at him with allthe fury of an execration, Raymond turned and sped back to theMonastery, not in any physical fear of the present vengeance of his foe, but anxious to warn the keeper of the gate of the close proximity of onewho was so deadly a foe to Father Paul's protege. 

Not a word of this adventure ever reached Roger's ears, and indeedRaymond thought little of it after the next few weeks had passed withoutfarther molestation from the foe. The old woodman died. Roger, thoughsincerely mourning his father, was too happy in returning health andstrength to be over-much cast down. His mind and body were alike growingstronger. He was never permitted to speak of the past, nor of theabominations of his prison house. Father Paul had from the first biddenthe boy to forget, or at least to strive to forget, all that had passedthere, and never let his thoughts or his words dwell upon it. Raymond, despite an occasional access of boyish curiosity, ever kept this warningin mind, and never sought to discover what Roger had done or hadsuffered beneath the roof of Basildene. And so soon as the boy hadrecovered some measure of health, both he and Raymond were regularlyinstructed by Father Paul in such branches of learning as were likely tobe of most service to them in days to come. 

Whether or not he hoped that they would embrace the religious life theynever knew. He never dropped a hint as to his desires on that point, andthey never asked him. They were happy in their quiet home. All thebrothers were kind to them, and the Father was an object of lovingveneration which bordered on adoration. 

Two years slipped thus away so fast that it seemed scarce possible tobelieve how time had fled by. Save that they had grown much both in bodyand mind, the boys would have thought it had been months, not years, they had spent in that peaceful retreat. 

The break to that quiet life came with a mission which was entrusted byHis Holiness himself to Father Paul, and which involved a journey toRome. With the thought of travel there came to Raymond's mind a longingafter his own home and the familiar faces of his childhood. The Fatherwas going to take the route across the sea to Bordeaux, for he had amission to fulfil there first. Why might not he go with him and see hisfoster-mother and Father Anselm again? He spoke his wish timidly, but itwas kindly and favourably heard; and before the spring green had begunto clothe the trees, Father Paul, together with Raymond and his shadowRoger, had set foot once more upon the soil of France. 

 CHAPTER XII. ON THE WAR PATH

"Raymond! Is it -- can it be thou?"

"Gaston! I should scarce have known thee!"

The twin brothers stood facing one another within the walls of Caen, grasping each other warmly by the hand, their eyes shining with delightas they looked each other well over from head to foot, a vivid happinessbeaming over each handsome face. It was more than two years since theyhad parted -- parted in the quiet cloister of the CistercianBrotherhood; now they met again amid scenes of plunder and rapine: forthe English King had just discovered, within the archives of the cityhis sword had taken, a treaty drawn up many years before, agreeing thatits inhabitants should join with the King of France for the invasion ofEngland; and in his rage at the discovery, he had given over the town toplunder, and would even have had the inhabitants massacred in coldblood, had not Geoffrey of Harcourt restrained his fury by wise andmerciful counsel. But the order for universal pillage was not recalled, and the soldiers were freebooting to their hearts' content all over theill-fated city. 

Raymond had seen sights and had heard sounds as he had pressed throughthose streets that day in search of his brother that had wrung his soulwith indignation and wonder. Where was the vaunted chivalry of itsgreatest champion, if such scenes could be enacted almost under his veryeyes? Were they not true, those lessons Father Paul had slowly andquietly instilled into his mind, that not chivalry, but a true andliving Christianity, could alone withhold the natural man from deeds ofcruelty and rapacity when the hot blood was stirred by the fierceexultation of battle and victory, and the lust of conquest had gainedthe mastery over his spirit?

The hot July sun was beating down upon the great square where weresituated those buildings of which the King and the Prince and theirimmediate followers had taken temporary possession. The brothers stoodtogether beneath the shadow of a lofty wall. Cries and shouts from thesurrounding streets told tales of the work being done there; but thatwork had carried off almost all the soldiers, and the twins werevirtually alone in the place, save for the tall and slight youth whostood a few paces off, and was plainly acting in the capacity ofRaymond's servant. 

"I thought I should find thee here, Gaston, " said his brother, with fondaffection in his tones. "I knew that thou wouldst be with the King atsuch a time; and when I entered within the walls of this city, I said inmy heart that my Gaston would have no hand in such scenes as those I wasforced to witness as I passed along. "

Gaston's brow darkened slightly, but he strove to laugh it off. 

"Nay, thou must not fall foul of our great and mighty King for what thouhast seen today. In truth I like it not myself; but what would you? Themen were furious when they heard of yon treaty; and the King's fierceanger was greatly kindled. The order went forth, and when pillage oncebegins no man may tell where it will end. War is a glorious pastime, butthere must ever be drawbacks. Sure thine own philosophy has taught theethat much since thou hast turned to a man of letters. But tell me ofthyself, Raymond. I am hungry for news. For myself, thou mayest guesswhat has been my life, an thou knowest how these past two years havebeen spent -- wars and rumours of wars, fruitless negotiations, andjourneys and marches for little gain. I am glad enough that we haveshaken hands with peace and bid her adieu for a while. She can be afalse and treacherous friend, and well pleased am I that the bloodybanner of true warfare is unfurled at last. England is athirst for somegreat victory, for some gallant feat of arms which shall reward her forthe burdens she has to pay to support our good soldiers. For hispeople's sake, as well as for his own honour, the King must strike somegreat blow ere he returns home and we who follow the Prince have swornto follow him to the death and win our spurs at his side. 

"Brother, say that thou wilt join our ranks. Thou hast not forgotten ourold dreams? Thou hast not turned monk or friar?"

"Nay, or I should not now be here, " answered Raymond. "No, Gaston, Ihave forgotten naught of the old dream; and I too have seen fighting inthe south, where the King of France has mustered his greatest strength. For we believed the Roy Outremer would land at Bordeaux and march to thehelp of my Lord Derby, who is waging war against the Count of LilleJourdaine and the Duke of Bourbon in and around Gascony. And, Gaston, the Sieur de Navailles has joined the French side, and is fighting inthe van of the foe. He has long played a double game, watching andwaiting till victory seems secure for either one King or the other. Now, having seen the huge force mustered by the King of France in the south, he seems to have resolved that the victory must remain with him, and hascast in his lot against the English cause. So, Brother, if the greatEdward wins his battles, and drives from his own fair territories theinvading hosts of France, it may be that the Sieur do Navailles may bedeprived of his ill-gotten lands and castles; and then, if thou hast wonthy spurs --"

Raymond paused, and Gaston's eyes flashed at the thought. But he hadlearned, even in these two years, something of the lesson of patience, and was now less confident of winning fame and fortune at one strokethan he had been when he had made his first step along the path that hebelieved would lead him by leaps and bounds to the desired haven. 

"Then thou hast been there? Hast thou seen the old places -- the oldfaces? Truly I have longed to visit Sauveterre once more; but all ourplans are changed, and now men speak of naught but pressing on forCalais. Where hast thou come from?"

"From the old home, Gaston, where for three months I and Roger havebeen. What! dost thou not know Roger again? In truth, he looks vastlydifferent from what he did when thou sawest him last. We are brothers inarms now, albeit he likes to call himself my servant. We have never beenparted since the day we snatched him from that evil place within thewalls of Basildene. We have been in safe shelter at the mill. HonestJean and Margot had the warmest welcome for us, and Father Anselm gaveus holy words of welcome. Everything there is as when we left. Scarcecould I believe that nigh upon three years will soon have fled since wequitted its safe shelter. But I could not stay without thee, Brother. Ihave greatly longed to look upon thy face again. I knew that thou wertwith the King, and I looked that this meeting should have been atBordeaux. But when news was brought that the English ships had changedtheir course and were to land their soldiers in the north, I could tarryno longer, and we have ridden hard through the land northward to findthee here. Tell me, why this sudden change of plan? Surely the King willnot let his fair province of Gascony be wrested from his hand withoutstriking a blow in its defence in person?"

Gaston laughed a proud, confident laugh. 

"Thou needst scarce ask such a question, Raymond; little canst thou knowthe temper of our King an thou thinkest for a moment such a thing asthat. But methinks we may strike a harder blow here in the north againstthe treacherous French monarch than ever we could in the south, wherehis preparations are made to receive us. Here no man is ready. We marchunopposed on a victorious career. The army is far away in the south; theKing has but a small force with him in Paris. Brave Geoffrey ofHarcourt, by whose advice we have turned our course and landed here atLa Hague, has counselled us to march upon Calais and gain possession ofthat pirate city. With the very key of France in our hands, what may notEngland accomplish? Wherefore our march is to be upon Calais, andmethinks there will be glory and honour to be won ore this campaign closes!"

And, indeed, for a brief space it did seem as though King Edward'sprogress was to be one of unchecked victory; for he had already routedthe French King's Constable, sent to try to save Caen; had taken andpillaged that city, and had marched unopposed through Carbon, Lisieux, and Louviers to Rouen, leaving terrible devastation behind, as thesoldiers seized upon everything in the way of food from the haplessinhabitants, though not repeating the scenes which had disgraced theEnglish colours at Caen. 

But at Rouen came the first of those checks which in time became sovexatious and even perilous to the English army. The French, in greatalarm, had realized that something must be done to check Edward'svictorious career; and as it was plain that if he turned his stepsnorthward there would be no chance of opposing him, their aim and objectwas to pen him as far in the south as possible, so that the army inGascony, perhaps, or failing that the new one mustering rapidly roundthe King in Paris, might close in upon the alien army and cut them topieces by sheer force of numbers, before they could reach the coast andtheir ships. So Philip, recovering from his first panic, sent ordersthat all the bridges between Rouen and Paris should be broken down; andwhen Edward reached the former city, intending to cross there to thenorth side of the Seine, he found only the broken piers and arches ofthe bridge left standing, and the wide, turbid waters of the great riverbarring his further progress. 

Irritated and annoyed, but not really alarmed as yet, the English Kingturned his steps eastward toward Paris, still resolved to cross by thefirst bridge found standing. But each in turn had been broken down; andthe only retaliation he could inflict upon the people who were thwartingand striving to entangle him in a net, was to burn the towns throughwhich he passed; Pont de l'Arche, Vernon, and Verneuil, until he arrivedat last at Poissy, only a few miles from Paris, to find the bridge therelikewise broken down, whilst messengers kept arriving from all sideswarning him that a far mightier host was gathering around Philip than hehad with him, and advising instant retreat along the course by which hehad come. 

But Edward well knew that retreat was impossible. He had so exhaustedthe country and exasperated its inhabitants by his recent march and itsattendant ravages, that it would be impossible to find food for hissoldiers there again, even if the people did not rise up in arms againstthem. Rather would he face the French foe, however superior to his ownforce, in open fight, than turn his back upon them in so cowardly a fashion. 

Meantime, as Philip did not move, he set to work with his soldiers torepair the bridge, sending out detachments of his army to harass andalarm the inhabitants of Paris, ravaging the country up and down, andburning St. Germain, St. Cloud, and Montjoie. 

These expeditions, so perilous and so singularly successful, were justof the kind to delight the eager spirits of the camp, and keepenthusiasm up to a high pitch. Why Philip suffered these ravages, whenhis army already far outnumbered that of the English, and why the Frenchpermitted their foes to repair and cross the bridge at Poissy withoutstirring a finger to hinder them, are questions more easily asked thananswered. Possibly the knowledge that the Somme still lay between theirenemies and the sea, and that the same difficulties with regard to thebridges was to be found there, kept the French army secure still offinal victory. Possibly they thought that, hemmed in between the twogreat rivers, the army of Edward would be so well caught in a trap thatthey need not bestir themselves to consummate the final scene of thedrama. At any rate, Philip remained inactive, save that his army wasrapidly augmenting from all sides; whilst the English finished theirbridge and marched northward, only opposed by a large body of troopssent out from Amiens to meet them, over which they obtained an easy victory. 

Nevertheless the position of the English was becoming exceedinglycritical, and their march certainly partook something of the nature of aretreat, little as they themselves appeared to be aware of the fact. Philip with his host was advancing from behind, the great river Sommelay before them, all its bridges either broken down or so well fortifiedas to be practically impassable; and though their allies in Flanders hadraised the siege of Bovines in order to march to the assistance of theEnglish King, there appeared small chance of their effecting a junctionin time to be of any use. 

At Airaines a pause was made in order to try to discover some bridge orford by which the river might be passed. But Philip's work had been sowell done that not a whole bridge could anywhere be found; and theFrench army was pressing so hard upon the English that in the end theyhad to break up their camp in the greatest haste, leaving their cookedprovisions and tables ready spread for their foes to benefit by. Theythemselves hastened on to Abbeville, keeping slightly to the west of thetown so as to avoid provoking attack, and be nearer to the coast, thoughas no English ships could be looked for in the river's mouth, theseacoast was of small service to them. 

Such is the brief outline of the facts of Edward's well-known march inthis campaign, destined to become so famous. The individual action ofour Gascon twins must now be told in greater detail. 

Their reunion after so long a separation had been a source of keendelight to both the brothers. Each had developed in a differentdirection, and instead of being shadows the one of the other as in olddays, they were now drawn together by the force of contrast. Gaston wasabove all else a soldier, with a soldier's high spirit, love ofadventure, and almost reckless courage. He fairly worshipped the Kingand the Prince, and was high in favour with the youthful Edward, whosefirst campaign this was. Raymond, whilst imbued with the same highcourage, though of a loftier kind, in that it was as much spiritual asphysical, and with much of the chivalrous love of adventure so common tothe gallant youths of that age, was far more thoughtful, wellinstructed, and far-seeing than his brother. He looked to the largerissues of life. He was not carried away by wild enthusiasm. He couldlove, and yet see faults. He could throw in his lot with a cause, andardently strive for the victory, and yet know all the while that therewere flaws in that same cause, and admit with sorrow, yet firmtruthfulness, that in this world no cause is ever altogether pure, altogether just. He was not of the stuff of which hot partisans aremade. He had a spirit in advance of his times, and the chances were thathe would never rise to the same measure of success as his brother. Forthose who try to keep a stainless name in times of strife, bloodshed, and hostile jealousy, seldom escape without making bitter enemies, andsuffer the penalty that will ever attend upon those who strive after ahigher ideal than is accepted by the world at large. 

But if growing apart in character, the bond of warm love was but drawncloser by the sense that each possessed gifts denied to the other. Raymond found in Gaston the most charming and enlivening comrade andfriend. Gaston began unconsciously to look up to his brother, and tofeel that in him was a power possessed by few of those by whom he wassurrounded, and to which he could turn for counsel and help if ever thetime should come when he felt the need of either. 

In Raymond's presence others as well as Gaston began to curb some ofthat bold freedom of speech which has always characterized the stormycareer of the soldier. Those who so curbed themselves scarce knew whythey did so. It was seldom that Raymond spoke any word of rebuke oradmonition, and if he did it was only to some youth younger thanhimself. But there was something in the direct grave look of his eyes, and in the pure steadfastness of his expression, which gave to hisaspect a touch of saintliness quickly felt by those about him. For inthose days men, in spite of many and great faults, were not ashamed oftheir religion. Much superstition might be mingled with their beliefs, corruption and impurity were creeping within the fold of the Church, darkness and ignorance prevailed to an extent which it is hard in thesetimes to realize; yet with all this against them, men were deeply andtruly loyal to their faith. It had not entered into their minds that adeep and firm faith in God was a thing of which to be ashamed; that totrust in special providence was childish folly; to receive absolutionupon the eve of some great and perilous undertaking a mere empty form, or a device of cunning priestcraft. It has been the work of a more"enlightened" age to discover all this. In olden times -- those despiseddays of worn-out superstition -- men yet believed fully and faithfullyin their God, and in His beneficent care of His children. Raymond, then, with his saint-like face and his reputation of piety, together with thestory of his residence beneath the care of Father Paul, quickly obtaineda certain reputation of his own that made him something of a power; andGaston felt proud to go about with his brother at his side, and hear thecomments passed upon that brother by the comrades he had made in thepast years. 

During the exciting march through the hostile country Gaston and Raymondhad known much more of the feeling of the people than their comrades. The French tongue was familiar to them, and though they did not speak itas readily as English or their Gascon dialect, they had always known itfrom childhood, and never had any difficulty in making themselvesunderstood. Despite their English sympathies and their loyalty toEngland's King, they felt much natural compassion for the harried anddistracted victims of Edward's hostile march; and many little acts ofprotective kindness had been shown by both the brothers (generally atRaymond's instigation) towards some feeble or miserable person who mightotherwise have been left in absolute destitution. These small acts ofkindness won them goodwill wherever they went, and also assisted them tounderstand the words and ways of the people as they would scarcely havedone without. 

Then, as in all countries and all times the old proverb holds good thatone good turn deserves another, they picked up here and there severalvaluable hints, and none more valuable than the knowledge that somewherebelow Abbeville, between that town and the sea, was a tidal ford thatcould be crossed twice in the twelve hours by those who knew where toseek it. Thus whilst the King's Marshals were riding up and down theriver banks, vainly seeking some bridge over which the hard-pressed armycould pass, the twin brothers carefully pursued their way down thestream, looking everywhere for the white stone bottom which they hadbeen told marked the spot where the water was fordable. 

But the tide was rolling in deep and strong, and they could see nothing. Still cautiously pursuing their way -- cautiously because upon theopposite bank of the river they saw a large gathering of archers andfootmen all belonging to the enemy -- they lighted presently upon apeasant varlet cutting willow wands not far from the river's brink. Theboys entered into talk with him, and Raymond's kindly questioning soonelicited the information that the man's name was Gobin Agace, that hewas a poor man with little hope of being anything else all his days, andthat he knew the river as well as any man in the realm. 

"Then, " said Raymond, "thou needest be poor no longer; for if thou wiltcome with us to the camp of the English King a short league away, andlead him and his army to the ford of the Blanche Tache which lies notfar from here, he will make thee rich for life, and thou wilt beprosperous all thy days. "

"If the King of France do not follow and cut off my head, " said the mandoubtfully, though his eyes glistened at the prospect of such easily-wonwealth. 

"By holy St. Anthony, thou needst not fear that!" cried Gaston. "Ourgreat King can protect thee and keep thee from all harm. See here, goodknave: it will be far better for thee to win this great reward than forus, who have no such dire need of the King's gold. If thou wilt not aidus, we must e'en find the place ourselves; but as time presses we willgladly lead thee to the King, and let him reward thee for thy goodservice. So answer speedily yea or nay, for we may not linger longerwhilst thou debatest the matter in that slow mind of thine. "

"Then I will e'en go with you, fair sirs, " answered the fellow, who wasin no mind to let the reward slip through his fingers; and within anhour Gaston and Raymond led before the King the peasant varlet who heldthe key of the position in his hands. 

Every hour was bringing fresh messages of warning. The French King wasin pursuit of his flying foe (as he chose to consider him), and thoughhe felt so certain of having him in a trap that he did not hasten as hemight have done, there was no knowing when the van of the French armywould be upon them; and the moment that the King heard of this ford, andwas assured by the peasant that at certain states of the tide twelve menabreast could ford it, the water reaching only to the knee, he broke uphis camp at an hour's notice, and with Gobin Agace at his side proceededin person to the water's edge, the flower of his army crowding to thespot beside him, whilst the mass of his troops formed in rank behind, ready to press forward the moment the water should be fordable. 

Night had fallen before the trumpets had sounded, warning the soldiersof the breaking up of the camp. All night long they had been working, and then marching to the fordable spot: but now the tide was rolling inagain; and worse than that, the English saw upon the opposite shore acompact band of twelve hundred men -- Genoese archers and picked cavalry-- posted there by the now vigilant Philip, ready to oppose theirpassage if they should chance upon the ford. 

"Knights and gentlemen, " said the King, as he sat his fine charger andlooked round upon the gallant muster around him, "shall we be daunted bythe opposing foe? They are but a handful, and we know the coward temperof yon Italian crossbowmen. Who will be the first to lead the charge, and ride on to victory?"

A hundred eager voices shouted a reply. The enthusiasm spread from rankto rank. Foremost of those beside the water's edge stood Oliver andBernard de Brocas; and when at last the ebb came, and the word was givento advance, they were amongst the first who dashed into the shallowwater, whilst Gaston and his brother, though unable to press into theforemost rank, were not far behind. 

Thick and fast fell round them the bolts of the crossbows; but farthicker and more deadly were the long shafts of the English archers, which discomfited the foreign banners and sent them flying hither andthither. In vain did their brave leader, Godemar de Fay, strive to rallythem and dispute the passage of the main body of the army, even when thehorsemen had passed across. Edward's splendid cavalry rode hither andthither, charging again and again into the wavering band. Quickly theGenoese hirelings flung away their bows and ran for their lives; whilstthe English army, with shouts of triumph, steadily advanced across theford in the first quivering light of the dawning day, and looked back tosee the banners of Philip of France advancing upon them, whilst a fewstragglers and some horses were actually seized by the soldiers of thatmonarch. 

"Now God and St. George be praised!" cried Edward, as he watched theapproach of the foe, who had so nearly trapped him upon ground whichwould have given every advantage to the French and none to his own army. "Methinks had our good brother but pressed on a day's march faster, itwould have gone hard with us to save the honour of England. Now I standon mine own ground. Now will I fight at my ease. There is bread for mysoldiers. They shall rest ere they be called upon to fight. Let Philipdo his worst! We will be ready with an English welcome when he comes. Let his host outnumber ours by three to one, as men say it does, shallwe be afraid to meet him in fair field, and show him what Englishchivalry may accomplish?"

A tumultuous cheer was answer enough. The whole of the English army nowstood upon the north bank of the Somme, watching, with shouts of triumphand gestures of defiance, the futile efforts of the French to plungeover the ford. The tide was again flowing. The water was deep and rapid. In a moment they knew themselves to be too late, and a few well-aimedshafts from English longbows showed them how futile was now any effortin pursuit of the foe who had eluded them. 

Sullenly and with many menacing gestures, that were replied to by shoutsof derisive laughter from the English soldiers, the French army turnedhack towards Abbeville, where they could cross the river at theirleisure by the bridge which had been strongly fortified against Edward. Careless confidence had lost Philip the advantage he might have gainedthrough clever generalship; he was now to see what he could do by forceof arms when he and Edward should stand face to face in their opposinghosts in the open field of battle. 

 CHAPTER XIII. WINNING HIS SPURS. 

"Tomorrow, good comrades in arms, we will show yon laggard King of whatstuff English chivalry is made!" cried the young Prince of Wales, as herose to his feet and held a bumper of wine high above his head. "We haveour spurs to win, and tomorrow shall be our chance. Here is to thevictory of the English arms! May the mighty St. George fight upon ourside, and bring us with glory and honour through the day!"

Every guest at the Prince's table had leaped to his feet. Swords wereunsheathed and waved in wild enthusiasm, and a shout went up that waslike one of triumph, as with one voice the guests around the Prince'stable drained their cups to the victory of the English cause, shoutingwith one voice, as if formulating a battle cry:

"St. George and the Prince! St. George and the Prince!"

In the English camp that night there were elation and revelry; not thewild carousing that too often in those days preceded a battle and leftthe soldiers unfit for duty, but a cheerful partaking of good andsufficient food before the night's rest and ease which the King hadresolved upon for his whole army, in preparation for the battle thatcould scarce be delayed longer than the morrow. 

It was early on Thursday morning, the twenty-fourth day of August, thatthe ford of the Blanche Tache had been crossed. Thursday and Friday hadbeen spent by the English in skirmishing about in search of provisions, of which great abundance had been found, and in deciding upon thedisposition of their troops in a favourable position for meeting theadvance of the French. 

The King had selected some wooded and rising ground in the vicinity ofthe then obscure little village of Crecy. Then having made all hisarrangements with skill and foresight, and having ordered that his menshould be provided with ample cheer, and should rest quietly during thenight, he himself gave a grand banquet to the leaders of his army; andthe young Prince of Wales followed his father's example by inviting tohis own quarters some score of bold and congenial spirits amongst theyouthful gentlemen who followed his father's banner, to pass the timewith them in joyous feasting, and to lay plans for the glory of thecoming day. 

It is difficult in these modern days to realize how young were someamongst those who took part in the great battles of the past. The BlackPrince, as he was afterwards called from the sombre hue of the armour hewore, was not yet fifteen when the Battle of Crecy was fought; and whenthe King had summoned his bold subjects to follow him to the war, he hadcalled upon all knights and gentlemen between the ages of sixteen andtwenty to join themselves to him for this campaign in France. Lads whowould now be reckoned as mere schoolboys were then doughty warriorswinning their spurs in battle; and some of the most brilliant charges ofthose chivalrous days were led and carried through mainly by striplingsscarce twenty years old. Inured from infancy to hardy sports, andtrained to arms to the exclusion almost of all other training, thesebold sons of England certainly proved equal to the demands made uponthem. True, they were often skilfully generalled by older men, but theyoung ones held their own in prowess in the field; and child as thePrince of Wales would now be considered, the right flank of the army wasto be led by him upon the morrow; and though the Earls of Warwick andHereford and other trusty veterans were with him, his was the command, and to him were they to look. 

No wonder then that the comrades who had marched with him through theselast hazardous days, and who had been with and about him for many months-- some of them for years -- should rally round him now with the keenestenthusiasm. The De Brocas brothers were there -- Oliver and Bernard(John had not left England to follow the fortunes of the war) -- as wellas Gaston and his brother, whose return had been warmly welcomed by thePrince. He had heard about the rescue of the woodman's son, and had beengreatly interested and taken by Raymond and his story. Student though hemight be by nature, Raymond was as eager as any for the fight that wasto come. He had caught the spirit of the warlike King's camp, and hisblood was on fire to strike a blow at the foe who had so long harassedand thwarted them. 

And it was not all rioting and feasting in the camp that night. Thesoldiers supped well and settled to rest; but the King, when his guestshad departed, went to his oratory and spent the night upon his knees, his prayer being less for himself than for his gallant boy; less forvictory than that England's honour might be upheld, and that whateverwas the issue of the day, this might be preserved stainless in the sightof God and man. 

Then very early in the morning, whilst almost all the camp slept, theKing was joined by his son, the Prince being followed by Raymond, whohad also kept vigil upon his knees that night, and they, with some halfscore of devout spirits, heard mass and received the Sacrament; whilst alittle later on the monks and priests were busy hearing the confessionsof the greater part of the soldiers, who after receiving the priestlyabsolution went into battle with a loftier courage than before. 

When this had been done and still the French army appeared not, the Kinggave orders that the men should be served with something to eat anddrink, after which they might sit down at their ease to wait till theiradversaries appeared. 

Meantime the French were having anything but a comfortable time of it. They had remained inactive in Abbeville for the whole of Friday as wellas the preceding Thursday, after they had retreated thither from theford where the English had given them the slip; and on Saturday theywere marched off none too well fed, to meet their English foes. 

Philip was so confident that his immense superiority in numbers wascertain to give him the victory, that he thought little of the comfortof his men, the consequence being that they grew jaded and weary withthe long hot march taken in an ill-fed state; and his own marshals atlast very earnestly entreated their lord to call a halt for rest andrefreshment before the troops engaged in battle, or else the men wouldfight at a terrible disadvantage. 

Philip consented to this, and a halt was called, which was obeyed by theranks in front; but those behind, eager to fall upon the English, andconfident of easy victory, declined to wait, and went steadily forward, shouting "Kill! kill!" as they went, till all the alleys became filledup and choked. The press from behind urged forward the men in front, andthe army moved on perforce once again, though now no longer in order, but in a confused and unmanageable mass. 

Just as they came in sight of the English line of battle a heavy tempestof thunder and rain came upon them. The clouds seemed to dischargethemselves upon the French host, and those birds of evil omen, theravens, flew screaming overhead, throwing many men into paroxysms ofterror who would never have blenched before the drawn blade of an armed foe. 

Worse than this, the rain wet and slackened the strings of the Genoesecrossbowmen, who marched in the foremost rank; and hungry and weary asthey were, this last misfortune seemed to put the finishing touch totheir discomfiture. Hireling soldiers, whose hearts are not in thecause, have been the curse of many a battlefield; and though theseGenoese advanced with a great shouting against the foe, as though hopingto affright them by their noise, they did little enough except shout, till their cries were changed to those of agony and terror as theirineffectual shower of bolts was answered by a perfect hail of shaftsfrom the English archers' dreaded longbows, whilst the sun shining fullinto their dazzled eyes rendered ineffectual any farther attempt ontheir part to shoot straight at the foe. The hired archers turned andfled, and throwing into confusion the horsemen behind who were eager tocharge and break the ranks of the English archers, the luckless men weremown down ruthlessly by their infuriated allies, whose wrath was burningagainst them now that they had proved not only useless but a serioushindrance. 

This was by no means a promising beginning for the French; but still, with their overwhelming superiority of numbers, they had plenty ofconfidence left; and the English, though greatly encouraged by thebreaking and havoc in the ranks of the foe, were by no means recklesslyconfident that the day was theirs. 

Presumably the English King, who with the reserves was posted upon thehighest ground at some distance behind the two wings, had the best viewof the battle. The left wing, commanded by the Earls of Northampton andArundel, occupied the stronger position, being protected on their leftby the little river Maye. The young Prince was in the position of thegreatest danger; and as he and his companions stood in their ranks, watching the onset of the battle with parted lips, and breath that cameand went with excitement, they began to see that upon them and their menthe brunt of the day would fall. 

It had been the King's command that the battle should be fought on footby the English, probably owing to the wooded and uncertain nature of theground, else his far-famed cavalry would hardly have been dismounted. The Prince then stood still in his place, gazing with kindling eyes atthe confusion in the ranks of the foe, till the glint of a blood-redbanner in their ranks caught his eye, and he cried aloud to his men, "The oriflamme! the oriflamme, good comrades! See ye that, and know yewhat it means when the King of France unfurls it? It is a signal that nolives will be spared, no quarter granted to the foe. If we go not on tovictory, we march every man to his death!"

A shout that was like a cheer was the response of the gallant littleband who stood shoulder to shoulder with the Prince, and the word beingpassed from mouth to mouth was received everywhere with like courageousenthusiasm, so that the cheer went ringing down from line to line, andhearts beat high and hand grasped sword ever harder and faster as thetide of battle rolled onward, until the word was given and the trumpetssounded the advance. 

"Keep by my side and the Prince's, Raymond, " breathed Gaston, as slowlyand steadily they pressed down the hill towards the spot where theFrench horse under the Count of Alencon were charging splendidly intothe ranks of the archers and splitting the harrow into which they hadbeen formed by Edward's order into two divisions. The Count of Flanderslikewise, knowing that the King's son was in this half of the battle, called on his men to follow him, and with a fine company of Germans andSavoyards made for the spot where the young Prince was gallantlyfighting, and cheering on his men to stand firm for the honour of England. 

Shoulder to shoulder, fearless and dauntless, stood the little band ofgallant knights and gentlemen who formed the bodyguard of the Prince. Again and again had the horsemen charged them; but the soldiers threwthemselves beneath the horses of the foe and stabbed them through thebody, so that hundreds of gallant French knights were overthrown andslain ere they well knew what had befallen them. But in the press andthe heat of battle it was hard to say how the tide would turn. Thecommanders of the left wing of the English, the Earls of Northampton andArundel, were forcing their way inch by inch to reach the Prince's sideand divert from his immediate neighbourhood the whole stress of theopposing force now concentred there. They could see that the Prince wasstill unharmed, fighting with the gallantry of his soldier race. But theodds for the moment were heavily against him; and they despatched amessenger to the King, who remained with the reserves, begging him to goto the assistance of the Prince. Ere the messenger returned, they hadfought their own way into the melee, and had joined issue with thegallant youth, who, fearless and full of spirit, was encouraging his menalike by the boldness of his demeanour and by his shouts ofencouragement and praise, though his breath was coming thick and fast, and the drops of exhaustion stood upon his brow. 

"Fear not, sweet Prince, " cried Arundel, raising his voice so that allwho were near could hear: "we have sent word to your Royal Sire of thestress of the battle round you, and he will soon be here himself withthe help that shall enable us to rout this rebel host;" and he turnedhis eyes somewhat anxiously towards the height where the King and hiscompany still remained motionless. 

But a messenger was spurring back through the open ground which laybetween the reserves and the right wing where such hot work was goingon. He made straight for the spot where the Prince was fighting, andboth the Earls turned eagerly towards him. 

"What said the King?" they asked quickly. "When will he be with us?"

"He asked, " replied the messenger, "whether the Prince were killed orwounded; and when I told him nay, but in a hard passage of arms whereinhe needed his Sire's help, the King folded his arms and turned away, saying, 'Let the boy win his spurs; for I will that the glory of thisday be his, and not mine. '"

As those words were spoken it seemed as if new life were infused intothe young Prince himself and all those who surrounded him. A ringingcheer rose from all their throats. They formed once again under theiryoung leader, and charged the enemy with a fury that nothing was able toresist. The horsemen were forced hack the way they had come. The Countswho had led them boldly and well were unhorsed and slain. Dismay andterror fell upon the breaking ranks of the French, and they turned andfled; whilst the excited and triumphant young Prince pursued them withshouts of exultation and triumph, till he found himself with his fewmost faithful followers in the midst of the flying but hostile rankssome little distance away from the English army. 

"Sweet Prince, beware! have a care how you adventure your life thus inthe enemy's ranks, " whispered Raymond in his ear, he alone keeping acool head in the midst of so much that was exciting. "See, here comesome score of horsemen who know thee and would fain cut off thy retreat. Let us here make a stand and receive the charge, else shall we all beoverthrown together. "

This cautious counsel came only just in time. Young Edward looked roundto see that his reckless bravery had placed him for the moment inimminent peril; but he had all the courage of his race, and his heartquailed not for an instant. Giving the word to his comrades to form acompact square, he placed himself where the onset was like to be thefiercest; nor was there time for his companions to interfere to placehim in a position of greater safety. 

With a great shout of rage and triumph the band of horsemen, who hadrecognized the person of the Prince, now rushed upon him, resolvedeither to carry him off a prisoner or leave him lying dead upon thefield, so that the English might have little joy in their victory. Sofierce was the attack that the Prince was borne to the ground; and theBattle of Crecy might have been a dark instead of a bright page inEngland's history, but for the gallantry of a little band of Welshmenheaded by Richard de Beaumont, the bearer of the banner portraying thegreat red dragon of Merlin, which had floated all day over the boldWelsh contingent. 

Flinging this banner over the prostrate form of the Prince, the bravesoldier called on his men to charge the horses and cut them down. Thisthey did in the way before mentioned -- throwing themselves underneathand stabbing them through the heart. So their riders, finding even thislast effort futile, joined in the headlong flight of their compatriots;and the Prince's faithful attendants crowded round him to raise him upagain, greatly rejoicing to find that though breathless and confused bythe shock of his fall, he was none the worse for his overthrow, and wasquickly able to thank the brave Welshmen who had so opportunely come tothe rescue of him and his comrades. 

"Now, we will back to the ranks and find my father, " said the Prince, when he had spoken his courteous thanks and looked round about to see ifhis comrades had suffered more than himself. 

One or two had received slight wounds, and Raymond was leaning uponGaston's shoulder looking white and shaken; but he quickly recovered, and declared himself only bruised and breathless, and still holding fastto Gaston's arm, followed the Prince up the hill amongst the heaps ofdying and dead. 

Gaston was flushed with his exertions, and in his heart was room fornothing but pride and joy in the glorious victory just achieved. Butwhilst Raymond looked around him as he slowly moved, suffering morebodily pain than he wished his brother to know, his heart felt bruisedand crushed like his body, and a sudden sense of the vanity of humanlife and ambition came suddenly upon him, so much so that he scarce knewwhether he was in the flesh or in the spirit as he moved slowly andquietly onwards. 

Everywhere he saw before him the bodies of men who but a few short hoursago had been full of strong vitality, instinct with the same passions ofhatred and loyalty as had animated their own ranks that day. How strangeit seemed to look into those dead faces now, and wonder what those freedspirits thought of those same passions that had been raging within thembut a few short hours before! Did it seem to them, as it almost seemedto him, that in all the world around there was nothing of moment enoughto arouse such tumult of passion and strife; that only the thingseternal the things that pass not away were worthy to be greatly soughtafter and longed for?

But his reverie was quickly interrupted by an exclamation from Gaston. 

"See, Brother, the King! the King He is coming to meet his son, and hisnobles with him!"

It was a sight not soon to be forgotten, that meeting between thewarlike Edward and his bold young son, after the splendid triumph justachieved by the gallant boy. The King embraced the Prince with tears ofjoyful pride in his eyes, whilst the nobles standing round the Kingshouted aloud at the sight, and the soldiers made the welkin ring withtheir lusty English cheers. 

Young Edward had received knighthood at his father's hand upon landingon the shores of France, though truly it was this day's fighting whichhad won him his spurs. But as the King was resolved to mark the occasionby some rewards to those who had stood by his gallant boy in the thickof the press, he quickly picked out from the cluster of noble youths whostood behind their young leader some six of gentle blood and knownbravery, and thereupon dubbed them knights upon the bloody battlefield. Amongst those thus singled out for such honourable notice were the twosons of the King's Master of the Horse, Oliver and Bernard de Brocas, the latter of whom was destined to be the Prince's chosen and trustedcomrade through many another warlike campaign. 

Gladly and proudly did the royal boy stand by and see the reward ofvalour thus bestowed upon his chosen comrades of the day; but he seemedscarce satisfied by all that was done. His eye wandered quickly over thelittle knot grouped upon the knoll around the King, and then his glancetravelling yet farther to the remoter outskirts, he suddenly detachedhimself from the centre group, and ran quickly down the hillside till hereached the spot where the twin brothers were standing watching thescene with vivid interest, Raymond still leaning rather heavily upon hisbrother's arm. 

"Nay now, why tarry ye here?" eagerly questioned the Prince. "Sure yewere amongst the most steadfast and fearless in the fight today. 

"Good Raymond, but for thy quick eye and timely word of warning, we hadbeen fallen upon and scattered unawares, and perhaps had been cut topieces, ere we knew that we were vanquished rather than victors. Myfather is even now bestowing upon my gallant comrades the reward theirgood swords have won for them. Come, and let me present you twain tohim; for sure in all the gallant band that fought by my side none weremore worthy of knighthood than you. Come, and that quickly!"

A quick flush crossed Gaston's cheek as the guerdon so dear to the heartof the soldier was thus thrust upon him; but a whisper in his ear heldhim back. 

"Gaston, we have no name; we cannot receive knighthood without revealingall. Has the time yet come to speak? Of that thou shalt be the judge. Iwill follow thy wishes in this as in all else. "

For a moment Gaston stood debating with himself. Then the counsel ofprudence prevailed over that of youthful ambition. How were he and hisbrother worthily to support the offered rank? Even did they make knowntheir true parentage, that would not put money in their purses; and tobe poor dependents upon the bounty of relatives who had rejected theirmother and driven forth their father to seek his fortune as he could, was as repugnant to Gaston's pride now as it had been two years before. 

"Sweet Prince, " he answered, after this brief pause for thought, "wehave but done our duty today, and knighthood is far too great a rewardfor our poor merits. Sure it has been honour and glory enough to fightby your side, and win this gallant day. We are but poor youths, withouthome or friends. How could we receive a reward which we could notworthily wear? A penniless knight without servant or esquire would cutbut a sorry figure. Nay then, sweet Prince, let it be enough for us thisday to have won these gracious words at your lips. It may be when fairfortune has smiled upon us, and we are no longer poor and nameless, thatwe will come to you to crave the boon you have graciously offered thisday. We will remain for the nonce in our present state, but will everlook forward to the day when some other glorious victory may be won, andwhen we may come to our Prince for that reward which today we may notreceive at his hands. "

"So be it, " answered the Prince, his face, which had clouded over withregret a few moments earlier, lighting up again at these latter words. "Be assured I will not forget you, nor the services ye have done me thisday. I too in days to come shall have knighthood to bestow upon thosewho have earned the right to wear it. Fear not that Edward ever willforget. Whenever the day comes that shall bring you thus to me for thereward so nobly earned today, that reward shall be yours. The King's sonhas promised it. "

 CHAPTER XIV. WINTER DAYS. 

"Nephew John, I have brought thee a companion to share thy winter'ssolitude. "

John de Brocas, who was in his old and favourite retreat -- hisRector-uncle's great library -- rose to his feet with a start at hearingthe familiar voice of Master Bernard (whom he believed to be far away inFrance), and found himself face to face not with his cheery uncle alone, but with a tall, white, hollow-eyed youth, upon whose weary face a smileof delighted recognition was shining, whilst a thin hand was eagerlyadvanced in welcome. 

"Raymond!" exclaimed John, with a look that spoke volumes of welcome. 

"Good mine uncle, welcome at all times, thou art doubly welcome in suchcompany as this. But I had not looked to see you in merry England againfor long. Men say that Calais is closely besieged by the King, andmethought he had need of thee and my father likewise whilst the campaignacross the water lasted. "

"True, lad, the King has need of those he graciously dubs his trustycounsellors; and I have but come hither for a short while. The King isfull of anxiety about this outbreak of the hardy Scots, which has beenso gallantly frustrated at Neville's Cross by our gracious Queen, worthyto be the mate of the world's greatest warrior. I am come hither chargedwith much business in this matter, and so soon as all is accomplished Iam desired to bring the Queen to join her royal spouse before the wallsof Calais. It is not long that I may linger here. I have but a few shorthours to set mine own affairs in order. But thinking I should be like tofind thee here, Nephew John, as the autumn weather in low-lying Windsorgenerally drives thee forth from thence, I hastened hither to bring tothee a companion for thy winter's loneliness. Methinks thou hast knownand loved him before. Treat him as a cousin and a friend. He will tellthee all his story at his leisure. "

The slight stress laid upon the word "cousin" by the prelate caused Johnto glance quickly and curiously at Raymond, who answered by a slightsmile. Just at that moment there was no time for explanations. MasterBernard engrossed the whole of John's time and attention, being eager tolearn from that young man every detail of the campaign in the northwhich had reached his ears. And John, who took a wide and intelligentinterest in all the passing affairs of the day, and from his positionwas able to learn much of what went on in the world, sat beside hisuncle at the hastily-spread board, and told all the leading facts of thebrief and triumphant campaign in terse and soldier-like fashion. 

Meantime Raymond sat at ease in the corner of a deep settle beside thefire, leaning back against the soft fur rug which draped it, unable toeat through very weariness, but eagerly interested in all the news hisuncle was hearing from John. 

Master Bernard had to push on to London that night. He and his companionhad landed at Southampton the previous day, and had taken Guildford upontheir way to the capital. There Raymond was to remain under the kindlycare of John; and as soon as the Rector had set off with fresh horsesand his own retinue of servants, his nephew turned eagerly back to thehall, where his cousin was still resting, and taking him warmly by thehands, gazed into his face with a glance of the most friendly andaffectionate solicitude. 

"Good my cousin, I have scarce had time to bid thee welcome yet, but Ido so now with all my heart. It is as a cousin I am to receive and treatthee? What meant my good uncle by that? Hast thou told him what I myselfknow? Methought he spoke like one with a purpose. "

"Yes, it is true that he knows, " answered Raymond; "but he counsels usto keep our secret awhile longer. He thinks, as does Gaston, that wewere wiser first to win our way to greater fame and fortune than mereboys can hope to do, and then to stand revealed as those sprung from anoble line. How came he to know? That I will tell thee when I amsomething rested. But I am so weary with our journey that I scarce knowhow to frame my thoughts in fitting words. Yet I am glad to see thy faceagain, good John. I have been wearying long for a sight of thee. "

"Thou art indeed sadly changed thyself, my cousin, " said John. "Intruth, men who go to these wars go with their lives in their hands. Wasit on the glorious field of Crecy that thou receivedst some hurt? Surethou hast been sore wounded. But thou shalt tell me all thy tale anon, when thou art something rested and refreshed. "

The tale was told that same evening, when, after Raymond had slept for afew hours and had been able then to partake of some food, he felt, inpart at least, recovered from the fatigues of the long ride from thecoast, and could recline at ease beside the glowing fire, and talk toJohn of all that had befallen him since they had parted two and a halfyears before. 

The account of the victory at Crecy was eagerly listened to, and alsothat of the subsequent march upon Calais, when the King of France, choosing to consider the campaign at an end, had disbanded both hisarmies, leaving the victorious King of England to build unmolested a newtown about Calais, in which his soldiers could live through the winterin ease and plenty, and complete the blockade both by sea and landundisturbed by hostile demonstrations. 

"It seems to me, " said Raymond, "that did our great Edward wish to makegood his claim on the crown of France, he has only to march straightupon Paris and demand coronation there. When after the victory at Crecyand the subsequent triumphs I have told you of, over band after band oftroops all going to the support of Philip, we could have marchedunopposed through the length and breadth of the land, none daring tooppose us, the soldiers all thought that Paris, not Calais, would be thenext halting place. 

"What thinkest thou, good John? Thou knowest much of the true mind ofthe King. Why, after so glorious a victory, does he not make himselfmaster of all France?"

John smiled his thoughtful smile. 

"Verily because our King is statesman as well as soldier; and though heboldly advances a claim on the crown of France, to give the bettercolour to his feats of arms against its King, he knows that he could notrule so vast an empire as that of France and England together would be, and that his trusty subjects at home would soon grow jealous anddiscontented were they to find themselves relegated to the second place, whilst their mighty Edward took up his abode in his larger and moreturbulent kingdom of France. England rejoices in snatching portions ofterritory from the French monarch, in holding off his grasping hand fromthose portions of France that lawfully belong to our great King. Shewill support him joyfully through a series of victories that bring spoiland glory to her soldiers; but jealousy would soon arise did she thinkthat her King was like to regard France as his home rather than England, that England was to be drained of her gold and her best men to keepunder control the unwieldy possession she had won but could neverpeacefully hold. Methinks the King and his best counsellors know thiswell, and content themselves with their glorious feats of arms whichstir the blood and gratify the pride of all loyal subjects. 

"But now, I pray thee, tell me of thyself; for thou hast sadly alteredsince we parted last. What has befallen thee in these wars? and where isthy brother Gaston, whom thou wentest forth to seek? and where thefaithful Roger, whose name thou hast spoken many times before?"

"I have left them together in the camp before Calais, " answered Raymond. "Roger would fain have come with me, but I thought it not well that heshould place himself so near his ancient foes and masters, even though Itrow the spell has been snapped once and for ever. He loves Gaston onlysecond to me, and was persuaded at length to stay with him. I, too, would have stayed likewise, but they said the winter's cold would killme, and I could no longer bear arms or serve in the ranks. So I was fainto leave them and come to England with our uncle. And the thought ofspending the winter months with thee and with the books made amends forall I left behind beneath the walls of Calais. "

"What ails thee then, Raymond? Is it some unhealed wound?"

The youth shook his head. 

"Nay, I have no wound. It was some hurt I got in that last melee on thefield of Crecy, when the Prince nearly lost his life just as the day waswon. I was hurled to the ground and trampled upon. Methought for manylong minutes that I should never rise again. But for days afterwards Iknew not that the hurt was aught to think about or care for. It painedme to move or breathe, but I thought the pain would pass, and heeded itbut little. We rode gaily enough to the walls of Calais, and we setabout building a second city without its walls (when the governorrefused to surrender it into our hands), which the King has been pleasedto call Newtown the Bold. I strove to work with the rest, thinking thatthe pain I suffered would abate by active toil, and liking not to speakof it when many who had received grievous wounds were to be seen lendingwilling service in the task set us. But there came a day when I could nomore. I could scarce creep to the tent which Gaston, Roger, and I sharedtogether; and then I can remember naught but the agony of a terriblepain that never left me night or day, and I only longed that I might dieand so find rest. "

"Ah, poor lad, I too have known that wish, " said John. "Doubtless it wassome grave inflammation of the hidden tissues of the body from the whichyou so grievously suffered. And how came it that our uncle found youout? He is a notable leech, as many men have found ere now. Was it assuch that he then came to thee?"

"Yes, truly; and our generous and kindly Prince sent him. He heardthrough Gaston of the strait I was in, and forthwith begged our uncle tocome and visit me. John, dost thou know that Gaston and I each wearabout our neck the halves of a charm our mother hung there in ourinfancy? It is a ring of gold, each complete in itself, yet which may beso joined together as to form one circlet with the two halves of themedallion joined in one;" and Raymond pulled forth from within hisdoublet a small circlet of gold curiously chased, with a half medallionbearing certain characters inscribed upon it. 

John examined it curiously, and said it was of Eastern workmanship. 

"I know not how that may be. I know not its history, " answered Raymond;"but Gaston tells me that when our uncle saw the ring about my neck heseemed greatly moved, and asked quickly how it came there. Gaston toldhim it was hung there by our mother, and showed his own half, and howthey fitted together. At that our uncle seemed yet more moved; and afterhe had done what he could to ease my pain, he left me with Roger, andbid Gaston follow him to his own tent. There he told him the history ofthat ring, and how for many generations it had been in the De Brocasfamily, its last owner having been the Arnald de Brocas who hadquarrelled with his kindred, and had died ere the dispute had beenrighted. Seeing that it was useless to hide the matter longer, Gastontold our uncle all; and he listened kindly and with sympathy to thetale. At the first he seemed as if he would have told your father allthe story likewise, and have had us owned before the world. But eitherGaston's reluctance to proclaim ourselves before we had won our way tofortune, or else his own uncertainty as to how your father would takethe news, held him silent; and he said we were perchance right and wiseto keep our secret. He added that to reveal ourselves, though it mightgain us friends, would also raise up many bitter and powerful enemies. The Sieur de Navailles in the south, who by joining the French King'sstandard had already made himself a mark for Edward's just displeasurewhen the time should come for revenging himself upon those treacheroussubjects in Gascony, would be certain to hold in especial abhorrence anyDe Brocas who would be like to cast longing eyes upon the domain he hadso long ruled over; whilst in England the fierce and revengefulSanghursts would have small scruple in seeking the destruction of anypersons who would rise to dispute their hold on Basildene. The King'stime and thought were too much engrossed in great matters of the stateto give him leisure to concern himself with private affairs. Let theyouths then remain as they were for the present, serving under hisbanner, high in favour with the youthful Prince, and like to win fameand honour and wealth through the victorious war about to be waged inFrance. When that war had triumphantly ended, and the King was rewardingthose whose faithful service had gained him the day, then might the timecome for the brothers of Basildene to make themselves known, and pleadfor their own again. "

"I trow he is in the right, " said John, "and I am glad that he knows allhimself. So would he take the more interest in you, good Raymond; andthus it was, I take it, that he brought you to England himself when hecame hither. "

"Ay, truly his kindness was great; and after he knew all, I was moved tobetter quarters, and a prince could not have been better treated. But itwas long before I could stand upon my own feet, and save for the hope ofseeing you once again, I would gladly have been spared the journey toEngland. But the sea passage was favourable, and gave me strength, though the wind from the east blew so strong that we could not make theharbour of Dover, and were forced to beat westward along the coast tillwe reached the friendly port of Southampton. Then we took horse and rodehither, and glad am I to be at the journey's end. But our uncle tells methat in a few short weeks I shall be sound and whole again, and beforethe winter ends I may hope to join my brother beneath the King's banner. "

"I hope it will be so, " answered John; "and if rest is what thou needestfor thy recovery, it will not be lacking to thee here. It is well thatthe sword is not the only weapon thou lovest, but that the quill and thelore of the wise of the earth have attractions for thee likewise. "

It quickly seemed to Raymond as if the incidents of that stirringcampaign had been but part and parcel of a fevered dream. He wasdisposed to believe that he had never quitted the retreat of his uncle'sroof, and took up his old studies with John with the greatest zest. Johnfound him marvellously advanced since the days they had studied togetherbefore. His two years with Father Paul in the Brotherhood hadwonderfully enlarged his mind and extended his field of vision. It was adelight to both cousins to exchange ideas, and learn from one another;and the time fled by only too fast, each day marked by a steady thoughimperceptible improvement in Raymond's state of health, as his fineconstitution triumphed over the serious nature of the injury received. 

Although he often thought of Basildene, he made no attempt to see theplace. The winter cold had set in with severity; John had littledisposition to face it, and quiet and rest were far more congenial tohim than any form of activity or amusement. John believed that theSanghursts were still there, engaged in their mysterious experimentsthat savoured so strongly of magic. But after hearing of Raymond's bolddefiance of the implacable Peter in the forest near to the Brotherhood, John was by no means desirous that the fact of Raymond's residence atthe Rectory of St. Nicholas should become known at Basildene. Withoutsharing to the full the fears of the country people with regard to theoccult powers of the father and son in that lonely house, John believedthem to be as cruel and unscrupulous a pair as ever lived, even in thosehalf-civilized times. He therefore charged his servants to say nothingof Raymond's visit, and hoped that it would not reach the ears of theSanghursts. 

But there was another person towards whom Raymond's fancy had sometimestrayed during the years of his absence from Guildford, and this personhe was unaccountably shy of naming even to John, though he would havebeen quite unable to allege a reason for his reticence. 

But fortune favoured him in this as in other matters, for on enteringthe library one day after a short stroll around the Rector's garden, hefound himself face to face with a radiant young creature dressed in thepicturesque riding gear of the day, who turned to him with a beamingsmile as she cried:

"Ah! I have been hearing of thee and of thy prowess, my fair young sir. My good brother Alexander, who has followed the King's banner, wouldgladly have been in thy place on the day of Crecy. Thou and thy brotherwere amongst that gallant little band who fought around the Prince andbore him off the field unhurt. Did not I say of thee that thou wouldstquickly win thy knighthood's spurs? And thou mightest already have beena belted knight if thy prudence and thy modesty had not been greaterthan thine ambition. Is it not so?"

Raymond's face glowed like a child's beneath the praises of MistressJoan Vavasour, and the light of her bright eyes seemed fairly to dazzlehim. John came to the rescue by telling Raymond's own version of thestory; and then he eagerly asked Joan of herself and what had become ofher these past years, for he had seldom seen her, and knew not where shewas living nor what she was doing -- knew not even if she were wedded, nor if Peter Sanghurst's suit were at an end or had been crowned by success. 

At the sound of that name the girl's face darkened quickly, and a sparkof fire gleamed in her eyes. 

"Talk not of him, " she said; "I would that he were dead! Have I not saidthat I would never wed him, that I would die first? Fair fortune hathbefriended me in this thing. Thou knowest perchance that my father andbrother have been following the King's banner of late, first in Flandersand then in France. My mother and I meantime have not been residing atWoodcrych, but in London, whither all news of the war is first known, and where travellers from the spot are like to come. We are here but fora short space, to spend the merry Yuletide season with my mother'sbrother, who lives, as thou knowest, within the town of Guildford. Afterthat we return once more to London, there to await the return of myfather and brother. Alexander, in truth, has once visited us, but hasreturned to the siege of Calais, hoping to be amongst those who willreap plenteous spoil when the city is given over to plunder, as Caen wasgiven. Of the Sanghursts, I thank my kindly saints, I have heard naughtall this while. My mother loved them not, albeit she was alwaysentreating me in nowise to thwart or gainsay my father. I cannot buthope that these long months of absence will have gone far to break thespell that those evil men seemed to cast about him. Be that as it may, Imyself have grown from a child to a woman, and I say now, as I saidthen, that no power in the world shall induce me to give my hand inmarriage to Peter Sanghurst. I will die first!"

The girl threw back her handsome head, and her great eyes glowed andflashed. Raymond looked at her with a beating heart, feeling once morethat mysterious kindling of the soul which he could not understand, andyet of which he had been before in the presence of Joan so keenlyconscious. She appeared to him to be far older than himself, though inreality he was a few months the senior; for at eighteen a girl is alwaysolder in mind than a boy, and Joan's superb physique helped to give toher the appearance of a more advanced age than was really hers. Justthen, too, Raymond, though grown to his full height, which was statelyenough, was white and thin and enfeebled. He felt like a mere stripling, and it never occurred to him that the many glances bent upon him by theflashing eyes of the queenly maiden were glances of admiration, interest, and romantic approval. To her the pale, silent youth, with thesaint-like face and the steadfast, luminous eyes, was in truth a very/preux chevalier/ amongst men. She had seen something too much of thoseknights of flesh and blood and nothing else, who could fight gallantlyand well, but who knew nothing of the deeper and truer chivalry of thedays of mythical romance in which her own ardent fancies loved to stray. Feats of arms she delighted in truly with the bold spirit of her soldierrace; but she wanted something more than mere bravery in the field. Itwas not physical courage alone that made Sir Galahad her favourite ofall King Arthur's knights. Ah no! There was another quest than that ofpersonal glory which every true knight was bound to seek. Yet how manyof them felt this and understood the truer, deeper meaning of chivalry?She knew, she felt, that Raymond did; and as she turned her palfrey'ssteps homeward when the twilight began to fall that cold December day, it was with her favourite Sir Galahad that her mind was engrossed, andto him she gave a pale, thin face, with firm, sweet lines and deep-setdreamy eyes -- eyes that looked as though they had never quailed beforethe face of foe, and which yet saw far into the unseen mysteries oflife, and which would keep their sweet steadfastness even to the end. 

As for Raymond, an unwonted restlessness came over him at this time. Hewas growing stronger and better. Moderate exercise was recommended asbeneficial, and almost every day during the bright hours of the forenoonhis steps were turned towards the town of Guildford, lying hard by hisuncle's Rectory house. Scarce a day passed but what he was rewarded by achance encounter with Mistress Joan -- either a glimpse of her at awindow, or a smile from her bright eyes as she passed him upon hersnow-white palfrey; or sometimes he would have the good hap to meet herupon foot, attended by her nurse, or some couple of stout retainers, ifher walk had been in any wise extended; and then she would pause andbring him to her side by a look, and inquire after his own health andthat of John, who seldom stirred out in the bitter cold of winter. Thenhe would ask and obtain her permission to accompany her as far as thegate of her own home -- the place where she was staying; and though henever advanced beyond the gate -- for she knew not what her relativesmight say to these encounters with a gallant without money and withoutlands -- they were red-letter days in the calendar of two young lives, and were strong factors moulding their future lives, little as eitherknew it at the time. 

Had either the radiant maiden or the knightly youth had eyes for any butthe other, they might have observed that these encounters, now of almostdaily occurrence, were not unheeded by at least one evil-faced watcher. The servants who attended Mistress Joan were all devoted to her, andkept their own counsel, whatever they might think, and Raymond's fame asone of the heroes of Crecy had already gone far and wide, and won himgreat regard in and about the walls of his uncle's home; but there wasanother watcher of Mistress Joan's movements who took a vastly differentview of the little idyll playing itself out between the youth and themaiden, and this watcher was none other than the evil and vengeful PeterSanghurst the younger. 

Once as Raymond turned away, after watching Joan's graceful, statelyfigure vanish up the avenue which led to her uncle's house, he suddenlyencountered the intensely malevolent glance of a pair of coal-blackeyes, and found himself most unexpectedly face to face with the same manwho had once confronted him in the forest and had demanded therestitution of the boy Roger. 

"You again!" hissed out between his teeth the dark-browed man. "Youagain daring to stand in my path to thwart me! Have a care how youprovoke me too far. My day is coming! Think you that I threaten in vain?Go on then in your blind folly and hardihood! But remember that I canread the future. I can see the day when you, a miserable crushed worm, will be wholly and solely in my power; when you will be mine mine to dowith what I will, none hindering or gainsaying me. Take heed then howyou provoke me to vengeance; for the vengeance of the Sanghurst can bewhat thou dreamest not of now. Thwart me, defy me, and the hour willcome when for every pang of rage and jealousy I have known thou shaltsuffer things of which thou hast no conception now, and none shall beable to rescue thee from my hand. Yon maiden is mine -- mine -- mine!Her will I wed, and none other. Strive as thou wilt, thou wilt neverpluck her from my hand. Thou wilt but draw down upon thine own head afearful fate, and she too shall suffer bitterly if thou failest to heedmy words. "

And with a look of hatred and fury that seemed indeed to have somethingpositively devilish in it, Sanghurst turned and strode away, leavingRaymond to make what he could of the vindictive threats launched at him. Had this man, in truth, some occult power of which none else had thesecret; or was it but an idle boast, uttered with the view of terrifyingone who was but a boy in years?

Raymond knew not, could not form a guess; but his was a nature not proneto coward fears. He resolved to go home and take counsel with his goodcousin John. 

 CHAPTER XV. THE DOUBLE SURRENDER. 

On a burning day in July, nearly a year from the time of their parting, the twin brothers met once more in the camp before Calais, where theyhad parted the previous autumn. Raymond had been long in throwing offthe effect of the severe injuries which had nearly cost him his lifeafter the Battle of Crecy; but thanks to the rest and care that had beenhis in his uncle's house, he had entirely recovered. Though not quite sotall nor so broad-shouldered and muscular as Gaston, who was in truth avery prince amongst men, he was in his own way quite as striking, beingvery tall, and as upright as a dart, slight and graceful, though nolonger attenuated, and above all retaining that peculiar depth andpurity of expression which had long seemed to mark him out somewhat fromhis fellow men, and which had only intensified during the year that hadbanished him from the stirring life of the camp. 

"Why, Brother, " said Gaston, as he held the slim white hands in hisvise-like clasp, and gazed hungrily into the face he had last seen sowan and white, "I had scarce dared to hope to see thee again in the campof the King after the evil hap that befell thee here before; but rightglad am I to welcome thee hither before the final act of this greatdrama, for methinks the city cannot long hold out against the faminewithin and our bold soldiers without the walls. Thou hast done well tocome hither to take thy part in the final triumph, and reap thy share ofthe spoil, albeit thou lookest more like a youthful St. George upon achurch window than a veritable knight of flesh and blood, despite thegrip of thy fingers, which is well-nigh as strong as my own. "

"I will gladly take my share in any valorous feat of arms that may beundertaken for the honour of England and of England's King. But I wouldsooner fight with warriors who are not half starved to start with. Saynot men that scarce a dog or a cat remains alive in the city, and thatunless the citizens prey one upon the other, all must shortly perish?"

"Yea, in very truth that is so; for, as perchance thou hast heard, avessel was sighted leaving Calais harbour but a few short days ago, andbeing hotly pursued, was seen to drop a packet overboard. That packet atebb tide was found tied to an anchor, and being brought to the King andby him opened, was found to contain those very words addressed to theKing of France by the governor of the city, praying him to come speedilyto the rescue of his fortress if he wished to save it from the enemy'shand. Our bold King having first read it, sent it on posthaste to hisbrother of France, crying shame upon him to leave his gallant subjectsthus to perish with hunger. Methinks that message will shame yon laggardmonarch into action. How he has been content to idle away the year, withthe foe besieging the key of his kingdom, I know not. But it is a warmwelcome he shall get if he comes to the relief of Calais. We are asready to receive him here as we were a year ago on the field of Crecy!"

"Ay, in fair fight with Philip's army would I gladly adventure my lifeagain!" cried Raymond, with kindling eyes; "but there be fighting I havesmall relish for, my Gaston, and I have heard stories of this very siegewhich have wrung my heart to listen to. Was it true, brother, thathundreds of miserable creatures, more than half of them women and littlechildren, were expelled from the city as 'useless mouths, ' and left tostarve to death between the city walls and the camp of the English, inwhich plenty has all the winter reigned? Could that be true of ourgallant King and his brave English soldiers?"

A quick flush dyed Gaston's cheek, but he strove to laugh. 

"Raymond, look not at me with eyes so full of reproach. War is a cruelgame, and in some of its details I like it little better than thou. Butwhat can we soldiers do? Nay, what can even the King do? Listen, andcondemn him not too hastily. Long months ago, soon after thou hadst leftus, the same thing was done. Seventeen hundred persons -- men, women, and children -- were turned out of the town, and the King heard of itand ordered some of them to be brought before him. In answer to hisquestion they told him that they were driven from the city because theycould not fight, and were only consuming the bread, of which there wasnone to spare for useless mouths. They had no place to go to, no food toeat, no hope for the future. Then what does our King do but give themleave to pass through his camp; and not only so, but he orders hissoldiers to feed them well, and start them refreshed on their way; andbefore they went forth, to each of them was given, by the royal order, two sterlings of silver, so that they went forth joyously, blessing theliberality and kindness of the English and England's King. But thou mustsee he could not go on doing these kindly acts if men so took advantageof them. He is the soul of bravery and chivalry, but there must bereasonable limits to all such royal generosity. "

Raymond could have found in his heart to wish that the limit had notbeen quite so quickly reached, and that the hapless women and childrenhad not been left to perish miserably in the sight of the warmth andplenty of the English camp; but he would not say more to damp hisbrother's happiness in their reunion, nor in that almost greater joywith which Roger received him back. 

"In faith, " laughed Gaston, "I believe that some of the wizard's artcleaves yet to yon boy, for he has been restless and dreamy and unlikehimself these many days; and when I have asked him what ailed him, hisanswer was ever the same, that he knew you were drawing nigh; and verilyhe has proved right, little as I believed him when he spoke of it. "

Roger had so grown and improved that Raymond would scarce haverecognized in him the pale shrinking boy they had borne out from thehouse of the sorcerer three years before. He had developed rapidly afterthe first year of his new life, when the shackles of his formercaptivity seemed finally broken; but this last year of regular soldier'semployment had produced a more marked change in his outward man thanthose spent in the Brotherhood or at Raymond's side. His figure hadwidened. He carried himself well, and with an air of fearless alertness. He was well trained in martial exercises, and the hot suns of France hadbronzed his cheeks, and given them a healthy glow of life and animation. He still retained much of his boyish beauty, but the dreaminess andfar-away vacancy had almost entirely left his eyes. Now and again theold listening look would creep into them, and he would seem for a fewmoments to be lost to outward impressions; but if recalled at suchmoments from his brief lapse, and questioned as to what he was thinking, it always proved to be of Raymond, not of his old master. 

Once or twice he had told Gaston that his brother was in peril -- ofwhat kind he knew not; and Gaston had wondered if indeed this had beenso. One of these occasions had been just before Christmastide, and thedate being thus fixed in his mind, he asked his brother if he had beenat that time exposed to any peril. Raymond could remember nothing savethe vindictive threat of Peter Sanghurst, and Gaston was scarce disposedto put much faith in words, either good or bad, uttered by such a man asthat. 

And now things began to press towards a climax in this memorable siege. The French King, awakened from his long and inexplicable lethargy by theentreaties of his starving subjects so bravely holding the town for apusillanimous master, and stung by the taunts of the English King, hadmustered an army, and was now marching to the relief of the town. It wasupon the last day of July, when public excitement was running high, andall men were talking and thinking of an approaching battle, that wordwas brought into the camp, and eagerly passed from mouth to mouth, tothe effect that the King of France had despatched certain messengers tohold parley with the royal Edward, and that they were even now beingadmitted to the camp by the bridge of Nieulay -- the only approach toCalais through the marshes on the northeast, which had been closelyguarded by the English throughout the siege. 

"Hasten, Raymond, hasten!" cried Gaston, dashing into the small lodginghe and his brother now shared together. "There be envoys come from theFrench King. The Prince will be with his father to hear their message, and if we but hasten to his side, we may be admitted amongst the numberwho may hear what is spoken on both sides. "

Raymond lost no time in following his brother, both eager to hear andsee all that went on; and they were fortunate enough to find places inthe brilliant muster surrounding the King and his family, as thesereceived with all courtesy the ambassador from the French monarch. 

That messenger was none other than the celebrated Eustache deRibeaumont, one of the flower of the French chivalry, to whom, onanother occasion, Edward presented the celebrated chaplet of pearls, with one of the highest compliments that one brave man could giveanother. The boys, and indeed the whole circle of English nobility, looked with admiration at his stately form and handsome face, and thoughto our ears the message with which he came charged sounds infinitelystrange, it raised no smile upon the faces of those who stood around theroyal Edward. 

"Sire, " began the messenger, "our liege lord, the King of France, sendsus before you, and would have you know that he is here, and is posted onthe Sandgatte Hill to fight you; but intrenched as you are in this camp, he can see no way of getting at you, and therefore he sends us to you tosay this. He has a great desire to raise the siege of Calais, and savehis good city, but can see no way of doing so whilst you remain here. But if you would come forth from your intrenchments, and appoint somespot where he could meet you in open fight, he would rejoice to do it, and this is the thing we are charged to request of you. "

A shout, led by the Prince of Wales, and taken up by all who stood by, was proof enough how acceptable such a notion was to the ardent spiritsof the camp; for it was not a shout of derision, but one of eagerassent. Indeed, for a moment it seemed as though the King of Englandwere disposed to give a favourable reply to the messenger; but then hepaused, and a different expression crossed his face. He sat lookingthoughtfully upon the ground, whilst breathless silence reigned aroundhim, and then he and the Queen spoke in low tones together for some fewminutes. 

When Edward looked up again his face had changed, and was stern and setin expression. 

"Tell your lord, " he said, speaking slowly and distinctly, "that had hewished thus to fight, he should have sent his challenge before. I havebeen near a twelvemonth encamped before this place, and my good peopleof England have been sore pressed to furnish me with munitions for thesiege. The town is now on the point of falling into my hands, and thenwill my good subjects find plunder enough to recompense them for theirlabour and loss. Wherefore tell your lord that where I am there will Istay; and that if he wishes to fight he must attack me in my camp, for Iassuredly have no intention of moving out from it. "

A slight murmur of disappointment arose from the younger and more ardentmembers of the crowd; but the older men saw the force of the King'swords, and knew that it would be madness to throw away all thehardly-earned advantages of those long months just for a piece ofchivalrous bravado. So De Ribeaumont had to ride back to the French campwith Edward's answer; and ere two more days had passed, the astonishingnews was brought to the English lines that Philip had abandoned hiscamp, which was now in flames, and was retreating with his whole army bythe way he had come. 

"Was ever such a craven coward!" cried the Prince, in indignantdisappointment; for all within the English camp had been hoping forbattle, and had been looking to their arms, glad of any incident to varythe long monotony of the siege. "Were I those gallant soldiers in yonfortress, I would serve no longer such a false, treacherous lord. Weremy father but their king, he would not leave them in such dire strait, with an army at his back to fight for him, be the opposing force ahundredfold greater than it is!"

And indeed it seemed as though the brave but desperate garrison withinthose walls saw that it was hopeless to try to serve such a master. Howbitter must their feelings have been when Philip turned and left them totheir fate may well be imagined. Hopeless and helpless, there wasnothing but surrender before them now; and to make the best termspossible was the only thing that remained for them. The day followingPhilip's dastardly desertion, the signal that the city was ready totreat was hung out, and brave Sir Walter Manny, whose own history andexploits during the campaigns in Brittany and Gascony would alone fill avolume either of history or romance, was sent to confer on this matterwith the governor of the city, the gallant De Vienne, who had beengrievously wounded during the long siege. 

Raymond's sympathies had been deeply stirred by what he had heard andimagined of the sufferings of the citizens, and with the love ofadventure and romance common to those days, he arrayed himself lightlyin a dress that would not betray his nationality, and followed in thelittle train which went with Sir Walter. The conference took placewithout the walls, but near to one of the gates. Raymond did not pressnear to hear what was said, like the bulk of the men on both sides whoaccompanied the leaders, but he passed through the eager crowd and madefor the gate itself, the wicket of which stood open; and so calm andassured was his air, and so deeply were the minds of the porters stirredby anxiety to know the fate of the town, that the youth passed inunheeded and unchallenged, and once within the ramparts he could gowhere he chose and see what he would. 

But what a sight met his eyes! Out into the streets were flocking theinhabitants, all trembling with anxiety to hear their fate. Every turnbrought him to fresh knots of famine-stricken wretches, who had almostlost the wish to live, or any interest in life, till just stirred to afaint and lingering hope by the news that the town was to be surrenderedat last. Gaunt and hollow-eyed men, women little better than skeletons, and children scarce able to trail their feeble bodies along, werecrowding out of the houses and towards the great marketplace, where theassembly to hear the conditions was likeliest to meet. The soldiers, whohad been better cared for than the more useless townsfolk, werespectre-like in all conscience; but the starving children, and thedesperate mothers who could only weep and wring their hands in answer tothe piteous demand for bread, were the beings who most stirred Raymond'sheart as he went his way amongst them. 

Again that sense of horror and shrinking came upon him that he hadexperienced upon the field of Crecy amongst the dying and the dead. Ifwar did indeed entail such ghastly horrors and frightful sufferings, could it be that glorious thing that all men loved to call it?

Curious glances began to be levelled at him as he passed through thestreets, sometimes pausing to soothe a wailing child, sometimes lendinga hand to assist a tottering woman's steps, and speaking to all in thatgentle voice of his, which with its slightly unfamiliar accent smotestrangely upon the ears of the people. He wore no helmet on his head, and his curly hair floated about his grave saint-like face, catchinggolden lights from the glory of the August sunshine. 

"Is it one of the blessed saints?" asked a little child of his mother, as Raymond paused in passing by to lay a caressing hand upon his head, and speak a soft word of encouragement and hope to the weary mother. 

And the innocent question was taken up and passed from mouth to mouth, till it began to be whispered about that one of the holy saints hadappeared in their midst in the hour of the city's deadly peril. AsRaymond passed on his way, many a knee was bent and many a pleadingvoice asked a blessing; whilst he, feeling still as one who moves in adream, made the sign of the cross from time to time over some kneelingsuppliant without understanding what was said of him or why all eyeswere bent upon him. 

But the great town bell was ringing now to summon the citizens toassemble themselves together to hear the final terms agreed upon for thecapitulation of the city, and all else was forgotten in the overwhelminganxiety of that moment; for none could form a guess what terms would begranted to a town in such sore straits as was theirs. The English Kingcould be generous and merciful, but he could also be stern andimplacable; and the long resistance made by the town was like to havestirred his wrath, as well as the fact that the sea port of Calais haddone more harm to his ships and committed more acts of piracy than anyother port in France. 

Raymond himself had great fears for the fate of the hapless town, andwas as eager as any to hear what had been decreed. 

"Sure if the King could see the famished gathering here his heart wouldrelent, " murmured the youth to himself, as he looked round at the sea ofwan faces gathered in the open square. 

But the grave and sorrowful expression upon the governor's face toldthat he had no very happy tidings to impart. He stood upon a flight ofsteps where all men could well behold him, and in the dead silence thatfell upon the multitude every word spoken could be distinctly beard. 

"My friends, " he said, in grave, mournful accents, "I come to you withnews of the only terms of capitulation that I have been able to win fromEngland's King. I myself offered to capitulate if he would permit allwithin the walls to depart unharmed, whilst his demand was forunconditional surrender. The brave knight who came forth to confer withme went back more than once to strive to win for us better terms, andhis intercession was thus far successful. The King will take the rest ofthe citizens to mercy if six of their chief burgesses be given up to hisvengeance, and appear before him bareheaded and barefooted, with haltersabout their necks and the keys of the city in their hands. For suchthere will be no mercy. Brave Sir Walter Manny, who bore hack thismessage with so sorrowful a countenance, bid me not hope that the livesof these men would be spared. He said he saw the fierce sparkle inEdward's eyes as he added, grinding his teeth, 'On them will I do mywill. ' Wherefore, my good friends, we are this day in a great strait, and I would that I might myself give up my life to save the town; butthe King's command is that it shall be six of the burgesses, and it isfor you and them to say if these hard conditions shall be accepted. "

The deepest silence had hitherto prevailed in that vast place, but nowit was broken by the weeping and wailing of a great multitude. Raymond'sthroat swelled and his eyes glistened as he looked around upon that seaof starving faces, and tried to realize all that this message must meanto them. If his own life could have paid the ransom, he would have laidit down that moment for these miserable weeping beings; but he washelpless as the brave governor, and could only stand and see the end ofthe drama. 

Slowly up the steps of the marketplace, where stood the governor of thecity, advanced a fine-looking man in the prime of life, and a hushedmurmur ran through the crowd, in which Raymond caught the name ofEustache de St. Pierre. This man held up his hand in token that hewished to speak, and immediately a deathlike silence fell again upon thecrowd. 

"My friends, " spoke the clear deliberate voice, "it would be a greatpity and mischief to let such a people as this assembled here die byfamine or any other way, if a means can be found to save them; and itwould be great alms and great grace in the sight of the Lord for any onewho could save them from such harm. I have myself so great hope offinding grace and pardon in the sight of our Lord, if I die to save thispeople, that I will be the first, and will yield myself willingly, innothing but my shirt, with my head bare and a halter round my neck, tothe mercy of the King of England. "

As these simple but truly heroic words were spoken a burst of weepingand blessing arose from the crowd, women pressed forward and fell at thefeet of the worthy citizen, and Raymond said in his heart:

"Sure if the King of England could but see it, there is more chivalry inyon simple merchant than in half the knights who stand about his throne. "

It is seldom that a noble example is thrown away upon men. Hardly hadthe burst of weeping died away before two more men, brothers, to judgeby their likeness to each other, mounted the steps and stood beside St. Pierre. He held out his hand and greeted them by name. 

"My good friends Jacques and Peter de Wisant, we go hand in hand todeath, as we have gone hand in hand in other ventures of another kind. And hither to join us comes our good friend Jehan d'Aire. Truly if wemarch to death, we shall march in good company. "

The full number was soon made up. Six of the wealthiest and best knownof the citizens came forward and stood together to be disrobed and ledbefore the King. 

But Raymond could bear the sight no longer. With a bursting heart hehurried through the crowd, which made way wonderingly for him as hemoved, and went straight towards the gate by which he had entered, nonehindering his path. 

"It is the blessed saint who came amongst us in our hour of need, " saidthe women one to another, "and now perchance he goes to intercede withthe mighty conqueror! See how his face is set towards the gate; see thelight that shines in his eyes! Sure he can be no being of this earth, else how could he thus come and go in our beleaguered city!"

The guard at the gate looked with doubtful eyes at the stranger, and oneman stood in his path as if to hinder him; but Raymond's eyes seemed tolook through and beyond him, and in a clear, strange voice he said:

"In the name of the Blessed Son of God, I bid thee let me pass. I goupon an errand of mercy in that most Holy Name. "

The man fell back, his comrades crossed themselves and bent the knee. Raymond passed out of the gate, scarce knowing how he had done so, andsped back to the English camp as if his feet had wings. With that samestrangely rapt expression upon his face, he went straight to the lodgingof the Prince of Wales, and entering without ceremony found not only thePrince there, but also his royal mother, the gracious Queen Philippa. 

Bending his knee to that fair lady, but without one thought beyond thepresent urgent need of the moment, Raymond told all his tale in the earof the Queen and the Prince. With that power of graphic descriptionwhich was the gift of his vivid imagination and deep sense of sympathywith the needs of others, he brought the whole scene before the eyes ofhis listeners the crowded marketplace, the famine-stricken people intheir extremity and despair, the calm heroism of the men who willinglyoffered their lives to save those of their townspeople, and the wailingmultitude watching the start of the devoted six going forth to ashameful and ignominious death on their behalf. 

And as Raymond spoke the Prince's cheek flushed, and the eyes of thebeautiful Queen kindled and filled with sudden tears; and rising to herfeet she held out her hand to Raymond and said:

"Good lad, I thank thee for thy tale, and the request thy lips have notspoken shall be granted. Those men shall not die! I, the Queen ofEngland, will save them. I pledge thee here my royal word. I will to mynoble husband and win their pardon myself. "

Raymond sank upon his knee and kissed the fair hand extended to him, andboth he and the Prince hastened after the Queen, who hoped to find herroyal husband alone and in a softened mood, as he was wont to be afterthe stress of the day was over. 

But time had fled fast whilst Raymond had been telling his tale, andalready notice had been brought to Edward of the approach of the sixcitizens, and he had gone forth into a pavilion erected for hisconvenience in an open part of the camp; and there he was seated withgrim aspect and frowning brow as his Queen approached to speak with him. 

"I will hear thee anon, good wife, " he said, seeing that she craved hisear. "I have sterner work on hand today than the dallying of women. Stayor go as thou wilt, but speak not to me till this day's work is carriedthrough. "

Raymond's heart sank as he heard these words, and saw the relentlesslook upon the King's face. None realized better than he the cruel sideto the boasted chivalry of the age; and these middle-aged burgesses, with no knightliness of dress or bearing, would little move the loftierside of the King's nature. There would be no glamour of romancesurrounding them. He would think only of the thousands of pounds theresistance of the city had cost him, and he would order to a speedydeath those whom he would regard as in part the cause of all thistrouble and loss. 

The Queen made no further effort to win his notice, but with gracefuldignity placed herself beside him; whilst the Prince, quivering withsuppressed excitement, stepped behind his father's chair. Raymond stoodin the surrounding circle, and felt Gaston's arm slipped within his. Buthe had eyes only for the mournful procession approaching from thedirection of the city, and every nerve was strained to catch thelightest tone of the Queen's voice if she should speak. 

The governor of Calais, though disabled by wounds from walking, waspacing on horseback beside the devoted six thus giving themselves up todeath; and as he told how they had come forward to save their fellowcitizens from death, tears gathered in many eyes, and brave Sir WalterManny, who had pleaded their cause before, again threw himself upon hisknees before his sovereign, and besought his compassion for the braveburgesses. 

But Edward would not listen -- would not allow the better feelingswithin him to have play. With a few angry and scathing words, biddinghis servants remember what Calais had cost them to take, and what theobstinacy of its citizens had made England pay, he relentlessly orderedthe executioner to do his work, and that right quickly; and as that grimfunctionary slowly advanced to do the royal bidding, a shiver ranthrough the standing crowd, the devoted six alone holding themselvesfearlessly erect. 

But just at the moment when it seemed as if all hope of mercy was at anend, the gentle Queen arose and threw herself at her husband's feet, andher silvery voice rose clear above the faint murmur rising in the throng. 

"Ah, gentle Sire, since I have crossed the sea with great peril, I havenever asked you anything; now I humbly pray, for the sake of the Son ofthe Holy Mary and your love of me, that you will have mercy on these sixbrave men!"

Raymond's breath came so thick and fast as he waited for the answer, that he scarce heard it when it came, though the ringing cheer whichbroke from the lips of those who stood by told him well its purport. 

The King's face, gloomy at first, softened as he gazed upon the gracefulform of his wife, and with a smile he said at last:

"Dame, I wish you had been somewhere else this day; but I cannot refuseyou. I put them into your keeping; do with them what you will. "

Raymond felt himself summoned by a glance from the Prince. TheQueen-mother had bidden him take the men, and feast them royally, andsend them away with rich gifts. 

As the youth who had done so much for them forced his way to the side ofthe Prince, his face full of a strange enthusiasm and depth of feeling, the citizens looked one upon another and whispered:

"Sure it was true what the women said to us. That was the youth with theface of painted saint that we saw within the walls of the city. Sure theBlessed Saints have been watching over us this day, and have sent anangel messenger down to deliver us in our hour of sorest need!"

 CHAPTER XVI. IN THE OLD HOME. 

The memorable siege of Calais at an end, Edward, his Queen and son andnobility generally, set sail for England, where many matters wererequiring the presence of the sovereign after an absence so prolonged. 

When the others of the Prince's comrades were thronging on hoard toaccompany him homewards, Gaston and Raymond sought him to petition forleave to remain yet longer in France, that they might revisit the homeof their youth and the kind-hearted people who had protected them duringtheir helpless childhood. 

Leave was promptly and willingly given, though the Prince was graciouslypleased to express a hope that he should see his faithful comrades inEngland again ere long. 

It had begun to be whispered abroad that these two lads with theirknightly bearing, their refinement of aspect, and their fearlessness inthe field, were no common youths sprung from some lowly stock. Thatthere was some mystery surrounding their birth was now pretty welladmitted, and this very mystery encircled them with something of a charm-- a charm decidedly intensified by the aspect of Raymond, who neverlooked so much the creature of flesh and blood as did his brother andthe other young warriors of Edward's camp. The fact, which was wellknown now, that he had walked unharmed and unchallenged through thestreets of Calais upon the day of its capitulation, but before the termshad been agreed upon, was in itself, in the eyes of many, a proof ofsome strange power not of this world which encircled the youth. Andindeed Gaston himself was secretly of the opinion that his brother wassomething of a saint or spirit, and regarded him with a reverentialaffection unusual between brothers of the same age. 

Through the four years since he had left his childhood's home, Gastonhad felt small wish to revisit it. The excitement and exaltation of thenew life had been enough for him, and the calm quiet of the peacefulpast had lost, its charm. Now, however, that the war was for the presentover, and with it the daily round of adventure and change; now that hehad gold in his purse, a fine charger to ride, and two or three stoutmen-at-arms in his train, a sudden wish to see again the familiar hauntsof his childhood had come over him, and he had willingly agreed toRaymond's suggestion that they should go together to Sauveterre, to aska blessing from Father Anselm, and tell him how they had fared sincethey had parted from him long ago. True, Raymond had seen him a yearbefore, but he had not then been in battle; he had not had much to tellsave of the cloister life he had been sharing; and of Gaston's fortuneshe had himself known nothing. 

Both brothers were for the present amply provided for. They had receivedrich rewards from the Prince after the Battle of Crecy, and the spoilsof Calais had been very great. They could travel in ease through thesunny plains of France, sufficiently attended to be safe frommolestation, even if the terror of the English arms were not protectionenough for those who wore the badge of the great Edward. From Bordeauxthey could find easy means of transport to England later; and nothingpleased them better than the thought of this long ride through theplains of France, on the way to the old home. 

They did not hurry themselves on this pleasant journey, taken just asthe trying heats of summer had passed, but before the winter's cold hadmade its first approach. The woods were scarce showing their firstrusset tints as the brothers found themselves in familiar country onceagain, and looked about them with eager glances of recognition as theytraversed the once well-known tracks. 

"Let us first to Father Anselm, " said Raymond, as they neared thevillage where the good priest held his cure. "He will gladly have uspass a night beneath his roof ere we go onward to the mill; and our goodfellows will find hospitable shelter with the village folks. They havebeen stanch and loyal in these parts to the cause of the Roy Outremer, and any soldier coming from his camp will be doubly welcome, as thebearer of news of good luck to the English arms. The coward King ofFrance is little loved by the bold Gascons, save where a rebel lordthinks to forward his private ends by transferring his allegiance fromEngland to France. "

"To the good Father's, then, with all my heart, " answered Gastonheartily; and the little troop moved onwards until, to the astonishmentof the simple villagers clustered round the little church and theircure's house, the small but brilliant cavalcade of armed travellers drewup before that lowly door. 

The Father was within, and, as the sound of trampling feet made itselfheard, appeared at his door in some astonishment; but when the twoyouths sprang from their horses and bent the knee before him, begginghis blessing, and he recognized in them the two boys who had filled sogreat a portion of his life not so many years ago, a mist came beforehis eyes, and his voice faltered as he gave the benediction, whilstraising them afterwards and tenderly embracing them, he led them withinthe well-known doorway, at the same time calling his servant and biddinghim see to the lodging of the men without. 

The low-ceiled parlour of the priest, with its scanty plenishing andrush-strewn floor, was well known to the boys; yet as Raymond steppedacross the threshold he uttered a cry of surprise, not at any change inthe aspect of the room itself, but at sight of a figure seated in ahigh-backed chair, with the full sunlight shining upon the calm, thinface. With an exclamation of joyful recognition the lad sped forward andthrew himself upon his knees before the erect figure, with the name ofFather Paul upon his lips. 

The keen, austere face did not soften as Father Anselm's had done. TheCistercian monk, true to the severity of his order, permitted nothing ofpleasure to appear in his face as he looked at the youth whose characterhe had done so much to form. He did not even raise his hand at once inthe customary salutation or blessing, but fixed his eyes upon Raymond'sface, now lifted to his in questioning surprise; and not until he hadstudied that face with great intentness for many long minutes did he layhis hand upon the lad's head and say, in a low, deep voice, "Peace bewith thee, my son. "

This second and most unexpected meeting was almost a greater pleasure toRaymond than the one with Father Anselm. Whilst Gaston engrossed his oldfriend's time and thought, sitting next him at the board, and pacing athis side afterwards in the little garden in which he loved to spend hisleisure moments, Raymond remained seated at the feet of Father Paul, listening with breathless interest to his history of the voyage he hadtaken to the far East (as it then seemed), and to the strange andterrible sights he had witnessed in some of those far-off lands. 

Raymond had vaguely heard before of the plague, but had regarded it as ascourge confined exclusively to the fervid heat of far-off countries --a thing that would never come to the more temperate latitudes of thenorth; but when he spoke these words to the monk, Father Paul shook hishead, and a sudden sombre light leaped into his eyes. 

"My son, the plague is the scourge of God. It is not confined to oneland or another. It visits all alike, if it be God's will to send it inpunishment for the many and grievous sins of its inhabitants. True, inthe lands of the East, where the paynim holds his court, and everywhereis blasphemy and abomination, the scourge returns time after time, andnever altogether ceases from amongst the blinded people. But of late ithas spread farther and farther westward -- nearer and nearer to our ownshores. God is looking down upon the lands whose people call themselvesafter His name, and what does he see there but corruption in highplaces, greed, lust, the covetousness that is idolatry, the slothfulease that is the curse of the Church?"

The monk's eyes flashed beneath their heavily-fringed lids; the firethat glowed in them was of a strange and sombre kind. Raymond turned hispure young face, full of passionate admiration and reverence, towardsthe fine but terribly stern countenance of the ecclesiastic. A painterwould have given much to have caught the expression upon those two facesat that moment. The group was a very striking one, outlined against theluminous saffron of the western sky behind. 

"Father, tell me more!" pleaded Raymond. "I am so young, so ignorant;and many of the things the world praises and calls deeds of good turn myheart sick and my spirit faint within me. I would fain know how I maysafely tread the difficult path of life. I would fain choose the goodand leave the evil. But there be times when I know not how to act, whenit seems as though naught in this world were wholly pure. Is it onlythose who yield themselves up to the life of the cloister who may choosearight and see with open eyes? Must I give up my sword and turn monk ereI may call myself a son of Heaven?"

The boy's eyes were full of an eager, questioning light. His hands wereclasped together, and his face was turned full upon his companion. TheFather's eyes rested on the pure, ethereal face with a softer look thanthey had worn before, and then a deep sadness came into them. 

"My son, " he answered, very gravely, "I am about to say a thing to theewhich I would not say to many young and untried as thou art. There havebeen times in my life when I should have triumphed openly had men spokento me the words that I shall speak to thee -- times when I had gladlysaid that all which men call holiness was but a mask for corruption anddeceit, and should have rejoiced that the very monks themselves wereforced to own to their own wanton disregard of their vows. My son, I seethe shrinking and astonishment in thine eyes; but yet I would for amoment that thou couldst see with mine. I spoke awhile ago of thejudgment of an angry God. Wherefore, thinkest thou, is it that His angeris so hotly burning against those lands that call themselves by His name-- that call day by day upon His name, and make their boast that theyhold the faith whole and undefiled?"

Raymond shook his head. He had no words with which to answer. He wasbeginning slowly yet surely to feel his eyes opened to the evil of theworld -- even that world of piety and chivalry of which such brightdreams had been dreamed. His fair ideals were being gradually dashed andeffaced. Something of sickness of heart had penetrated his being, and hehad said in the unconscious fashion of pure-hearted youth, "Vanity ofvanities! is all around but vanity?" and he had found no answer to hisown pathetic question. 

As an almost necessary consequence of all this had his thoughts turnedtowards the holy, dedicated life of the sons of the Church; and thoughit was with a strong sense of personal shrinking, with a sense that thesacrifice would be well-nigh bitterer than the bitterness of death, hehad asked himself if it might not be that God had called him, and thatif he would be faithful to the love he had ever professed to hold, heought to rise up without farther delay and offer himself to thededicated service of the Church. 

And now Father Paul, who had always seemed to read the very secrets ofhis heart, appeared about to answer this unspoken question. Greatly hadRaymond longed of late to speak with him again. Father Anselm was a goodand a saintly man, but he knew nothing of the life of the world. To himthe Church was the ark of refuge from all human ills, and gladly wouldhe have welcomed within its fold any weary or world-worn soul. But withFather Paul it was different. He had lived in the world; he had sinned(if men spoke truth), and had suffered bitterly. One look in his facewas enough to tell that; and having lived and sinned, repented andsuffered, he was far more able to offer counsel to one tempted andsometimes suffering, though perhaps in a very different fashion. 

The Father's eyes were bent upon the faint glow in the sky, seen throughthe open casement. His words were spoken quietly, yet with anearnestness that was almost terrible. 

"My son, " he said, "I have come back but recently from lands where itseems that holiness should abound -- that righteousness should flowforth as from a perpetual fountain, where the Lord should be seenwalking almost visibly in the midst of His people. And what have I seeninstead? Luxury, corruption, unspeakable abominations -- abominationssuch as I may not dare to speak in thy pure ears, such as I would nothave believed had not mine own eyes seen, mine own ears heard. Where isthe poverty, the lowliness, the meekness, the chastity of the sons ofthe Church? Ah, God in Heaven only knows; and let it be our solemnrejoicing that He does know where His own faithful children are to befound, for assuredly man would miserably fail if he were sent forth tofind and to gather them. Leaving those lands which thou, my son, hastnever seen, and coming hither to France and England, what do we find?Those who have vowed themselves to the service of the Church walkinggaily in the dress of soldiers, engaged in carnal matters, letting theirhair hang down their shoulders curled and powdered, and thinking scornof the tonsure, which is the mark of the Kingdom of Heaven. And does notGod see? Will He not recompense to His people their sins? Yea, verily Hewill; and in an hour when they little think it, the wrath of God shallfall upon them. It is even now upon its way. I have seen it; I havemarked its progress. Ere another year has passed, if men repent not oftheir sins, it will be stalking amongst us. And thou, my son, when thatday comes, fear not. Think not of the cloister; keep thy good sword atthy side, but keep it bright in the cause of right, of mercy, of truth, and keep thy shield stainless and unspotted. Then when the hour ofjudgment falls upon this land, and men in wild terror begin to call uponthe God they have forgotten and abused, then go thou forth in the powerof that purity of heart which He in His mercy has vouchsafed to thee. Fear not the pestilence that walketh in darkness, nor the sickness thatdestroyeth at noonday. A thousand shall fall beside thee, and tenthousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee. With thineeyes shalt thou behold the destruction of thine enemies; but the angelsof God shall encamp around thy path, and guard thee in all thy ways. Only be true, be fearless, be steadfast. Thou shalt be a knight of theLord; thou shalt fight His battle; and from Him, and from no earthlysovereign, shalt thou reap thy reward at last!"

As the Father continued speaking, it seemed as if something of propheticfire had lighted his eyes. Raymond held his breath in awe as he heardthis strange warning, benediction, and promise. But not for a moment didhe doubt that what the Father spoke would come to pass. He sank upon hisknees, and his heart went up in prayer that when the hour of trial camehe might be found faithful at his post; and at once and for ever waslaid to rest that restless questioning as to the life of the Church. Heknew from that moment forward that it was in the world and not out of itthat his work for his Lord was to be done. 

No more of a personal nature passed between him and Father Paul thatnight, and upon the morrow the brothers proceeded to the mill, and theFather upon his journey to England. 

"We shall meet again ere long, " was Father Paul's parting word toRaymond, and he knew that it would be so. 

It was a pretty sight to witness the delighted pride with which honestJean and Margot welcomed back their boys again after the longseparation. Raymond hardly seemed a stranger after his visit of theprevious year, but of Gaston they knew not how to make enough. His tallhandsome figure and martial air struck them dumb with admiration. Theynever tired of listening to his tales of flood and field; and theadventures he had met with, though nothing very marvellous inthemselves, seemed to the simple souls, who had lived so quiet a life, to raise him at once to the position of some wonderful and almostmythical being. 

On their own side, they had a long story to tell of the disturbed stateof the country, and the constant fighting which had taken place untilthe English King's victory at Crecy had caused Philip to disband hisarmy, and had restored a certain amount of quiet to the country. 

The quiet was by no means assured or very satisfactory. Though the armyhad been disbanded, there was a great deal of brigandage in the remoterdistricts. So near as the mill was to Sauveterre, it had escaped withoutmolestation, and the people in the immediate vicinity had not sufferedto any extent; but there was a restless and uneasy feeling pervading thecountry, and it had been a source of considerable disappointment to thewell-disposed that the Roy Outremer had not paid a visit to Gascony inperson, to restore a greater amount of order, before returning to hisown kingdom. 

The Sieur de Navailles had made himself more unpopular than ever by hisadhesion to the French cause when all the world had believed thatPhilip, with his two huge armies, would sweep the English out of thecountry. Of late, in the light of recent events, he had tried to annulhis disloyalty, and put another face upon his proceedings; but only hisobscurity, and the remoteness of his possessions in the far south, wouldprotect him from Edward's wrath when the affairs of the rebel Gasconscame to be inquired into in detail. 

Gaston listened eagerly, and treasured it all carefully up, feeling surehe could place his rival and the usurper of the De Brocas lands in avery unenviable position with the royal Edward at any time when hewished to make good his own claim. 

The visit of the De Brocas brothers (as they were known in these parts)was not made by stealth. All the world might know it now for all theycared, protected as they were by their stout men-at-arms, and surroundedby the glamour of the English King's royal favour. Gaston and Raymondranged the woods and visited their old haunts with the zest of youth andaffectionate memories, and Gaston often hunted there alone whilst hisbrother paid a visit to Father Anselm, to read with him or talk ofFather Paul. 

It was after a day spent thus apart that Gaston came in looking asthough some unwonted thing had befallen him, and when he and his brotherwere alone in their room together, he began to speak with eager rapidity. 

"Raymond, methinks I have this day lost my heart to a woodland nymph orfairy. Such a strange encounter had I in the forest today! and with it awarning almost as strange as the being who offered it. "

"A warning, Gaston? what sort of warning?"

"Why, against our old, old enemy the Navailles, who, it seems, knows ofour visit here, and, if he dared, would gladly make an end of us both. So at least the fairy creature told me, imploring me, with sweetestsolicitude, to be quickly gone, and to adventure myself in the woodsalone no more. I told her that our visit was well-nigh at an end, andthat we purposed to reach England ere the autumn gales blew shrill. Atthat she seemed mightily pleased, and yet she sighed when we said adieu. Raymond, she was the loveliest maiden my eyes have ever beheld: her hairlike silk, and of the deepest golden hue; her eyes of the colour ofviolets nestling beneath brown winter leaves. Her voice was like therippling of a summer's brook, and her form scarce of this earth, solight, so airy, so full of sylvan grace. She was like the angelic beingof a dream. I have never seen a daughter of earth so fair. Tell me, thinkest thou it was some dream? Yet it is not my wont to slumber at mysport, and the little hand I held in mine throbbed with the warmth of life. "

"Asked you not her name and station?"

"Yea verily, but she would tell me naught; only the soft colour creptinto her cheeks, and she turned her eyes for a moment away. Raymond, Ihave heard men speak of love, but till that moment I knew not what theymeant. Now methinks I have a better understanding, for if yon sweetmaiden had looked long into my eyes, my very soul would sure have goneout to her, and I should have straightway forgot all else in the worldbut herself. Wherefore I wondered if she could be in truth a real andliving being, or whether some woodland siren sent to lure man to deathand destruction. "

Raymond smiled at the gravity of Gaston's words. Mystic as he was inmany matters, he had outgrown that belief in woodland nymphs and sirenswhich had woven itself into their life whilst the spell of the forestsremained upon them in their boyhood. That evil and good spirits didhover about the path of humanity, Raymond sincerely believed; but he wasequally certain that they took no tangible form, and that the visionGaston had seen in the wood was no phantom form of spirit. 

"Sure she came to try to warn and save, " he answered; "that should beanswer enough. Gaston, methinks we will take that warning. We are stillbut striplings and our men are few, though brave and true. The land isdisturbed as in our memory it never was, and men are wild and lawless, none being strong enough to put down disorder. Wherefore we had best begone. It is no true bravery to court danger, and our errand here isdone. When the King comes, as one day he will, to punish rebels andreward faithful loyalty, then we will come with him, and thou shalt seekout thy woodland nymph once more, and thank her for her good counsel. Now wilt thou thank her best -- seeing she came express to warn thee ofcoming peril -- by taking her at her word. Honest Jean and Margot willnot seek to stay us longer. They have a secret fear of the Sieur deNavailles. We will not tell them all, but we will tell them something, and that will be enough. Tomorrow will we take to horse again; and wewill tell in the ears of the King how restless and oppressed bylawlessness and strife are his fair lands of Gascony. "

Raymond's advice was followed. Gaston had had enough of quiet andrepose, and only the desire to see again the face of the woodland spritecould have detained him. Not knowing where to seek her, he was willingenough to set his face for Bordeaux; and soon the brothers had landedonce again upon the shores of England. 

 CHAPTER XVII. THE BLACK DEATH

The glorious termination of Edward's campaign, and the rich spoilbrought home from the wars by the soldiers, had served to put the nationinto a marvellous good temper. Their enthusiasm for their King amountedalmost to adoration, and nothing was thought of but tourneys, jousts, and all sorts of feasting and revelry. Indeed, things came to such apass that at last an order was given that tournaments might be held onlyat the royal pleasure, else the people were disposed to think of nothingelse, and to neglect the ordinary avocations of life. As the Kingappointed nineteen in six months, to be held in various placesthroughout the kingdom, it cannot be said that he defrauded his subjectsof their sports; and he himself set the example of the extravagant andfanciful dressing which called forth so much adverse criticism from themore sober minded, appearing at the jousts in all manner of wonderfulapparel, one of his dresses being described as "a harness of whitebuckram inlaid with silver -- namely, a tunic, and a shield with the motto:

'Hay, hay, the wythe swan!By Goddes soul I am thy man;'

whilst he gave away on that occasion five hoods of long white clothworked with blue men dancing, and two white velvet harnesses worked withblue garters and diapered throughout with wild men. "

Women disgraced themselves by going about in men's attire and behavingthemselves in many unseemly fashions. The ecclesiastics, too, often fellinto the prevailing vices of extravagance and pleasure seeking that atthis juncture characterized the whole nation, and, as Father Paul hadsaid to Raymond, disgraced their calling by so doing far more thanothers who had never professed a higher code. Amongst the graver andmore austere men of the day heads were gravely shaken over the wildburst of enthusiasm and extravagance, and there were not wanting thosewho declared that the nation was calling down upon itself some terriblejudgment of God -- such a judgment as so often follows upon a season ofunwonted and sudden prosperity. 

As for the twin brothers, they spent these months in diverse fashion, each carrying out his own tastes and preferences. Gaston attachedhimself to Sir James Audley once again, and travelled with him intoScotland, where the knight frequently went upon the King's business. When in or about the Court, he threw himself into the jousting andsports with the greatest enthusiasm and delight, quickly excelling sowell in each and every contest that he made a name and reputation forhimself even amongst the chosen flower of the English nobility. Realfighting was, however, more to his taste than mock contests, and he wasalways glad to accompany his master upon his journeys, which were notunfrequently attended by considerable peril, as the unsettled state ofthe Border counties, and the fierce and sometimes treacherous nature ofthe inhabitants, made travelling there upon the King's business a matterof some difficulty and danger. There was no fear of Gaston's growingeffeminate or turning into a mere pleasure hunter; and he soon madehimself of great value to his master, not only by his undaunted bravery, but by his success in diplomatic negotiation -- a success by no meansexpected by himself, and a surprise to all about him. 

Perhaps the frank, free bearing of the youth, his perfect fearlessness, and his remarkably quick and keen intelligence, helped him when he hadany delicate mission entrusted to him. Then, too, the hardy andindependent nature of the Scots was not altogether unlike that of thefree-born Gascon peasant of the Pyrenean portion of the south of France;so that he understood and sympathized with them better, perhaps, than anaverage Englishman could have done. 

A useful life is always a happy one, and the successful exercise oftalents of whose very existence we were unaware is in itself a source ofgreat satisfaction. Gaston, as he grew in years, now began to develop inmind more rapidly than he had hitherto done, and though separated forthe most part from his brother, was seldom many months without meetinghim for at least a few days. 

Raymond was spending the time with his old friend and comrade andcousin, John de Brocas. It had become evident to all who knew him thatJohn was not long for this world. He might linger on still some fewyears, but the insidious disease we now call consumption had firm holdupon him, and he was plainly marked as one who would not live to makeany name in the world. He showed no disposition to seclude himself fromhis kind by entering upon the monastic life, and his father had recentlybestowed upon him a small property which he had purchased nearGuildford, the air and dryness of which place had always been beneficialto him. 

This modest but pleasant residence, with the revenues attached, keptJohn in ease and comfort. He had spent the greater part of his incomethe year previous in the purchase of books, and his uncle's library wasalways at his disposal. He had many friends in and about the place; andhis life, though a little lonely, was a very happy one -- just the lifeof quietness and study that he loved better than any other. 

When his cousin Raymond came home from the wars without any verydefinite ideas as to his own immediate career in the future, it hadoccurred to John that if he could secure the companionship of thiscousin for the coming winter it would be a great boon to himself; andthe suggestion had been hailed with pleasure by the youth. 

Raymond would gladly have remained with the King had there been anyfighting in the cause of his country to be done; but the round offeasting and revelry which now appeared to be the order of the day hadno charms for him. After breaking a lance or two at Windsor, and seeingwhat Court life was in times of triumphant peace, he wearied of thescene, and longed for a life of greater purpose. Hearing where hiscousin John was located, he had quickly ridden across to pay him avisit; and that visit had lasted from the previous October till now, when the full beauty of a glorious English summer had clothed the worldin green, and the green was just tarnishing slightly in the heat of aglaring August. 

As Raymond had seen something of the fashion in which the world waswagging, his thoughts had ofttimes recurred to Father Paul and thatsolemn warning he had uttered. He had spoken of it to John, and both hadmused upon it, wondering if indeed something of prophetic fire dweltwithin that strong, spare frame -- whether indeed, through hisausterities and fasts, the monk had so reduced the body that the thingsof the spiritual world were revealed to him, and the future lay spreadbefore his eyes. 

At first both the cousins had thought week by week to hear some news ofa terrible visitation; but day had followed day, and months had rolledby, and still the country was holding high revel without a thought or afear for the future. So gradually the two studious youths had ceased tospeak of the visitation they had once confidently looked for, and theygave themselves up with the zest of pure enjoyment to their studies andthe pursuit of learning. Raymond's spiritual nature was deepened andstrengthened by his perusal of such sacred and devotional lore as hecould lay hands upon; and though the Scriptures, as they were presentedto him, were not without many errors and imperfections and omissions, heyet obtained a clearer insight into many of the prophetical writings, and a fuller grasp of God's purposes towards man, than he had everdreamed of before. So that though strongly tinged with the mysticism andeven with the superstition of the times, his spiritual growth was great, and the youth felt within him a spring of power unknown before which wasin itself a source of exaltation and power. 

And there was another element of happiness in Raymond's life at thistime which must not be omitted from mention. Seldom as he saw her --jealously as she was guarded by her father and brother, now returnedfrom the war, and settled again at Woodcrych -- he did nevertheless fromtime to time encounter Mistress Joan Vavasour, and each encounter wasfraught with a new and increasing pleasure. He had never spoken a wordof love to her; indeed he scarce yet knew that he had lost his heart inthat fashion which so often leads to wedlock. He was only just beginningto realize that she was not many years older than himself -- that shewas not a star altogether beyond the firmament of his own sky. He hadhitherto regarded her with one of those boyish adorations which are forthe time being sufficient in themselves, and do not look ahead into thefuture; and then Raymond well knew that before he could for a momentdream of aspiring to the hand of the proud knight's daughter, he musthimself have carved his way to moderate fortune and fame. 

His dreams of late had concerned themselves little with his worldlyestate, and therefore his deep reverential admiration for Joan had notdeveloped into anything of a definite purpose. If he dreamed dreams ofthe future in which she bore a part, it was only of laying at her feetsuch laurels as he should win, without thinking of asking a reward ather hands, unless it was the reward of being her own true knight, andrescuing her from the power of the Sanghursts, father and son, whoappeared to have regained their old ascendency over Sir Hugh and hisson, and to be looking forward still to the alliance between the twofamilies. 

Joan was of more than marriageable age. It was thought strange by manythat the match was not yet consummated. But the quietly determinedresistance on the part of the girl herself was not without some effect;and although there were many rumours afloat as to the boundless wealthof the ill-famed father and son, it was not yet an affair of absolutecertainty that they were in possession of the secret of thetransmutation of metals. So the match still hung fire, and Raymondreceived many bewitching smiles from the lady on the rare occasions whenthey met; and he thought nothing of the threat of Peter Sanghurst, beingendowed with that fearless courage which does not brood upon possibleperils, but faces real ones with quiet resolution. 

John was sitting over his books in the pleasant western window oneevening at the close of a hot September day, when he heard a quickfootstep crossing the anteroom, and Raymond came in with a strange lookupon his face. 

"John, " he said, before his cousin could ask a single question, "it hascome at last!"

"What has come?"

"The visitation -- the sickness -- the scourge of God. I knew thatFather Paul was looking into the future when he pronounced the doom uponthis land. It has come; it is amongst us now!"

"Not here -- not in this very place! We must have heard something of ithad it been so nigh. "

"It has not yet reached this town, " answered Raymond, the same strangelight shining in his eyes that John had observed there from hisentrance. "Listen, and I will tell thee all I myself know. Thou knowestthat I have been to Windsor, to meet my brother who is there. Him Ifound well and happy, brave as ever, knowing naught of this curse andscourge. But even as we talked together, there came a messenger fromLondon in hot haste to see thy father, good John. He had been straightdespatched by the King with a message of dire warning. A terriblesickness, which already men are calling by the name of Black Death, hasbroken out in the south and west of the land, and seems creepingeastward with these hot west winds that steadily blow. It attacks notonly men, but beasts and cattle -- that is, it seems to be accompaniedby a plague something similar in nature which attacks the beasts. Wordhas been passed on by the monks of what is happening far away, andalready a great terror has seized upon many, and some are for flying thecountry, others for shutting themselves up in their houses and keepinggreat fires burning around them. The message to thy father was to have acare for the horses, and to buy no new ones that might by chance carrythe seeds of the sickness within them. Men say that the people of Londonare very confident that they can keep the sickness away from enteringtheir walls, by maintaining a careful guard upon the city gates. AtWindsor, I left the town in a mighty fear, folks looking already askanceat each other, as if afraid they were smitten with the deadly disease. The news of its appearance is passing from mouth to mouth faster than ahorseman could spread the tidings. It had outridden me hither, and Ithought perchance thou mightest have heard it ere I reached home. "

"Nay, I have heard naught; but I would fain hear more now. "

"I know little but what I have already told thee, " answered Raymond. "Indeed, it is but little that there is to know at present. The diseaseseems to me somewhat to resemble that described by Lucretius as visitingAthens. Men sometimes suddenly fall down dead; or they are seized withviolent shiverings, their hair bristling upon their heads. Sometimes itis like a consuming fire within, and they run raving mad to the nearestwater, falling in perchance, and perishing by drowning, leaving theircarcases to pollute the spring. But if it do not carry off the strickenperson for some hours or days, black swellings are seen upon theirbodies like huge black boils, and death follows rapidly, the victimoften expiring in great agony. I have heard that the throat and lungsoften become inflamed before the Black Death seizes its victim, and thatin districts where the scourge has reached, any persons who appear tohave about them even a common rheum are cast forth from their homes evenby those nearest and dearest, for fear they are victims to the terriblescourge. "

"Misfortune makes men cruel if it do not bind them closer together. Raymond, I see a purpose in thy face -- a purpose of which I would knowthe meaning. That light in thine eyes is not for nothing. Tell me allthat is in thine heart. Methinks I divine it somewhat already. "

"Belike thou dost, good John, " answered Raymond, speaking very calmlyand steadily, "for thou knowest the charge laid upon me by my spiritualFather. 'Fear not, be not dismayed. A thousand shall fall beside thee, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee. 'Such was the burden of his charge; and shall I shrink or falter when thehour I have waited and watched for all these years has come like a thiefin the night? Good John, thou wast the first to teach me that there wasa truer, deeper chivalry than that of the tourney or the battlefield. Thou wast the first to understand, and to make me understand, that thehighest chivalry was that of our Lord Himself, when He laid down Hislife for sinners, and prayed for His enemies who pierced and nailed Himto the Cross. His words are ever words of mercy. Were He here with ustoday upon earth, where should we find Him now? Surely where the perilwas greatest, where the need sorest, where the darkness, the terror, thedistress blackest. And where He would be, were He with us here, is theplace where those who would follow Him most faithfully should be found. Not all perchance; there be claims of kindred, ties of love that no manmay lightly disregard: But none such ties bind me. I have but my brotherto love, and he is out in the world -- he needs me not. I am free to gowhere the voice within calls me; and I go forth to-morrow. "

"And whither goest thou?" asked John, in a low, awestruck tone. 

"I go to Father Paul, " answered Raymond, without hesitation, as one whohas thought the matter well out beforehand. "Wherever the need issorest, the peril greatest, there will Father Paul be found. And theBrotherhood stands in the heart of the smitten regions; wherefore at hisvery doors the sick will be lying, untended perchance and unassoiled, save in those places whither he can go. I fare forth at sunrisingtomorrow, to seek and to find him. He will give me work, he will let metoil beside him; better than that I ask not. "

John had risen from his seat. An answering light had sprung to his eyesas he had heard and watched Raymond. Now he laid his hand upon hiscousin's arm, and said quietly:

"Go, then, in the name of the Lord; I too go with thee. "

Raymond turned his head and looked full at his cousin, marking the thin, sunken lines of the face, the stooping pose of the shoulders, the hecticflush that came and went upon the hollow cheek; and seeing this andknowing what it betokened, he linked his arm within John's and commencedwalking up and down the room with him, as though inaction wereimpossible at such a moment. And as he walked he talked. 

"Good John, " he said, "I would fain have thee with me; but I well knowthou hast no strength for the task thou hast set thyself. Even the longday's ride would weary thy frame so sorely that thou wouldst fall aneasy victim to the sickness ere thou hadst done aught to help another. Thou hast thy father, thy mother, and thy good uncle to think of. Howsad would they be to hear whither thou hadst gone! And then, my cousin, it may well be that for thee there is other work, and work for whichthou canst better prepare thyself here than in any other place. I havethought of thee as well as of myself as I have ridden homeward this day. Shall I tell thee what my thought -- my dream of thee was like?"

"Ay, tell me; I would gladly hear. "

"I saw in my spirit the advance of this terrible Black Death; I saw itcome to this very place. Dead and dying, cast out of their homes bythose who would neither bury the one nor tend the other, were left lyingin the streets around, and a deadly fear was upon all the place. Andthen I saw a man step forth amongst these miserable wretches, and theman had thy face, dear cousin. And he came forward and said to those whowere yet willing to touch the sick, 'Carry them into my house; I have aplace made ready for them. Bring them to my house; there they will hetended and cared for. ' And then I thought that I saw the bearers liftand carry the sick here to this house, and that there they were receivedby some devoted men and women who had not been driven away by thegeneral terror, and there were clean and comfortable beds awaiting thesick, and great fires of aromatic herbs burning upon the hearths to keepaway the fumes of the pestilence from the watchers. And as the wretchedand stricken creatures found themselves in this fair haven, they blessedhim who had had this care for them; and those who died, died in comfort, shriven and assoiled by holy priests, whilst some amongst the numberwere saved, and saved through the act of him who had found them thissafe refuge. "

Raymond ceased speaking, and looked out over the fair landscapecommanded by the oriel window of the room in which they were standing;and John's pale face suddenly kindled and glowed. The same spirit ofself-sacrifice animated them both; but the elder of the pair realized, when it was put before him, how little he was fit for the work which theyounger had set himself to do, whilst he had the means as well as thedisposition to perform an act of mercy which in the end might be agreater boon to many than any service he could offer now. And if he didthis thing -- if he turned his house into a house of mercy for the sickof the plague -- he would then have his own opportunity to tend and carefor the sufferers. 

Only one thought for a moment hindered him from giving an answer. Helooked at Raymond, and said:

"Thinkest thou that this sickness will surely come this way?"

"In very truth I believe that it will ravage the land from end to end. Iknow that Father Paul looked to see the whole country swept by thescourge of God. Fear not but that thy work will find thee here. Thouwilt not have to wait long, methinks. Thou wilt but have fair time tomake ready all that thou wilt need -- beds, medicaments, aromatic wood, and perfumes -- and gather round thee a few faithful, trusty souls whowill not fly at the approach of danger. It may be no easy task to findthese, yet methinks they will be found here and there; for where Godsends His scourges upon His earth, He raises up pious men and women too, to tend the sufferers and prove to the world that He has still amongstthe gay and worldly His own children, His own followers, who will followwherever He leads. "

John's mind was quickly made up. 

"I will remain behind and do this thing, " he said. "Perchance thou and Iwill yet work together in this very place amongst the sick and dying. "

"I well believe it, " answered Raymond, with one of his far-away looks;and the cousins stood together looking out over the green world bathedin the light of sunset, wondering how and when they would meet again, but both strangely possessed with perfect confidence that they would someet. 

Then Raymond went to make his simple preparations for the morrow's ride. He had intended travelling quite alone, and chancing the perils of theroad, which, however, in these times of peace and rejoicing, were notvery great; for freebooters seldom disturbed travellers by day, saveperhaps in very lonely forest roads. But when Roger, the woodman's son, heard whither his master's steps were bent, and upon what errand he wasgoing, he fell at his feet in one of his wild passions of devotionalexcitement, and begged to be allowed to follow him even to the death. 

"It may well be to the death, good Roger, " answered Raymond gravely. "Men say that death is certain for those who take the breath of thesmitten persons; and such as go amongst them go at the risk of theirlives. I do not bid thee follow me -- I well believe the peril is great;but if thou willest to do this thing, I dare not say thee nay, formethinks it is a work of God, and may well win His approval. "

"I will go, " answered Roger, without the slightest hesitation. "Do I notowe all -- my body and soul alike -- to you and Father Paul? Where yougo, there will I go with you. What you fear not to face, I fear noteither. For life or for death I am yours; and if the Holy Saints and theBlessed Virgin will but give me strength to fight and to conquer thisfell foe, I trow they will do it because that thou art half a saintthyself, and they will know that I go to be with thee, to watch overthee, and perchance, by my service and my prayers, guard thee in somesort from ill. "

Raymond smiled and held out his hand to his faithful servant. In timesof common peril men's hearts are very closely knit together. The bondbetween the two youths seemed suddenly to take a new form; and when theyrode forth at sunrise on the morrow, with John waving an adieu to themand watching their departure with a strange look of settled purpose onhis face, it was no longer as master and servant that they rode, but asfriends and comrades going forth to meet a deadly peril together. 

It seemed strange, as they rode along in the bright freshness of a clearSeptember morning, to realize that any scenes of horror and death couldbe enacting themselves upon this fair earth not very many miles away. Yet as they rode ever onwards and drew near to the infected districts, the sunshine became obscured by a thick haze, the fresh wind which hadhitherto blown in their faces dropped, and the air was still with adeadly stillness new to both of them -- a stillness which was oppressiveand which weighed upon their spirits like lead. The first intimationthey had of the pestilence itself was the sight of the carcasses ofseveral beasts lying dead in their pasture, and, what was more terriblestill, the body of a man lying beside them, as though he had droppeddead as he came to drive them into shelter. 

Raymond looked at the little group with an involuntary shudder, andRoger crossed himself and muttered a prayer. But they did not turn outof their way; they were now nearing the gates of the Monastery, and itwas of Father Paul that Raymond's thoughts were full. Plainly enough hewas in the heart of the peril. How had it gone with him since thesickness had appeared here?

That question was answered the moment the travellers appeared withinsight of the well-known walls. They saw a sight that lived in theirmemories for many a day to come. 

Instead of the calm and solitude which generally reigned in this place, a great crowd was to be seen around the gate, but such a crowd as theyouths had never dreamed of before. Wretched, plague-stricken people, turned from their own doors and abandoned by their kindred, had draggedthemselves from all parts to the doors of the Monastery, in the hopethat the pious Brothers would give them help and a corner to die inpeace. And that they were not disappointed in this hope was well seen:for as Raymond and his companion appeared, they saw that one afteranother of these wretched beings was carried within the precincts of theMonastery by the Brothers; whilst amongst those who lay outside waitingtheir turn for admission, or too far gone to be moved again, a tall thinform moved fearlessly, bending over the dying sufferers and hearingtheir last confessions, giving priestly absolution, or soothing withstrong and tender hands the last agonies of some stricken creature. 

Raymond, with a strange, tense look upon his face, went straight to theFather where he stood amongst the dying and the dead, and just as hereached his side the Monk stood suddenly up and looked straight at him. His austere face did not relax, but in his eyes shone a light thatlooked like triumph. 

"It is well, my son, " he said. "I knew that thou wouldest be here anon. The soldier of the Cross is ever found at his post in such a time as this. "

 CHAPTER XVIII. WITH FATHER PAUL. 

All that evening and far into the night Raymond worked with the Brothersunder Father Paul, bringing in the sick, burying the dead, and tendingall those for whom anything could be done to mitigate their sufferings, or bring peace either of body or mind. 

By nightfall the ghastly assemblage about the Monastery doors haddisappeared. The living were lying in rows in the narrow beds, or uponthe straw pallets of the Brothers, filling dormitories and Refectoryalike; the dead had been laid side by side in a deep trench which hadbeen hastily dug by order of Father Paul; and after he had read overthem the burial service, earth and lime had been heaped upon the bodies, and one end of the long trench filled in. Before morning there were ascore more corpses to carry forth, and out of the thirty and oddstricken souls who lay within the walls, probably scarce ten wouldrecover from the malady. 

But no more of the sick appeared round and about the Monastery gates asthey had been doing for the past three days; and when Raymond asked whythis was so, Father Paul looked into his face with a keen, searchingglance as he replied:

"Verily, my son, it is because there be no more to come -- no more whohave strength to drag themselves out hither. Tomorrow I go forth tovisit the villages where the sick be dying like beasts in the shambles. I go to shrive and confess the sick, to administer the last rites to thedying, to read the prayers of the Church over those who are beingcarried to the great common grave. God alone knows whether even now theliving may suffice to bury the dead. But where the need is sorest, theremust His faithful servants be found. "

Raymond looked back with a face full of resolute purpose. 

"Father, take me with thee, " he said. 

Father Paul looked earnestly into that fair young face, that was growingso intensely spiritual in its expression, and asked one question. 

"My son, and if it should be going to thy death?"

"I will go with thee, Father Paul, be it for life or for death. "

"God bless and protect thee, my son!" said the Father. "I verily believethat thou art one over whom the Blessed Saints and the Holy Angels keepwatch and ward, and that thou wilt pass unscathed even through this timeof desolation and death. "

Raymond had bent his knee to receive the Father's blessing, and when herose he saw that Roger was close behind him, likewise kneeling; andreading the thought in his mind, he said to the Father:

"Wilt thou not give him thy blessing also? for I know that he too willgo with us and face the peril, be it for life or death. "

Father Paul laid his hand upon the head of the second lad. 

"May God's blessing rest also upon thee, my son, " he said. "In days pastthou hast been used as an instrument of evil, and hast been forced to dothe devil's own work. Now God, in His mercy, has given thee work to dofor Him, whereby thou mayest in some sort make atonement for the past, and show by thy faith and piety that thou art no longer a bondservantunto sin. "

Then turning to both the youths as they stood before him, the Fatheradded, in a different and less solemn tone:

"And since your purpose is to go forth with me tomorrow, you must nowtake some of that rest without which youthful frames cannot longdispense. Since early dawn you have been travelling and working at tasksof a nature to which you are little used. Come with me, therefore, andpass the remaining hours of the night in sleep. I will arouse you forour office of early mass, and then we will forth together. Till thensleep fearlessly and well. Sleep will best fit you for what you will seeand hear tomorrow. "

So saying, the Father led them into a narrow cell where a couple ofpallet beds had been placed, and where some slices of brown bread and apitcher of spring water were likewise standing. 

"Our fare is plain, but it is wholesome. Eat and drink, my sons, andsleep in peace. Wake not nor rise until I come to you again. "

The lads were indeed tired enough, though they had scarcely known it inthe strange excitement of the journey, and amid the terrible scenes ofdeath and sickness which they had witnessed around and about theMonastery doors since their arrival there. Now, however, that they hadreceived the command to rest and sleep (and to gainsay the Father'scommands was a thing that would never have entered their minds), theywere willing enough to obey, and had hardly laid themselves down beforethey fell into a deep slumber, from which neither awoke until the lightof day had long been shining upon the world, and the Father stood besidethem bidding them rise and follow him. 

In a few minutes their simple toilet and ablutions had been performed, and they made their way along the familiar passage to the chapel, fromwhence a low sound of chanting began to arise. There were not many ofthe Brothers present at the early service, most of them being engaged intending the plague-stricken guests beneath their roof. But the Fatherwas performing the office of the mass, and when he had himself partakenof the Sacrament, he signed to the two boys, who were about to go forthwith him into scenes of greater peril than any they had witnessedheretofore, to come and receive it likewise. 

The service over, and some simple refreshment partaken of, the youthsprepared for their day's toil, scarce knowing what they would be like tosee, but resolved to follow Father Paul wherever he went, anxious onlyto accomplish successfully such work as he should find for them to do. 

Each had a certain burden to carry with him -- some of the cordials thathad been found to give most relief in cases of utter collapse andexhaustion, a few simple medicaments and outward applications thought tobe of some use in allaying the pain of those terrible black swellingsfrom which the sickness took its significant name, and somesimply-prepared food for the sufferers, who were often like to perishfrom inanition even before the plague had done its worst. For strickenpersons, or those supposed to be stricken, were often turned out oftheir homes even by their nearest relatives, and forced to wander abouthomeless and starving, none taking pity upon their misery, until thepoison in their blood did its fatal work, and they dropped down to die. 

That loosening of the bands of nature and affection in times of deadlysickness has always been one of the most terrible features of theoutbreaks of the plague when it has visited either this or other lands. There are some forms of peril that bind men closer and closer together, and that bring into bond of friendship even those who have been beforeestranged; and terrible though these perils may be, there is always adeep sense of underlying consolation in the closer drawing of the bondof brotherhood. But when the scourge of deadly sickness has passed overthe land, the effect has almost always been to slacken this tie; theinherent love of life, natural to human beings, turning to an almostincredible selfishness, and inducing men to abandon their nearest anddearest in the hour of peril, leaving them, if stricken, to die alone, or turning them, sick to death though they might be, away from theirdoors, to perish untended and without shelter. True, there were manybright exceptions to such a code of barbarity, and devoted men and womenarose by the score to strive to ameliorate the condition of thesufferers; but for all that, one of the most terrible features of theperiod of death and desolation was that of the fearful panic iteverywhere produced, and the inhuman neglect and cruelty with which theearly sufferers were treated by the very persons who, perhaps only a fewdays or even hours later, had themselves caught the contagion, and werelying dead or dying in the homes from which they had ejected their ownkith and kin before. 

Of the fearful havoc wrought in England by this scourge of the BlackDeath many readers of history are scarcely aware. Whole districts wereactually and entirely depopulated, not a living creature of any kindbeing left sometimes within a radius of many miles; and at the lowestcomputation made by historians, it is believed that not less thanone-half of the entire population perished during the outbreak. 

But of anything like the magnitude of such a calamity no person at thistime had any conception, and little indeed was Raymond prepared for thesights that he was this day to look upon. 

The Father and his two assistants went forth after they had partaken offood, and turned their faces westward. 

"There is a small village two miles hence that we will visit first, "said the Father, "for the poor people have no pastor or any other personto care for their bodies or souls, and I trow we shall find work to dothere. If time permits when we have done what we may there, we will passon to the little town round the church of St. Michael, whose spire yousee yonder on the hillside. Many of the stricken folks within our wallscame from thence. The sickness is raging there, and there may be fewhelpers left by now. "

The same sultry haze the travellers had noticed in the infected regionswas still hanging over the woods today as they sallied forth; and thoughthe sun was shining in the sky, its beams were thick and blood-redinstead of being clear and bright, and there was an oppression in theair which caused the birds to cease their song, and lay on the spiritlike a dead weight. 

"The curse of God upon the land -- the curse of God!" said the Father, in a low, solemn tone, as he led the way, bearing in his hands the HolySacrament with which to console the dying. "Men have long beenforgetting Him. But He will not alway be forgotten. He will arise injudgment and show men the error of their ways. If in their prosperitythey will not remember Him, He will call Himself to their remembrance bya terrible day of adversity. And who may stand before the Lord? Who mayabide the day of His visitation?"

Moving along with these and like solemn words of warning and admonition, to which his followers paid all reverent heed, the woodland path wasquickly traversed, and the clearing reached which showed the nearapproach to the village. There was a break in the forest at this point, and some excellent pasture land and arable fields had tempted twofarmers to establish themselves here, a small hamlet growing quickly uparound the farmsteads. This small community supplied the Brothers withsome of the necessaries of life, and every soul there was known to theFather. Some dozen persons had come to the Monastery gates during thepast two days, stricken and destitute, and had been taken in there. Butall these had died and no others had followed, and Father Paul wasnaturally anxious to know how it fared with those left behind. 

Raymond and Roger both knew the villagers well. The two years spentwithin the walls of the Brotherhood had made them fully acquainted withthe people round about. The little hamlet was a pretty spot: a number oflow thatched cottages nestled together beside the stream that wateredthe meadows, whilst the larger farmsteads, which, however, were onlymodest dwelling houses with their barns and sheds forming a backgroundto them, stood a little farther back upon a slightly-rising ground, sheltered from the colder winds by a spur of the forest. 

Generally one was aware, in approaching the place, of the pleasanthomely sounds of life connected with farming. Today, with the goldengrain all ready for the reaper's hand, one looked to hear the sound ofthe sickle in the corn, and the voices of the labourers calling to eachother, or singing some rustic harvest song over their task. But insteadof that a deadly and death-like silence prevailed; and Raymond, who hadquickened his steps as he neared the familiar spot, now involuntarilypaused and hung back, as if half afraid of what he would be forced tolook upon when once the last turning was passed. 

But Father Paul moved steadily on, turning neither to the right hand norto the left. There was no hesitation or faltering in his step, and thetwo youths pressed after him, ashamed of their moment's backwardness. The sun had managed to pierce through the haze, and was shining now withsome of its wonted brilliancy. As Raymond turned the corner and sawbefore him the whole of the little hamlet, he almost wished the sun hadceased to shine, the contrast between the beauty and brightness ofnature and the scene upon which it looked being almost too fearful forendurance. 

Lying beside the river bank, in every attitude and contortion of thedeath agony, were some dozen prostrate forms of men, women, andchildren, all dead and still. It seemed as though they must have crawledforth from the houses when the terrible fever thirst was upon them, anddragging themselves down to the water's edge, had perished there. Andyet if all were dead, as indeed there could be small doubt from theirperfect stillness and rigidity, why did none come forth to bury them?Already the warm air was tainted and oppressive with thatplague-stricken odour so unspeakably deadly to the living. Why did notthe survivors come forth from their homes and bury the dead out of theirsight? Had all fled and left them to their fate?

Father Paul walked calmly onwards, his eyes taking in every detail ofthe scene. 

As he reached the dead around the margin of the stream, he paused andlooked upon the faces he had known so well in life, then turning to histwo followers, he said:

"I trow these be all dead corpses, but I will examine each if there beany spark of life remaining. Go ye into the houses, and if there be anysound persons within, bid them, in the name of humanity and their ownsafety, come forth and help to bury their brethren. If they are sufferedto lie here longer, every soul in this place will perish!"

Glad enough to turn his eyes from the terrible sight without, Raymondhurried past to the cluster of dwelling places beyond, and entering thefirst of these himself, signed to Roger to go into the second. He hadsome slight difficulty in pushing open the door, not because it wasfastened, but owing to some encumbrance behind. When, however, hesucceeded in forcing his way in, he found that the encumbrance wasnothing more or less than the body of a woman lying dead along the floorof the tiny room. Upon a bed in the corner two children were lying, smiling as if in sleep, but both stiff and cold, the livid tokens of theterrible malady visible upon their little bodies, though the end seemedto have been painless. No other person was in the house, and Raymond, drawing a covering over the children as they lay, turned from the houseagain with a shudder of compassionate sorrow. Outside he met Rogercoming forth with a look of awe upon his face. 

"There be five souls within you door, " he said -- "an old woman, her twosons and two daughters. But they are all dead and cold. I misdoubt me ifwe find one alive in the place. "

"We must try farther and see, " answered Raymond, his face full of thewondering consternation of so terrible a discovery; and by mutualconsent they proceeded in their task together. There was something sounspeakably awful in going about alone in a veritable city of the dead. 

And such indeed might this place be called. Roger was fearfully right inhis prediction. Each house entered showed its number of victims to thedestroyer, but not one of these victims was living to receive comfort orhelp from the ministrations of those who had come amongst them. And notman alone had suffered; upon the dumb beasts too had the scourge fallen:for when Roger suddenly bethought him that the creatures would wanttendance in the absence of their owners, and had gone to the sheds toseek for them, nothing but death met his eye on all sides. Some in theirstalls, some in the open fields, some, like their masters, beside thestream, lay the poor beasts all stone dead. 

It seemed as if the scourge had fallen with peculiar virulence upon thislittle hamlet, in the warm cup-like hollow where it lay, and had smittenit root and branch. Possibly the waters of the stream had been poisonedhigher up, and the deadly malaria had reached it in that way; possiblysome condition of the atmosphere predisposed living things to take theinfection. But be the cause what it might, there was no gainsaying thefact. Not a living or breathing thing remained in the hamlet; and littleas Raymond knew it, such wholesale destruction was only too commonthroughout the length and breadth of England. But such a revelationcoming upon him suddenly, brought before his very eyes when he had comewith the desire to help and tend the living, filled him with an awe thatwas almost terror, although the terror was not for himself. Personallyhe had no fear; he had given himself to this work, and he would hold toit be the result what it might. But the thought of the scourge sweepingdown upon a peaceful hamlet, and carrying off in a few short days everybreathing thing within its limits, was indeed both terrible and pitiful. He could picture only too vividly the terror, the anguish, the agony ofthe poor helpless people, and longed, not to escape from such scenes, but rather to go forward to other places ere the work of destruction hadbeen accomplished, and be with the sick when the last call came. If hehad been but two days earlier in coming forward, might he not have beenin time to do a work of mercy and charity even here?

But it was useless musing thus. To act, and not to think, was now theorder of the day. He went slowly out from the yard they had lastvisited, his face as pale as death, but full of courage and high purpose. 

"There is nothing living here, " he said, as he reached the Father, whohad not left the side of the dead. "We have been into all the houses, wehave looked everywhere, but there is nothing but dead corpses: man andbeast have perished alike. Nothing that breathes is left alive. "

The Father looked round upon the scene of smiling desolation -- thesunny harvest fields, the laughing brook, the broad meadows -- and theghastly rows of plague-stricken corpses at his feet, and a stern, sadchange passed across his face. 

"It is the hand of the Lord, " he said, "and perchance He smites in mercyas well as in wrath, delivering men from the evil to come. Let us ariseand go hence. Our work is for the living and not the dead. "

For those three to have attempted to bury all that hamlet would havebeen an absolute impossibility. Dreadful as was the thought of turningaway and leaving the place as it was, it was hopeless to do otherwise, and possibly in the town men might be found able and willing to come outand inter the corpses in one common grave. 

With hearts full of awe, the two lads followed their conductor. He hadbeen through similar scenes in other lands. To him there was nothing newin sights such as this. Even the sense of personal peril, little as hehad ever regarded it, had long since passed away. But it was somethingaltogether new to Raymond and his companion; and though they had seendeath in many terrible forms upon the battlefield, it had never inspiredthe same feelings of horror and awe. It was impossible to forget thatthey might at any moment be breathing into their lungs the same deadlypoison which was carrying off multitudes on every side, and althoughthere was no conscious fear for themselves in the thought, it could notbut fill them with a quickened perception of the uncertainty of life andthe unreality of things terrestrial. 

In perfect silence the walk towards the little town was accomplished;and as they neared it terrible sights began to reveal themselves evenalong the roadside. Plainly indeed to be seen were evidences ofattempted flight from the plague-stricken place; and no doubt many hadmade good their escape, but others had fallen down by the wayside in adying state, and these dead or dying sufferers were the first tokensobserved by the travellers of the condition of the town. 

Not all were dead, though most were plainly hopeless cases. Raymond andRoger had both learned something during the hours of the previous night, when they had helped the good Brothers over their tasks; and theyfearlessly knelt beside the poor creatures, moistening their parchedlips, answering their feeble, moaning plaints, and summoning to the sideof the dying the Father, who could hear the feeble confession of sin, and pronounce the longed-for absolution to the departing soul. 

Passing still onwards -- for they could not linger long, and littleenough could be done for these dying sufferers, all past hope -- theyreached the streets of the town itself; and the first sight whichgreeted their eyes was the figure of a man stripped naked to the waist, his back bleeding from the blows he kept on inflicting upon himself withthe thick, knotted cord he held in his hands, a heavy and rough piece ofiron being affixed to the end to make the blows more severe. From thewaist downwards he was clothed with sackcloth, and as he rushed aboutthe streets shrieking and castigating himself, he called aloud on thepeople to repent of their sins, and to flee from the wrath of God thatwas falling upon the whole nation. 

Yet, though many dead and dying were lying in the streets about him, andthough cries and groans from many houses told that the destroyer was atwork there, this Flagellant (as these maniacs, of which at that timethere were only too many abroad, were called) never attempted to touchone of them, though he ran almost over their prostrate bodies, and hadapparently no fear of the contagion. There were very few people abroadin the streets, and such as were sound kept their faces covered withcloths steeped in vinegar or some other pungent mixture, and walkedgingerly in the middle of the road, as if afraid to approach either thehouses on each side or the other persons walking in the streets. 

A cart was going about, with two evil-looking men in it, who lifted insuch of the dead as they found lying by the roadside, and coollydivested them of anything of any value which they chanced to have uponthem before conveying them to the great pit just outside which had beendug to receive the victims of the plague. 

A wild panic had seized upon the place. Most of the influentialinhabitants had fled. There was no rule or order or oversight observed, and the priest of the church, who until this day had kept a certainwatch over his flock, and had gone about encouraging and cheering thepeople, had himself been stricken down with the fell malady, and no oneknew whether he were now living or dead. 

As the Father passed by, people rushed out from many doors to implorehim to come to this house or the other, to administer the last rites tosome one dying within. There were other houses marked with a red crosson the doors, which had been for many days closed by the townauthorities, until these had themselves fled, being assured that noperson could live in that polluted air. What had become of the wretchedbeings thus shut up, when the watchers who were told off to guard themhad fled in terror, it was hard to imagine; and whilst the Fatherresponded to the calls of those who required spiritual assistance at thelast dread hour, Raymond beckoned to Roger to follow him in hisvisitation to those places where the distemper had first showed itself, and where people had hoped to confine it by closing the houses andletting none go forth. 

The terribly deadly nature of the malady was well exemplified by thecondition of these houses. Scarce ten living souls were found in them, and of these almost all were reduced to the last extremity either bydisease or hunger; for none had been nigh them, and they had no strengthto try to make their wants known. 

Raymond had the satisfaction of seeing some amongst these wretchedbeings revive somewhat under his ministrations. It was not in every casethe real distemper from which they suffered; in not a few the patientshad sunk only from fright and the misery of feeling themselves shut awayfrom their fellows. Whenever any persons ailed anything in those days, it was at once supposed that the Black Death was upon them, and theywere shunned and abhorred by all their friends and kindred. To thesepoor creatures it seemed indeed as though an angel from heaven had comedown when Raymond bent over them and put food and drink to their lips. Many an office of loving mercy to the sick and dying did he and Rogerperform ere daylight faded from the sky; and before night actually fell, the Father had by precept and example got together a band of helpersready and willing to tend the sick and bury the dead, and the peoplefelt that the terrible panic which had fallen upon them, and causedevery one to flee away, had given place to something better and more humane. 

Men who had fled their stricken homes and had spent their time carousingin the taverns, trying to drown their fears and their griefs, nowreturned home to see how it fared with those who had been left behind. Women who had been almost distracted by grief, and had been rushing intothe church sobbing and crying, and neglecting the sick, that they mightpour out their hearts at the shrine of their favourite saint, wereadmonished by the Holy Father, so well known to them, to return to theirhomes and their duties. As the pall of night fell over the strickencity, and the three who had entered it a few hours before still toiledon without cessation, people breathed blessings on them wherever theyappeared, and Raymond felt that his work for the Lord in the midst ofHis stricken people had indeed begun. 

 CHAPTER XIX. THE STRICKEN SORCERER. 

"Thou to Guildford then, my son, and I and the Brethren to London. "

So said Father Paul some three weeks later, as he stood once againinside the precincts of the Monastery, with Raymond by his side, lookinground the thinned circle of faces of such of the Brothers as hadsurvived the terrible visitation which had passed over them, and nowgone, as it seemed, elsewhere. Quite one-half of the inhabitants of thatsmall retreat had fallen victims to the scourge. Scarce ten souls out ofall those who had sought shelter within those walls had risen from theirbeds and gone forth to their desolated homes again. The great trench inthe burying ground had received the rest; and of the Brothers whogathered round Father Paul to welcome him back, several showed, by theirpinched and stricken appearance, how near they themselves had been tothe gates of death. 

Few stricken by the fatal sickness itself ever recovered; but there weremany others who, falling ill of overwork or some other feverish ailment, were accounted to have caught the distemper, and many of these didamend, though all sickness at such a time seemed to get a firmer holdupon its victims. But Father Paul and both his young assistants hadescaped unscathed, though they had been waging a hand-to-hand fight withthe destroyer for three long weeks, that seemed years in the retrospect. 

The Brothers came crowding round them as about those returned from thegrave. Indeed, to them it did almost seem as though this was aresurrection from the dead; for they had long since given up all hope ofseeing their beloved Superior and Father again in the flesh. 

But the Father himself only accounted his work begun. Although thepestilence appeared to have passed from the immediate district, and suchcases as occurred amid the few survivors of the visitation were by nomeans so fatal as they had been in the beginning, yet the sicknessitself in its most virulent form was sweeping along northward andeastward, spreading death and desolation in its track; and Father Paulhad but one purpose in his mind, which was to follow in the path of thedestroyer, performing for the sufferers wherever he went the sameoffices of piety and mercy that he had been wont to undertake all thesepast days; and the Brothers, who had finished their labour of lovewithin the walls of their home, and had grown fearless before thepestilence with that fearlessness which gradually comes to those wholook long and steadily upon death, were not wanting in resolve to faceit even in its most terrible shape. 

So that they one and all vowed that they would go with Father Paul; andhis steps were bound for the capital of the kingdom, where he knew thatthe need would be the sorest. 

It seemed to the Brothers, who had long lived beneath his austere butwise and fatherly rule, that not only did he himself bear a charmedlife, but that all who worked with him felt the shelter of that charm. Raymond and Roger had returned, having suffered no ill effects from theterrible sights and scenes through which they had passed. Though thecountry in these almost depopulated districts literally reeked with thepestilence, owing to the effluvia from the carcasses of men and beastswhich lay rotting on the ground unburied, yet they had passed unscathedthrough all, and were ready to go forth again upon the same errand of mercy. 

Raymond was much divided in mind as to his own course of action. Much ashe longed to remain with Father Paul, whom he continued to revere with aloving admiration that savoured of worship, he yet had a great desire toknow how it was faring with his cousin John. He could not but be verysure that the pestilence would not pass Guildford by, and he knew thatJohn would go forth amongst the sick and dying, and bring them into hisown house for tendance, even though his own life paid the forfeit. Itwas therefore with no small eagerness that he longed for news of him;and when he spoke of this to the Father, the latter at once advised thatthey should part company -- he and such of the Brethren as were fit forthe journey travelling on to London, whilst the two youths took thedirect road to Guildford, to see how matters fared there. 

"Ye are but striplings, " said the Father kindly, "and though ye bewilling and devoted, ye have not the strength of men, nor are ye suchseasoned vessels. In London the scenes will be terrible to look upon. Itmay be that they would be more than ye could well brook. Go, then, toGuildford. They will need helpers there who know how best to wrestlewith the foul distemper, and ye have both learned many lessons with me. I verily believe that your work lies there, as mine lies yonder. Gothen, and the Lord be with you. It may be we shall meet again in thisworld, but if not, in that world beyond into which our Blessed Saviourhas passed, that through His intercession, offered unceasingly for us, we too may obtain an entrance through the merits of His redeeming Blood. "

Then blessing both the boys and embracing them with a tenderness new inone generally so reserved and austere, he sent them away, and they settheir faces steadily whence they had come, not knowing what adventuresthey might meet upon the way. 

This return journey was by no means so rapid as the ride hither hadbeen. Both the horses they had then ridden had perished of the sickness, and as none others were to be found, and had they been obtainable mightbut have fallen down by the wayside to die, the youths travelled onfoot. And they did not even take the most direct route, but turned asideto this place or the other, wherever they knew of the existence of humanhabitations; for wherever such places were, there might there be needfor human help and sympathy. And not a few acts of mercy did the boysperform as they travelled slowly onwards through an almost depopulatedregion. 

Time fails to tell of all they saw and heard as they thus journeyed; butthey found ample employment for all their skill and energy. The lives ofmany little children, whose parents had died or fled, were saved bythem, and the neglected little orphans left in the kindly care of somedevoted Sisterhood, whose inmates gladly received them, fearless of therisk they might run by so doing. 

Wandering so often out of their way, they scarce knew their exactwhereabouts when darkness fell upon them on the third day of theirjourneying; but after walking still onwards for some time in what theyjudged to be the right direction, they presently saw a light in acottage window, and knocking at the door, asked shelter for the night. 

Travellers at such a time as this were regarded with no small suspicion, and the youths hardly looked to get any answer to their request; butrather to their surprise, the door was quickly opened, and Roger uttereda cry of recognition as he looked in the face of the master of the house. 

It was no other, in fact, than the ranger with whom as a boy he hadfound a temporary home, from which home he had been taken in hisfather's absence and sold into the slavery of Basildene. The boy's cryof astonishment was echoed by the man when once he had made sure thathis senses were not deceiving him, but that it was really little Roger, whom he had long believed to be dead; and both he and his companion wereeagerly welcomed in and set down to a plentiful meal of bread andvenison pasty, whilst the boy told his long and adventurous story asbriefly as he could, Stephen listening with parted lips and staringeyes, as if to the recital of some miraculous narrative. 

And in truth the tale was strange enough, told in its main aspects: theescape from Basildene, which to himself always partook of the nature ofa miracle, the conflict with the powers of darkness in the Monastery, his adventures in France, and now his marvellous escape in the midst ofthe plague-stricken people whom he had tended and helped. The ranger, who had lost his own wife and children in the distemper, and had himselfescaped, had lost all fear of the contagion --indeed he cared littlewhether he lived or died; and when he heard upon what errand the youthswere bent, he declared he would gladly come with them, for the solitudeof his cottage was so oppressive to him that he would have welcomed evena plague-stricken guest sooner than be left much longer with only hishounds and his own thoughts for company. 

"If I cannot tend the sick, I can at least bury the dead, " he said, drawing his horny hand across his eyes, remembering for whom he had butlately performed that last sad office. And Raymond, to whom this offerwas addressed, accepted his company gladly, for he knew by recentexperience how great was the need for helpers where the sick and thedead so far outnumbered the whole and sound. 

He had gone off into a reverie as he sat by the peat fire, whilst Rogerand the ranger continued talking together eagerly of many matters, andhe heard little of what passed until roused by the name of Basildenespoken more than once, and he commanded his drowsy and wearied facultiesto listen to what the ranger was saying. 

"Yes, the Black Death has found its way in behind those walls, men say. The old sorcerer tried all his black arts to keep it out; but there cameby one this morning who told me that the old man had been seized, andwas lying without a soul to go near him. They have but two servants thathave ever stayed with them in that vile place, and these both thoughtthe old man's dealings with the devil would at least suffice to keep thescourge away, and felt themselves safer there than elsewhere. But themoment he was seized they both ran away and left him, and there they sayhe is lying still, untended and unwatched -- if he be not dead by now. For as for the son, he had long since made his own preparations. He hasshut himself up in a turret, with a plentiful supply of food; and heburns a great fire of scented wood and spices at the foot of thestairway, and another in the place he lives in, and never means to stirforth until the distemper has passed. One of the servants, before hefled, went to the stair foot and called to him to tell him that hisfather lay a-dying of the plague below; but he only laughed, and said itwas time he went to the devil, who had been waiting so long for him; andthe man rushed out of the house in affright at the sound of suchterrible blasphemy and unnatural wickedness at a time like this. "

Raymond's face took a new expression as he heard these words. Thelassitude and weariness passed out of it, and a curious light crept intohis eyes. Roger and the ranger continued to talk together of manythings, but their silent companion still sat motionless beside thehearth. Over his face was stealing a look of purpose -- such purpose asfollows a struggle of the spirit over natural distaste and disgust. 

When the ranger presently left them, to see what simple preparations hecould make for their comfort during the night, he motioned to Roger tocome nearer, and looking steadily at him, he said:

"Roger, I am going to Basildene tonight, to see what human skill may dofor the old Sanghurst. He is our enemy -- thine and mine -- thereforedoubly is it our duty to minister to him in the hour of his extremity. Igo forth this night to seek him. Wilt thou go with me? or dost thou fearto fall again under the sway of his evil mind, or his son's, if thouputtest foot within the halls of Basildene again?"

For a moment a look of strong repulsion crossed Roger's face. He shrankback a little, and looked as though he would have implored his youngmaster to reconsider his resolution. But something in the luminousglance of those clear bright eyes restrained him, and presently some oftheir lofty purpose seemed to be infused into his own soul. 

"If thou goest, I too will go, " he said. "At thy side no harm from theEvil One can come nigh me. Have I not proved that a hundred times erenow? And the spell has long been broken off my neck and off my spirit. Ifear neither the sorcerer nor his son. If it be for us -- if it be acall -- to go even to him in the hour of his need, I will go without athought of fear. I go in the name of the Holy Virgin and her Son. I neednot fear what man can do against me. "

Great was the astonishment of the worthy ranger when he returned to hearthe purpose upon which his guests were bent; but he had already imbibedsome of that strange reverential admiration for Raymond which he sofrequently inspired in those about him, and it did not for a momentoccur to him to attempt to dissuade him from an object upon which hismind was bent. 

The October night, though dark and moonless, was clear, and the starswere shining in the sky as the little procession started forth. Theranger insisted on being one of the number. Partly from curiosity, partly from sheer hatred of solitude, and a good deal from interest inhis companions and their errand of mercy, he had decided to come withthem, not merely to show them the way to Basildene, which he could findequally well by night as by day, but to see the result of their journeythere, and take on with him to Guildford the description of the oldsorcerer's home and his seizure there. 

As they moved along through the whispering wood, the man, in low andawe-stricken tones, asked Roger of his old life there, and what it wasthat made him of such value to the Sanghursts. Raymond had never talkedto the lad of that chapter in his past life, always abiding by FatherPaul's advice to let him forget it as far as possible. 

Now, however, Roger seemed able to speak of it calmly, and without theterror and emotion that any recollection of that episode used to causehim in past years. He could talk now of the strange trances into whichhe was thrown, and how he was made to see things at a distance and tellall he saw. Generally it was travellers upon the road he was instructedto watch, and forced to describe the contents of the mails they carriedwith them. Some instinct made the boy many times struggle hard againstrevealing the nature of the valuables he saw that these people had aboutthem, knowing well how they would be plundered by his rapacious masters, after they had tempted them upon the treacherous swamp not far fromBasildene, where, if they escaped with their lives, it would be as muchas they could hope to do. But the truth was always wrung from him bysuffering at last -- not that his body was in any way injured by them, save by the prolonged fasts inflicted upon him to intensify his gift ofclairvoyance; but whilst in these trances they could make him believethat any sort of pain was being inflicted, and he suffered it exactly asthough it had been actually done upon his bodily frame. Thus they forcedfrom his reluctant lips every item of information they desired; and heknew when plunder was brought into the house, and stored in the deepunderground cellars, how and whence it had come -- knew, too, that manyand many a wretched traveller had been overwhelmed in the swamp whomight have escaped with life and goods but for him. 

It was the horror of this conviction, and the firm belief that he hadbeen bound over body and soul to Satan, that was killing him by incheswhen the twin brothers effected his rescue. He did not always rememberclearly in his waking moments what had passed in his hours of trance, but the horror of great darkness always remained with him; and at somemoments everything would come upon him with a fearful rush, and he wouldremain stupefied and overwhelmed with anguish. 

To all of this Raymond listened with great interest. He and John hadread of some such phenomena in their books relating to the history ofmagic; and little as the hypnotic state was understood in those days, the young student had gained some slight insight into the matter, andwas able to speak of his convictions to Roger with some assurance. Hetold him that though he verily believed such power over the wills ofothers to be in some sort the work of the devil, it might yet besuccessfully withstood by a resolute will, bound over to thedetermination to yield nothing to the strong and evil wills of others. And Roger, who had long since fought his fight and gained strength andconfidence, was not afraid of venturing into the stronghold ofwickedness -- less so than ever now that he might go at Raymond's side. 

It was midnight before the lonely house was reached, and Raymond's heartbeat high as he saw the outline of the old walls looming up against thegloomy sky. Not a light was to be seen burning in any of the windows, save a single gleam from out the turret at the corner away to the left;and though owls hooted round the place, and bats winged their uncertainflight, no other living thing was to be seen, and the silence of deathseemed to brood over the house. 

"This is the way to the door that is the only one used, " said Stephen, "and we shall find it unlocked for certain, seeing that the servantshave run away, and the young master will not go nigh his father, notthough he were ten times dying. My lantern will guide us surely enoughthrough the dark passages, and maybe young Roger will know where the oldman is like to be found. "

"Below stairs, I doubt not, amongst his bottles and books of magic, "answered Roger, with a light shiver, as he passed through the doorwayand found himself once again within the evil house. "He would think thatin yon place no contagion could touch him. He spent his days and nightsalike there. He scarce left it save to go abroad, or perchance to have afew hours' sleep in his bed. But the treasure is buried somewhere nighat hand down in those cellars, though the spot I know not. And he fearsto leave it night or day, lest some stealthy hand filch away theill-gotten gain. Men thought he had the secret whereby all might bechanged to gold, and indeed he would ofttimes bring pure gold out fromthe crucibles over his fire; but he had cast in first, unknown to thosewho so greedily watched him, the precious baubles he had stolen fromtravellers upon the road. He was a very juggler with his hands. I havewatched him a thousand times at tricks which would have made the fortuneof a travelling mountebank. But soft! here is the door at the head ofthe stairs. Take heed how that is opened, lest the hound fly at thythroat. Give me the lantern, and have thou thy huntsman's knife toplunge into his throat, else he may not let us pass down alive. "

But when the door was opened, the hound, instead of growling orspringing, welcomed them with whines of eager welcome. The poor beastwas almost starved, and had been tamed by hunger to unwonted gentleness. 

Raymond, who had food in his wallet, fed him with small pieces as theycautiously descended the stairs, for Basildene would furnish them withmore if need be; the larder and cellar there were famous in their way, though few cared to accept of their owner's hospitality. 

Roger almost expected to find the great door of that subterranean roombolted and locked, so jealous was its owner of entrance being madethere; but it yielded readily to the touch, and the three, with thehound, passed in together. 

In a moment Raymond knew by the peculiar atmosphere, which even in solarge a place was sickly and fetid, that they were in the presence ofone afflicted with the true distemper. The place was in total darknesssave for the light of the lantern the ranger carried; but there werelamps in sconces all along the wall, and these Roger quickly lighted, being familiar enough with this underground place, which it had beenpart of his duty to see to. The light from these lamps was pure andwhite and very bright, and lit up the weird vaulted chamber from end toend. It shone upon a stiffened figure lying prone upon the floor not farfrom the vaulted fireplace, upon whose hearth the embers lay black andcold; and Raymond, springing suddenly forward as his glance rested uponthis figure, feared that he had come too late, and that the foe of hishouse had passed beyond the power of human aid. 

"Help me to lift him, " he said to Stephen; "and, Roger, kindle thou afire upon the hearth. There may be life in him yet. We will try what weknow. Yes, methinks his heart beats faintly; and the tokens of thedistemper are plainly out upon him. Perchance he may yet live. Of late Ihave seen men rise up from their beds whom we have given up for lost. "

Raymond was beginning to realize that the black boils, so often lookedupon as the death tokens, were by no means in reality anything of thekind. As a matter of fact, of the cases that recovered, most, if notall, had the plague spots upon them. These boils were, in fact, nature'sown effort at expelling the virulent poison from the system, and ifproperly treated by mild methods and poultices, in some cases reallybrought relief, so that the patient eventually recovered. 

But the intensity of the poison, and its rapid action upon the humanorgans, made cases of recovery rare indeed at the outset, when theoutbreak always came in its most virulent form; and truly the appearanceof old Peter Sanghurst was such as almost to preclude hope ofrestoration. Tough as he was in constitution, the glaze of death seemedalready in his eyes. He was all but pulseless and as cold as death, whilst the spasmodic twitchings of his limbs when he was lifted spoke ofdeath rather than life. 

Still Raymond would not give up hope. He had the fire kindled, and itsoon blazed up hot and fierce, whilst the old man was wrapped in a richfurred cloak which Roger produced from a cupboard, and some hot cordialforced between his lips. After one or two spasmodic efforts which mighthave been purely muscular, he appeared to make an attempt to swallow, and in a few more minutes it became plain that he was really doing so, and with increasing ease each time. The blood began to run through hisveins again, the chest heaved, and the breath was drawn in long, labouring gasps. At last the old man's eyes opened, and fixed themselvesupon Raymond's face with a long, bewildered stare. 

They asked him no questions. They had no desire that he should speak. His state was critical in the extreme. They had but come to minister tohis stricken body. To cope with a mind such as his was a task thatRaymond felt must be far beyond his own powers. He would have given muchto have had Father Paul at this bedside for one brief hour, the more soas he saw the shrinking and terror creeping over the drawn, ashen face. Did his guilty soul know itself to be standing on the verge of eternity?and did the wretched man feel the horror of great darkness infolding himalready?

All at once he spoke, and his words were like a cry of terror. 

"Alicia! Alicia! how comest thou here?"

Raymond, to whom the words were plainly addressed, knew not how toanswer them, or what they could mean; but the wild eyes were still fixedupon his face, and again the old man's excited words broke forth --"Comest thou in this dread hour to claim thine own again? Alicia, Alicia! I do repent of my robbery. I would fain restore all. It has beena curse, and not a blessing; all has been against me -- all. I was ahappy man before I unlawfully wrested Basildene from thee. Since I havedone that deed naught has prospered with me; and here I am left to diealone, neglected by all, and thou alone -- thy spirit from the dead --comes to taunt me in my last hour with my robbery and my sin. O forgive, forgive! Thou art dead. Spirits cannot inherit this world's goods, elsewould I restore all to thee. Tell me what I may do to make amends ere Idie? But look not at me with those great eyes of thine, lightened withthe fire of the Lord. I cannot bear it -- I cannot bear it! Tell me onlyhow I may make restoration ere I am taken hence to meet my doom!"

Raymond understood then. The old man mistook him for his mother, whomust have been about his own age when her wicked kinsman had ousted herfrom her possessions. Had they not told him in the old home how wondrouslike to her he was growing? The clouded vision of the old man could seenothing but the face of the youth bending over him, and to him it wasthe face of an avenging angel. He clasped his hands together in an agonyof supplication, and would have cast himself at the boy's feet had henot been restrained. The terrible remorse which so often falls upon aguilty conscience at the last hour had the miserable man in itsclutches. His mind was too far weakened to think of his many crimes evenblacker than this one. The sight of Raymond had awakened within him thememory of the defrauded woman, and he could think of nothing else. Shehad come back from the dead to put him in mind of his sin. If he couldbut make one act of restitution, he felt that he could almost die inpeace. He gripped Raymond's hand hard, and looked with agonizingintensity into his face. 

"I am not Alicia, " he answered gently. "Her spirit is at rest and free, and no thought of malice or hatred could come from her now. I am herson. I know all -- how you drove her forth from Basildene, and madeyourself an enemy; but you are an enemy no longer now, for the hand ofGod is upon you, and I am here in His name to strive to soothe your lasthours, and point the way upwards whither she has gone. "

"Alicia's son! Alicia's son!" almost screamed the old man. "Now Heavenbe praised, for I can make restitution of all!"

Raymond raised his eyes suddenly at an exclamation from Roger, to see atall dark figure standing motionless in the doorway, whilst PeterSanghurst's fiery eyes were fixed upon his face with a gaze of the mostdeadly malevolence in them. 

 CHAPTER XX. MINISTERING SPIRITS. 

"The sickness in the town! Alackaday! Woe betide us all! It will be nextwithin our very walls. Holy St. Catherine protect us! May all the Saintshave mercy upon us! In Guildford! why, that is scarce five short milesaway! And all the men and the wenches are flying as for dear life, though if what men say be true there be few enough places left to flyto! Why, Joan, why answerest thou not? I might as well speak to a blockas to thee. Dost understand, girl, that the Black Death is at our verydoors -- that all our people are flying from us? And yet thou sittestthere with thy book, as though this were a time for idle fooling. I amfair distraught -- thy father and brother away and all! Canst thou notsay something? Hast thou no feeling for thy mother? Here am I nighdistracted by fear and woe, and thou carriest about a face as calm as ifthis deadly scourge were but idle rumour. "

Joan laid down her book, came across to her mother, and put her stronghand caressingly upon her shoulder. Poor, weak, timid Lady Vavasour hadnever been famed for strength of mind in any of the circumstances oflife, and it was perhaps not wonderful that this scare, reaching herears in her husband's absence, should drive her nearly frantic with terror. 

For many days reports of a most disquieting nature had been pouring in. Persons who came to Woodcrych on business or pleasure spoke of nothingbut the approach of the Black Death. Some affected to make light of it, protested that far too much was being made of the statements of ignorantand terrified people, and asserted boldly that it would not attack thewell-fed and prosperous classes; whilst others declared that the wholecountry would speedily be depopulated, and whispered gruesome tales ofthose scenes of death and horror which were shortly to become so common. Then the inhabitants of isolated houses like Woodcrych received visitsfrom travelling peddlers and mountebanks of all sorts, many disguised inOriental garb, who brought with them terrible stories of the spread ofthe distemper, at the same time offering for sale certain herbs andsimples which they declared to be never-failing remedies in case anyperson were attacked by the disease; or else they besought the credulousto purchase amulets or charms, or in some cases alleged relics blessedby the Pope, which if always worn upon the person would effectuallyprevent the onset of the malady. After listening greedily (as theservants in those houses always loved to do) to any story of ghastlyhorror which these impostors chose to tell them, they were thankful tobuy at almost any price some antidote against the fell disease; and evenLady Vavasour had made many purchases for herself and her daughter ofquack medicines and talismans or relics. 

But hitherto no one had dared to whisper how fast the distemper wasencroaching in this very district. Men still spoke of it as though itwere far off, and might likely enough die out without spreading, so thatnow it was with terror akin to distraction that the poor lady heardthrough her servants that it had well-nigh reached their own doors. Oneof the lackeys had had occasion to ride over to the town that very day, and had come back with the news that people there were actually dying inthe streets. He had seen two men fall down, either dead or stricken fordeath, before he could turn his beast away and gallop off, and the shopswere shut and the church bell was tolling, whilst all men looked in eachother's faces as if afraid of what they might see there. 

Sir Hugh and his son were far away from Woodcrych at one of their newerpossessions some forty miles distant, and in their absence Lady Vavasourfelt doubly helpless. She shook off Joan's hand, and recommenced heragitated pacing. Her daughter's calmness was incomprehensible apathy toher. It fretted her even to see it. 

"Thou hast no feeling, Joan; thou hast a heart of stone, " she cried, bursting into weak weeping. "Why canst thou not give me help or counselof some sort? What are we to do? What is to become of us? Wouldst haveus all stay shut up in this miserable place to die together?"

Joan did not smile at the feeble petulance of the half-distracted woman. Indeed it was no time for smiles of any sort. The peril around and aboutwas a thing too real and too fearful in its character to admit of anylightness of speech; and the girl did not even twit her mother with themany sovereign remedies purchased as antidotes against infection, thoughher own disbelief in these had brought down many laments from LadyVavasour but a few days previously. 

Brought face to face with the reality of the peril, these wonderfulmedicines did not inspire the confidence the sanguine purchasers hadhoped when they spent their money upon them. Lady Vavasour's hope seemednow to lie in flight and flight alone. She was one of those personswhose instinct is always for flight, whatever the danger to be avoided;and now she was eagerly urging upon Joan the necessity for immediatedeparture, regardless of the warning of her calmer-minded daughter thatprobably the roads would be far more full of peril than their own housecould ever be, if they strictly shut it up, lived upon the produce oftheir own park and dairy, and suffered none to go backwards and forwardsto bring the contagion with them. 

Whether Joan's common-sense counsel would have ever prevailed over theagitated panic of her mother is open to doubt, but all chance of gettingLady Vavasour to see reason was quickly dissipated by a piece of newsbrought to the mother and daughter by a white-faced, shivering servant. 

The message was that the lackey who had but lately returned fromGuildford, whilst sitting over the kitchen fire with his cup of mead, had complained of sudden and violent pains, had vomited and fallen downupon the floor in a fit; whereat every person present had fled in wilddismay, perfectly certain that he had brought home the distemper withhim, and that every creature in the house was in deadly peril. 

Lady Vavasour's terror and agitation were pitiful to see. In vain Joanstrove to soothe and quiet her. She would listen to no words of comfort. Not another hour would she remain in that house. The servants, some ofwhom had already fled, were beginning to take the alarm in good earnest, and were packing up their worldly goods, only anxious to be gone. Horsesand pack horses were being already prepared, for Lady Vavasour had givenhalf-a-dozen orders for departure before she had made up her mind whatto do or where to go. 

Now she was resolved to ride straight to her husband, without drawingrein, or exchanging a word with any person upon the road. Such of theservants as wished to accompany her might do so; the rest might do asthey pleased. Her one idea was to be gone, and that as quickly as possible. 

She hurried away to change her dress for her long ride, urging Joan tolose not a moment in doing the same; but what was her dismay on herreturn to find her daughter still in her indoor dress, though she wasforwarding her mother's departure by filling the saddlebags withprovisions for the way, and laying strict injunctions upon the trustyold servants who were about to travel with her to give every care totheir mistress, and avoid so far as was possible any place where therewas likelihood of catching the contagion. They were to bait the horsesin the open, and not to take them under any roof, and all were to carrytheir own victuals and drink with them. But that she herself was not tomake one of the party was plainly to be learned by these many andprecise directions. 

This fact became patent to the mother directly she came downstairs, andat once she broke into the most incoherent expression of dismay andterror; but Joan, after letting her talk for a few minutes to relieveher feelings, spoke her answer in brief, decisive sentences. 

"Mother, it is impossible for me to go. Old Bridget, as you know, isill. It is not the distemper, it is one of the attacks of illness towhich she has been all her life subject; but not one of these foolishwenches will now go near her. She has nursed and tended me faithfullyfrom childhood. To leave her here alone in this great house, to live ordie as she might, is impossible. Here I remain till she is better. Thinknot of me and fear not for me. I have no fears for myself. Go to ourfather; he will doubtless be anxious for news of us. Linger not here. Men say that those who fear the distemper are ever the first victims. Farewell, and may health and safety be with you. My place is here, andhere I will remain till I see my way before me. "

Lady Vavasour wept and lamented, but did not delay her own departure onaccount of her obstinate daughter. She gave Joan up for lost, but shewould not stay to share her fate. She had already seen something of thequiet firmness of the girl, which her father sometimes cursed asstubbornness, and she felt that words would only be thrown away uponher. Lamenting to the last, she mounted her palfrey, and set her trainof servants in motion; whilst Joan stood upon the top step of the flightto the great door, and waved her hand to her mother till the cortegedisappeared down the drive. A brave and steadfast look was upon herface, and the sigh she heaved as she turned at last away seemed one ofrelief rather than of sorrow. 

Lonely as might be her situation in this deserted house, it could notbut be a relief to her to feel that her timid mother would shortly beunder the protection of her husband, and more at rest than she couldever hope to be away from his side. He could not keep the distemper atbay, but he could often quiet the restless plaints and causeless terrorsof his weak-minded spouse. 

As she turned back into the silent house she was aware of two figures inthe great hall that were strange there, albeit she knew both well asbelonging to two of the oldest retainers of the place, an old man andhis wife, who had lived the best part of their lives in Sir Hugh'sservice at Woodcrych. 

"Why, Betty -- and you also, Andrew -- what do ye here?" asked Joan, with a grave, kindly smile at the aged couple. 

With many humble salutations and apologies the old folks explained thatthey had heard of the hasty and promiscuous flight of the wholehousehold, headed by the mistress, and also that the "sweet young lady"was left all alone because she refused to leave old Bridget; and thatthey had therefore ventured to come up to the great house to offer theirpoor services, to wait upon her and to do for her all that lay in theirpower, and this not for her only, but for the two sick persons alreadyin the house. 

"For, as I do say to my wife there, " said old Andrew, though he spoke ina strange rustic fashion that would scarce be intelligible to our modernears, "a body can but die once; and for aught I see, one might as easydie of the Black Death as of the rheumatics that sets one's bones afire, and cripples one as bad as being in one's coffin at once. So I bea-going to look to poor Willum, as they say is lying groaning still uponthe kitchen floor, none having dared to go anigh him since he fell downin a fit. And if I be took tending on him, I know that you will takecare of my old woman, and see that she does not want for bread so longas she lives. "

Joan put out her soft, strong hand and laid it upon the hard, wrinkledfist of the old servant. There was a suspicious sparkle in her dark eyes. 

"I will not disappoint that expectation, good Andrew, " she said. "Go ifyou will, whilst we think what may best be done for Bridget. Later on Iwill come myself to look at William. I have no fear of the distemper;and of one thing I am very sure -- that it is never kept away by beingfled from and avoided. I have known travellers who have seen it, andhave been with the sick, and have never caught the contagion, whilstmany fled from it in terror only to be overtaken and struck down as theyso ran. We are in God's hands -- forsaken of all but Him. Let us trustin His mercy, do our duty calmly and firmly, and leave the rest to Him. "

Later in the day, upheld by this same lofty sense of calmness and trust, Joan, after doing all in her power to make comfortable the old nurse, who was terribly distressed at hearing how her dear young lady had beendeserted, left her to the charge of Betty, and went down again throughthe dark and silent house to the great kitchen, where William was stillto be found, reclining now upon a settle beside the glowing hearth, andlooking not so very much the worse for the seizure of the afternoon. 

"I do tell he it were but the colic, " old Andrew declared, rubbing hiscrumpled hands together in the glow of the fire. "He were in a rarefright when I found he -- groaning out that the Black Death had hold ofhe, and that he were a dead man; but I told he that he was the liveliestcorpse as I'd set eyes on this seventy years; and so after a bit heheartened up, and found as he could get upon his feet after all. It werenaught but the colic in his inside; and he needn't be afraid of nothingworse. "

Old Andrew proved right. William's sudden indisposition had been but theresult of fright and hard riding, followed by copious draughts of hotbeer taken with a view to keeping away the contagion. Very soon he wasconvinced of this himself; and when he understood how the wholehousehold had fled from him, and that the only ones who had stayed tosee that he did not die alone and untended were these old souls andtheir adored young lady, his heart was filled with loving gratitude anddevotion, and he lost no opportunity of doing her service whenever itlay in his power. 

Strange and lonely indeed was the life led by those five persons shut upin that large house, right away from all sights and sounds from theworld without. The silence and the solitude at last became well-nighintolerable, and when Bridget had recovered from her attack of illnessand was going about briskly again, Joan took the opportunity of speakingher mind to her fully and freely. 

"Why do we remain shut up within these walls, when there is so much workto be done in the world? Bridget, thou knowest that I love not my lifeas some love it. Often it seems to me as though by death alone I mayescape a frightful doom. All around us our fellow creatures are dying --too often alone and untended, like dogs in a ditch. Good Bridget, I havemoney in the house, and we have health and strength and courage; andthou art an excellent good nurse in all cases of sickness. Thou hasttaught me some of thy skill, and I long to show it on behalf of thesepoor stricken souls, so often deserted by their nearest and dearest inthe hour of their deadliest peril. If I go, wilt thou go with me? I trowthat thou art a brave woman --"

"And if I were not thou wouldst shame me into bravery, Sweetheart, "answered the old woman fondly, as she looked into the earnest face ofher young mistress. "I too have been thinking of the poor strickensouls. I would gladly risk the peril in such a labour of love. As oldAndrew says, we can but die once. The Holy Saints will surely lookkindly upon those who die at their post, striving to do as they wouldhave done had they been here with us upon earth. "

And when William heard what his young mistress was about to do, hedeclared that he too would go with her, and assist with the offices tothe sick or the dead. He still had a vivid recollection of the momentswhen he had believed himself left alone to die of the distemper; andfellow feeling and generosity getting the better of his firstunreasoning terror, he was as eager as Joan herself to enter upon thislabour of love. Bridget, who was a great botanist, in the practicalfashion of many old persons in those days, knew more about theproperties of herbs than anybody in the country round, and she made agreat selection from her stores, and brewed many pungent concoctionswhich she gave to her young mistress and William to drink, to ward offany danger from infection. She also gave them, to hang about theirnecks, bags containing aromatic herbs, whose strong and penetratingodour dominated all others, and was likely enough to do good inpurifying the atmosphere about the wearer. 

There was no foolish superstition in Bridget's belief in her simples. She did not regard them as charms; but she had studied their propertiesand had learned their value, and knew them to possess valuableproperties for keeping the blood pure, and so rendering much smaller anychance of imbibing the poison. 

At dusk that same evening, William, who had been out all day, returned, and requested speech of his young mistress. He was ushered into theparlour where she sat, with her old nurse for her companion; andstanding just within the threshold he told his tale. 

"I went across to the town today. I thought I would see if there was anylodging to be had where you, fair Mistress, might conveniently abidewhilst working in that place. Your worshipful uncle's house I found shutup and empty, not a soul within the doors -- all fled, as most of thebetter sort of the people are fled, and every window and door fastenedup. Half the houses, too, are marked with black or red crosses, to showthat those within are afflicted with the distemper. There are watchmenin the streets, striving to keep within their doors all such as have theBlack Death upon them; but these be too few for the task, and themaddened wretches are continually breaking out, and running about thestreets crying and shouting, till they drop down in a fit, and liethere, none caring for them. By day there be dead and dying in everystreet; but at night a cart comes and carries the corpses off to thegreat grave outside the town. "

"And is there no person to care for the sick in all the town?" askedJoan, with dilating eyes. 

"There were many monks at first; but the distemper seized upon themworse than upon the townfolks, and now there is scarce one left. Soonafter the distemper broke out, Master John de Brocas threw open hishouse to receive all stricken persons who would come thither to betended, and it has been full to overflowing night and day ever since. Ipassed by the house as I came out, and around the door there were scoresof wretched creatures, all stricken with the distemper, praying to betaken in. And I saw Master John come out to them and welcome them in, lifting a little child from the arms of an almost dying woman, andleading her in by the hand. When I saw that, I longed to go in myselfand offer myself to help in the work; but I thought my first duty was toyou, sweet Mistress, and I knew if once I had told my tale you would nothold me back. "

"Nay; and I will go thither myself, and Bridget with me, " answered Joan, with kindling eyes. "We will start with the first light of the new-bornday. They will want the help of women as well as of men within those walls. 

"Good Bridget, look well to thy store of herbs, and take ample provisionof all such as will allay fever and destroy the poison that works in theblood. For methinks there will be great work to be done by thee and meere another sun has set; and every aid that nature can give us we willthankfully make use of. "

"Your palfrey is yet in the stable, fair Mistress, " said William, "andthere be likewise the strong sorrel from the farm, whereupon Bridget canride pillion behind me. Shall I have them ready at break of daytomorrow? We shall then gain the town before the day's work has well begun. "

"Do so, " answered Joan, with decision. "I would fain have started bynight; but it will be wiser to tarry for the light of day. Good William, I thank thee for thy true and faithful service. We are going forth todanger and perchance to death; but we go in a good cause, and we have noneed to fear. "

And when William had retired, she turned to Bridget with shining eyes, and said:

"Ah, did I not always say that John was the truest knight of them all?The others have won their spurs; they have won the applause of men. Theyhave all their lives looked down on John as one unable to wield a sword, one well-nigh unworthy of the ancient name he bears. But which of yongay knights would have done what he is doing now? Who of all of themwould stand forth fearless and brave in the teeth of this far deadlierperil than men ever face upon the battlefield? I trow not one of themwould have so stood before a peril like this. They have left that forthe true Knight of the Cross!"

At dawn next day Joan said adieu to her old home, and set her facesteadily forward towards Guildford. The chill freshness of the Novemberair was pleasant after the long period of oppressive warmth andcloseness which had gone before, and now that the leaves had reallyfallen from the trees, there was less of the heavy humidity in the airthat seemed to hold the germs of distemper and transmit them alike toman and beast. 

The sun was not quite up as they started; but as they entered the silentstreets of Guildford it was shining with a golden glory in strangecontrast to the scenes upon which it would shortly have to look. Earlymorning was certainly the best time for Joan to enter the town, for thecart had been its round, the dead had been removed from the streets, andthe houses were quieter than they often were later in the day. Once in away a wild shriek or a burst of demoniacal laughter broke from somewindow; and once a girl, with hair flying wildly down her back, flew outof one of the houses sobbing and shrieking in a frenzy of terror, andwas lost to sight down a side alley before Joan could reach her side. 

Pursuing their way through the streets, they turned down the familiarroad leading to John's house, and dismounting at the gate, Joan gave upher palfrey to William to seek stabling for it behind, and walked upwith Bridget to the open door of the house. 

That door was kept wide open night and day, and none who came were everturned away. Joan entered the hall, to find great fires burning there, and round these fires were crowded shivering and moaning beings, some ofthe latest victims of the distemper, who had been brought within thehospitable shelter of that house of mercy, but who had not yet beenprovided with beds; for the numbers coming in day by day were evengreater than the vacancies made by deaths constantly occurring in thewards (as they would now be called). Helpers were few, and of these oneor another would be stricken down, and carried away to burial after afew hours' illness. 

Of the wretched beings grouped about the fires several were littlechildren, and Joan's heart went out in compassion to the sufferingmorsels of humanity. Taking a little moaning infant upon her knee, andletting two more pillow their weary beads against her dress, she signedto Bridget to remove her riding cloak, which she gently wrapped aboutthe scantily-clothed form of a woman extended along the ground at herfeet, to whom the children apparently belonged. The woman was dyingfast, as her glazing eyes plainly showed. 

Probably her case was altogether hopeless; but Joan was not yet seasonedto such scenes, and it seemed too terrible to sit by idle whilst afellow creature actually died not two yards away. Surely somewherewithin that house aid could be found. The girl rose gently from herseat, and still clasping the stricken infant in her arms, she movedtowards one of the closed doors of the lower rooms. 

Opening this softly, she looked in, and saw a row of narrow pallet bedsdown each side of the room, and every bed was tenanted. Sounds ofmoaning, the babble of delirious talk, and thickly-uttered cries forhelp or mercy now reached her ears, and the terrible breath of theplague for the first time smote upon her senses in all its fullmalignity. She recoiled for an instant, and clutched at the bag aroundher neck, which she was glad enough to press to her face. 

A great fire was burning in the hearth, and all that could be done tolessen the evil had been accomplished. There was one attendant in thisroom, which was set apart for men, and he was just now bending over adelirious youth, striving to restrain his wild ravings and to induce himto remain in his bed. This attendant had his back to Joan, but she sawby his actions and his calm self possession that he was no novice to histask; and she walked softly through the pestilential place, feeling thatshe should not appeal to him for help in vain. 

As the sound of the light, firm tread sounded upon the bare boards ofthe floor, the attendant suddenly lifted himself and turned round. Joanuttered a quick exclamation of surprise, which was echoed by the personin question. 

"Raymond!" she exclaimed breathlessly. 

"Joan! Thou here, and at such a time as this!"

And then they both stood motionless for a few long moments, feeling thatdespite the terrible scenes around and about them, the very gates ofParadise had opened before them, turning everything around them to gold. 

 CHAPTER XXI. THE OLD, OLD STORY

The scourge had passed. It had swept over the length and breadth of theregion of which Guildford formed the centre, and had done its terriblework of destruction there, leaving homes desolated and villages almostdepopulated. It was still raging in London, and was hurrying northwardand eastward with all its relentless energy and deadliness; but in mostof the places thus left behind its work seemed to be fully accomplished, and there were no fresh cases. 

People began to go about their business as of old. Those who had fledreturned to their homes, and strove to take up the scattered threads oflife as best they might. In many cases whole families had been swept outof existence; in others (more truly melancholy cases), one member hadescaped when all the rest had perished. The religious houses werecrowded with the helpless orphans of the sufferers in the epidemic, andthe summer crops lay rotting in the fields for want of labourers to getthem in. 

John's house in Guildford had by this time reassumed its normal aspect. The last of the sick who had not been carried to the grave, but hadrecovered to return home, had now departed, with many a blessing uponthe master, whose act of piety and charity had doubtless saved so manylives at this crisis. The work the young man had set himself to do hadbeen nobly accomplished; but the task had been one beyond his feeblestrength, and he now lay upon a couch of sickness, knowing well, ifothers did not, that his days were numbered. 

He had fallen down in a faint upon the very day that the last patienthad been able to leave his doors. For a moment it was feared that thepoison of the distemper had fastened upon him; but it was not so. Theattack was but due to the failure of the heart's action -- nature, triedbeyond her powers of endurance, asserting herself at last -- and theylaid him down in his old favourite haunt, with his books around him, having made the place look like it did before the house had been turnedinto a veritable hospital and mortuary. 

When John opened his eyes at last it was to find Joan bending over him;and looking into her face with his sweet, tired smile, he said:

"You will not leave me, Joan?"

"No, " she answered gently; "I will not leave you yet. Bridget and I willnurse you. All our other helpers are themselves worn out; but we haveworked only a little while. We have not borne the burden and heat ofthat terrible day. "

"You came in a good hour -- like angels of mercy that you were, " saidJohn, feeling, now that the long strain and struggle was over, awonderful sense of rest and peace. "I thought it was a dream when firstI saw your face, Joan -- when I saw you moving about amongst the sick, always with a child in your arms. I have never been able to ask how youcame hither. In those days we could never stay to talk. There are manythings I would fain ask now. How come you here alone, save for your oldnurse? Are your parents dead likewise?"

"I know not that myself, " answered Joan, with the calmness that comesfrom constantly standing face to face with death. "I have heard naughtof them these many weeks. William goes ofttimes to Woodcrych to seek fornews of them there. But they have not returned, and he can learn nothing. "

And then whilst John lay with closed eyes, his face so white and stillthat it looked scarce the face of a living man, Joan told him all hertale; and he understood then how it was that she had suddenly appearedamongst them like a veritable angel of mercy. 

When her story was done, he opened his eyes and said:

"Where is Raymond?"

"They told me he was sleeping an hour since, " answered Joan. "He hassore need of sleep, for he has been watching and working night and dayfor longer than I may tell. He looks little more than a shadow himself;and he has had Roger to care for of late, since he fell ill. "

"But Roger is recovering?"

"Yes. It was the distemper, but in its least deadly form, and he isalready fast regaining his strength. 

"Has Raymond been the whole time with you? I have never had the chanceto speak to him of himself. "

And a faint soft flush awoke in Joan's cheek, whilst a smile hoveredround the corners of her lips. 

"Nor I; yet there be many things I would fain ask of him. He went forthto be with Father Paul when first the Black Death made its fatal entryinto the country; and from that day forth I heard naught of him until hecame hither to me. We will ask him of himself when he comes to join us. It will be like old times come back again when thou, Joan, and he and Igather about the Yule log, and talk together of ourselves and others. "

A common and deadly peril binds very closely together those who havefaced it and fought it hand in hand and shoulder to shoulder; and inthose days of divided houses, broken lives, and general disruption ofall ordinary routine in domestic existence, things that in other timeswould appear strange and unnatural were now taken as a matter of course. It did not occur to Joan as in any way remarkable that she should remainin John's house, nursing him with the help of Bridget, and playing asister's part until some of his own kith or kin returned. He had beendeserted by all of his own name. She herself knew not whether she hadany relatives living. Circumstances had thrown her upon his hospitality, and she had looked upon him almost as a brother ever since the days ofher childhood. 

She knew that he was dying; there was that in his face which told asmuch all too well to those who had long been looking upon death. To haveleft him at such a moment would have seemed far more strange andunnatural than to remain. In those times of terror stranger things weredone daily, no man thinking aught of it. 

So she smiled as she heard John's last words, trying to recall the daywhen she had first seen Raymond at Master Bernard's house, when he hadseemed to her little more than a boy, albeit a very knightly andchivalrous one. Now her feelings towards him were far different: notthat she thought less of his knightliness and chivalry, but that she washalf afraid to let her mind dwell too much upon him and her thoughts ofhim; for of late, since they had been toiling together in thehand-to-hand struggle against disease and death, she was conscious of afeeling toward him altogether new in her experience, and his face wasseldom out of her mental vision. The sound of his voice was ever in herears; and she always knew, by some strange intuition, when he was near, whether she could see him or not. 

She knew even as John spoke that he was approaching; and as the latch ofthe door clicked a soft wave of colour rose in her pale cheek, and sheturned her head with a gesture that spoke a mute welcome. 

"They tell me that thou art sick, good John, " said Raymond, comingforward into the bright circle of the firelight. 

The dancing flames lit up that pale young face, worn and hollow withlong watching and stress of work, and showed that Raymond had changedsomewhat during those weeks of strange experience. Some of thedreaminess had gone out of the eyes, to be replaced by a luminoussteadfastness of expression which had always been there, but was nowgreatly intensified. Pure, strong, and noble, the face was that of a manrather than a boy, and yet the bright, almost boyish, alertness andeagerness were still quickly apparent when he entered into conversation, and turned from one companion to another. It was the same Raymond -- yetwith a difference; and both of his companions scanned him with somecuriosity as he took his seat beside John's couch and asked of hiscousin's welfare. 

"Nay, trouble not thyself over me; thou knowest that my life's sands arewell-nigh run out. I have been spared for this work, that thou, myRaymond, gavest me to do. I am well satisfied, and thou must be thesame, my kind cousin. Only let me have thee with me to the end -- andsweet Mistress Joan, if kind fortune will so favour us. And tell us nowof thyself, Raymond, and how it fared with thee before thou camesthither. Hast thou been with Father Paul? And if so, why didst thou leavehim? Is he, too, dead?"

"He was not when we parted; he went forward to London when he bid mecome to see how it fared with thee, good John, and bring thee hisblessing. I should have been with thee one day earlier, save that Iturned aside to Basildene, where I heard that the old man lay dying alone. "

"Basildene!" echoed both his hearers quickly. "Has the Black Death beenthere?"

"Ay, and the old man who is called a sorcerer is dead. To me it wasgiven to soothe his dying moments, and give him such Christian burial asmen may have when there be no priest at hand to help them to their lastrest. I was in time for that. "

"Peter Sanghurst dead!" mused John thoughtfully; and looking up atRaymond, he said quickly, "Did he know who and what thou wert?"

"He did; for in his delirium he took me for my mother, and his terrorwas great, knowing her to be dead. When I told him who I was, he wasright glad; and he would fain have made over to me the deeds by which heholds Basildene -- the deeds my mother left behind her in her flight, and which he seized upon. He would fain have made full reparation forthat one evil deed of his life; but his son, who had held aloofhitherto, and would have left his father to die untended and alone --"

Joan had uttered a little exclamation of horror and disgust; now sheasked, quickly and almost nervously:

"The son -- Peter Sanghurst? O Raymond, was that bad man there?"

"Yes; and he knows now who and what I am, whereby his old hatred to meis bitterly increased. He holds that I have hindered and thwarted himbefore in other matters. Now that he knows I have a just and lawfulclaim on Basildene, which one day I will make good, he hates me with atenfold deadlier hatred. "

"Hates you -- when you came to his father in his last extremity? How canhe dare to hate you now?"

Raymond smiled a shadowy smile as he looked into the fire. 

"Methinks he knows little of filial love. He knew that his father hadbeen stricken with the distemper, but he left him to die alone. He wouldnot have come nigh him at all, save that he heard sounds in the house, and feared that robbers had entered, and that his secret treasure hoardsmight fall into their hands. He had come down armed to the teeth toresist such marauders, being willing rather to stand in peril of thedistemper than to lose his ill-gotten gold. But he found none such as hethought; yet having come, and having learned who and what manner of manI was, he feared to leave me alone with his father, lest I should betold the secret of the hidden hoard, which the old man longed to tell mebut dared not. Doubtless the parchment he wished to place in my hands isthere; but his son hovered ever within earshot, and the old man darednot speak. Yet with his last breath he called me lord of Basildene, andcharged me to remove from it the curse which in his own evil days hadfallen upon the place. "

"Peter Sanghurst will not love you the more for that, " said John. 

"Verily no; yet methinks he can scarce hate me more than he does and hasdone for long. "

"He is no insignificant foe, " was the thoughtful rejoinder. "His hatemay be no light thing. "

"He has threatened me oft and savagely, " answered Raymond, "and yet noharm has befallen me therefrom. "

"Why has he threatened thee?" asked Joan breathlessly; "what hast thoudone to raise his ire?"

"We assisted Roger, the woodman's son, to escape from that vile slaveryat Basildene, of which doubtless thou hast heard, sweet lady. That wasthe first cause of offence. "

"And the second?"

Raymond's clear gaze sought her face for a moment, and Joan's dark eyeskindled and then slowly dropped. 

"The second was on thy account, sweet Joan, " said Raymond, with acurious vibration in his voice. "He saw us once together -- it is longago now -- and he warned me how I meddled to thwart him again. I scarceunderstood him then, though I knew that he would fain have won this fairhand, but that thou didst resolutely withhold it. Now that I havereached man's estate I understand him better. Joan, he is still bentupon having this hand. In my hearing he swore a great oath that by fairmeans or foul it should be his one day. He is a man of resolutedetermination, and, now that his father no longer lives, of great wealthtoo, and wealth is power. Thou hast thwarted him till he is resolved tohumble thee at all cost. I verily believe to be avenged for all thouhast cost him would be motive enough to make him compass heaven andearth to win thee. What sayest thou? To withstand him may be perilous --"

"To wed him would be worse than death, " said Joan, in a very low tone. "I will never yield, if I die to save myself from him. "

Unconsciously these two had lowered their voices. John had droppedasleep beside the fire with the ease of one exhausted by weakness andlong watching. Joan and Raymond were practically alone together. Therewas a strange light upon the face of the youth, and into his pale facethere crept a flush of faint red. 

"Joan, " he said, in low, firm tones that shook a little with theintensity of his earnestness, "when I saw thee first, and knew thee fora very queen amongst women, my boyish love and homage was given all tothee. I dreamed of going forth to win glory and renown, that I mightcome and lay my laurels at thy feet, and win one sweet answering smile, one kindly word of praise from thee. Yet here am I, almost at man'sestate, and I have yet no laurels to bring to thee. I have but one thingto offer -- the deep true love of a heart that beats alone for thee. Joan, I am no knightly suitor, I have neither gold nor lands -- thoughone day it may be I may have both, and thy father would doubtless driveme forth from his doors did I present myself to him as a suitor for thisfair hand. But, Joan, I love thee -- I would lay down my life to servethee -- and I know that thou mayest one day be in peril from him who isalso mine own bitter foe. Wilt thou then give me the right to fight forthee, to hold this hand before all the world and do battle for itsowner, as only he may hope to do who holds it, as I do this moment, bythat owner's free will? Give me but leave to call it mine, and I willdare all and do all to win it. Sweet Mistress Joan, my words are few andpoor; but could my heart speak for me, it would plead eloquent music. Thou art the sun and star of my life. Tell me, may I hope some day towin thy love?"

Joan had readily surrendered her hand to his clasp, and doubtless thishad encouraged Raymond to proceed in his tale of love. 

He certainly had not intended thus to commit himself, poor and unknownand portionless as he was, with everything still to win; but a powerstronger than he could resist drew him on from word to word and phraseto phrase, and a lovely colour mantled in Joan's cheek as he proceeded, till at last she put forth her other hand and laid it in his, saying:

"Raymond, I love thee now. My heart is thine and thine alone. Go forth, if thou wilt, and win honour and renown -- but thou wilt never win ahigher honour and glory than I have seen thee winning day by day andhour by hour here in this very house -- and come back when and as thouwilt. Thou wilt find me waiting for thee --ever ready, ever the same. Iam thine for life or death. When thou callest me I will come. "

It was a bold pledge for a maiden to give in those days of harshparental rule; yet Joan gave it without shrinking or fear. That thisinformal betrothal might be long before it could hope to be consummated, both the lovers well knew; that there might be many dangers lying beforethem, they did not attempt to deny. It was no light matter to have thusplighted their troth, when Raymond was still poor and nameless, andJoan, in her father's estimation, plighted to the Sanghurst. But bothpossessed brave and resolute spirits, that did not shrink or falter; andjoyfully happy in the security of their great love, they could affordfor a time to forget the world. 

Raymond drew from within his doublet the half ring he had always carriedabout with him, and placed it upon the finger of his love. Joan, on herside, drew from her neck a black agate heart she had always worn there, and gave it to Raymond, who put it upon the silver cord which hadformerly supported his circlet of the double ring. 

"So long as I live that heart shall hang there, " he said. "Never believethat I am dead until thou seest the heart brought thee by another. WhileI live I part not with it. "

"Nor I with thy ring, " answered Joan, proudly turning her hand abouttill the firelight flashed upon it. 

And then they drew closer together, and whispered together, as loverslove to do, of the golden future lying before them; and Raymond told ofhis mother and her dying words, and his love, in spite of all that hadpassed there, for the old house of Basildene, and asked Joan if they twotogether would be strong enough to remove the curse which had been castover the place by the evil deeds of its present owners. 

"Methinks thou couldst well do that thyself, my faithful knight, "answered Joan, with a great light in her eyes; "for methinks all evilmust fly thy presence, as night flies from the beams of day. Art thounot pledged to a high and holy service? and hast thou not proved ere nowhow nobly thou canst keep that pledge?"

At that moment John stirred in his sleep and opened his eyes. There wasin them that slightly bewildered look that comes when the mind has beenvery far away in some distant dreamland, and where the weakenedfaculties have hardly the strength to reassert themselves. 

"Joan, " he said -- "Joan, art thou there? art thou safe?"

She rose and bent over him smilingly. 

"Here by thy side, good John, and perfectly safe. Where should I be?"

"And Raymond too?"

"Raymond too. What ails thee, John, that thou art so troubled?"

He smiled slightly as he looked round more himself. 

"It must have been a dream, but it was a strangely vivid one. Belike itwas our talk of a short while back; for I thought thou wast fleeing fromthe malice of the Sanghurst, and that Raymond was in his power, awaitinghis malignant rage and vengeance. I know not how it would have ended --I was glad to wake. I fear me, sweet Joan, that thou wilt yet have ahard battle ere thou canst cast loose from the toil spread for thee byyon bad man. "

Joan threw back her head with a queenly gesture. 

"Fear not for me, kind John, for now I am no longer alone to fight mybattle. I have Raymond for my faithful knight and champion. Raymond andI have plighted our troth this very day. Let Peter Sanghurst do hisworst; it will take a stronger hand than his to sunder love like ours!"

John's pale face kindled with sympathy and satisfaction. He looked fromone to the other and held out his thin hands. 

"My heart's wishes and blessings be with you both, " he said. "I have somany times thought of some such thing, and longed to see itaccomplished. There may be clouds athwart your path, but there will besunshine behind the cloud. Joan, thou hast chosen thy knight worthilyand well. It may be that men will never call him knight. It may be thathe will not have trophies rich and rare to lay at thy feet. But thou andI know well that there is a knighthood not of this world, and in thatorder of chivalry his spurs have already been won, and he will not, withthee at his side, ever be tempted to forget his high and holy calling. For thou wilt be the guiding star of his life; and thou too artdedicated to serve. "

There was silence for a few moments in the quiet room. John lay back onhis pillows panting somewhat, and with that strange unearthly light theyhad seen there before deepening in his eyes. They had observed that lookoften of late -- as though he saw right through them and beyond to aglory unspeakable, shut out for the time from their view. Joan put outher hand and took that of Raymond, as if there was assurance in the warmhuman clasp. But their eyes were still fixed upon John's face, which waschanging every moment. 

He had done much to form both their minds, this weakly scion of the DeBrocas house, whose life was held by those who bore his name to benothing but a failure. It was from him they had both imbibed thosethoughts and aspirations which had been the first link drawing themtogether, and which had culminated in an act of the highestself-sacrifice and devotion. And now it seemed to him, as he lay therelooking at them, the two beings upon earth that he loved the best (forRaymond was more to him than a brother, and Joan the one woman whom, hadthings gone otherwise with him, he would fain have made his wife), thathe might well leave his work in their hands -- that they would carry onto completion the nameless labour of love which he had learned to lookupon as the highest form of chivalry. 

"Raymond, " he said faintly. 

Raymond came and bent down over him. 

"I am close beside thee, John. "

"I know it. I feel it. I am very happy. Raymond, thou wilt not forget me?"

"Never, John, never. "

"I have been very happy in thy brotherly love and friendship. It hasbeen very sweet to me. Raymond, thou wilt not forget thy vow? Thou wiltever be true to that higher life that we have spoken of so oft together?"

Raymond's face was full of deep and steadfast purpose. 

"I will be faithful, I will be true, " he answered. "God helping me, Iwill be true to the vow we have made together. Joan shall be my witnessnow, as I make it anew to thee here. "

"Not for fame or glory or praise of man alone, " murmured John, his voicegrowing fainter and fainter, "but first for the glory of God and Hishonour, and then for the poor, the feeble, the helpless, the needy. Tobe a champion to such as have none to help them, to succour thedistressed, to comfort the mourner, to free those who are wrongfullyoppressed, even though kings be the oppressors -- that is the truecourage, the true chivalry; that is the service to which thou, mybrother, art pledged. "

Raymond bent his head, whilst Joan's clasp tightened on his hand. Theyboth knew that John was dying, but they had looked too often upon deathto fear it now. They did not summon any one to his side. No priest wasto be found at that time, and John had not long since received theSacrament with one who had lately died in the house. There was norestlessness or pain in his face, only a great peace and rest. His voicedied away, but he still looked at Raymond, as though to the last hewould fain see before his eyes the face he had grown to love best uponearth. 

His breath grew shorter and shorter. Raymond thought he made a sign tohim to bend his head nearer. Stooping over him, he caught thefaintly-whispered words:

"Tell my father not to grieve that I did not die a knight. He has hisother sons; and I have been very happy. Tell him that -- happier, Itrow, than any of them --"

There were a brief silence and a slight struggle for breath, then onewhispered phrase:

"I will arise and go to my Father --"

Those were the last words spoken by John de Brocas. 

 CHAPTER XXII. THE BLACK VISOR. 

"Brother, this is like old times, " said Gaston, his hand upon Raymond'sshoulder as they stood side by side in the extreme prow of the vesselthat was conveying them once again towards the sunny south of France. 

The salt spray dashed in their faces, the hum of the cordage overheadwas in their ears, and their thoughts had gone back to that day, nownigh upon eight years back, when they, as unknown and untried boys, hadstarted forth to see the world together. 

Gaston's words broke the spell of silence, and Raymond turned his headto scan the stalwart form beside him with a look of fond admiration andpride. 

"Nay, scarce like those old days, Sir Gaston de Brocas, " he answered, speaking the name with significant emphasis; and Gaston laughed andtossed back his leonine head with a gesture of mingled pride andimpatience as he said:

"Tush, Brother! I scarce know how to prize my knighthood now that thoudost not share it with me -- thou so far more truly knightly and worthy. I had ever planned that we had been together in that as in all else. Whywert thou not with me that day when we vanquished the navy of proudSpain? The laurels are scarce worth the wearing that thou wearest notwith me. "

For Gaston was now indeed a knight. He had fought beside the Prince inthe recent engagement at sea, when a splendid naval victory had beenobtained over the Spanish fleet. He had performed prodigies of valour onthat occasion, and had been instrumental in the taking of many richprizes. And when the royal party had returned to Windsor, Gaston hadbeen named, with several more youthful gentlemen, to receive knighthoodat the hands of the Prince of Wales. Whereupon Master Bernard de Brocashad stood forward and told the story of the parentage of the twinbrothers, claiming kinship with them, and speaking in high praise ofRaymond, who, since the death of John, had been employed by his uncle ina variety of small matters that used to be John's province to see to. Inevery point the Gascon youth had shown aptitude and ability beyond theaverage, and had won high praise from his clerical kinsman, who was morethe statesman than the parish priest. 

Very warmly had the de Brocas brothers been welcomed by their kinsmen;and as they laid no claim to any lands or revenues in the possession ofother members of the family, not the least jealousy or ill-will wasexcited by their rise in social status. All that Gaston asked of theKing was liberty some day, when the hollow truce with France should bebroken, and when the King's matters were sufficiently settled to permitof private enterprise amongst his own servants, to gather about him acompany of bold kindred spirits, and strive to wrest back from thetreacherous and rapacious Sieur de Navailles the ancient castle of Saut, which by every law of right should belong to his own family. 

The King listened graciously to this petition, and gave Gaston fullencouragement to hope to regain his fathers' lost inheritance. But ofBasildene no word was spoken then; for the shrewd Master Bernard hadwarned Raymond that the time had not yet come to prosecute that claim --and indeed the neglected old house, crumbling to the dust and environedby an evil reputation which effectually kept all men away from it, seemed scarce worth the struggle it would cost to wrest it from thekeeping of Peter Sanghurst. 

This worthy, since his father's death, had entered upon a totally newcourse of existence. He had appeared at Court, sumptuously dressed, andwith a fairly large following. He had ingratiated himself with the Kingby a timely loan of gold (for the many drains upon Edward's resourceskept him always short of money for his household and family expenses), and was playing the part of a wealthy and liberal man. It was whisperedof him, as it had been of his father, that he had some secret whereby tofill his coffers with gold whenever they were empty, and this reputationgave him a distinct prestige with his comrades and followers. He was notaccused of black magic, like his father. His secret was supposed to havebeen inherited by him, not bought with the price of his soul. Itsurrounded him with a faint halo of mystery, but it was mystery that didhim good rather than harm. The King himself took favourable notice ofone possessed of such a golden secret, and for the present the Sanghurstwas better left in undisturbed possession of his ill-gotten gains. 

Raymond had learned the difficult lesson of patience, and accepted hisuncle's advice. It was the easier to be patient since he knew that Joanwas for the present safe from the persecutions of her hated suitor. Joanhad been summoned to go to her father almost immediately upon the deathof John de Brocas. He had sent for her to Woodcrych, and she hadtravelled thither at once with the escort sent to fetch her. 

Raymond had heard from her once since that time. In the letter she hadcontrived to send him she had told him that her mother was dead, havingfallen a victim to the dreaded distemper she had fled to avoid, butwhich had nevertheless seized her almost immediately upon her arrival ather husband's house. He too had been stricken, but had recovered; andhis mind having been much affected by his illness and trouble, he hadresolved upon a pilgrimage to Rome, in which his daughter was toaccompany him. She did not know how long they would be absent fromEngland, and save for the separation from her true love, she was glad togo. Her brother would return to the Court, and only she and her fatherwould take the journey. She had heard nothing all these weeks of thedreaded foe, and hoped he might have passed for ever from her life. 

And in this state matters stood with the brothers as the vessel borethem through the tossing blue waves that bright May morning, everyplunge of the well-fitted war sloop bringing them nearer and nearer tothe well-known and well-loved harbour of Bordeaux. 

Yet it was on no private errand that they were bound, though Gastoncould not approach the familiar shores of Gascony without thinking ofthat long-cherished hope of his now taking so much more solid a shape. 

The real object of this small expedition was, however, the relief of thetown of St. Jean d'Angely, belonging to the English King, which had beenblockaded for some time by the French monarch. The distressedinhabitants had contrived to send word to Edward of their strait, and hehad despatched the Earl of Warwick with a small picked army to its relief. 

The Gascon twins had been eager to join this small contingent, and hadvolunteered for the service. Gaston was put in command of a band of finesoldiers, and his brother took service with him. 

This was the first time for several years that Raymond had been in arms, for of late his avocations had been of a more peaceful nature. But hepossessed all the soldier instincts of his race, and by his brother'sside would go joyfully into battle again. 

He did not know many of the knights and gentlemen serving in this smallexpedition, nor did Gaston either, for that matter. It was too small anundertaking to attract the flower of Edward's chivalry, and the BlackDeath had made many gaps in the ranks of the comrades the boys had firstknown when they had fought under the King's banner. But the satisfactionof being together again made amends for all else. Indeed they scarce hadeyes for any but each other, and had so much to tell and to ask that thevoyage was all too short for them. 

Amongst those on board Raymond had frequently noticed the figure of atall man always in full armour, and always wearing his visor down, sothat none might see his face. His armour was of fine workmanship, lightand strong, and seemed in no way to incommode him. There was no deviceupon it, save some serpents cunningly inlaid upon the breastplate, andthe visor was richly chased and inlaid with black, so that the wholeeffect was gloomy and almost sinister. Raymond had once or twice askedthe name of the Black Visor, as men called him, but none had been ableto tell him. It was supposed that he was under some vow -- a not veryuncommon thing in the days of chivalry -- and that he might not removehis visor until he had performed some gallant feat of arms. 

Sometimes it had seemed to the youth as though the dark eyes looking outthrough the holes in that black covering were fixed more frequently uponhimself than upon any one else; and if he caught full for a moment thefiery gleam, he would wonder for the instant it lasted where and when hehad seen those eyes before. But his mind was not in any sense of theword concerned with the Black Visor, and it was only now and then hegave him a passing thought. 

And now the good vessel was slipping through the still waters of themagnificent harbour of Bordeaux. The deck was all alive with the bustleof speedy landing, and the Gascon brothers were scanning the familiarlandmarks and listening with delight to the old familiar tongue. 

Familiar faces there were none to be seen, it is true. The boys were toomuch of foreigners now to have many old friends in the queenly city. Butthe whole place was homelike to them, and would be so to their lives'ends. Moreover, they hoped ere they took ship again to have time andopportunity to revisit old haunts and see their foster parents and thegood priest once more; but for the present their steps were turnednorthward towards the gallant little beleaguered town which had appealedto the English King for aid. 

A few days were spent at Bordeaux collecting provisions for the town, and mustering the reinforcements which the loyal city was always readyand eager to supply in answer to any demand on the part of the Roy Outremer. 

The French King had died the previous year, and his son John, formerlyDuke of Normandy, was now upon the throne; but the situation between thetwo nations had by no means changed, and indeed the bitter feelingbetween them was rather increased than diminished by the many pettybreaches of faith on one side or another, of which this siege of St. Jean d'Angely was an example. 

On the whole the onus of breaking the truce rested more with the Frenchthan the English. But a mere truce, where no real peace is looked for oneither side, is but an unsatisfactory state of affairs at best; andalthough both countries were sufficiently exhausted by recent wars andthe ravages of the plague to desire the interlude prolonged, yethostilities of one kind or another never really ceased, and thestruggles between the rival lords of Brittany and their heroic wivesalways kept the flame of war smouldering. 

Gascony as a whole was always loyal to the English cause, and Bordeauxtoo well knew what she owed to the English trade ever to be backwardwhen called upon by the English King. Speedily a fine band of soldierswas assembled, and at dawn one day the march northward was commenced. 

The little army mustered some five thousand men, all well fed and incapital condition for the march. Raymond rode by his brother's side wellin the van, and he noticed presently, amongst the new recruits who hadjoined them, another man of very tall stature, who also wore a blackvisor over his face. He was plainly a friend to the unknown knight (ifknight he were) who had sailed in their vessel, for they rode side byside deep in talk; and behind them, in close and regular array, rode anumber of their immediate followers, all wearing a black tuft in theirsteel caps and a black band round their arm. 

However, there was nothing very noteworthy in this. Many men hadfollowers marked by some distinctive badge, and the sombre littlecontingent excited small notice. They all looked remarkably finesoldiers, and appeared to be under excellent discipline. More than thatwas not asked of any man, and the Gascons were well known to be amongstthe best soldiers of the day. 

The early start and the long daylight enabled the gallant little band topush on in the one day to the banks of the Charente, and within a fewmiles of St. Jean itself. There, however, a halt was called, for theFrench were in a remarkably good position, and it was necessary to takecounsel how they might best be attacked. 

In the first place there was the river to be crossed, and the one bridgewas in the hands of the enemy, who had fortified it, and would be ableto hold it against great odds. They were superior in numbers to theirassailants, and probably knew their advantage. 

Gaston, who well understood the French nature, was the first to make alikely suggestion. 

"Let us appear to retreat, " he said. "They will then see our smallnumbers, and believe that we are flying through fear of them. Doubtlessthey will at once rush out to pursue and attack us, and after we havedrawn them from their strong position, we can turn again upon them andslay them, or drive them into the river. "

This suggestion was received with great favour, and it was decided toact upon it that very day. There were still several hours of daylightbefore them, and the men, who had had wine and bread distributed tothem, were full of eagerness for the fray. 

The French, who were quite aware of the strength of their own position, and very confident of ultimate victory, were narrowly watching themovements of the English, whose approach had been for some time expectedby them. They were certain that they could easily withstand theonslaught of the whole body, if these were bold enough to attack, andthey well knew how terribly thinned would the English ranks becomebefore they could hope to cross the bridge and march upon the main bodyof the French army encamped before the town. 

Great, then, was the exultation of the French when they saw how muchterror they had inspired in the heart of the foe. They were eagerlyobserving their movements; they saw that a council had been calledamongst the chiefs, and that deliberations had been entered into bythem. But so valiant were the English in fight, and so many were thevictories they had obtained with numbers far inferior to those of thefoe, that there was a natural sense of uncertainty as to the result of abattle, even when all the chances of the war seemed to be against theforeign foe. But when the trumpets actually sounded the retreat, andthey saw the whole body moving slowly away, then indeed did they feelthat triumph was near, and a great shout of derision and anger rose upin the still evening air. 

"To horse, men, and after them!" was the word given, and a cry of fiercejoy went up from the whole army. "My Lords of England, you will not getoff in that way. You have come hither by your own will; you shall notleave until you have paid your scot. "

No great order was observed as the Frenchmen sprang to horse andgalloped across the bridge, and so after the retreating foe. Every manwas eager to bear his share in the discomfiture of the Englishcontingent, and hardly staying to arm themselves fully, the eager, hot-headed French soldiers, horse and foot, swung along in any sort oforder, only eager to cut to pieces the flower of the English chivalry(as their leaders had dubbed this little band), and inflict a dark stainupon the honour of Edward's brilliant arms. 

In the ranks of this same English contingent, now in rapid and orderlyretreat, there was to the full as much exultation and lust of battle asin the hearts of their pursuing foes. Every man grasped his weapon andset his teeth firmly, the footmen marching steadily onwards at a rapidand swinging pace, whilst the horsemen, who brought up the rear -- forthey were to be the first to charge when the trumpet sounded the advance-- kept turning their heads to watch the movement of the foe, and sentup a brief huzzah as they saw that their ruse had proved successful, andthat their foes were coming fast after them. 

"Keep thou by my side in the battle today, Raymond, " said Gaston, as helooked to the temper of his weapons and glanced backwards over hisshoulder. "Thou hast been something more familiar with the pen than thesword of late -- and thy faithful esquire likewise. Fight, then, by myside, and together we will meet and overcome the foe. They will fightlike wolves, I doubt not, for they will be bitterly wrathful when theysee the trick we have played upon them. Wherefore quit not my side, bethe fighting never so hot, for I would have thee ever with me. "

"I wish for nothing better for myself, " answered Raymond, with a fondproud glance at the stalwart Gaston, who now towered a full head tallerabove him, and was a very king amongst men. 

He was mounted on a fine black war horse, who had carried his mastervictoriously through many charges before today. Raymond's horse was muchlighter in build, a wiry little barb with a distinct Arab strain, fearless in battle, and fleet as the wind, but without the weight orsolidity of Gaston's noble charger. Indeed, Gaston had found some faultwith the creature's lack of weight for withstanding the onslaught ofcavalry charge; but he suited Raymond so well in other ways that thelatter had declined to make any change, and told his brother smilinglythat his great Lucifer had weight and strength for both. 

Scarcely had Gaston given this charge to his brother before the trumpetssounded a new note, and at once the compact little body of horse andfoot halted, wheeled round, and put themselves in position for theadvance. Another blast from those same trumpets, given with all theverve and joyousness of coming victory, and the horses of their ownaccord sprang forward to the attack. Then the straggling and dismayedbody of Frenchmen who had been pushing on in advance of their fellows tofall upon the flying English, found themselves opposed to one of thosemagnificent cavalry charges which made the glory and the terror of theEnglish arms throughout the reign of the great Edward. 

Vainly trying to rally themselves, and with shouts of "St. Dennis!" "St. Dennis!" the Frenchmen rushed upon their foes; and the detachments frombehind coming up quickly, the engagement became general at once, and wasmost hotly contested on both sides. 

Gaston was one of the foremost to charge into the ranks of the French, and singling out the tallest and strongest adversary he could see, rodefull upon him, and was quickly engaged in a fierce hand-to-handconflict. Raymond was close beside him, and soon found himself engagedin parrying the thrusts of several foes. But Roger was quickly at hisside, taking his own share of hard blows; and as the foot and horse frombehind pressed on after the impetuous leaders, and more and moredetachments from the French army came up to assist their comrades, themelee became very thick, and in the crush it was impossible to see whatwas happening except just in front, and to avoid the blows levelled athim was all that Raymond was able to think of for many long minutes --minutes that seemed more like hours. 

When the press became a little less thick about him, Raymond lookedround for his brother, but could not see him. A body of riders, movingin a compact wedge, had forced themselves in between himself and Gaston. He saw the white plume in his brother's helmet waving at some distanceaway to the left, but when he tried to rein in his horse and reach him, he still found himself surrounded by the same phalanx of mountedsoldiers, who kept pressing him by sheer weight on and on away to theright, though the tide of battle was most distinctly rolling to theleft. The French were flying promiscuously back to their lines, and theEnglish soldiers were in hot pursuit. 

Raymond was no longer amid foes. He had long since ceased to have to usehis sword either for attack or defence, but he could not check theheadlong pace of his mettlesome little barb, nor could he by anyexertion of strength turn the creature's head in any other direction. Ashe was in the midst of those he looked upon as friends, he had nouneasiness as to his own position, even though entirely separated fromGaston and Roger, who generally kept close at his side. He was so littleused of late to the manoeuvres of war, that he fancied this headlonggallop, in which he was taking an involuntary part, might be the resultof military tactics, and that he should see its use presently. 

But as he and his comrades flew over the ground, and the din of thebattle died away in his ears, and the last of the evening sunlight fadedfrom the sky, a strange sense of coming ill fell upon Raymond's spirit. Again he made a most resolute and determined effort to check the fierylittle creature he rode, who seemed as if his feet were furnished withwings, so fast he spurned the ground beneath his hoofs. 

Then for the first time the youth found that this mad pace was caused byregular goading from the silent riders who surrounded him. Turning inhis saddle he saw that these men were one and all engaged in prickingand spurring on the impetuous little steed; and as he cast a keen andsearching look at these strange riders, he saw that they all wore intheir steel caps the black tuft of the followers of the Black Visor andhis sable-coated companion, and that these two leaders rode themselves alittle distance behind. 

Greatly astonished at the strange thing that was befalling him, yet not, so far, alarmed for his personal safety, Raymond drew his sword andlooked steadily round at the ring of men surrounding him. 

"Cease to interfere with my horse, gentlemen, " he said, in stern thoughcourteous accents. "It may be your pleasure thus to ride away from thebattle, but it is not mine; and I will ask of you to let me take my waywhilst you take yours. Why you desire my company I know not, but I donot longer desire yours; wherefore forbear!"

Not a word or a sign was vouchsafed him in answer; but as he attemptedto rein back his panting horse, now fairly exhausted with the strugglebetween the conflicting wills of so many persons, the dark silent riderscontinued to urge him forward with open blows and pricks from swordpoint, till, as he saw that his words were still unheeded, a dangerousglitter shone in Raymond's eyes. 

"Have a care how you molest me, gentlemen!" he said, in clear, ringingtones. "Ye are carrying a jest (if jest it be meant for) a little toofar. The next who dares to touch my horse must defend himself from mysword. "

And then a sudden change came over the bearing of his companions. Adozen swords sprang from their scabbards. A score of harsh voicesreplied to these words in fierce accents of defiance. One -- two --three heavy blows fell upon his head; and though he set his teeth andwheeled about to meet and grapple with his foes, he felt from the firstmoment that he had no chance whatever against such numbers, and that theonly thing to do was to sell his life as dearly as he could. 

There was no time to ask or even to wonder at the meaning of thismysterious attack. All he could do was to strive to shield his head fromthe blows that rained upon him, and breathe a prayer for succour in themidst of his urgent need. 

And then he heard a voice speaking in accents of authority: where had heheard that voice before?

"Hold, men! have I not warned you to do him no hurt? Kill him not, buttake him alive. "

That was the last thing Raymond remembered. His next sensation was offalling and strangulation. Then a blackness swam before his eyes, andsense and memory alike fled. 

 CHAPTER XXIII. IN THE HANDS OF HIS FOE. 

How long that blackness and darkness lasted Raymond never really knew. It seemed to him that he awoke from it at occasional long intervals, always to find himself dreaming of rapid motion, as though he were beingtransported through the air with considerable speed. But there was nomeans of telling in what direction he moved, nor in what company. Hissenses were clouded and dull. He did not know what was real and whatpart of a dream. He had no recollection of any of the events immediatelypreceding this sudden and extraordinary journey, and after a briefperiod of bewilderment would sink back into the black abyss ofunconsciousness from which he had been roused for a few moments. 

At last, after what seemed to him an enormous interval -- for he knewnot whether hours, days, or even years had gone by whilst he hadremained in this state of unconscious apathy, he slowly opened his eyes, to find that the black darkness had given place to a faint murky light, and that he was no longer being carried rapidly onwards, but was lyingstill upon a heap of straw in some dim place, the outlines of which onlybecame gradually visible to him. 

Raymond was very weak, and weakness exercises a calming and numbingeffect upon the senses. He felt no alarm at finding himself in thisstrange place, but after gazing about him without either recollection orcomprehension, he turned round upon his bed of straw, which was by nomeans the worst resting place he had known in his wanderings, andquickly fell into a sound sleep. 

When he awoke some hours later, the place was lighter than it had been, for a ray of sunlight had penetrated through the loophole high above hishead, and illuminated with tolerable brightness the whole of the dimretreat in which he found himself. Raymond raised himself upon his elbowand looked wonderingly around him. 

"What in the name of all the Holy Saints has befallen me?" hequestioned, speaking half aloud in the deep stillness, glad to break theoppressive silence, if it were only by the sound of his own voice. "Ifeel as though a leaden weight were pressing down my limbs, and my headis throbbing as though a hammer were beating inside it. I can scarceframe my thoughts as I will. What was I doing last, before this strangething befell me?"

He put his hand to his head and strove to think; but for a time memoryeluded him, and his bewilderment grew painfully upon him. Then he espieda pitcher of water and some coarse food set not far away, and he rosewith some little difficulty and dragged his stiffened limbs across thestone floor till he reached the spot where this provision stood. 

"Sure, this be something of the prisoner's fare, " he said, as he raisedthe pitcher to his lips; "yet I will refresh myself as best I may. Perchance I shall then regain my scattered senses and better understandwhat has befallen me. "

He ate and drank slowly, and it was as he hoped. The nourishment hesorely needed helped to dispel the clouds of weakness and faintnesswhich had hindered the working of his mind before, and a ray of lightpenetrated the mists about him. 

"Ha!" he exclaimed, "I have it now! We were in battle together -- Gastonand I rode side by side. I recollect it all now. We were separated inthe press, and I was carried off by the followers of the Black Visor. Strange! He was in our ranks. He is a friend, and not a foe. How cameit, then, that his men-at-arms made such an error as to set upon me? Wasit an error? Did I not hear him, or his huge companion, give some orderfor my capture to his men before their blades struck me down? It ispassing strange. I comprehend it not. But Gaston will be here anon tomake all right. There must be some strange error. Sure I must have beenmistaken for some other man. "

Raymond was not exactly uneasy, though a little bewildered and disturbedin mind by the strangeness of the adventure. It seemed certain to himthat there must have been some mistake. That he was at present aprisoner could not be doubted, from the nature of the place in which hewas shut up, and the silence and gloom about him; but unless he had beenabandoned by his first captors, and had fallen into the hands of theFrench, he believed that his captivity would speedily come to an endwhen the mistake concerning his identity was explained. If indeed hewere in the power of some French lord, there might be a little longerdelay, as a ransom would no doubt have to be found for him ere he couldbe released. But then Gaston was at liberty, and Gaston had now powerfulfriends and no mean share in some of the prizes which had been taken bysea and land. He would quickly accomplish his brother's deliverance whenonce he heard of his captivity; and there would be no difficulty insending him a message, as his captor's great desire would doubtless beto obtain as large a ransom as he was able to extort. 

"They had done better had they tried to seize upon Gaston himself, " saidRaymond, with a half smile. "He would have been a prize better worth thetaking. But possibly he would have proved too redoubtable a foe. Methinks my arm has somewhat lost its strength or cunning, else should Iscarce have fallen so easy a prey. I ought to have striven harder tohave kept by Gaston's side; but I know not now how we came to beseparated. And Roger, too, who has ever been at my side in all times ofstrife and danger, how came he to be sundered from me likewise? It musthave been done by the fellows who bore me off -- the followers of theBlack Visor. Strange, very strange! I know not what to think of it. Butwhen next my jailer comes he will doubtless tell me where I am and whatis desired of me. "

The chances of war were so uncertain, and the captive of one day sooften became the victor of the next, that Raymond, who for all hisfragile look possessed a large fund of cool courage, did not feelgreatly disturbed by the ill-chance that had befallen him. Many Frenchknights were most chivalrous and courteous to their prisoners; some evenpermitted them to go out on parole to collect their own ransoms, trusting to their word of honour to return if they were unable to obtainthe stipulated sum. The English cause had many friends amongst theFrench nobility, and friendships as well as enmities had resulted fromthe English occupation of such large tracts of France. 

So Raymond resolved to make the best of his incarceration whilst itlasted, trusting that some happy accident would soon set him at largeagain. With such a brother as Gaston on the outside of his prison wall, it would be foolish to give way to despondency. 

He looked curiously about at the cave-like place in which he foundhimself. It appeared to be a natural chamber formed in the living rock. It received a certain share of air and light from a long narrow loopholehigh up overhead, and the place was tolerably fresh and dry, though itsproportions were by no means large. Still it was lofty, and it was wideenough to admit of a certain but limited amount of exercise to its occupant. 

Raymond found that he could make five paces along one side of it andfour along the other. Except the heap of straw, upon which he had beenlaid, there was no plenishing of any kind to the cell. However, as itwas probably only a temporary resting place, this mattered the less. Raymond had been worse lodged during some of his wanderings before now, and for the two years that he had lived amongst the Cistercian Brothers, he had scarcely been more luxuriously treated. His cell there had beennarrower than this place, his fare no less coarse than that he had justpartaken of, and his pallet bed scarce so comfortable as this truss ofstraw. 

"Father Paul often lay for weeks upon the bare stone floor, " musedRaymond, as he sat down again upon his bed. "Sure I need not grumblethat I have such a couch as this. "

He was very stiff and bruised, as he found on attempting to move about, but he had no actual wounds, and no bones were broken. His light strongarmour had protected him, or else his foes had been striving to vanquishwithout seriously hurting him. He could feel that his head had been agood deal battered about, for any consecutive thought tired him; but itwas something to have come off without worse injury, and sleep wouldrestore him quickly to his wonted strength. 

He lay down upon the straw presently, and again he slept soundly andpeacefully. He woke up many hours later greatly refreshed, aroused bysome sound from the outside of his prison. The light had completelyfaded from the loophole. The place was in pitchy darkness. There issomething a little terrible in black oppressive darkness -- the darknesswhich may almost be felt; and Raymond was not sorry, since he hadawakened, to hear the sound of grating bolts, and then the slow creakingof a heavy door upon its hinges. 

A faint glimmer of light stole into the cell, and Raymund marked theentrance of a tall dark figure habited like a monk, the cowl drawn sofar over the face as entirely to conceal the features. However, theecclesiastical habit was something of a comfort to Raymond, who hadspent so much of his time amongst monks, and he rose to his feet with arespectful salutation in French. 

The monk stepped within the cell, and drew the door behind him, turningthe heavy key in the lock. The small lantern he carried with him gaveonly a very feeble light; but it was better than nothing, and enabledRaymond to see the outline of the tall form, which looked almostgigantic in the full religious habit. 

"Welcome, Holy Father, " said Raymond, still speaking in French. "Rightglad am I to look upon face of man again. I prithee tell me where I am, and into whose hands I have fallen; for methinks there is some mistakein the matter, and that they take me for one whom I am not. "

"They take thee for one Raymond de Brocas, who lays claim, in thine ownor thy brother's person, to Basildene in England and Orthez and Saut inGascony, " answered the monk, who spoke slowly in English and in astrangely-muffled voice. "If thou be not he, say so, and prove itwithout loss of time; for evil is purposed to Raymond de Brocas, and itwere a pity it should fall upon the wrong head. "

A sudden shiver ran through Raymond's frame. Was there not somethingfamiliar in the muffled sound of that English voice? was there notsomething in the words and tone that sounded like a cruel sneer? Was ithis fancy that beneath the long habit of the monk he caught the glimpseof some shining weapon? Was this some terrible dream come to hisdisordered brain? Was he the victim of an illusion? or did this tall, shadowy figure stand indeed before him?

For a moment Raymond's head seemed to swim, and then his nerves steadiedthemselves, and he wondered if he might not be disquieting himself invain. Possibly, after all, this might be a holy man -- one who wouldstand his friend in the future. 

"Thou art English?" he asked quickly; "and if English, surely a friendto thy countrymen?"

"I am English truly, " was the low-toned answer, "and I am here to advisethee for thy good. "

"I thank thee for that at least. I will follow thy counsel, if I maywith honour. "

It seemed as though a low laugh forced its way from under the heavycowl. The monk drew one step nearer. 

"Thou hadst better not trouble thy head about honour. What good will thyhonour be to thee if they tear thee piecemeal limb from limb, or roastthee to death over a slow fire, or rack thee till thy bones start fromtheir sockets? Let thy honour go to the winds, foolish boy, and thinkonly how thou mayest save thy skin. There be those around and about theewho will have no mercy so long as thou provest obdurate. Bethink theewell how thou strivest against them, for thou knowest little what maywell befall thee in their hands. "

The blood seemed to run cold in Raymond's veins as he heard theseterrible words, spoken with a cool deliberation which did nothingdetract from their dread significance. Who was it who once -- nay, manytimes in bygone years -- had threatened him with just that cool, deliberate emphasis, seeming to gloat over the dark threats uttered, asthough they were to him full of a deep and cruel joy?

It seemed to the youth as though he were in the midst of some dark andhorrible dream from which he must speedily awake. He passed his handfiercely across his eyes and made a quick step towards the monk. 

"Who and what art thou?" he asked, in stifled accents, for it seemed asthough a hideous oppression was upon him, and he scarce knew the soundof his own voice; and then, with a harsh, grating laugh, the tall figurerecoiled a pace, and flung the cowl from his head, and with anexclamation of astonishment and dismay Raymond recognized his implacablefoe and rival, Peter Sanghurst, whom last he had beheld within the wallsof Basildene. 

"Thou here!" he exclaimed, and moved back as far as the narrow limits ofthe cell would permit, as though from the presence of some noxious beast. 

Peter Sanghurst folded his arms and gazed upon his youthful rival with agleam of cool, vindictive triumph in his cruel eyes that might well senda thrill of chill horror through the lad's slight frame. When he spokeit was with the satisfaction of one who gloats over a victim utterly andentirely in his power. 

"Ay, truly I am here; and thou art mine, body and soul, to do with whatI will; none caring what befalls thee, none to interpose between theeand me. I have waited long for this hour, but I have not waited in vain. I can read the future. I knew that one day thou wouldst be in my hands-- that I might do my pleasure upon thee, whatsoever that pleasure mightbe. Knowing that, I have been content to wait; only every day the debthas been mounting up. Every time that thou, rash youth, hast dared totry to thwart me, hast dared to strive to stand between me and theobject of my desires, a new score has been written down in the record Ihave long kept against thee. Now the day of reckoning has come, and thouwilt find the reckoning a heavy one. But thou shalt pay it -- every jotand tittle shalt thou pay. Thou shalt not escape from my power untilthou hast paid the uttermost farthing. "

The man's lips parted in a hideous smile which showed his white teeth, sharp and pointed like the fangs of a wolf. Raymond felt his couragerise with the magnitude of his peril. That some unspeakably terribledoom was designed for him he could not doubt. The malignity and crueltyof his foe were too well understood; but at least if he must suffer, hewould suffer in silence. His enemy should not have the satisfaction ofwringing from him one cry for mercy. He would die a thousand timessooner than sue to him. He thought of Joan -- realizing that for hersake he should be called upon, in some sort, to bear this suffering; andeven the bare thought sent a thrill of ecstasy through him. Any deaththat was died for her would be sweet. And might not his be instrumentalin ridding her for ever of her hateful foe? Would not Gaston raiseheaven and earth to discover his brother? Surely he would, sooner orlater, find out what had befallen him; and then might Peter Sanghurststrive in vain to flee from the vengeance he had courted: he wouldassuredly fall by Gaston's hand, tracked down even to the ends of the earth. 

Peter Sanghurst, his eyes fixed steadily on the face of his victim, hoping to enjoy by anticipation his agonies of terror, saw only a gleamof resolution and even of joy pass across his face, and he gnashed histeeth in sudden rage at finding himself unable to dominate the spirit ofthe youth, as he meant shortly to rack his body. 

"Thou thinkest still to defy me, mad boy?" he asked. "Thou thinkest thatthy brother will come to thine aid? Let him try to trace thee if he can!I defy him ever to learn where thou art. Wouldst know it thyself? Thenthou shalt do so, and thou wilt see thy case lost indeed. Thou art inthat Castle of Saut that thou wouldest fain call thine own -- thatcastle which has never yet been taken by foe from without, and neverwill be yet, so utterly impregnable is its position. Thou art in thehands of the Lord of Navailles, who has his own score to settle withthee, and who will not let thee go till thou hast resigned in thybrother's name and thine own every one of those bold claims which, as hehas heard, have been made to the Roy Outremer by one or both of you. Nowdoth thy spirit quail? now dost thou hope for succour from without? Bidadieu to all such fond and idle hopes. Thou art here utterly alone, noman knowing what has befallen thee. Thou art in the hands of thy twobitterest foes, men who are known and renowned for their cruelty andtheir evil deeds -- men who would crush to death a hundred such as thouwho dared to strive to bar their way. Now what sayest thou? how aboutthat boasted honour of thine? Thou hadst best hear reason ere thou hastprovoked thy foes too far, and make for thyself the best terms that thoucanst. Thou mayest yet save thyself something if thou wilt hear reason. "

Raymond's face was set like a flint. He had no power to rid himself ofthe presence of his foe, but yield one inch to persuasion or threat hewas resolved not to do. For one thing, his distrust of this man was sogreat that he doubted if any concessions made by him would be of thesmallest value in obtaining him his release; for another, his pride roseup in arms against yielding anything to fear that he would not yieldwere he a free man in the midst of his friends. No: at all costs hewould stand firm. He could but die once, and what other men had bornefor their honour or their faith he could surely bear. His lofty youngface kindled and glowed with the enthusiasm of his resolution, and againthe adversary's face darkened with fury. 

"Thou thinkest perhaps that I have forgot the art of torture since thouwrested from me one victim? Thou shalt find that what he suffered at myhands was but the tithe of what thou shalt endure. Thou hast heardperchance of that chamber in the heart of the earth where the Lord ofNavailles welcomes his prisoners who have secrets worth the knowing, ortreasures hidden out of his reach? That chamber is not far from wherethou standest now, and there be willing hands to carry thee thither intothe presence of its Lord, who lets not his visitors escape him till hehas wrung from their reluctant lips every secret of which he desires thekey. And what are his clumsy engines to the devices and refinements oftorture that I can inflict when once that light frame is boundmotionless upon the rack, and stretched till not a muscle may quiversave at my bidding? Rash boy, beware how thou provokest me to do myworst; for once I have thee thus bound beneath my hands, then the devilof hatred and cruelty which possesses me at times will come upon me, andI shall not let thee go until I have done my worst. Bethink thee wellere thou provokest me too far. Listen and be advised, ere it be too latefor repentance, and thy groans of abject submission fall upon unheedingears. None will befriend thee then. Thou mayest now befriend thyself. Ifthou wilt not take the moment when it is thine, it may never be offeredthee again. "

Raymond did not speak. He folded his arms and looked steadily across athis foe. He knew himself perfectly and absolutely helpless. Every weaponhe possessed had been taken from him whilst he lay unconscious. Hisarmour had been removed. He had nothing upon him save his light summerdress, and the precious heart hanging about his neck. Even thesatisfaction of making one last battle for his life was denied him. Hislimbs were yet stiff and weak. His enemy would grip him as though hewere a child if he so much as attempted to cast himself upon him. Allthat was now left for him was the silent dignity of endurance. 

Sanghurst made one step forward and seized the arm of the lad in a griplike that of a vice. So cruel was the grip that it was hard to restraina start of pain. 

"Renounce Joan!" he hissed in the boy's ear; "renounce her utterly andfor ever! Write at my bidding such words as I shall demand of thee, andthou shalt save thyself the worst of the agonies I will else inflictupon thee. Basildene thou shalt never get -- I can defy thee there, doas thou wilt; besides, if thou departest alive from this prison house, thou wilt have had enough of striving to thwart the will of PeterSanghurst -- but Joan thou shalt renounce of thine own free will, andshalt so renounce her that her love for thee will be crushed and killed!Here is the inkhorn, and here the parchment. The ground will serve theefor a table, and I will tell thee what to write. Take then the pen, andlinger not. Thou wouldst rejoice to write whatever words I bid theedidst thou know what is even now preparing in yon chamber below thyprison house. Take the pen and sit down. It is but a short half-hour'stask. "

The strong man thrust the quill into the slight fingers of the boy; butRaymond suddenly wrenched his hand away, and flung the frail weapon tothe other end of the cell. He saw the vile purpose in a moment. Peterknew something of the nature of the woman he passionately desired to winfor his wife, and he well knew that no lies of his invention respectingthe falsity of her young lover would weigh one instant with her. Eventhe death of his rival would help him in no whit, for Joan would cherishthe memory of the dead, and pay no heed to the wooing of the living. There was but one thing that would give him the faintest hope, and thatwas the destruction of her faith in Raymond. Let him be proved faithlessand unworthy, and her love and loyalty must of necessity receive a rudeshock. Sanghurst knew the world, and knew that broken faith was the onething a lofty-souled and pure-minded woman finds it hardest to forgive. Raymond, false to his vows, would no longer be a rival in his way. Hemight have a hard struggle to win the lady even then, but the oneinsuperable obstacle would be removed from his path. 

And Raymond saw the purpose in a moment. His quick and sharpenedintelligence showed all to him in a flash. Not to save himself from anyfate would he so disgrace his manhood -- prove unworthy in the hour oftrial, deny his love, and by so doing deny himself the right to bear allfor her dear sake. 

Flinging the pen to the ground and turning upon Sanghurst with a greatlight in his eyes, he told him how he read his base purpose, his blacktreachery, and dared him to do his worst. 

"My worst, mad boy, my worst!" cried the furious man, absolutely foamingat the mouth as he drew back, looking almost like a venomous snakecouched for a spring. "Is that, then, thy answer -- thy unchangeableanswer to the only loophole I offer thee of escaping the full vengeanceawaiting thee from thy two most relentless foes? Bethink thee well howthou repeatest such words. Yet once again I bid thee pause. Take butthat pen and do as I bid thee --"

"I will not!" answered Raymond, throwing back his head in a gesture ofnoble, fearless defiance; "I will not do thy vile bidding. Joan is mytrue love, my faithful and loving lady. Her heart is mine and mine ishers, and her faithful knight I will live and die. Do your worst. I defyyou to your face. There is a God above who can yet deliver me out ofyour hand if He will. If not -- if it be His will that I suffer in arighteous cause -- I will do it with a soul unseared by cowardfalsehood. There is my answer; you will get none other. Now do with mewhat you will. I fear you not. "

Peter Sanghurst's aspect changed. The fury died out, to be replaced by aperfectly cold and calm malignity a hundred times more terrible. Hestooped and picked up the pen, replacing it with the parchment andinkhorn in a pouch at his girdle. Then throwing off entirely the longmonk's habit which he had worn on his entrance, he advanced step by stepupon Raymond, the glitter in his eye being terrible to see. 

Raymond did not move. He was already standing against the wall at thefarthest limit of the cell. His foe slowly advanced upon him, andsuddenly put out two long, powerful arms, and gripped him round the bodyin a clasp against which it was vain to struggle. Lifting him from hisfeet, he carried him into the middle of the chamber, and setting himdown, but still encircling him with that bear-like embrace, he stampedthrice upon the stone floor, which gave out a hollow sound beneath his feet. 

The next moment there was a sound of strange creaking and groaning, asthough some ponderous machinery were being set in motion. There was asickening sensation, as though the very ground beneath his feet weregiving way, and the next instant Raymond became aware that this indeedwas the case. The great flagstone upon which he and his captor werestanding was sinking, sinking, sinking into the very heart of the earth, as it seemed; and as they vanished together into the pitchy darkness, tothe accompaniment of that same strange groaning and creaking, Raymondheard a hideous laugh in his ear. 

"This is how his victims are carried to the Lord of Navailles's torturechamber. Ha-ha! ha-ha! This is how they go down thither. Whether theyever come forth again is quite another matter!"

 CHAPTER XXIV. GASTON'S QUEST. 

When Gaston missed his brother from his side in the triumphant turningof the tables upon the French, he felt no uneasiness. The battle wasgoing so entirely in favour of the English arms, and the discomfitedFrench were making so small a stand, that the thought of peril toRaymond never so much as entered his head. In the waning light it wasdifficult to distinguish one from another, and for aught he knew hisbrother might be quite close at hand. They were engaged in takingprisoners such of their enemies as were worthy to be carried off; andwhen they had completely routed the band and made captive their leaders, it was quite dark, and steps were taken to encamp for the night. 

Then it was that Gaston began to wonder why he still saw nothing eitherof Raymond or of the faithful Roger, who was almost like his shadow. Heasked all whom he met if anything had been seen of his brother, but theanswer was always the same -- nobody knew anything about him. Nobodyappeared to have seen him since the brothers rode into battle side byside; and the young knight began to feel thoroughly uneasy. 

Of course there had been some killed and wounded in the battle upon bothsides, though the English loss was very trifling. Still it might havebeen Raymond's fate to be borne down in the struggle, and Gaston, calling some of his own personal attendants about him, and bidding themtake lanterns in their hands, went forth to look for his brother uponthe field where the encounter had taken place. 

The field was a straggling one, as the combat had taken the character ofa rout at the end, and the dead and wounded lay at long intervals apart. Gaston searched and searched, his heart growing heavier as he did so, for his brother was very dear to him, and he felt a pang of bitterself-reproach at having left him, however inadvertently, to bear thebrunt of the battle alone. But search as he would he found nothingeither of Raymond or Roger, and a new fear entered into his mind. 

"Can he have been taken prisoner?"

This did not seem highly probable. The French, bold enough at the outsetwhen they had believed themselves secure of an easy victory, had changedtheir front mightily when they had discovered the trap set for them bytheir foes, and in the end had thought of little save how to save theirown lives. They would scarce have burdened themselves with prisoners, least of all with one who did not even hold the rank of knight. Thisdisappearance of his brother was perplexing Gaston not a little. Helooked across the moonlit plain, now almost as light as day, a cloud ofpain and bewilderment upon his face. 

"By Holy St. Anthony, where can the boy be?" he cried. 

Then one of his men-at-arms came up and spoke. 

"When we were pursuing the French here to the left, back towards theirown lines, I saw a second struggle going on away to the right. Theknight with the black visor seemed to be leading that pursuit, andthough I could not watch it, as I had my own work to do here, I knowthat some of our men took a different line, there along by yon ridge tothe right. "

"Let us go thither and search there, " said Gaston, with prompt decision, "for plainly my brother is not here. It may be he has been followinganother flying troop. We will up and after him. Look well as you ride ifthere be any prostrate figures lying in the path. I fear me he may havebeen wounded in the rout, else surely he would not have stayed away solong. "

Turning his horse round, and closely followed by his men, Gaston rodeoff in the direction pointed out by his servant. It became plain thatthere had been fighting of some sort along this line, for a few dead andwounded soldiers, all Frenchmen, lay upon the ground at intervals. Nothing, however, could be seen of Raymond, and for a while nothing ofRoger either; but just as Gaston was beginning to despair of findingtrace of either, he beheld in the bright moonlight a figure staggeringalong in a blind and helpless fashion towards them, and spurring rapidlyforward to meet it, he saw that it was Roger. 

Roger truly, but Roger in pitiable plight. His armour was gone. Hisdoublet had been half stripped from off his back. He was bleeding frommore than one wound, and in his eyes was a fixed and glassy stare, likethat of one walking in sleep. His face was ghastly pale, and his breathcame in quick sobs and gasps. 

"Roger, is it thou?" cried Gaston, in accents of quick alarm. "I havebeen seeking thee everywhere. Where is thy master? Where is my brother?"

"Gone! gone! gone!" cried Roger, in a strange and despairing voice. "Carried off by his bitterest foes! Gone where we shall never see him more!"

There was something in the aspect of the youth and in his lamentablewords that sent an unwonted shiver through Gaston's frame; but he wasquick to recover himself, and answered hastily:

"Boy, thou art distraught! Tell me where my brother has gone. I willafter him and rescue him. He cannot be very far away. Quick -- tell mewhat has befallen him!"

"He has been carried off -- more I know not. He has been carried off byfoulest treachery. "

"Treachery! Whose treachery? Who has carried him off?"

"The knight of the Black Visor. "

"The Black Visor! Nay; thou must be deceived thyself! The Black Visor isone of our own company. "

"Ay verily, and that is why he succeeded where an open foe had failed. None guessed with what purpose he came when he and his men pushed theirway in a compact wedge, and sundered my young master from your side, sir, driving him farther and farther from all beside, till he and I (whohad managed to keep close beside him) were far away from all the worldbeside, galloping as if for dear life in a different direction. Then itwas that they threw off the pretence of being friends -- that they setupon him and overpowered him, that they beat off even me from holdingmyself near at hand, and carried me bound in another direction. I wasgiven in charge to four stalwart troopers, all wearing the black badgeof their master. They bound my bands and my feet, and bore me along Iknew not whither. I lost sight of my master. Him they took at headlongspeed in another direction. I had been wounded in the battle. I waswounded by these men, struggling to follow your brother. I swooned in mysaddle, and knew no more till a short hour ago, when I woke to findmyself lying, still bound, upon a heap of straw in some outhouse of afarm. I heard the voices of my captors singing snatches of songs not faraway; but they were paying no heed to their captive, and I made shift toslacken my bonds and slip out into the darkness of the wood. 

"I knew not where I was; but the moon told me how to bend my steps tofind the English camp again. I, in truth, have escaped -- have come tobring you word of his peril; but ah, I fear, I fear that we shall neversee him more! They will kill him -- they will kill him! He is in thehands of his deadliest foes!"

"If we know where he is, we can rescue him without delay!" cried Gaston, who was not a little perplexed at the peculiar nature of the adventurewhich had befallen his brother. 

To be taken captive and carried off by one of the English knights (ifindeed the Black Visor were a knight) was a most extraordinary thing tohave happened. Gaston, who knew little enough of his brother's pasthistory in detail, and had no idea that he had called down upon himselfany particular enmity, was utterly at a loss to understand the story, nor was Roger in a condition to give any farther explanation. Hetottered as he stood, and Gaston ordered his servants to mount him uponone of their horses and bring him quietly along, whilst he himselfturned and galloped back to the camp to prosecute inquiries there. 

"Who is the Black Visor?" -- that was the burden of his inquiries, andit was long before he could obtain an answer to this question. Theleaders of the expedition were full of their own plans and had littleattention to bestow upon Gaston or his strange story. The loss of asingle private gentleman from amongst their muster was nothing to excitethem, and their own position was giving them much more concern. They hadtaken many prisoners. They believed that they had done amply enough toraise the siege of St. Jean d'Angely (though in this they provedthemselves mistaken), and they were anxious to get safely back toBordeaux with their spoil before any misadventure befell them. 

Gaston cared nothing now for the expedition; his heart was with hisbrother, his mind was full of anxious questioning. Roger's story plainlyshowed that Raymond was in hostile hands. But the perplexity of thematter was that Gaston had no idea of the name or rank of his brother'senemy and captor. 

At last he came upon a good-natured knight who had been courteous to thebrothers in old days. He listened with interest to Gaston's tale, andbid him wait a few minutes whilst he went to try to discover the nameand rank of the Black Visor. He was certain that he had heard it, thoughhe could not recollect at a moment's notice what he had heard. He didnot keep Gaston waiting long, but returned quickly to him. 

"The Black Visor is one Peter Sanghurst of Basildene, a gentleman infavour with the King, and one likely to rise to high honour. Men whisperthat he has some golden secret which, if it be so, will make of him agreat man one of these days. It is he who has been in our company, always wearing his black visor. Men say he is under some vow, and untilthe vow is accomplished no man may look upon his face. "

Gaston drew his breath hard, and a strange gleam came into his eyes. 

"Peter Sanghurst of Basildene!" he exclaimed, and then fell into a deepreverie. 

What did it all mean? What had Raymond told him from time to time aboutthe enmity of this man? Did not Gaston himself well remember theadventure of long ago, when he and his brother had entered Basildene bystealth and carried thence the wretched victim of the sorcerer's art?Was not that the beginning of an enmity which had never been altogetherlaid to sleep? Had he not heard whispers from time to time all pointingto the conclusion that Sanghurst had neither forgotten nor forgiven, andthat he felt his possession of Basildene threatened by the existence ofthe brothers whose right it was? Had not Raymond placed himself almostunder vow to win back his mother's lost inheritance? And might it not bepossible that this knowledge had come to the ears of the present owner?

Gaston ground his teeth in rage as he realized what might be the meaningof this cowardly attack. Treachery and cowardice were the two vices mosthateful in his eyes, and this vile attack upon an unsuspecting comradefilled him with the bitterest rage as well as with the greatest anxiety. 

Plain indeed was it that Raymond had been carried off; but whither? ToEngland? that scarce seemed possible. It would be a daring thing indeedto bring an English subject back to his native land a prisoner. Yetwhere else could Peter Sanghurst carry a captive? He might have friendsamongst the French; but who would be sufficiently interested in hisaffairs to give shelter to him and his prisoner, when it might lead totrouble perhaps with the English King?

One thought of relief there was in the matter. Plainly it was notRaymond's death that was to be compassed. If they had wished to killhim, they would have done so upon the battlefield and have left himthere, where his death would have excited no surprise or question. No;it was something more than this that was wanted, and Gaston felt smalldifficulty in guessing what that aim and object was. 

"He is to be held for ransom, and his ransom will be our claim uponBasildene. We both shall be called upon to renounce that, and thenRaymond will go free. Well, if that be the only way, Basildene must go. But perchance it may be given to me to save the inheritance and rescueRaymond yet. Would that I knew whither they had carried him! But surelyhe may be traced and followed. Some there must be who will be able togive me news of them. "

Of one thing Gaston was perfectly assured, and that was that he must nowact altogether independently, gain permission to quit the expedition, and pursue his own investigations with his own followers. He had nodifficulty in arranging this matter. The leaders had already resolvedupon returning to Bordeaux immediately, and taking ship with their spoiland prisoners for England. Had Gaston not had other matters of his ownto think of, he would most likely have urged a farther advance upon thebeleaguered town, to make sure that it was sufficiently relieved. As itwas, he had no thoughts but for his brother's peril; and his anxietieswere by no means relieved by the babble of words falling from Roger'slips when he returned to see how it fared with him. 

Roger appeared to the kindly soldiers, who had made a rude couch for himand were tending him with such skill as they possessed, to be talking inthe random of delirium, and they paid little heed to his words. But asGaston stood by he was struck by the strange fixity of the youth's eyes, by the rigidity of his muscles, and by the coherence and significance ofhis words. 

It was not a disconnected babble that passed his lips; it was thedescription of some scene upon which he appeared to be looking. He spokeof horsemen galloping through the night, of the Black Visor in the midstand his gigantic companion by his side. He spoke of the unconsciouscaptive they carried in their midst -- the captive the youth struggledfrantically to join, that they might share together whatever fate was tobe his. 

The soldiers naturally believed he was wandering, and speaking of hisown ride with his captors; but Gaston listened with different feelings. He remembered well what he had once heard about this boy and the strangegift he possessed, or was said to possess, of seeing what went on at adistance when he had been in the power of the sorcerer. Might it not bethat this gift was not only exercised at the will of another, but mightbe brought into play by the tension of anxiety evoked by a great strainupon the boy's own nervous system? Gaston did not phrase the questionthus, but he well knew the devotion with which Roger regarded Raymond, and it seemed quite possible to him that in this crisis of his life, hisbody weakened by wounds and fatigue, his mind strained by grief andanxiety as to the fate of him he loved more than life, his spirit hadsuddenly taken that ascendency over his body which of old it hadpossessed, and that he was really and truly following in that strangetrance-like condition every movement of the party of which Raymond wasthe centre. 

At any rate, whether he were right or not in this surmise, Gastonresolved that he would not lose a word of these almost ceaselessutterings, and dismissing his men to get what rest they could, he satbeside Roger, and listened with attention to every word he spoke. 

Roger lay with his eyes wide open in the same fixed and glassy stare. Hespoke of a halt made at a wayside inn, of the rousing up with theearliest stroke of dawn of the keeper of this place, of the inside ofthe bare room, and the hasty refreshment set before the impatienttravellers. 

"He sits down, they both sit down, and then he laughs -- ah, where haveI heard that laugh before?" and a look of strange terror sweeps over theyouth's face. "'I may now remove my visor -- my vow is fulfilled! Myenemy is in my hands. My Lord of Navailles, I drink this cup to yourgood health and the success of our enterprise. We have the victim in ourown hands. We can wring from him every concession we desire before weoffer him for ransom. '"

Gaston gave a great start. What did this mean? Well indeed he rememberedthe Sieur de Navailles, the hereditary foe of the De Brocas. Was it, could it be possible, that he was concerned in this capture? Had theirtwo foes joined together to strive to win all at one blow? He muststrive to find this out. Could it be possible that Roger really saw andheard all these things? or was it but the fantasy of delirium? Raymondmight have spoken to him of the Lord of Navailles as a foe, and in hisdreams he might be mixing one thought with the other. 

Suddenly Roger uttered a sharp cry and pressed his hands before hiseyes. "It is he! it is he!" he cried, with a gasping utterance. "He hasremoved the mask from his face. It is he -- Peter Sanghurst -- and he issmiling -- that smile. Oh, I know what it means! He has cruel, evilthoughts in his mind. O my master, my master!"

Gaston started to his feet. Here was corroboration indeed. Roger no moreknew who the Black Visor was than he had done himself an hour back. Yethe now saw the face of Peter Sanghurst, the very man he himself haddiscovered the Black Visor to be. This indeed showed that Roger wastruly looking upon some distant scene, and a strange thrill ran throughGaston as he realized this mysterious fact. 

"And the other, Peter Sanghurst's companion -- what of him? whatlikeness does he bear?" asked Gaston quickly. 

"He is a very giant in stature, " was the answer, "with a swarthy skin, black eyes that burn in their sockets, and a coal-black beard that fallsbelow his waist. He has a sear upon his left cheek, and he has lost twofingers upon the left hand. He speaks in a voice like rolling waves, andin a language that is half English and half the Gascon tongue. "

"In very truth the Sieur de Navailles!" whispered Gaston to himself. 

With every faculty on the alert, he sat beside Roger's bed, listening toevery word of his strange babble of talk. He described how they took tohorse, fresh horses being provided for the whole company, as though allhad been planned beforehand, and how they galloped at headlong pace away-- away -- away, ever faster, ever more furiously, as though resolved togain their destination at all cost. 

The day dawned, but Roger lay still in this trance, and Gaston would nothave him disturbed. Until he could know whither his brother had beencarried, it was useless to strive to seek and overtake him. If in verytruth Roger was in some mysterious fashion watching over him, he would, doubtless, be able to tell whither at length the captive was taken. Thenthey would to horse and pursue. But they must learn all they could first. 

The hours passed by. Roger still talked at intervals. If questioned heanswered readily -- always of the same hard riding, the changes ofhorses, the captive carried passive in the midst of the troop. 

Then he began to speak words that arrested Gaston's attention. He spokeof natural features well known to him: he described a grim fortress, soplaced as to be impregnable to foes from without. There were the widemoat, the huge natural mound, the solid wall, the small loopholes. Gaston held his breath to hear: he knew every feature of the place sodescribed. Was it not the ancient Castle of Saut -- his own inheritance, as he had been brought up to call it? Roger had never seen it; he wasalmost assured of that. What he was describing was something seen withthat mysterious second sight of his, nothing that had ever impresseditself upon his waking senses. 

It was all true, then. Raymond had indeed been taken captive by the twobitter enemies of the house of De Brocas. Peter Sanghurst had doubtlessheard of the feud between the two houses, and of the claim set up byGaston for the establishment of his own rights upon the lands of thefoe, and had resolved to make common cause with the Navailles againstthe brothers. It was possible that they would have liked to get bothinto their clutches, but that they feared to attack so stalwart a foe asGaston; or else they might have believed that the possession of theperson of Raymond would be sufficient for their purpose. The tie betweenthe twin brothers was known to be strong. It was likely enough that wereRaymond's ransom fixed at even an exorbitant sum, the price would bepaid by the brother, who well knew that the Tower of Saut was strongenough to defy all attacks from without, and that any personincarcerated in its dungeons would be absolutely at the mercy of itscruel and rapacious lord. 

The King of England had his hands full enough as it was without takingup the quarrel of every wronged subject. What was done would have to bedone by himself and his own followers; and Gaston set his teeth hard ashe realized this, and went forth to give his own orders for the morrow. 

At the first glimpse of coming day they were to start forth for thesouth, and by hard riding might hope to reach Saut by the evening of thesecond day. Gaston could muster some score of armed men, and they wouldbe like enough to pick up many stragglers on the way, who would be readyenough to join any expedition promising excitement and adventure. Totake the Castle of Saut by assault would, as Gaston well knew, beimpossible; but he cherished a hope that it might fall into his handsthrough strategy if he were patient, and if Roger still retained thatmarvellous faculty of second-sight which revealed to his eyes thingshidden from the vision of others. 

He slept all that night without moving or speaking, and when he awoke inthe morning it was in a natural state, and at first he appeared to haveno recollection of what had occurred either to himself or to Raymond. But as sense and memory returned to him, so did also the shadow of someterrible doom hanging over his beloved young master; and though he wasstill weak and ill, and very unfit for the long journey on horsebackthrough the heat of a summer's day, he would not hear of being leftbehind, and was the one to urge upon the others all the haste possibleas they rode along southward after the foes who had captured Raymond. 

On, on, on! there were no halts save for the needful rest andrefreshment, or to try to get fresh horses to carry them forward. A fireseemed to burn in Gaston's veins as well as in those of Roger; and theknowledge that they were on the track of the fugitives gave fresh ardourto the pursuit at every halting place. 

Only a few hours were allowed for rest and sleep during the darkest hourof the short night, and then on -- on -- ever on, urged by anovermastering desire to know what was happening to the prisoner behindthose gloomy walls. 

Roger's sleep that night had been disturbed by hideous visions. He didnot appear to know or see anything that was passing; but a deep gloomhung upon his spirit, and he many times woke shivering and crying outwith horror at he knew not what; whilst Gaston lay broad awake, astrange sense of darkness and depression upon his own senses. He couldscarce restrain himself from springing up and summoning his wearyfollowers to get to horse and ride forth at all risks to the very doorsof Saut, and only with the early dawn of day did any rest or refreshmentfall upon his spirit. 

Roger looked more himself as they rode forth in the dawn. 

"Methinks we are near him now, " he kept saying; "my heart is lighterthan it was. We will save him yet -- I am assured of it! He is not dead;I should surely know it if he were. We are drawing nearer every step. Wemay be with him ere nightfall. "

"The walls of Saut lie betwixt us, " said Gaston, rather grimly, but helooked sternly resolute, as though it would take strong walls indeed tokeep him from his brother when they were so near. 

The country was beginning to grow familiar to him. He picked upfollowers in many places as he passed through. The name of De Brocas wasloved here; that of De Navailles was loathed, and hated, and feared. 

Evening was drawing on. The woods were looking their loveliest in allthe delicate beauty of their fresh young green. Gaston, riding somefifty yards ahead with Roger beside him, looked keenly about him, withvivid remembrance of every winding of the woodland path. Soon, as heknew, the grim Castle of Saut would break upon his vision -- away therein front and slightly to the right, where the ground fell away to theriver and rose on the opposite bank, crowned with those frowning walls. 

He was riding so carelessly that when his horse suddenly swerved andshied violently, he was for a moment almost unseated; but quicklyrecovering himself, he looked round to see what had frightened theanimal, and himself gave almost as violent a start as the beast had done. 

And yet what he saw was nothing very startling: only the light figure ofa young girl -- a girl fair of face and light of foot as a veritableforest nymph -- such as indeed she looked springing out from theoverhanging shade of that dim place. 

For one instant they looked into each other's faces with a glance ofquick recognition, and then clasping her hands together, the girlexclaimed in the Gascon tongue:

"The Holy Saints be praised! You have come, you have come! Ah, how Ihave prayed that help might come! And my prayers have been heard!"

 CHAPTER XXV. THE FAIRY OF THE FOREST

Gaston sat motionless in his saddle, gazing at the apparition as thoughfascinated. He had seen this woodland nymph before. He had spoken withher, had sat awhile beside her, and her presence had inspired feelingswithin him to which he had hitherto been a complete stranger. As hegazed now into that lovely face, anxious, glad, fearful, all in one, andyet beaming with joy at the encounter, he felt as if indeed the denizensof another sphere had interposed to save his brother, and from thatmoment he felt a full assurance that Raymond would be rescued. 

Recovering himself as by an effort, he sprang from his saddle and stoodbeside the girl. 

"Lady, " he said, in gentle accents, that trembled slightly through theintensity of his emotion -- "fairest lady, who thou art I know not, butthis I know, that thou comest ever as a messenger of mercy. Once it wasto warn me of peril to come; now it is to tell us of one who lies insore peril. Lady, tell me that I am not wrong in this -- that thoucomest to give me news of my brother!"

Her liquid eyes were full of light. She did not shrink from him, or playwith his feelings as on a former occasion. Her face expressed a seriousgravity and earnestness of purpose which added tenfold to her charms. Gaston, deeply as his feelings were stirred with anxious care for hisbrother's fate, could not help his heart going out to this exquisiteyoung thing standing before him with trustful upturned face. 

Who she was he knew not and cared not. She was the one woman in theworld for him. He had thought so when he had found her in the forest inwayward tricksy mood; he knew it without doubt now that he saw her athis side, her sweet face full of deep and womanly feeling, her archshyness all forgotten in the depth and resolution of her resolve. 

"I do!" she answered, in quick, short sentences that sounded like thetones of a silver bell. "You are Gaston de Brocas, and he, the prisoner, is your twin brother Raymond. I know all. I have heard them talk intheir cups, when they forget that I am growing from a child to a woman. I have long ceased to be a child. I think that I have grown old in thatterrible place. I have heard words -- oh, that make my blood run cold!that make me wish I had never been born into a world where such thingsare possible! In my heart I have registered a vow. I have vowed that ifever the time should come when I might save one wretched victim from mysavage uncle's power -- even at the risk of mine own life -- I would doit. I have warned men away from here. I have done a little, times andagain, to save them from a snare laid for them. But never once have Ihad power to rescue from his relentless clutch the victim he had onceenclosed in his net, for never have I had help from without. But when Iheard them speak of Raymond de Brocas -- when I knew that it was he, thybrother, of whom some such things were spoken -- then I felt that Ishould indeed go mad could I not save him from such fate. "

"What fate?" asked Gaston breathlessly; but she went on as though shehad not heard. 

"I thought of thee as I had seen thee in the wood. I said in my heart, 'He is noble, he is brave. He will rest not night nor day whilst hisbrother lies a captive in these cruel hands. I have but to watch and towait. He will surely come. And when he comes, I will show him the blackhole in the wall -- the dark passage to the moat -- and he will dare toenter where never man has entered before. He will save his brother, andmy vow will be fulfilled!'"

Gaston drew his breath hard, and a light leaped into his eyes. 

"Thou knowest a secret way by which the Tower of Saut may be entered --is that so, Lady?"

"I know a way by which many a wretched victim has left it, " answered thegirl, whose dark violet eyes were dilated by the depth of her emotion. "I know not if any man ever entered by that way. But my heart told methat there was one who would not shrink from the task, be the perilnever so great. I will see that the men-at-arms have drink enough toturn their heads. I have a concoction of herbs which if mingled withstrong drink will cause such sleep to fall upon men that a thunderboltfalling at their feet would scarce awaken them. I will see that thouhast the chance thou needest. The rest wilt thou do without a thought offear. "

"Fear to go where Raymond is -- to share his fate if I may not rescuehim!" cried Gaston. "Nay, sweet lady, that would be indeed a cravenfear, unworthy of any true knight. But tell me more. I have many timeswandered round the Tower of Saut in my boyhood, when its lord and masterwas away. Methinks I know every loophole and gate by heart. But thegates are so closely guarded, and the windows are so narrow and high upin the walls, that I know not how they may be entered from without. "

"True: yet there is one way of which doubtless thou knowest naught, for, as I have said, men go forth that way, but enter not by it; and thetrick is known only to a few chosen souls, for the victims who pass outseek not to come again. They drop with sullen plash into the blackwaters of the moat, and the river, which mingles its clearer water withthe sluggish stream encircling the Tower, bears thence towards thehungry sea the burden thus entrusted to its care. "

Gaston shivered slightly. 

"Thou speakest of the victims done to death within yon gloomy walls. Ihave heard dark tales of such ere now. "

"Thou hast heard nothing darker than the truth, " said the girl, herslight frame quivering with repressed emotion and a deep and terriblesense of helpless indignation and pity. "I have heard stories that havemade my blood run cold in my veins. Men have been done to death in afashion I dare not speak of. There is a terrible room scarce raisedabove the level of the moat, into which I was once taken, and the memoryof which has haunted me ever since. It is within the great mound uponwhich the Tower is built; and above it is the dungeon in which thevictim is confined. There is some strange and wondrous device by whichhe may be carried down and raised again to his own prison house when hiscaptor has worked his hideous will upon him. And if he dies, as many do, upon the fearful engines men have made to inflict torture upon eachother, then there is this narrow stairway, and this still narrowerpassage down to the sullen waters of the moat. 

"The opening is just at the level of the water. It looks so small fromthe opposite side, that one would think it but the size to admit thepassage of a dog; you would think it was caused by the loosening of somestone in the wall -- no more. But yet it is large enough to admit thepassage of a human body; and where a body has passed out, sure a bodymay pass in. There is no lock upon the door from the underground passageto the moat; for what man would be so bold as find his way into theCastle by the grim dungeons which hold such terrible secrets? If thouhast the courage to enter thus, none will bar thy passage --"

"If!" echoed Gaston, whose hand was clenched and his whole facequivering with emotion as he realized the fearful peril which menacedhis brother. "There is no such thing as a doubt. Raymond is there. Icome to save him. "

The girl's eyes flashed with answering fire. She clasped her handstogether, and cried, with something like a sob in her voice:

"I knew it! I knew it! I knew that thou wert a true knight that thouwouldst brave all to save him. "

"I am his brother, " said Gaston simply, "his twin brother. Who shouldsave him but I? Tell me, have I come in time? Have they dared to lay afinger upon him yet?"

"Dared!" repeated the girl, with a curious inflection in her voice. "Ofwhat should they be afraid here in this tower, which has ever withstoodthe attacks of foes, which no man may enter without first storming thewalls and forcing the gates? Thinkest thou that they fear God or man?Nay, they know not what such fear is; and therein lies our best hope. "

"How so?" asked Gaston quickly. 

"Marry, for two reasons: one being that they keep but small guard overthe place, knowing its strength and remoteness; the other, that beingthus secure, they are in no haste to carry out their devil's work. Theywill first let their prisoner recover of his hurts, that he slip not toosoon from their power, as weaklier victims ofttimes do. "

"Then they have done naught to him as yet?" asked Gaston, in feverishhaste. "What hurts speakest thou of? Was he wounded in the fight, orwhen they surrounded him and carried him off captive?"

"Not wounded, as I have heard, but sorely battered and bruised; and hewas brought hither unconscious, and lay long as one dead. When herefused to do the bidding of Peter Sanghurst, they took him down to yonfearsome chamber; but, as I heard when I sat at the hoard with mineuncle and that wicked man, they had scarce laid hands upon him, to bendhis spirit to their will through their hellish devices, before he fellinto a deep swoon from which they could not rouse him; and afraid thathe would escape their malice by a merciful death, and that they wouldlose the very vengeance they had taken such pains to win, they took himback to his cell; and there he lies, tended not unskilfully by my oldnurse, who is ever brought to the side of the sick in this place. Once Imade shift to slip in behind her when the warder was off his guard, andto whisper in his ear a word of hope. But we are too close watched to doaught but by stealth, and Annette is never suffered to approach theprison alone. She is conducted thither by a grim warder, who waitsbeside her till she has done her office, and then takes her away. Theydo not know how we loathe and hate their wicked, cruel deeds; but theyknow that women have ere this been known to pity helpless victims, andthey have an eye to us ever. "

Gaston drew his breath more freely. Raymond, then, was for the momentsafe. No grievous bodily hurt had been done him as yet; and here outsidehis prison was his brother, and one as devoted as though the tie ofblood bound them together, ready to dare all to save him from the handsof his cruel foes. 

"They are in no great haste, " said the maiden; "they feel themselves sostrong. They say that no man can so much as discover where thy brotherhas been spirited, still less snatch him from their clasp. They know theFrench King will not stir to help a subject of the Roy Outremer, Theyknow that Edward of England is far away, and that he still avoids anopen breach of the truce. They are secure in the undisturbed possessionof their captive. I have heard them say that had he a hundred brothersall working without to obtain his release, the walls of the Tower ofSaut would defy their utmost efforts. "

"That we shall see, " answered Gaston, with a fierce gleam in his eye;and then his face softened as he said, "Now that we have for our allythe enchanted princess of the Castle, many things may be done that elsewould be hard of achievement. "

His ardent look sent a flush of colour through the girl's transparentskin, but her eyes did not waver as she looked frankly back at him. 

"Nay; I am no princess, and I have no enchantments -- would that I had, if they could be used in offices of pity and mercy! I am but aportionless maiden, an orphan, an alien. Ofttimes I weep to think that Itoo did not die when my parents did, in that terrible scourge which hasdevastated the world, which I hear that you of England call the BlackDeath. "

"Who art thou then, fair maid?" questioned Gaston, who was all this timecautiously approaching the Tower of Saut by a winding and unfrequentedpath well known to his companion. Roger had been told to wait till theother riders came up, and conduct them with great secrecy and cautionalong the same path. 

Their worst fears for Raymond partially set at rest, and the hope of aspeedy rescue acting upon their minds like a charm, Gaston was able tothink of other things, and was eager to know more of the lovely girl whohad twice shown herself to him in such unexpected fashion. 

It was a simple little story that she told, but it sounded strangelyentrancing from her lips. Her name, she said, was Constanza, and herfather had been one of a noble Spanish house, weakened and finallyruined by the ceaseless internal strife carried on between the proudnobles of the fiery south. Her mother was the sister of the Sieur doNavailles, and he had from time to time given aid to her father in histroubles with his enemies. The pestilence which had of late devastatedalmost the whole of Europe, had visited the southern countries some timebefore it had invaded more northerly latitudes; and about a year beforeGaston's first encounter with the nymph of the wood, it had laid wastethe districts round and about her home, and had carried off both herparents and her two brothers in the space of a few short days. 

Left alone in that terrible time of trouble, surrounded by enemies eagerto pounce upon the little that remained of the wide domain which hadonce owned her father's sway, Constanza, in her desperation, naturallyturned to her uncle as the one protector that she knew. He had alwaysshowed himself friendly towards her father. He had from time to timelent him substantial assistance in his difficulties; and when he hadvisited at her home, he had shown himself kindly disposed in a roughfashion to the little maiden who flitted like a fairy about the widemarble halls. Annette, her nurse, who had come with her mother fromFrance when she had left that country on her nuptials, was a Gasconwoman, and had taught the language of the country to her young mistress. It was natural that the woman should be disposed to return to her nativeland at this crisis; and for Constanza to attempt to hold her own -- atimid maiden against a score of rapacious foes -- was obviously out ofthe question. Together they had fled, taking with them such familyjewels as could easily be carried upon their persons, and disguised aspeasants they had reached and crossed the frontier, and found their wayto Saut, where the Lord of Navailles generally spent such of his time aswas not occupied in forays against his neighbours, or in following thefortunes either of the French or English King, as best suited the fancyof the moment. 

He had received his niece not unkindly, but with complete indifference, and had soon ceased to think about her in any way. She had a homebeneath his roof. She had her own apartments, and she was welcome tooccupy herself as she chose. Sometimes, when he was in a better humourthan usual, he would give her a rough caress. More frequently he sworeat her for being a useless girl, when she might, as a boy, have been ofsome good in the world. He had no intention of providing her with anymarriage portion, so that it was superfluous to attempt to seek out ahusband for her. She and Annette were occasionally of use when there wassickness within the walls of the Castle, or when he or his followerscame in weary and wounded from some hard fighting. On the whole he didnot object to her presence at Saut, and her own little bower was notdevoid of comfort, and even of luxury. 

But for all that, the girl was often sick at heart with all that she sawand heard around her, and was unconsciously pining for some life, shescarce knew what, but a life that should be different from the one shewas doomed to now. 

"Sometimes I think that I will retire to a Convent and shut myself upthere, " she said to Gaston, her eyes looking far away over the woodedplain before them; "and yet I love my liberty. I love to roam the forestglades -- to hear the songs of the bird, and to feel the fresh winds ofheaven about me. Methinks I should pine and die shut up within highwalls, without the liberty to rove as I will. And then I am not/devote/. I love not to spend long hours upon my knees. I feel nearestto the Blessed Saints and the Holy Mother of God out here in thesewoods, where no ribald shouts of mirth or blasphemous oaths can reachme. But the Sisters live shut behind high walls, and they love best totell their beads beside the shrine of some Saint within their dimchapels. They were good to us upon our journey. I love and reverence theholy Sisters, and yet I do not know how I could be one of them. I fearme they would soon send me forth, saying that I was not fit for their life. "

"Nay, truly such a life is not for thee!" cried Gaston, with unwontedheat. "Sweet maiden, thou wert never made to pine away behind walls thatshelter such as cannot stand against the trials and troubles of life. For it is not so with thee. Thou hast courage; thou hast a noble heartand a strong will. There is other work for thee to do. Lady, thou hastthis day made me thy humble slave for ever. My brother once free, as bythy aid I trust he will be ere another day has dawned, and I will repaythy service by claiming as my reward the right to call myself thine owntrue knight. Sweet Constanza, I will live and, if need be, die for thee. Thou wilt henceforth be the light of my path, the star of my life. Lady, thy face hath haunted me ever since that day, so long gone by, when Isaw thee first, scarce knowing if thou wert a creature of flesh andblood or a sprite of the woodland and water. Fair women have I lookedupon ere now, but none so fair as thee. Let me but call myself thy trueand faithful knight, and the day will come when I will stand boldlyforth and make thee mine before all the world!"

Gaston had never meant to speak thus when he and his companion firstbegan this walk through the winding woodland path. Then his thoughts hadbeen filled with his brother and him alone, and there had been no spacefor other matters to intrude upon him. But with a mind more at rest asto Raymond's immediate fate, he could not but be aware of the intensefascination exercised upon him by his companion; and before he well knewwhat he was saying, he was pouring into her ears these ardentprotestations of devotion. 

Her fair face flushed, and the liquid eyes, so full of softness andfire, fell before his ardent gaze. The little hand he had taken in hisown quivered in his strong clasp, and Gaston felt with a thrill ofecstatic joy that it faintly returned the pressure of his fingers. 

"Lady, sweetest Lady!" he repeated, his words growing more and morerapid as his emotion deepened, "let me hear thee say that thou wiltgrant me leave to call myself thy true knight! Let me hear from thosesweet lips that there is none before me who has won the love of thisgenerous heart!"

The maid was quivering from head to foot. Such words were like a newlanguage to her, and yet her heart gave a ready and sweet response. Hadshe not sung of knightly wooers in the soft songs of her childhood, andhad she not dreamed her own innocent dreams of him who would one daycome to seek her? And had not that dream lover always worn the knightlymien, the proud and handsome face, of him she had seen but once, andthat for one brief hour alone? Was it hard to give to him the answer heasked? And yet how could she frame her lips aright to tell him she hadloved him ere he had asked her love?

"Fair Sir, how should a lonely maid dwelling in these wild woods knowaught of that knightly love of which our troubadours so sweetly sing? Ihave scarce seen the face of any since I have come to these solitudes;only the rough and terrible faces of those wild soldiers and savages whofollow mine uncle when he rideth forth on his forays. "

Gaston's heart gave a throb of joy; but it was scarce the moment topress his suit farther. Who could tell what the next few hours mightbring forth? He might himself fall a victim, ere another day had passed, to the ancient foe of his house. It was enough for the present to knowthat the fair girl's heart was free. 

He raised the hand he held and pressed his lips upon it, saying intenderest tones:

"From henceforth -- my brother once standing free without these walls --I am thy true knight and champion, Lady. Give me, I pray thee, that knotof ribbon at thy neck. Let me place it in my head piece, and feel that Iam thine indeed for life or death. "

With a hand that trembled, but not from hesitation, Constanza unfastenedthe simple little knot she wore as her sole ornament, and gave it toGaston. They exchanged one speaking glance, but no word passed their lips. 

By this time they had approached very near to the Tower, although thethick growth of the trees hindered them from seeing it, as it alsoconcealed them from the eyes of any persons who might be upon the walls. The evening light was now fast waning. Upon the tops of the heights thesun still shone, but here in the wooded hollow, beside the sullen watersof the moat, twilight had already fallen, and soon it would be dark asnight itself. The moon rose late, and for a space there would be nolight save that of the stars. 

Constanza laid her finger upon her lips, and made a sign demandingcaution. Gaston understood that he was warned not to speak, and to treadcautiously, which he did, stealing along after his fairy-like companion, and striving to emulate her dainty, bird-like motions. He could see bythe glint of water that they were skirting along beside the moat, but hehad never approached so near to it before, and he knew not where theywere going. 

Some men might have feared treachery, but such an idea never enteredGaston's head. Little as he knew of his companion, he knew that she wastrue and loyal, that she was beloved by him, and that her heart wasalready almost won. 

Presently the girl stopped and laid her hand upon his arm. 

"This is the place, " she whispered. "Come very softly to the water'sedge, and I will show you the dark hole opposite, just above thewaterline, where entrance can be made. There be no loopholes upon thisside of the Tower, and no watchman is needed where there be no footholdfor man to scale the wall beneath. 

"Look well across the moat. Seest thou yon black mark, that looks nolarger than my hand? That is the entrance to a tunnel which slopesupward until it reaches a narrow doorway in the thickness of the solidwall whereby the underground chamber may be reached. Once there, thouwilt see let into the wall a great wheel with iron spokes projectingfrom it. Set that wheel in motion, and a portion of the flooring of thechamber above will descend. When it has reached the ground, thou canstascend by reversing the wheel, leaving always some one in the chamberbelow to work the wheel, which will enable thee to bring thy brotherdown again. That accomplished, all that remains will be to creep againthrough the narrow passage to the moat and swim across once more. Thoucanst swim?"

"Ay, truly. Raymond and I have been called fishes from our childhood. Weswam in the great mill pool almost ere we could well run alone. Many ofmy stout fellows behind are veritable water rats. If my brother be notable to save himself, there will be a dozen stout arms ready to supporthim across the moat. 

"And what will be the hour when this attempt must be made? What if thevery moment I reached my brother his jailer should come to him, and thealarm be given through the Castle ere we could get him thence?"

"That it must be my office to prevent, " answered the girl, with quietresolution. "I have thought many times of some such thing as this, hoping as it seemed where no hope was, and Annette and I have takencounsel together. Leave it to me to see that all the Castle is filledwith feasting and revelry. I will see that the mead which circulatestonight be so mingled with Annette's potion that it will work in thebrains of the men till they forget all but rioting and sleep. For mineuncle and his saturnine guest, I have other means of keeping them in thegreat banqueting hall, far away from the lonely Tower where theirprisoner lies languishing. They shall be so well served at the boardthis night, that no thought of aught beside the pleasure of the tableshall enter to trouble their heads. And at ten of the clock, if I comenot again to warn thee, cross fearlessly the great moat, and do as Ihave bid thee. But if thou hearest from the Castle wall the hooting ofan owl thrice repeated like this" -- and the girl put her hands to hermouth, and gave forth so exact an mutation of an owl's note that Gastonstarted to hear it -- "thrice times thrice, so that there can be nomistake, then tarry here on this side; stir not till I come again. Itwill be a danger signal to tell that all is not well. But if at the hourof ten thou hast heard naught, then go forward, and fear not. Thybrother will be alone, and all men far away from the Tower. Take him, and go forth; and the Blessed Saints bless and protect you all. "

She stretched forth her hand and placed it in his. There was a suddensadness in her face. Gaston caught her hand and pressed it to his lips, but he had more to say than a simple word of parting. 

"But I shall see thee again, sweet Constanza? Am I not thy true knight?Shall I not owe to thee a debt I know not how to pay? Thou wilt not sendme forth without a word of promise of another meeting? When can I seethee again to tell thee how we have fared?"

"Thou must not dream of loitering here once thy object is secured, "answered the girl, speaking very firmly and almost sternly, though therewas a deep sadness in her eyes. "It will not be many hours ere they findtheir captive has escaped them, and they will rouse the whole countryafter you. Nay, to linger is certain death; it must not be thought of. In Bordeaux, and there alone, wilt thou be safe. It is thither that thoumust fly, for thither alone will the Sieur de Navailles fear to followyou. For me, I must remain here, as I have done these many years. Itwill not be worse than it hath ever been. "

"And thinkest thou that I will leave thee thus to languish after thouhast restored to me my brother?" asked Gaston hotly. "Nay, lady, thinknot that of thine own true knight! I will come again. I vow it! Firstwill I to the English King, and tell in his ears a tale which shallarouse all his royal wrath. And then will I come again. It may not bethis year, but it shall be ere long. I will come to claim mine own; andall that is mine shall be thine. Sweet Lady, wouldst thou look coldlyupon me did I come with banners unfurled and men in arms against himthou callest thine uncle? For the lands he holds were ours once, and theEnglish King has promised that they shall one day be restored, as theyshould have been long ago had not this usurper kept his iron clutch uponthem in defiance of his feudal lord. Lady, sweet Constanza, tell me thatthou wilt not call me thy foe if I come as a foe to the Lord of Navailles!"

"Methinks thou couldst never be my foe, " answered Constanza in a lowvoice, pressing her hands closely together; "and though he be mineuncle, and though he has given me a home beneath his roof, he has madeit to me an abode of terror, and I know that he is feared and hated farand wide, and that his evil deeds are such that none may trust or lovehim. I would not show ingratitude for what he hath done for me; but hehas been paid many times over. He has had all my jewels, and of thesemany were all but priceless; and he gives me but the food I eat and theraiment I wear. I should bless the day that set me free from this lifebeneath his roof. There be moments when I say in mine heart that Icannot live longer in such an evil place -- when I have no heart leftand no hope. "

"But thou wilt have hope now!" cried Gaston ardently. "Thou wilt knowthat I am coming to claim mine own, and with it this little hand, moreprecious to me than all else besides. Sweetest Constanza, tell me that Ishall still find thee as thou art when I come to claim thee! I shall notcome to find thee the bride of another?"

He could not see her face in the dimness, but he felt her hand flutterin his clasp like a bird in the hand of one who has tamed it, and whomit trusts and loves. The next moment his arm was about her slightfigure, and her head drooped for a moment upon his shoulder. 

"I shall be waiting, " she whispered, scarce audibly. "How could I loveanother, when thou hast called thyself my knight?"

He pressed a passionate kiss upon her brow. 

"If this is indeed farewell for the present hour, it is a sweet one, mybeloved. I little thought, as I journeyed hither today, what I was tofind. Farewell, farewell, my lady love, my princess, my bride. Farewell, but not for ever. I will come again anon, and then we will be no moreparted, for thou shalt reign in these grim walls, and no more dark talesof horror shall be breathed of them. I will come again; I will surelycome. Trust me, and fear not!"

She stood beside him in the gathering darkness, and he could almost hearthe fluttering of her heart. It was a moment full of sweetness for both, even though the shadow of parting was hanging over them. 

A slight rustle amongst the underwood near to them caused them to springapart; and the girl fled from him, speeding away with the grace andsilent fleetness of a deer. Gaston made a stride towards the placewhence the sound had proceeded, and found himself face to face with Roger. 

"The men are all at hand, " he whispered. "I would not have them approachtoo close till I knew your pleasure. They are all within the wood, allupon the alert lest any foe be nigh; but all seems silent as the grave, and not a light gleams from the Tower upon this side. Shall I bid themremain where they are? or shall I bring them hither to you beside thewater?"

"Let them remain where they are for a while and see that the horses bewell fed and cared for. At ten o'clock, if all be well, the attempt toenter the Tower is to be made; and once the prisoner is safe and in ourkeeping, we must to Bordeaux as fast as horse will take us. The Sieur deNavailles will raise the whole country after us. We must be beyond thereach of his clutches ere we draw rein again. "

 CHAPTER XXVI. THE RESCUE OF RAYMOND. 

The appointed hour had arrived. No signal had fallen upon Gaston'slistening ears; no note of warning had rung through the still night air. 

From the direction of the Castle sounds of distant revelry arose atintervals -- sounds which seemed to show that nothing in the shape ofwatch or ward was being thought of by its inmates; and also thatConstanza's promise had been kept, and potations of unwonted strengthhad been served out to the men. 

Now the appointed hour had come and gone, and Gaston commenced hispreparations for the rescue of his brother. That he might be going tocertain death if he failed, or if he had been betrayed, did not weighwith him for a moment. If Constanza were false to him, better death thanthe destruction of his hopes and his trust. In any case he would sharehis brother's fate sooner than leave him in the relentless hands ofthese cruel foes. 

He had selected six of his stoutest followers, all of them excellentswimmers, to accompany him across the moat; and Roger, as a matter ofcourse, claimed to be one of the party. To Roger's mysterious power ofvision they owed their rapid tracing of Raymond to this lonely spot. Itwas indeed his right to make one of the rescue party if he desired to beallowed to do so. 

The rest of their number were to remain upon this farther side of themoat, and the horses were all in readiness, rested and refreshed, abouthalf-a-mile off under the care of several stout fellows, all stanch totheir master's interests. The story they had heard from Gaston of whathad been devised against his brother filled the honest soldiers withwrath and indignation. Rough and savage as they might show themselves inopen warfare, deliberate and diabolical cruelty was altogether foreignto their nature. And they all felt towards Raymond a sense of protectingand reverent tenderness, such as all may feel towards a being of finermould and loftier nature. 

Raymond had the faculty of inspiring in those about him this reverentialtenderness; and not one of those stalwart fellows who were silentlylaying aside their heavy mail, and such of their garments as would belikely to hinder them in their swim across the moat, but felt a deeploathing and hatred towards the lord of this grim Tower, and anovermastering resolve to snatch his helpless victim from his cruelhands, or perish in the attempt. 

All their plans had been very carefully made. Lanterns and thewherewithal for kindling them were bound upon the heads of some of theswimmers; and though they laid aside most of their defensive armour andtheir heavy riding boots, they wore their stout leather jerkins, thatwere almost as serviceable against foeman's steel, and their weapons, save the most cumbersome, were carried either in their belts or fastenedacross their shoulders. 

Dark though it had become, Gaston had not lost cognizance of the spotwhither they were to direct their course; and one by one the strongswimmers plunged into the sullen waters without causing so much as aripple or plash, which might betray their movements to suspicious earsupon the battlements (if indeed any sort of watch were kept, whichappeared doubtful). They swam with that perfect silence possible only tothose who are thoroughly at home in the water, till they had crossed thedark moat and had reached the perpendicular wall of the Tower, whichrose sheer upon the farther side -- so sheer that not even the foot ofmountain goat could have scaled its rough-hewn side. 

But Gaston knew what he had to search for, and with outstretched hand heswam silently along the solid masonry, feeling for that aperture justabove watermark which he had seen before the daylight faded. It took himsome little time to find it, but at last it was discovered, and with amuttered word of command to the men who silently followed in his wake, he drew himself slowly out of the water, to find himself in a verynarrow rounded aperture like a miniature tunnel, which trended slightlyupwards, and would only admit the passage of one human being at a time, and then only upon hands and knees. 

It was pitchy dark in this tunnel, and there was no space in which toattempt to kindle a light. Once the thought came into Gaston's head thatif he were falling into a treacherous pitfall laid for him with diabolicingenuity by his foes, nothing could well be better than to entrap himinto such a place as this, where it would be almost impossible to goforward or back, and quite out of his power to strike a single blow forliberty or life. 

But he shook off the chill sense of fear as unworthy and unknightly. HisConstanza was true; of that he was assured. The only possible doubt waswhether she herself were being used as an unconscious tool in the handsof subtle and perfectly unscrupulous men. 

But even so Gaston had no choice but to advance. He had come to rescuehis brother or to die with him. If the latter, he would try at least tosell his life dearly. But he was fully persuaded that his efforts wouldbe crowned with success. 

He had time to think many such things as he slowly crept along the lowpassage in the black darkness. It seemed long before his hand came incontact with the door he had been told he should presently reach, andthis door, as Constanza had said, yielded to his touch, and he feltrather than saw that he had emerged into a wider space beyond. 

This place, whatever it was, was not wholly dark, though so very dimthat it was impossible to make out anything save the dull red glow ofwhat might be some embers on a distant hearth. Gaston did not speak aword, but waited till all his companions had reached this more openspace, and had risen to their feet and grasped their weapons. Then allheld their breath, and listened for any sound that might by chancereveal the presence of hidden foes, till they started at the sound ofRoger's voice speaking softly but with complete assurance. 

"There is no one here, " he said. "We are quite alone. Let me kindle atorch and show you. "

Roger, as Gaston had before observed, possessed a cat-like faculty ofseeing in the dark. Whether it was natural to him, or had been acquiredduring those days spent almost entirely underground in the sorcerer'svaulted chamber at Basildene, the youth himself scarcely knew. But hewas able to distinguish objects clearly in gloom which no ordinary eyecould penetrate; and now he walked fearlessly forward and stirred up thesmouldering embers, whose dull red glow all could see, into a quick, bright, palpitating flame which illumined every corner of the strangeplace into which they had penetrated. 

Gaston and his men looked wonderingly around them, as they lighted theirlanterns at the fire and flashed them here and there into all the darkcorners, as though to assure themselves that there were no ambushed foeslurking in the grim recesses of that circular room. But Roger had beenquite right. There was nothing living in that silent place. Not so muchas a loophole in the wall admitted any air or light from the outerworld, or could do so even in broad noon. The chamber was plainlyhollowed out in the mass of earth and masonry of which the foundationsof the Tower were composed, and if any air were admitted (as there musthave been, else men could not breathe down there), it was by some devicenot easily discovered at a first glance. 

It was in truth a strange and terrible place -- the dank walls, downwhich the damp moisture slowly trickled, hung round with instruments ofvarious forms, all designed with a terrible purpose, and from their lookbut too often used. 

Gaston's face assumed a look of dark wrath and indignation as his quickeyes roved round this evil place, and he set his teeth hard together ashe muttered to himself:

"Heaven send that the Prince himself may one day look upon the vilesecrets of this charnel house! I would that he and his royal fathermight know what deeds of darkness are even now committed in lands thatown their sway! Would that I had that wicked wretch here in my power atthis moment! Well does he deserve to be torn in pieces by his ownhideous engines. And in this very place does he design to do to death mybrother! May God pardon me if I sin in the thought, but death by thesword is too good for such a miscreant!"

Words very similar to these were being bandied about in fierceundertones by the men who had accompanied Gaston, and who had never seensuch a chamber as this before. Great would have been their satisfactionto let its owner taste something of the agony he had too often inflictedupon helpless victims thrown into his power. But this being out of thequestion, the next matter was the rescue of the captive they had come tosave; and they looked eagerly at their young leader to know what was thenext step to be taken. 

Gaston was searching for the wheel by which the mechanism could be setin motion which would enable him to reach his brother's prison house. Itwas easily found from the description given him by Constanza. He set hismen to work to turn the wheel, and at once became aware of the groaningand grating sound that attends the motion of clumsy machinery. Gazingeagerly up into the dun roof above him, he saw slowly descending aportion of the stonework of which it was formed. It was a clever enoughcontrivance for those unskilled days, and showed a considerableingenuity on the part of some owner of the Castle of Saut. 

When the great slab had descended to the floor below, Gaston steppedupon it, Roger placing himself at his side, and with a brief word to hismen to reverse the action of the wheel, and to lower the slab again afew minutes later, he prepared for his strange passage upwards to hisbrother's lonely cell. 

Roger held a lantern in his hand, and the faces of the pair were full ofanxious expectation. Suppose Raymond had been removed from that upperprison? Suppose he had succumbed either to the cruelty of his foes or tothe fever resulting from his injuries received on the day of the battle?

A hundred fears possessed Gaston's soul as the strange transit throughthe air was being accomplished -- a transit so strange that he felt asthough he must surely be dreaming. But there was only one thing to bedone -- to persevere in the quest, and trust to the Holy Saints and theloving mercy of Blessed Mary's Son to grant him success in this hisendeavour. 

Up, up into the darkness of the vaulted roof he passed, and then ayawning hole above their heads, which looked too small to admit thepassage of the slab upon which they stood, swallowed them up, and theyfound themselves passing upwards through a shaft which only justadmitted the block upon which they stood. Up and up they went, and nowthe creaking sound grew louder, and the motion grew perceptibly slower. They were no longer in a narrow shaft; a black space opened before theireyes. The motion ceased altogether with a grinding sensation and a jerk, and out of the darkness of a wider space, pitchy dark to their eyes, came the sound of a familiar voice. 

"Gaston -- Brother!"

Gaston sprang forward into the darkness, heedless of all but the soundof that voice. The next moment he was clasping his brother in his arms, his own emotion so great that he dared not trust his voice to speak;whilst Raymond, holding him fast in a passionate clasp, whispered in hisear a breathless question. 

"Thou too a prisoner in this terrible place, my Gaston? O brother -- mybrother -- I trusted that I might have died for us both!"

"A prisoner? nay, Raymond, no prisoner; but as thy rescuer I come. What, believest thou not? Then shalt thou soon see with thine own eyes. 

"But let me look first upon thy face. I would see what these miscreantshave done to thee. Thou feelest more like a creature of skin and bonethan one of sturdy English flesh and blood. 

"The light, Roger!

"Ay, truly, Roger is here with me. It is to him in part we owe it thatwe are here this night. Raymond, Raymond, thou art sorely changed! Thoulookest more spirit-like than ever! Thou hast scarce strength to standalone! What have they done to thee, my brother?"

But Raymond could scarce find strength to answer. The revulsion offeeling was too much for him. When he had heard that terrible sound, andhad seen the slab in the floor sink out of sight, he had sprung from hisbed of straw, ready to face his cruel foes when they came for him, yetknowing but too well what was in store for him when he was carried downbelow, as he had been once before. Then when, instead of the cruelmocking countenance of Peter Sanghurst, he had seen the noble, lovingface of his brother, and had believed that he, too, had fallen into thepower of their deadly foes, it had seemed to him as though a bitternessgreater than that of death had fallen upon him, and the rebound offeeling when Gaston had declared himself had been so great, that thewhole place swam before his eyes, and the floor seemed to reel beneathhis feet. 

"We will get him away from this foul place!" cried Gaston, with flamingeyes, as he looked into the white and sharpened face of his brother, andfelt how feebly the light frame leaned against the stalwart armsupporting it. 

He half led, half carried Raymond the few paces towards the slab in thefloor which formed the link with the region beneath, and the next minuteRaymond felt himself sinking down as he had done once before; only thenit had been in the clasp of his most bitter foe that he had been carriedto that infernal spot. 

The recollection made him shiver even now in Gaston's strong embrace, and the young knight felt the quiver and divined the cause. 

"Fear nothing now, my brother, " he said. "Though we be on our way tothat fearful place, it is for us the way to light and liberty. Our owngood fellows are awaiting us there. I trow not all the hireling knaveswithin this Castle wall should wrest thee from us now. "

"I fear naught now that thou art by my side, Gaston, " answered Raymond, in low tones. "If thou art not in peril thyself, I could wish nothingbetter than to die with thine arm about mine. "

"Nay, but thou shalt live!" cried Gaston, with energy, scarceunderstanding that after the long strain of such a captivity asRaymond's had been it was small wonder that he had grown to think deathwell-nigh better and sweeter than life. "Thou shalt live to takevengeance upon thy foes, and to recompense them sevenfold for what theyhave done to thee. I will tell this story in the ears of the Kinghimself. This is not the last time that I shall stand within the wallsof Saut!"

By this time the heavy slab had again descended, and around it weregathered the eager fellows, who received their young master's brotherwith open arms and subdued shouts of triumph and joy. But he, though hesmiled his thanks, looked round him with eyes dilated by the remembranceof some former scene there, and Gaston set his teeth hard, and shookback his head with a gesture that boded little good for the Sieur deNavailles upon a future day. 

"Come men; we may not tarry!" he said. "No man knows what fancy mayenter into the head of the master of this place. Turn the wheel again;send up the slab to its right place. Let them have no clue to trace theflight of their victim. Leave everything as we found it, and follow mewithout delay. "

He was all anxiety now to get his brother from the shadow of thishideous place. The whiteness of Raymond's face, the hollowness of hiseyes, the lines of suffering traced upon his brow in a few short days, all told a tale only too easily read. 

The rough fellows treated him tenderly as they might have treated alittle child. They felt that he had been through some ordeal from whichthey themselves would have shrunk with a terror they would have beenashamed to admit; and that despite the youth's fragile frame andethereal face that looked little like that of a mailed warrior, a hero'sheart beat in his breast, and he had the spirit to do and to dare whatthey themselves might have quailed from and fled before. 

The transit through the narrow tunnel presented no real difficulty, andsoon the sullen waters of the moat were troubled by the silent passageof seven instead of six swimmers. The shock of the cold plunge revivedRaymond; and the sense of space above him, the star-spangled skyoverhead, the free sweet air around him, even the unfettered use of hisweakened limbs, as he swam with his brother's strong supporting armabout him, acted upon him like a tonic. He hardly knew whether or not itwas a dream; whether he were in the body or out of the body; whether heshould awake to find himself in his gloomy cell, or under the cruelhands of his foes in that dread chamber he had visited once before. 

He knew not, and at that moment he cared not. Gaston's arm was abouthim, Gaston's voice was in his ear. Whatever came upon him later couldnot destroy the bliss of the present moment. 

A score of eager hands were outstretched to lift the light frame fromGaston's arm as the brothers drew to the edge of the moat. It was notime to speak, no time to ask or answer questions. At any moment someunguarded movement or some crashing of the boughs underfoot might awakenthe suspicions of those within the walls. It was enough that the secretexpedition had been crowned with success -- that the captive was nowreleased and in their own hands. 

Raymond was almost fainting now with excitement and fatigue, butGaston's muscles seemed as if made of iron. Though the past days hadbeen for him days of great anxiety and fatigue, though he had scarceeaten or slept since the rapid march upon the besieging army around St. Jean d'Angely, he seemed to know neither fatigue nor feebleness. The armupholding Raymond's drooping frame seemed as the arm of a giant. Theyoung knight felt as though he could have carried that light weight evento Bordeaux, and scarce have felt fatigue. 

But there was no need for that. Nigh at hand the horses were waiting, saddled and bridled, well fed and well rested, ready to gallop steadilyall through the summer night. The moon had risen now, and filtered inthrough the young green of the trees with a clear and fitful radiance. The forest was like a fairy scene; and over the minds of both brothersstole the softening remembrance of such woodland wonders in the daysgone by, when as little lads, full of curiosity and love of adventure, they had stolen forth at night into the forest together to see if theycould discover the fairies at their play, or the dwarfs and gnomes busybeneath the surface of the earth. 

To Raymond it seemed indeed as though all besides might well be a dream. He knew not which of the fantastic images impressed upon his brain wasthe reality, and which the work of imagination. A sense of restfulthankfulness -- the release from some great and terrible fear -- hadstolen upon him, he scarce knew how or why. He did not wish to think orpuzzle out what had befallen him. He was with Gaston once more; surelythat was enough. 

But Gaston's mind was hard at work. From time to time he turned ananxious look upon his brother, and he saw well how ill and weary he was, how he swayed in the saddle, though supported by cleverly-adjustedleather thongs, and how unfit he was for the long ride that lay beforethem. And yet that ride must be taken. They must be out of reach oftheir implacable foe as quickly as might be. In the unsettled state ofthe country no place would afford a safe harbour for them till Bordeauxitself was reached. Fain would he have made for the shelter of the oldhome in the mill, or of Father Anselm's hospitable home, but he knewthat those would be the first places searched by the emissaries of theNavailles. Even as it was these good people might be in some peril, andthey must certainly not be made aware of the proximity of the De Brocasbrothers. 

But if not there, whither could Raymond be transported? To carry him toEngland in this exhausted state might be fatal to him; for no man knewwhen once on board ship how contrary the wind might blow, and theaccommodation for a sick man upon shipboard was of the very rudest. No;before the voyage could be attempted Raymond must have rest and care insome safe place of shelter. And where could that shelter be found?

As Gaston thus mused a sudden light came upon him, and turning to Rogerhe asked of him a question:

"Do not some of these fellows of our company come from Bordeaux; andhave they not left it of late to follow the English banner?"

"Ay, verily, " answered Roger quickly. "There be some of them who cameforth thence expressly to fight under the young knight of De Brocas. Thename of De Brocas is as dear to many of those Gascon soldiers as that ofNavailles is hated and cursed. "

"Send then to me one of those fellows who best knows the city, " saidGaston; and in a few more minutes a trooper rode up to his side. 

"Good fellow, " said Gaston, "if thou knowest well you city whither weare bound, tell me if thou hast heard aught of one Father Paul, who hasbeen sent to many towns in this and other realms by his Holiness thePope, to restore amongst the Brethren of his order the forms and habitswhich have fallen something into disuse of late? I heard a whisper as wepassed through the city a week back now that he was there. Knowest thouif this be true?"

"It was true enow, Sir Knight, a few days back, " answered the man, "andI trow you may find him yet at the Cistercian Monastery within the citywalls. He had but just arrived thither ere the English ships came, andmen say that he had much to do ere he sallied forth again. "

"Good, " answered Gaston, in a tone of satisfaction; and when the trooperhad dropped back to his place again, the young knight turned to hisbrother and said cheerily:

"Courage, good lad; keep but up thy heart, my brother, for I have heardgood news for thee. Father Paul is in the city of Bordeaux, and it is inhis kindly charge that I will leave thee ere I go to England with mytale to lay before the King. "

Raymond was almost too far spent to rejoice over any intelligence, however welcome; yet a faint smile crossed his face as the sense ofGaston's words penetrated to his understanding. It was plain that therewas no time to lose if they were to get him to some safe shelter beforehis strength utterly collapsed, and long before Bordeaux was reached hehad proved unable to keep his seat in the saddle, and a litter had beencontrived for him in which he could lie at length, carried between fourof the stoutest horsemen. 

They were now in more populous and orderly regions, where the forest wasthinner and townships more frequent. The urgent need for haste hadslightly diminished, and though still anxious to reach theirdestination, the party was not in fear of an instant attack from apursuing foe. 

The Navailles would scarce dare to fall upon the party in theneighbourhood of so many of the English King's fortified cities; andbefore the sun set they hoped to be within the environs of Bordeauxitself -- a hope in which they were not destined to be disappointed. 

Nor was Gaston disappointed of his other hope; for scarce had theyobtained admission for their unconscious and invalided comrade withinthe walls of the Cistercian Monastery, and Gaston was still eagerlypouring into the Prior's ears the story of his brother's capture andimprisonment, when the door of the small room into which the strangershad been taken was slowly opened to admit a tall, gaunt figure, andFather Paul himself stood before them. He gave Gaston one long, searching look; but he never forgot a face, and greeted him by name asSir Gaston de Brocas, greatly to the surprise of the youth, who thoughthe would neither be recognized nor known by the holy Father. Thenpassing him quickly by, the monk leaned over the couch upon whichRaymond had been laid -- a hard oaken bench -- covered by the cloak ofthe man who had borne him in. 

Raymond's eyes were closed; his face, with the sunset light lying fullupon it, showed very hollow and white and worn. Even in the repose of aprofound unconsciousness it wore a look of lofty purpose, together withan expression of purity and devotion impossible to describe. Gaston andthe Prior both turned to look as Father Paul bent over the prostratefigure with an inarticulate exclamation such as he seldom uttered, andGaston felt a sudden thrill of cold fear run through him. 

"He is not dead?" he asked, in a passionate whisper; and the Fatherlooked up to answer:

"Nay, Sir Knight, he is not dead. A little rest, a little tendance, alittle of our care, and he will be restored to the world again. Betterperhaps were it not so - better perchance for him. For his is not thenature to battle with impunity against the evil of the world. Look athim as he lies there: is that face of one that can look upon the deedsof these vile days and not suffer keenest pain? To fight and to vanquishis thy lot, young warrior; but what is his? To tread the thornier pathof life and win the hero's crown, not by deeds of glory and renown, butby that higher and holier path of suffering and renunciation which Onechose that we might know He had been there before us. Thou mayest liveto be one of this world's heroes, boy; but in the world to come it willbe thy brother who will wear the victor's crown. "

"I truly believe it, " answered Gaston, drawing a deep breath; "but yetwe cannot spare him from this world. I give him into thy hands, myFather, that thou mayest save him for us here. "

 CHAPTER XXVII. PETER SANGHURST'S WOOING. 

"Joan -- sweetest mistress -- at last I find you; at last my eyes beholdagain those peerless charms for which they have pined and hungered solong! Tell me, have you no sweet word of welcome for him whose heart youhold between those fair hands, to do with it what you will?"

Joan, roused from her reverie by those smoothly-spoken words, uttered ina harsh and grating voice, turned quickly round to find herself face toface with Peter Sanghurst -- the man she had fondly hoped had passed outof her life for ever. 

Joan and her father, after a considerable period spent in wanderings inforeign lands (during which Sir Hugh had quite overcome the melancholyand sense of panic into which he had been thrown by the scourge of theBlack Death and his wife's sudden demise as one of its victims), had atlength returned to Woodcrych. The remembrance of the plague was fastdying out from men's minds. The land was again under cultivation; andalthough labour was still scarce and dear, and continued to be so formany, many years, whilst the attempts at legislation on this point onlyproduced riot and confusion (culminating in the next reign in thenotable rebellion of Wat Tyler, and leading eventually to theemancipation of the English peasantry), things appeared to be returningto their normal condition, and men began to resume their wonted apathyof mind, and to cease to think of the scourge as the direct visitationof God. 

Sir Hugh had been one of those most alarmed by the ravages of theplague. He was full of the blind superstition of a thoroughlyirreligious man, and he knew well that he had been dabbling in forbiddenarts, and had been doing things that were supposed in those days to makea man peculiarly the prey of the devil after death. Thus when the BlackDeath had visited the country, and he had heard on all sides that it wasthe visitation of God for the sins of the nations, he had been seizedwith a panic which had been some years in cooling, and he had madepilgrimages and had paid a visit to his Holiness the Pope in order tofeel that he had made amends for any wrongdoing in his previous life. 

He had during this fit of what was rather panic than repentance avoidedWoodcrych sedulously, as the place where these particular sins whichfrightened him now had been committed. He had thus avoided any encounterwith Peter Sanghurst, and Joan had hoped that the shadow of that evilman was not destined to cross her path again. But, unluckily for herhopes, a reaction had set in in her father's feelings. His blind, unreasoning terror had now given place to an equally wild and recklessconfidence and assurance. The Black Death had come and gone, and hadpassed him by (he now said) doing him no harm. He had obtained theblessing of the Pope, and felt in his heart that he could set theAlmighty at defiance. His revenues, much impoverished through theeffects of the plague, made the question of expenditure the mostpressing one of the hour; and the knight had come to Woodcrych with thedistinct intention of prosecuting those studies in alchemy and magicwhich a year or two back he had altogether forsworn. 

Old Sanghurst was dead, he knew -- the devil had claimed one of his own. But the son was living still, and was to be heard of, doubtless, atBasildene. Peter Sanghurst was posing in the world as a wealthy man, surrounded by a halo of mystery which gave him distinction and commandedrespect. Sir Hugh felt that he might be a very valuable ally, and beganto regret now that his fears had made him so long an exile from hiscountry and a wanderer from home. 

Many things might have happened in that interval. What more likely thanthat Sanghurst had found a wife, and that his old affection for Joanwould by now be a thing of the past? The knight fumed a good deal as hethought of neglected opportunities. But there was just the chance thatSanghurst might be faithful to his old love, whilst surely Joan wouldhave forgotten her girlish caprice, and cease to attempt a foolishresistance to her father's will. Had he been as much in earnest then ashe now was, the marriage would long ago have been consummated. But inold days he had not felt so confident of the wealth of the Sanghursts ashe now did, and had been content to let matters drift. Now he couldafford to drift no longer. Joan had made no marriage for herself, shewas unwed at an age when most girls are wives and mothers, and Sir Hughwas growing weary of her company. He wished to plunge once again into alife of congenial dissipation, and into those researches for magicwealth which had always exercised so strong a fascination over him; andthe first step necessary for both these objects appeared to be to marryoff his daughter, and that, if possible, to the man who was supposed tobe in possession of these golden secrets. 

Joan, however, knew nothing of the hopes and wishes filling her father'smind. She was glad to come back to the home she had always loved thebest of her father's residences, and which was so much associated in hermind with her youthful lover. 

She believed that so near to Guildford she would be sure to hear news ofRaymond. Master Bernard de Brocas would know where he was; he might evenbe living beneath his uncle's roof. The very thought sent quick thrillsof happiness through her. Her face was losing its thoughtful gravity ofexpression, and warming and brightening into new beauty. She had almostforgotten the proximity of Basildene, and Peter Sanghurst's hatefulsuit, so long had been the time since she had seen him last, until thesound of his voice, breaking in upon a happy reverie, brought all theold disgust and horror back again, and she turned to face him with eyesthat flashed with lambent fire. 

Yet as she stood there in the entrance to that leafy bower which was herfavourite retreat at Woodcrych, Peter Sanghurst felt as though he hadnever before seen so queenly a creature, and said in his heart that shehad grown tenfold more lovely during the years of her wanderings. 

Joan was now no mere strip of a girl. She was three-and-twenty, and hadall the grace of womanhood mingling with the free, untrammelled energyof youth. Her step was as light, her movements as unfettered, as in thedays of her childhood; yet now she moved with an unconscious statelygrace which caused her to be remarked wherever she went; and her face, always beautiful, with its regular features, liquid dark eyes, and full, noble expression, had taken an added depth and sweetness andthoughtfulness which rendered it remarkable and singularly attractive. Joan inspired a considerable amount of awe in the breasts of thoseyouthful admirers who had flitted round her sometimes during the days ofher wanderings; but she had never given any of them room to hope to bemore to her than the passing acquaintance of an hour. She had receivedproffers of life-long devotion with a curious gentle courtesy almostlike indifference, and had smiled upon none of those who had paid her court. 

Her father had let her do as she would. No suitor wealthy enough toexcite his cupidity had appeared at Joan's feet. He intended to make awealthy match for her before she grew much older; but the right personhad not yet appeared, and time slipped by almost unheeded. 

Now she found herself once again face to face with Peter Sanghurst, andrealized that he was renewing, or about to renew, that hateful suitwhich she trusted had passed from his mind altogether. The face sheturned towards him, with the glowing autumn sunshine full upon it, wasscarcely such as could be called encouraging to an ardent lover. ButPeter Sanghurst only smiled as she stood there in her proud youngbeauty, the russet autumn tints framing her noble figure in vivid colours. 

"I have taken you by surprise, sweet lady, " he said; "it is long sincewe met. "

"Long indeed, Master Peter -- or should I say Sir Peter? It hath beentold to me that you have been in the great world; but whether or notyour gallantry has won you your spurs I know not. "

Was there something of covert scorn in the tones of her cold voice?Sanghurst could not tell, but every smallest stab inflicted upon hisvanity or pride by this beautiful creature was set down in the accounthe meant to settle with her when once she was in his power. His feelingstowards her were strangely mixed. He loved her passionately in a fierce, wild fashion, coveting the possession of that beauty which maddenedwhilst it charmed him. She enchained and enthralled him, yet she stunghim to the quick by her calm contempt and resolute avoidance of him. Hewas determined she should be his, come what might; but when once he hadwon the mastery over her, he would make her suffer for every pang ofwounded pride or jealousy she had inflicted upon him. The cruelty of theman's nature showed itself even in his love, and he hated even whilst heloved her; for he knew that she was infinitely his superior, and thatshe had read the vileness of his nature, and had learned to shrink fromhim, as purity always shrinks from contact with what is foul and false. 

Even her question stung his vanity, and there was a savage gleam in hiseye as he answered:

"Nay, my spurs are still to be won; for what was it to me whether I wonthem or not unless I might wear them as your true knight? Sweetestmistress, these weary years have been strangely long and dark since thelight of your presence has been withdrawn from us. Now that the sun hasrisen once again upon Woodcrych, let it shine likewise upon Basildene. Mistress Joan, I come to you with your father's sanction. You doubtlessknow how many years I have wooed you -- how many years I have lived foryou and for you alone. I have waited even as the patriarch of old forhis wife. The time has now come when I have the right to approach you asa lover. Sweet lady, tell me that you will reward my patience -- that Ishall not sue in vain. "

Peter Sanghurst bent the knee before her; but she was acute enough todetect the undercurrent of mockery in his tone. He came as a professedsuppliant; but he came with her father's express sanction, and Joan hadlived long enough to know how very helpless a daughter was if herfather's mind were once made up to give her hand in marriage. Her safetyin past days had been that Sir Hugh was not really resolved upon thepoint. He had always been divided between the desire to conciliate theold sorcerer and the fear lest his professed gifts should prove butillusive; and when he was in this mood of uncertainty, Joan's steady andresolute resistance had not been without effect. But she knew that heowed large sums of money to the Sanghursts, who had made frequentadvances when he had been in difficulties, and it was likely enough thatthe day of reckoning had now come, and that her hand was to be the priceof the cancelled bonds. 

Her father had for some days been dropping hints that had raiseduneasiness in her mind. This sudden appearance of Peter Sanghurst, coupled with his confident words, showed to Joan only too well howmatters stood. 

For a moment she stood silent, battling with her fierce loathing anddisgust, her fingers toying with the gold circlet her lover had placedupon her finger. The very thought of Raymond steadied her nerves, andgave her calmness and courage. She knew that she was in a sore strait;but hers was a spirit to rise rather than sink before peril and adversity. 

"Master Peter Sanghurst, " she answered, calmly and steadily, "I thoughtthat I had given you answer before, when you honoured me by your suit. My heart is not mine to give, and if it were it could never be yours. Ipray you take that answer and be gone. From my lips you can never haveany other. "

A fierce gleam was in his eye, but his voice was still smooth and bland. 

"Sweet lady, " he said, "it irks me sore to give you pain; but I have yetanother message for you. Think you that I should have dared to come withthis offer of my heart and hand if I had not known that he to whom thyheart is pledged lies stiff and cold in the grip of death -- nay, haslong since mouldered to ashes in the grave?"

Joan turned deadly pale. She had not known that her secret had passedbeyond her own possession. How came Peter Sanghurst to speak of her ashaving a lover? Was it all guesswork? True, he had been jealous ofRaymond in old days. Was this all part of a preconcerted and diabolicalplot against her happiness?

Her profound distrust of this man, and her conviction of his entireunscrupulousness, helped to steady her nerves. If she had so wily a foeto deal with, she had need of all her own native shrewdness andcapacity. After a few moments, which seemed hours to her from theconcentrated thought pressed into them, she spoke quietly and calmly:

"Of whom speak you, Sir? Who is it that lies dead and cold?"

"Your lover, Raymond de Brocas, " answered Sanghurst, rising to his feetand confronting Joan with a gaze of would-be sympathy, though his eyeswere steely bright and full of secret malice -- "your lover, who died inmy arms after the skirmish of which you may have heard, when the Englisharmy routed the besieging force around St. Jean d'Angely; and in dyinghe gave me a charge for you, sweet lady, which I have been longing eversince to deliver, but until today have lacked the opportunity. "

Joan's eyes were fixed upon him wide with distrust. She was in absoluteignorance of Raymond's recent movements. But in those days that was thefate of those who did not live in close contiguity. She had been a roverin the world, and so perchance had he. All that Sanghurst said might betrue for aught she could allege to the contrary. 

Yet how came it that Raymond should confide his dying message to hissworn and most deadly foe? The story seemed to bear upon it the impressof falsehood. Sanghurst, studying her face intently, appeared to readher thoughts. 

"Lady, " he said, "if you will but listen to my tale, methinks I canconvince you of the truth of my words. You think that because we wererivals for your hand we were enemies, too? And so of old it was. But, fair mistress, you may have heard how Raymond de Brocas soothed thedying bed of my father, and tended him when all else, even his son, hadfled from his side; and albeit at the moment even that service did notsoften my hard heart, in the times that followed, when I was left aloneto muse on what had passed, I repented me of my old and bitter enmity, and resolved, if ever we should meet again, to strive to make amends forthe past. I knew that he loved you, and that you loved him; and I vowedI would keep away and let his suit prosper if it might. I appeal to you, fair mistress, to say how that vow has been kept. "

"I have certainly seen naught of you these past years, " answered Joan. "But I myself have been a wanderer. "

"Had you not been, my vow would have been as sacredly kept, " was thequick reply. "I had resolved to see you no more, since I might nevercall you mine. I strove to banish your image from my mind by going forthinto the world; and when this chance of fighting for the King arose, Iwas one who sailed to the relief of the English garrison. "

She made no response, but her clear gaze was slightly disconcerting; helooked away and spoke rapidly. 

"Raymond de Brocas was on board the vessel that bore us from England'sshores: ask if it be not so, an you believe me not. We were brothers inarms, and foes no longer. I sought him out and told him all that was inmy heart. You know his nature -- brave, candid, fearless. He showed hisnobility of soul by giving to me the right hand of fellowship. Ere thevoyage ended we were friends in truth. When the day of battle came werode side by side against the foe. "

Joan's interest was aroused. She knew Raymond well. She knew hisnobility of nature -- his generous impulse to forgive a past foe, tobury all enmity. If Sanghurst had sought him with professions ofcontrition, might he not have easily been believed? And yet was such anone as this to be trusted?

"In the melee -- for the fighting was hard and desperate -- we wereseparated: he carried one way and I another. When the French were drivenback or taken captive I sought for Raymond everywhere, but for longwithout avail. At last I found him, wounded to the death. I might noteven move him to our lines. I could but give him drink and watch besidehim as he slowly sank. 

"It was then he spoke of thee, Joan. " Sanghurst's voice took a new tone, and seemed to quiver slightly; he dropped the more formal addresshitherto observed, and lapsed into the familiar "thou. " "The soletrouble upon that pure soul was the thought of thee, left alone andunprotected in this harsh world. He spoke of thee and that love he borethee, and I, who had also loved, but had resigned all my hopes for loveof him, could but listen and grieve with him. But he knew my secret --his clear eyes had long ago divined it -- and in talking together ofthee, Joan, as we had many times done before, he had learned all therewas to know of my hopeless love. As he lay dying he seemed to be musingof this; and one short half-hour before he breathed his last, he spokein these words --

"'Sanghurst, we have been rivals and foes, but now we are friends, and Iknow that I did misjudge thee in past days, as methinks she did, too. '(Joan, this is not so. It was not that ye misjudged me, but that I havesince repented of my evil ways in which erst I rejoiced. ) 'But thou wiltgo to her now, and tell her what has befallen her lover. Tell her that Idied with her name on my lips, with thoughts of her in my heart. Andtell her also not to grieve too deeply for me. It may be that to diethus, loving and beloved, is the happiest thing that can befall a man. But tell her, too, that she must not grieve too bitterly -- that shemust not lead a widowed life because that I am taken from her. Give toher this token, good comrade; she will know it. Tell her that he to whomshe gave it now restores it to her again, and restores it by the hand ofhis best and truest friend, trusting that this trusty friend will someday meet the reward he covets from the hand of her who once gave thetoken to him upon whom the hand of death is resting. Give it her, andtell her when you give it that her dying lover's hope is that she willthus reward the patient, generous love of him who shall bring it to her. '"

As he spoke these words, Sanghurst, his eyes immovably fixed upon thechanging face of the beautiful girl, drew from his breast a small packetand placed it within her trembling hands. 

He knew he was playing a risky game, and that one false move might losehim his one chance. It was all the veriest guesswork; but he believed hehad guessed aright. Whilst Raymond had been stretched upon the rack, swooning from extremity of pain, Sanghurst's eyes, fixed in gloatingsatisfaction upon the helpless victim, had been caught by the sight ofthis token about his neck, secured by a strong silver cord. To possesshimself of the charm, or whatever it might be, had been but the work ofa moment. He had felt convinced that it was a lover's token, and hadbeen given to Raymond by Joan, and if so it might be turned to goodaccount, even if other means failed to bend the stubborn will of theyouth who looked so frail and fragile. 

Raymond had escaped from his hands by a species of magic, as it hadseemed to the cruel captors, when he had tasted but a tithe of what theyhad in store for him. Baffled and enraged as Sanghurst was, he had stillthe precious token in his possession. If it had been given by Joan, shewould recognize it at once, and coupled with the supposed dying messageof her lover, surely it would not be without effect. 

Eagerly then were his eyes fixed upon her face as she undid the packet, and a gleam of triumph came into them as he saw a flash of recognitionwhen the little heart was disclosed to view. 

Truly indeed did Joan's heart sink within her, and every drop of bloodebbed from her cheek; for had not Raymond said that he would never partfrom her gift whilst he had life? and how could Peter Sanghurst havebecome possessed of it unless his tale were true? He might be capable ofrobbing a dead body, but how would he have known that the token wasgiven by her?

A mist seemed to float before the girl's eyes. At that moment she wasunable to think or to reason. The one thought there was room for in hermind was that Raymond was dead. If he were lost to her for ever, it waslittle matter what became of herself. 

Sanghurst's keen eyes, fixed upon her with an evil gleam, saw that thecharm was working. It had worked even beyond his hopes. He was so wellsatisfied with the result of this day's work, that he would not evenpress his suit upon her farther then. Let her have time to digest herlover's dying words. When she had done so, he would come to her again. 

"Sweet lady, I grieve that thou shouldst suffer though any words I havebeen forced to speak; but it was a promise given to him who is gone todeliver the message and the token. Lady, I take my leave of thee. I willnot intrude upon thy sacred sorrow. I, too, sorrow little less for himwho is gone. He was one of the brightest ornaments of these days ofchivalry and renown. "

He caught her hand for a moment and pressed it to his lips, she scarceseeming to know what he did or what he said; and then he turned away andleft her alone with her thoughts, a strangely malicious expressioncrossing his face as he knew himself hidden from her eyes. 

That same evening, when father and daughter were alone together in theroom they habitually occupied in the after part of the day, Sir Hughbegan to speak with unwonted decision and authority. 

"Joan, child, has Peter Sanghurst been with thee today?"

"He has, my father. "

"And has he told thee that he comes with my sanction as a lover, andthat thou and he are to wed ere the month is out?"

"He had not said so much as that, " answered Joan, who spoke quietly anddreamily, and with so little of the old ring of opposition in her voicethat her father looked at her in surprise. 

She was very pale, and there was a look in her eyes he did notunderstand; but the flush of anger or defiance he had thought to see didnot show itself. He began to think Sanghurst had spoken no more than thetruth in saying that Mistress Joan appeared to have withdrawn heropposition to him as a husband. 

"But so it is to be, " answered her father, quickly and imperiously, trying to seize this favourable moment to get the matter settled. "Ihave long given way to thy whimsies -- far too long -- and here art thoua woman grown, older than half the matrons round, yet never a wife asthey have long been. I will no more of it. It maketh thee and me alikeobjects of ridicule. Peter Sanghurst is my very good friend. He hashelped me in many difficulties, and is ready to help me again. He hasmoney, and I have none. Listen, girl: this accursed plague has carriedoff all my people, and labourers are asking treble and quadruple fortheir work that which they have been wont to do. Sooner would I let thecrops rot upon the ground than be so mulcted by them. The King does whathe can, but the idle rogues set him at defiance; and there be manybeside me who will feel the grip of poverty for long years to come. Peter Sanghurst has his wealth laid up in solid gold, not in fields andwoods that bring nothing without hands to till or tend them. Marry buthim, and Woodcrych shall be thy dower, and its broad acres and noblemanor will make of ye twain, with his gold, as prosperous a knight anddame (for he will soon rise to that rank) as ye can wish to be. Girl, myword is pledged, and I go not back from it. I have been patient with thyfancies, but I will no more of them. Thou art mine own daughter, my ownflesh and blood, and thy hand is mine to give to whom I will. PeterSanghurst shall be thy lord whether thou wilt or no. I have said it; letthat be enough. It is thy part to obey. "

Joan sat quite still and answered nothing. Her eyes were fixed upon thedancing flames rushing up the wide chimney. She must have heard herfather's words, yet she gave no sign of having done so. But for that SirHugh cared little. He was only too glad to be spared a weary battle ofwords, or a long struggle with his high-spirited daughter, whose forceof character he had come to know. That she had yielded her will to hisat last seemed only right and natural, and of course she must have beenby this time aware that if her father was really resolved upon thematch, she was practically helpless to prevent it. 

She was no longer a child; she was a woman who had seen much of theworld for the times she lived in. Doubtless she had begun to see thatshe must now marry ere her beauty waned; and having failed to make agrander match during her years of wandering, was glad enough to returnto her former lover, whose fidelity had doubtless touched her heart. 

"Thou wilt have a home and a dowry, and a husband who has loved theelong and faithfully, " added Sir Hugh, who felt that he might now adopt amore paternal tone, seeing he had not to combat foolish resistance. "Thou hast been a good daughter, Joan; doubtless thou wilt make a goodwife too. "

Still no reply, though a faint smile seemed to curve Joan's lips. Shepresently rose to her feet, and making a respectful reverence to herfather -- for daily embraces were not the order of the day -- glidedfrom the room as if to seek her couch. 

"That is a thing well done!" breathed the knight, when he found himselfonce more alone, "and done easier than I had looked for. Well, well, itis a happy thing the wench has found her right senses. Methinks goodPeter must have been setting his charms to work, for she never could bebrought to listen to him of old. He has tamed her to some purpose now. "

Meantime Joan had glided up the staircase of the hall, along severalwinding passages, and up and down several irregular flights of narrowsteps, till she paused at the door of a room very dim within, but justlighted by the gleam of a dying fire. As she stepped across thethreshold a voice out of the darkness accosted her. 

"My ladybird, is it thou, and at such an hour? Tell me what has befallenthee. "

"The thing that thou and I have talked of before now, Bridget, " answeredJoan, speaking rapidly in a strange low voice -- "the thing that thouand I have planned a hundred times if the worst should befall us. It istenfold more needful now than before. Bridget, I must quit this house atsunset tomorrow, and thou must have my disguise ready. I must to France, to find out there the truth of a tale I have this day heard. Nat will gowith me -- he has said so a hundred times; and I have long had moneylaid by for the day I ever knew might come. Thou knowest all. He is aman of the sea; I am his son. We have planned it too oft to be takenunawares by any sudden peril. Thus disguised, we may wander where wewill, molested by none. Lose no time. Rise and go to Nat this verynight. I myself must not be seen with him or with thee. I must conductmyself as though each day to come were like the one past. But thouknowest what to do. Thou wilt arrange all. God bless thee, my faithfulBridget; and when I come back again, thou shalt not lack thy reward!"

"I want none else but thy love, my heart's delight, " said the old nurse, gathering the girl into her fond arms; and Joan hid her face for onemoment upon that faithful breast and gave way to a short burst ofweeping, which did much for her overcharged heart. 

Then she silently stole away and went quietly to her own chamber. 

 CHAPTER XXVIII. GASTON'S SEARCH. 

"He would get better far more quickly could the trouble be removed fromhis mind. "

Gaston raised his head quickly, and asked:

"What trouble?"

Father Paul's face, thin and worn as of old, with the same keen, kindling glance of the deep-set eyes, softened almost into a smile as hemet the questioning glance of Gaston's eyes. 

"Thou shouldst know more of such matters than I, my son, seeing thatthou art in youth's ardent prime, whilst I wear the garb of a monk. Surethou canst not have watched beside thy brother's sickbed all these longweeks without knowing somewhat of the trouble in his mind?"

"I hear him moan and talk, " answered Gaston; "but he knows not what hesays, and I know not either. He is always feeling at his neck, andcalling out for some lost token. And then he will babble on of things Iunderstand not. But how I may help him I know not. I have tarried long, for I could not bear to leave him thus; and yet I am longing to carry tothe King my tale of outrage and wrong. With every week that passes mychance of success grows less. For Peter Sanghurst may have been beforeme, and may have told his own false version of the tale ere I may havespeech with King or Prince. I know not what to do -- to stay besideRaymond, or to hasten to England ere time be farther flown. Holy Father, wilt thou not counsel me? I feel that every day lost is a day lived invain, ere I be revenged upon Raymond's cruel foes!"

The youth's eyes flashed. He clenched his hands, and his teeth setthemselves fast together. He felt like an eagle caged, behind theseprotecting walls. For his brother's sake he was right glad of thefriendly shelter; but for himself he was pining to be free. 

And yet how was he to leave that dearly-loved brother, whose eyesfollowed him so wistfully from place to place, who brightened up intomomentary life when he entered the room, and took so little heed of whatpassed about him, unless roused by Gaston's touch or voice? Raymond hadbeen very, very near to the gates of death since he had been broughtinto the Monastery, and even now, so prostrated was he by the longattack of intermittent fever which had followed his wonderful escapefrom Saut, that those about him scarce knew how the balance would turn. The fever, which had at first run high and had been hard to subdue, hadnow taken another turn, and only recurred at intervals of a few days;but the patient was so fearfully exhausted by all he had undergone thathe seemed to have no strength to rally. He would lie in a sort of tranceof weakness when the fever was not upon him, scarce seeming to breatheunless he was roused to wakefulness by some word or caress from Gaston;whilst on the days when the fever returned, he would lie mutteringindistinctly to himself, sometimes breaking forth into eager rapidspeech difficult to follow, and often trying to rise and go forth uponsome errand, no one knew what, and struggling hard with those who heldhim back. 

Father Paul had watched over the first stages of the illness with theutmost care and tenderness, after which his duties called him away, andhe had only returned some three days since. The long hot summer inBordeaux had been a very trying one for the patient, whose stateprohibited any attempt at removal to a cooler, fresher air. But asAugust was merging into September, and the days were growing shorter andthe heat something less oppressive, it was hoped that there might be afavourable change in the patient's state; and much was looked for alsofrom Father Paul's skill, which was accounted something very great. 

Gaston and Roger had remained within the Monastery walls in closeattendance upon the patient; but the restraint had been terribly irksometo the temper of the young knight, and he was panting to be free topursue his quest, and to tell his story in the King's ears. He could notbut dread that in his absence some harm might befall his Constanza. Suppose those two remorseless men suspected her to be concerned in theflight of their victim, what form might not their vengeance take? It wasa thing that would scarce bear thinking of. Yet what could he do to saveher and to win her until he could make an organized attack upon Saut, armed with full authority from England's King?

And now that Father Paul was back, might it not be possible that thiscould be done? Gaston felt torn in twain betwixt his love for hisbrother and his love for his betrothed. Father Paul would be able toadvise him wisely and well. 

The Father looked earnestly into the ardent and eager face of the youth, and answered quietly:

"Methinks thou hast been here long enough, my son. Thou mayest do betterfor Raymond by going forth upon the mission thou hast set thyself. Butfirst I would ask of thee a few questions. Who is this lady of whom thybrother speaks so oft?"

"Lady?" questioned Gaston, his eyes opening wide in surprise. "Does heindeed speak of a lady?"

The Father smiled at the question. 

"Thy thoughts must have been as wandering as his if thou dost not knowas much as that, " he said, with a look that brought the hot blood intoGaston's cheek, for he well knew where his own thoughts had been whilsthe sat beside his brother, scarce heeding the ceaseless murmur whichbabbled from his unconscious lips. 

It had never occurred to him that he could learn aught by striving tocatch those indistinct utterances; and his mind had been full tooverflowing with his own affairs. 

"I knew not that he spoke of any lady, " said the young knight, wonderingfor a moment, with love's irrational jealousy, whether Raymond couldhave seen his Constanza and have lost his heart to her. 

Had she not spoken of having slipped once into his cell to breathe inhis ear a word of hope? Might not even that passing glimpse at such atime have been enough to subjugate his heart? He drew his breath hard, and an anxious light gleamed in his eye. But the Father continuedspeaking, and a load seemed to roll from his spirit with the next words. 

"It is of a lady whose name is Joan that he speaks almost ceaselesslywhen the fever fit is on him. Sometimes he speaks, too, of his cousin, that John de Brocas who lost his life in the Black Death through hisceaseless labours amongst the sick. He is in sore trouble, as it seems, by the loss of some token given him by the lady. He fears that some fouluse may be made by his foes of this same token, which he would soonerhave died than parted from. If thou knowest who this lady is and whereshe may be found, it would do more for thy brother to have news of herthan to receive all the skilled care of the best physicians in theworld. I misdoubt me whether we shall bring him back to life without heraid. Wherefore, if thou knowest where she may be found, delay not toseek her. Tell her her lover yet lives, and bring him some message fromher that may give him life and health. "

Gaston's eyes lighted. To be given anything to do -- anything but thisweary, wearing waiting and watching for the change that never came --put new life into him forthwith. 

"It must sure be Mistress Joan Vavasour thou meanest, Father, " he said. "Raymond spoke much of her when we were on shipboard together. I knewnot that his heart was so deeply pledged; but I see it all now. It is ofher that he is dreaming night and day. It is the loss of her token thatis troubling him now. 

"Stop! what have I heard? Methinks that this same Peter Sanghurst waswooing Mistress Joan himself once. Sure I see another motive in hisdastard capture of my brother. Perchance he had in him not only a rivalfor the lands of Basildene, but for the hand of the lady. Father, I seeit all! Would that I had seen it before! It is Peter Sanghurst who hasrobbed Raymond of his token, and he may make cruel use of what he hastreacherously filched away. I must lose not a day nor an hour. I must toEngland in the wake of this villain. Oh, why did I not understandbefore? What may he not have done ere I can stop his false mouth? TheKing shall hear all; the King shall be told all the tale! I trow he willnot tarry long in punishing the coward traitor!"

Father Paul was less certain how far the King would interest himself ina private quarrel, but Peter Sanghurst's recent action with regard toRaymond might possibly be such as to stir even the royal wrath. At leastit was time that some watch should be placed upon the movements of theowner of Basildene, for he would be likely to make a most unscrupuloususe of any power he might possess to injure Raymond or gain any holdover the lady they both loved. 

Roger being called in to the conference, and giving his testimonyclearly enough as to the frequent intercourse which had existed betweenMistress Joan Vavasour and Raymond de Brocas, and the evident attractioneach bore for the other, the matter appeared placed beyond thepossibility of all doubt. Gaston's resolve was quickly taken, and heonly waited till his brother could be aroused to fuller consciousness, to start forth upon his double quest after vengeance and after Joan. 

"Brother, " he said, taking Raymond's hands in his, and bending tenderlyover him, "I am going to leave thee, but only for a time. I am going toEngland to find thy Joan, and to tell her that thou art living yet, andhow thou hast been robbed of thy token. "

A new light shone suddenly in Raymond's eyes. It seemed as though someof the mists of weakness rolled away, leaving to him a clearercomprehension. He grasped his brother's hand with greater strength thanGaston believed him to possess, and his lips parted in a flashing smile. 

"Thou wilt seek her and find her? Knowest thou where she is?"

"No; but I will go to seek her. I shall get news of her at Guildford. Iwill to our uncle's house forthwith. Sir Hugh Vavasour can easily be found. "

"He has been wandering in foreign lands this long while, " answeredRaymond. "I know not whether he may have returned home. Gaston, if thoufindest her, save her from the Sanghurst. Tell her that I yet live --that for her sake I will live to protect her from that evil man. He hasrobbed me of the pledge of her love; I am certain of it. It was atrinket not worth the stealing, and I had it ever about my neck. It wastaken from me when I was a prisoner and at their mercy, when I did notknow what befell me. He has it -- I am assured of that -- and what eviluse he may make of it I know not. Ah, if thou canst but find her ere hecan reach her side!"

"I will find her, " answered Gaston, firmly and cheerfully. "Fear not, Raymond; I have had harder tasks than this to perform ere now. Be it thypart to shake off this wasting sickness. I will seek out thy Joan, andwill bring her to thy side. But let her not find thee in such sorryplight. Thou lookest yet rather a corpse than a man. Thou wouldst frighther by thy wan looks an she came to thee now. "

Wan and white and wasted did Raymond indeed appear, as though a breathwould blow him away. Upon his face was that faraway, ethereal look ofone who has been lingering long beside the portal of another world, andscarce knows to which he belongs. It sometimes seemed as though theangel song of the unseen realm was oftener heard and understood by himthan the voices of those about him. But the fever cloud was slowlylifting from his brain, and today the first impulse to a real recoveryhad been given by these few words with his brother. 

Raymond's recollection of past events was coming back to himconnectedly, and the thought of Joan acted like a tonic upon him. Forher sake he would live; for her sake he would make a battle for hislife. Had he not vowed himself to her service? and did any woman standmore in need of her lover's strong arm than the daughter of Sir HughVavasour?

Raymond had gauged the character of that knight before, and knew that hewould sell his daughter without scruple to any person who would make itworth his while. It had been notorious in old days that the Sanghurstshad some peculiar hold upon him, and was it likely that Peter Sanghurst, who was plainly resolved to make Joan his wife, would allow that powerto rest unused when it might be employed for the furtherance of hispurpose? To send Gaston forth upon the quest for Joan was much; but hehimself must fight this wasting sickness, that he might be ready to goto her when the summons came that she was found, and was ready towelcome her faithful knight. 

From that hour Raymond began to amend; and although his progress wasslow, and seemed doubly slow to his impatience, it was steady and sure, and he was as one given back from the dead. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Mistress Joan Vavasour, boy? why, all the world is making that inquiry. How comes it that thou, by thine own account but just home from Gascony, shouldst be likewise asking the same question?"

Master Bernard de Brocas turned his kindly face towards Gaston with alook of shrewd inquiry in his eyes. His nephew had arrived but a shorthalf-hour at his house, somewhat jaded by rapid travelling, and afterhurriedly removing the stains of the journey from his person, was seatedbefore a well-supplied board, whilst the cleric sat beside him, alwayseager for news, and exceedingly curious to know the history of the twinbrothers, who for the past six months seemed to have vanished from theface of the earth. But for the moment Gaston was too intent upon askingquestions to have leisure to answer any. 

"How?" he questioned; "what mean you, reverend Sir? Everybody askingnews of her? How comes that about?"

"Marry, for the reason that the lady hath disappeared these last threeweeks from her father's house, and none can tell whither she has fled, or whether she has been spirited away, or what hath befallen her. SirHugh is in a mighty taking, for he had just arranged a marriage betwixther and Peter Sanghurst, and the lady had given her consent (or so it issaid, albeit there be some who doubt the truth of that), and he issorely vexed to know what can have become of her. "

"Peter Sanghurst! that arch-villain!" cried Gaston, involuntarily layinghis hand on the hilt of his dagger. "Mine uncle, I have come to askcounsel of thee about that same miscreant. I am glad that he at leasthas not fled the country. He shall not escape the fate he so richly merits. "

And then, with flashing eyes and words eloquent through excess offeeling, Gaston related the whole story of the past months: theappearance on board the vessel of the Black Visor; the concerted actionagainst Raymond carried out by Sanghurst, thus disguised, and the Sieurde Navailles; and the cruelty devised against him, from which he hadescaped only by something of a miracle. 

And as Master Bernard de Brocas listened to this tale of treachery, planned and carried out against one of his own name and race, ananswering light shone in his eyes, and he smote his palms together, crying out in sudden wrath:

"Gaston, the King shall hear of this! Thou shalt tell to him the tale asthou hast told it to me. He will not hear patiently of such indignitiesoffered to a subject of his, not though the King of France himself haddone it! That Sieur de Navailles is no friend to England. I know himwell, and his false, treacherous ways. I have heard much of him ere now, and the King has his eye upon him. Gaston, this hollow truce cannot longcontinue. The nobles and the King are alike weary of a peace which is nopeace, and which the King of France or his lords are continuallybreaking. A very little, and the flame of war will burst out anew. Itmay be that even this tale of thine may put the spark to the train (asthey say of these new artillery engines that are so astonishing men bytheir smoke and noise), and that the Prince, when he hears of it, willurge his father to march once more into France, and put an end to thepetty annoyances and treacherous attacks which are goading the royallion of England to wrath and fury. "

"Pray Heaven it may!" cried Gaston, starting to his feet and pacing upand down the hall. "Thou knowest, uncle mine, how the Prince and theKing did long ago confirm to me the rights of the De Brocas to theancient Castles of Orthez and Saut. If he would but give me his royalwarrant for mustering men and recovering mine own, I trow, be the wallsof Saut never so strong, that I would speedily make mine entrance withinthem! Uncle, the Sieur de Navailles is hated and feared and reviled byall men for miles around his walls. I trow that, even amongst those whobear arms for him, some would be found who would gladly serve anothermaster. Stories of the punishments he is wont to inflict upon all whofall beneath his displeasure have passed from mouth to mouth, and bitteris the rage burning in the breasts of those whose helpless kinsfolk havesuffered through his tyrant cruelty. I trow an armed band, coming in thename of the English King, could soon smoke that old fox out of his hole;whilst all men would rejoice at his fall. Let me to the King -- let metell my tale! I burn to be on the wing once more! Where may his Majestybe found?"

"Softly, softly, boy! We must think somewhat more of this. And we havetwo foes, not one alone, to deal with. Peter Sanghurst is, as it were, beneath our very hand. He is at Basildene, fuming like a wild thing atthe sudden disappearance of Mistress Joan. There be, nevertheless, somewho say that this wrath is all assumed; that he has captured the lady, and holds her a prisoner in his hands, all the while pretending to knownaught of her. I know not what truth there may be in such rumours. TheSanghurst bears an evil name, and many are the stories whispered about him. "

"What!" almost shouted Gaston, in the fierceness of his excitement, "Mistress Joan a prisoner in Basildene, the captive of that miscreant!Uncle, let us lose not an hour! Let us forthwith to the King. He willgive us his royal warrant, and armed with that we will to Basildene, andsearch for her there, and free her ere the set of sun. Oh, it would belike him -- it would be all in a piece with his villainy! I cannot restnor breathe till I know all. Uncle, may we not set forth this very day-- this same night?"

The worthy ecclesiastic laid a hand upon Gaston's shoulder. 

"Boy, " he said, "I will myself to the King this very day. The moon willsoon be up, and the way is familiar to me and my men. But thou shalttarry here. Thou hast travelled far today, and art weary and in need ofrest. Perchance, in this matter of the Sanghurst, I shall do betterwithout thee. Thou shalt see the King anon, and shalt tell him all thytale; but methinks this matter of Basildene had best be spoken ofbetwixt him and me alone. Thou knowest that I have for long been in theKing's favour and confidence, and have managed many state matters forhim. Thou mayest therefore leave thy cause in my hands. I have all thepapers safe that thou broughtest from Gascony long since, and have leftin my care these many years. I have been awaiting my opportunity to laythe matter of Basildene before the King, and now I trow that the hourhas come. "

Gaston stopped short in his restless pacing, a bright light in his eyes. 

"Thou thinkest to oust the Sanghurst thence -- to gain Basildene forRaymond?"

"Ay, verily I do. It is your inheritance by right; the papers prove it. Ye were deprived of it by force, and now the hour of restitution hascome. As to thee are secured the Gascon lands, when they can be wrestedfrom the hand of the foe, so shall Basildene be secured to Raymond, albeit he has not won his spurs as thou hast done, boy, and that rightlustily. But I know much good of Raymond. He will worthily fill hisplace. Go now to rest, boy, and leave this matter in mine hands. Iwarrant thee the cause shall not suffer for being intrusted to me. Getthee to rest. Fear not; and ere two days be passed thou shalt havetidings of some sort from me. "

Gaston would fain have been his uncle's companion on the road, but heknew better than to insist. Master Bernard de Brocas well knew what hewas about, and was plainly deeply interested in the story he had heard. Raymond had long been high in his favour. To cause to recoil upon thehead of the treacherous Sanghurst the vengeance he had plotted againsthis own nephew, to punish him for his treachery -- to wrest from hisrapacious grasp the lands and the Manor of Basildene, was a taskpeculiarly agreeable to the statesman, who knew well what he was aboutand the master whom he served. Basildene was no great possession, but itmight be greatly increased in value, and there was rumour of buriedhoards there which might speedily restore the old house to more than itsformer splendour. At any rate, its lands and revenues would be a modestportion for a younger son, who still had the flower of his life beforehim, and was like to rise in the King's favour. The romantic story ofhis love, his sufferings, his rescue from the two foes of his house, wascertain to appeal to the King and his son, whilst the treachery of thosefoes would equally rouse the royal wrath. 

Master Bernard departed for Windsor with the rising of the moon; andGaston passed a restless night and day wondering what was passing atWindsor, and feeling, when he retired to rest upon the second night, asthough his excitement of mind must drive slumber from his eyes. Nor didsleep visit him till the tardy dawn stole in at the window, and when hedid sleep he slept long and soundly. 

He was aroused by the sound of a great trampling in the courtyard below;and springing quickly from his couch, he saw the place full ofmen-at-arms, all wearing either the badge of the De Brocas or else thatof the Prince of Wales. 

Throwing on his clothes in great haste, and scarce tarrying to buckle onhis sword, Gaston strode from his chamber and hastened down the greatstaircase. At the foot of this stood one whom well he knew, and with aninarticulate exclamation of delight he threw himself upon one kneebefore the young Prince, and pressed his lips to the hand graciouslyextended to him. 

"Nay, Gaston; thy friend and comrade, not thy sovereign!" cried thehandsome youth gaily, as he raised Gaston and looked smilingly into hisface, his own countenance alight with satisfaction and excitement. "Ah, thou knowest not how glad I am to welcome thee once more! For the daysbe coming soon when I must needs rally all my brave knights about me, and go forth to France for a new career of glory there. But todayanother task is ours, and not as thy Prince, but thy good comrade, haveI come. I will forth with thee to the den of this foul Sanghurst, andtogether will we search his house for the lady men say he has socunningly spirited away; and if she be found indeed languishing incaptivity there, then in very truth shall the Sanghurst feel the wrathof the royal Edward. He shall live to feel the iron hand of the King hehas outraged and defied! But he shall pay the forfeit of his life. England shall be rid of one of her greatest villains when PeterSanghurst feels the halter about his neck!"

 CHAPTER XXIX. THE FALL OF THE SANGHURST. 

"Is that the only answer you have for me, sweet lady?"

"The only one, Sir; and you will never have another. Strive as you will, keep me imprisoned as long as you will, I will never yield. I will neverbe yours; I belong to another --"

A fierce gleam was in Sanghurst's eyes, though he retained the suavesoftness of speech that he had assumed all along. 

"He is dead, fair mistress. "

"Living or dead, I am yet his, " answered Joan unfalteringly; "and were Ias free as air -- had I never pledged my faith to him -- I should yethave none other answer for you. Think you that your evil deeds have notbeen whispered in mine ear? Think you that this imprisonment in whichyou think fit to keep me is like to win my heart?"

"Nay, sweetest lady, call it not by that harsh name. Could a princesshave been better served or tended than you have been ever since you camebeneath my humble roof? It is no imprisonment; it is but the watchfulcare of one who loves you, and would fain save you from the peril intowhich you had recklessly plunged. Lady, had you known the dangers oftravel in these wild and lawless days, you never would have left theshelter of your father's house with but one attendant to protect you. Think you that those peerless charms could ever have been hidden beneaththe dress of a peasant lad? Well was it for you, lady, that your truelove was first to follow and find you, ere some rude fellow had betrayedthe secret to his fellows, and striven to turn it to their advantage. Here you are safe; and I have sent to your father to tell him you arefound and are secure. He, too, is searching for you; but soon he willreceive my message, and will come hastening hither. Then will ourmarriage be solemnized with all due rites. Your obstinate resistancewill avail nothing to hinder our purpose. But I would fain win thislovely hand by gentle means; and it will be better for thee, JoanVavasour, to lay down thine arms and surrender while there is yet time. "

There was a distinct accent of menace in the last words, and theunderlying expression upon that smiling face was evil and threatening inthe extreme. But Joan's eyes did not falter beneath the searching gazeof her would-be husband. Her face was set in lines of fearlessresolution. She still wore the rough blue homespun tunic of a peasantlad, and her chestnut locks hung in heavy natural curls about hershoulders. The distinction in dress between the sexes was much lessmarked in those days than it has since become. Men of high degreeclothed themselves in flowing robes, and women of humble walk in life inshort kirtles; whilst the tunic was worn by boys and girls alike, thoughthere was a difference in the manner of the wearing, and it wasdiscarded by the girl in favour of a longer robe or sweeping supertunicwith the approach of womanhood. In the lower ranks of life, however, thedifference in dress between boy and girl was nothing very distinctive;and the disguise had been readily effected by Joan, who had only to cutsomewhat shorter her flowing locks, clothe herself in the homespun tunicand leather gaiters of a peasant boy, and place a cloth cap jauntily onher flowing curls before she was transformed into as pretty a lad as onecould wish to see. 

With the old henchman Nat to play the part of father, she had journeyedfearlessly forth, and had made for the coast, which she would probablyhave reached in safety had it not been for the acuteness of PeterSanghurst, who had guessed her purpose, had dogged her steps with thepatient sagacity of a bloodhound, and had succeeded in the end incapturing his prize, and in bringing her back in triumph to Basildene. 

He had not treated her badly. He had not parted her from the old servantunder whose escort she had travelled. Perhaps he felt he would haveother opportunities of avenging this insult to himself; perhaps therewas something in the light in Joan's eyes and in the way in which shesometimes placed her hand upon the hilt of the dagger in her belt whichwarned him not to try her too far. Joan was something of an enigma tohim still. She was like no other woman with whom he had ever come incontact. He did not feel certain what she might say or do. It was ratherlike treading upon the crust of some volcanic crater to have dealingswith her. At any moment something quite unforeseen might take place, andcause a complete upheaval of all his plans. From policy, as well as fromhis professed love, he had shown himself very guarded during the days oftheir journey and her subsequent residence beneath the roof ofBasildene; but neither this show of submission and tenderness, northinly-veiled threats and menaces, had sufficed to bend her will to his. It had now come to this -- marry him of her own free will she would not. Therefore the father must be summoned, and with him the priest, and theceremony should be gone through with or without the consent of the lady. Such marriages were not so very unusual in days when daughters werelooked upon as mere chattels to be disposed of as their parents orguardians desired. It was usual, indeed, to marry them off at an earlierage, when reluctance had not developed into actual resistance; but stillit could be done easily enough whatever the lady might say or do. 

Peter Sanghurst, confident that the game was now entirely in his ownhands, could even afford to be indulgent and patient. In days to come hewould be amply avenged for all the slights now inflicted upon him. Heoften pictured the moment when he should tell to Joan the true story ofhis possession of the love token she had bestowed upon Raymond. Hethought that she would suffer even more in the hearing of it than he haddone upon the rack; and his wife could not escape him as his othervictim had. He could wring her heartstrings as he had hoped to wring thenerves of Raymond's sensitive frame, and none could deliver her out ofhis hand. 

But now he was still playing the farce of the suppliant lover, guessingall the while that she knew as well as he what a farce the part was. Hestrove to make her surrender, but was met by an invincible firmness. 

"Do what you will, Peter Sanghurst, " she said: "summon my father, callthe priest, do what you will, your wife I will never be. I have told youso before; I tell it you again. "

He smiled a smile more terrible than his frown. 

"We shall see about that, " was his reply, as he turned on his heel andstrode from the room. 

When he was gone Joan turned suddenly towards the old man, who was allthis while standing with folded arms in a distant window, listening inperfect silence to the dialogue. She made a few swift paces towards himand looked into his troubled face. 

"Nat, " she said, in a low voice, "thou hast not forgotten thy promisemade to me?"

"My mistress, I have not forgotten. "

"And thou wilt keep thy word?"

"I will keep it. "

He spoke with manifest effort; but Joan heaved a sigh of relief. Shecame one step nearer, and laid her soft hand upon the old servant'sshoulder, looking into his face with affectionate solicitude. 

"I know not if I should ask it of thee; it may cost thee thy life. "

"My life is naught, if I can but save thee from that monster, sweetmistress; but oh, if it might be by another way!"

"Nay, say not so; methinks now this is the best, the sweetest way. Ishall the sooner find him, who will surely be waiting for me upon thefarther shore. One blow, and I shall be free for ever. O Nat, this worldis a sore place for helpless women to dwell in. Since he has gone, whatis there for me to live for? I almost long for the hour which shall setmy spirit free. They will let me see the Holy Father, who comes to wedus. I shall receive the Absolution and the Blessing; and methinks I amnot unprepared. Death has no terrors for me: I have seen him come so oftin the guise of a friend. Nay, weep not, good Nat; the day will comewhen we all must die. Thou wouldst rather see me lying dead at thy feetthan the helpless captive of the Sanghurst, as else I must surely be?"

"Ay, lady, " answered the old man, between his shut teeth, "ten thousandtimes rather, else would not this fond hand strike the blow that willlay thy fair young head in the dust. But sooner than know thee the wifeof yon vile miscreant, I would slay thee ten times over. Death is soonpast -- death comes but once; but a life of helpless misery and agony, that I could not bear for thee. Let them do what they will to me, I willset thee free first. "

Joan raised the strong, wrinkled hand to her lips and kissed it, beforethe old retainer well knew what she was doing. He withdrew it in someconfusion. 

"Good Nat, I know not how to thank thee; but what I can do to save theeI will. I do not think my father will suffer thee to be harmed if when Iam dead thou wilt give him this packet I now give to thee. In it I havetold him many things he would not listen to whilst I lived, but he willread the words that have been penned by a hand that is cold and stiff indeath. To his old love for me I have appealed to stand thy friend, telling him how and why the deed has been done, and thy hand raisedagainst me. I think he will protect and pardon thee -- I think it truly. 

"How now, Nat? What seest thou? What hearest thou? Thy thoughts are notwith me and with my words. What is it? Why gazest thou thus from thecasement? What is there to see?"

"Armed men, my mistress -- armed men riding towards Basildene!" answeredthe old man, in visible excitement. "I have seen the sunlight glintingon their headpieces. I am certain sure there be soldiers riding to thisvery door. What is their business? How have they come? Ah, lady, mysweet mistress, pray Heaven they have come to set thee free! Pray Heaventhey have come as our deliverers!"

Joan started and ran to the casement. She was just in time to see theflash of the November sunlight upon the steel caps of the last of theband of horsemen whose approach had been observed by Nat. Only a verysmall portion of the avenue leading to Basildene could be seen fromthese upper casements, and the riders must have been close to the housebefore their approach was marked by the old man. 

Now Joan flung open the casement in great excitement, and leaned far out. 

"Hark!" she exclaimed, in great excitement, "I hear the sound of heavyblows, and of voices raised in stern command. "

"Open in the King's name; open to the Prince of Wales!"

These words were distinctly borne to Joan's listening ears as she stoodwith her head thrust through the lattice, every faculty absorbed in thestrain of eager desire to hear. 

"The King! the Prince!" she cried, her breath coming thick and fast, whilst her heart beat almost to suffocation. "O Nat, good Nat! what canit mean? The Prince! what can have brought him hither?"

"Doubtless he comes to save thee, sweet lady, " cried the old retainer, to whom it seemed but natural that the heir of England should come forthto save his fair young mistress from her fate. 

But Joan shook her head, perplexed beyond measure, yet not able torestrain the wildest hopes. 

The Prince -- that noble youth so devoted to chivalry, so generous andfearless, and the friend of the twin brothers, one of whom was her lostRaymond! Oh, could it be that some rumour had reached his ears? Could itbe that he had come to set her free? It seemed scarce possible, and yetwhat besides could have brought him hither? And at least with help sonear she could surely make her woeful case known to him!

For the first time for many days hope shot up in Joan's heart -- hope ofrelease from her hated lover by some other means than that of death; andwith that hope came surging up the love of life so deeply implanted inhuman nature, the wild hope that her lover might yet live, that she hadbeen tricked and deceived by the false Sanghurst --all manner of vagueand unformed hopes, to which there was no time to give definite formeven in her thoughts. She was only conscious that a ray of goldensunshine had fallen athwart her path, and that the darkness in which shehad been enwrapped was changing -- changing to what?

There were strange sounds in the house -- a tumult of men's voices, theclash of arms, cries and shouts, and the tread of many feet upon the stairs. 

Joan's colour came and went as she listened. Yes, surely she heard avoice -- a voice that sent thrills all through her -- and yet it was notRaymond's voice; it was deeper, louder, more authoritative. But thefootsteps were approaching, were mounting the turret stair, and Joan, with a hasty movement, flung over her shoulders a sweeping supertuniclined with fur, which Peter Sanghurst had placed in the room for heruse, but which she had not hitherto deigned to wear. She had but justsecured the buckle and girdle, and concealed her boy's garb by the meansof these rich folds of velvet, before a hand was upon the latch of thedoor, and the same thrilling voice was speaking through the panels inurgent accents. 

"Lady -- Mistress Joan -- art thou there?"

"I am within this turret -- I am here, fair sir, " answered Joan, ascalmly as her beating heart would allow. "But I cannot open to thee, forI am but a captive here -- the captive of Peter Sanghurst. "

"Now a prisoner bound, and answering for his sins before the Prince andsome of the highest nobles of the land. Lady, I and my men have come toset thee free. I come to thee the bearer of a message from my brother --from Raymond de Brocas. Give my stout fellows but a moment's grace tobatter down this strong door, and we will set thee free, and take theeto the Prince, to bear witness against the false traitor, who stands incraven terror before him below!"

But these last words were quite lost upon Joan. She had sunk, tremblingand white, upon a couch, overcome by the excess of joy with which shehad heard her lover's name pronounced. She heard heavy blows dealt uponthe oaken panels of the door. She knew that her deliverance was at hand;but a mist was before her eyes, and she could think of nothing but thosewonderful words just spoken, until the woodwork fell inwards with a loudcrash, and Gaston, springing across the threshold, knelt at her feet. 

"Lady, it is many years since we met, and then we met but seldom; but Icome from him whom thou lovest and therefore I know myself welcome. Fairmistress, my brother has been sorely sick -- sick unto death -- or hewould be here himself to claim this fair hand. He has been sick in bodyand sick in mind -- sick with fear lest that traitor and villain whorobbed him of your token should make foul use of it by deceiving theewith tales of his death or falsity. 

"Lady, he was robbed by Peter Sanghurst of that token. Sanghurst and ourancient foe of Navailles leagued themselves together and carried off mybrother by treachery. He was their prisoner in the gloomy Tower of Saut. They would have done him to death in cruel fashion had not we found away to save and rescue him from their hands. They had done him some hurteven then, and they had robbed him of what had become almost dearer tohim than life itself; but he was saved from their malice. It was longere he could tell us of his loss, tell us of thee; for he lay sick of awasting fever for many a long month, and we knew not what the troublewas that lay so sore upon him. But no sooner had he recovered so as tospeak more plainly than we learned all, and I have been seeking news ofthee ever since. I should have been here long ago but for the contrarywinds which kept us weeks at sea, unable to make the haven we sought. But I trow I have not come too late. I find thee here at Basildene; butsure thou art not the wife of him who calls himself its lord?"

"Wife! no -- ten thousand times no!" answered Joan, springing to herfeet, and looking superb in her stately beauty, the light of love andhappiness in her eyes, the flush of glad triumph on her cheek. "SirKnight, thou art Raymond's brother, thou art my saviour, and I will tellthee all. I was fleeing from Sanghurst -- fleeing to France, to learnfor myself if the tale he told of Raymond's death were true; for sorelydid I misdoubt me if those false lips could speak truth. He guessed mypurpose, followed and brought me back hither a captive. To force me towed him has long been his resolve, and he has won my father to take hisside. He was about to summon my father and a priest and make me hiswife, here in this very place, and never let me stir thence till thechain was bound about me. But I had a way of escape. Yon faithfulservant, who shared my perils and my wanderings, had given me his wordto strike me dead ere he would see me wedded to Sanghurst. No false vowshould ever have passed my lips; no mockery of marriage should ever havebeen consummated. I have no fear of death. I only longed to die that Imight go to my Raymond, and be with him for ever. "

"But now thou needest not die to be with him!" cried Gaston, enchantedat once by her beauty, her fearless spirit, and her loyalty and devotionto Raymond. "My brother lives! He lives for thee alone! I have come tolead thee to him, if thou wilt go. But first, sweet mistress, let metake thee to our Prince. It is our noble Prince who has come to see intothis matter his own royal self. I had scarce hoped for so much honour, and yet I ever knew him for the soul of generosity and chivalry. Let melead thee to him. Tell him all thy tale. We have the craven foe in ourhands now, and this time he shall not escape us!"

Gaston ground his teeth, and his eyes flashed fire, as he thought of allthe wickedness of Peter Sanghurst. He was within the walls of Basildene, his brother's rightful inheritance; the memory of the cruelty and thetreachery of this man was fresh in his mind. The Prince was hearing allthe tale; the Prince would judge and condemn. Gaston knew well what thefate of the tyrant would be, and there was no room for aught in hisheart beside a great exultant triumph. 

Giving his arm to Joan, who was looking absolutely radiant in herstately beauty, he led her down into the hall below, where the Princewas seated with some knights and nobles round him -- Master Bernard deBrocas occupying a seat upon his right hand -- examining witnesses andlooking at the papers respecting the ownership of Basildene which werenow laid before him. At the lower end of the hall, his hands boundbehind him, and his person guarded by two strong troopers, stood PeterSanghurst, his face a chalky-white colour, his eyes almost starting fromhis head with terror, all his old ease and assumption gone, the innatecowardice of his nature showing itself in every look and every gesture. 

A thoroughly cruel man is always at heart a coward, and Peter Sanghurst, who had taken the liveliest delight in inflicting pain of every kindupon those in his power, now stood shivering and almost fainting withapprehension at the fate in store for himself. As plentiful evidence hadbeen given of his many acts of barbarity and tyranny, there had beenfierce threats passed from mouth to mouth that hanging was too good forhim -- that he ought to taste what he had inflicted on others; and thewretched man stood there in an agony of apprehension, every particle ofhis swaggering boldness gone, and without a vestige of real courage touphold him in the hour of his humiliation. 

As the Prince saw the approach of Joan, he sprang to his feet, and allthe assembled nobles did the same. With that chivalrous courtesy forwhich he became famous in history, the Prince bent the knee before thelady, and taking her by the hand, led her to a seat of honour besidehimself, asking her of herself and her story, and listening withrespectful attention to every word she spoke. 

Gaston then stood forward and told again his tale of Raymond's capture, and deep murmurs of indignation ran through the hall as he did so. Theveins swelled upon the Prince's forehead as he heard the tale, and hiseyes emitted sparks of fierce light as they flashed from time to timeupon the trembling prisoner. 

"Methinks we have heard enough, gentlemen, " said he at length, asGaston's narrative drew to a close. 

"Marshal, bring hither your prisoner. 

"This man, gentlemen, is the hero of these brave deeds of valour ofwhich we have been hearing. This is the man who dares to waylay andtorture English subjects to wring from them treasure and gold; the manwho dares to bring this vilely-won wealth to purchase with it the favourof England's King; the man who wages war on foreign soil with thefriends of England, and treacherously sells them into the hand ofEngland's foe; who deals with them as we have heard he dealt and wouldhave dealt with Raymond de Brocas had not Providence worked almost amiracle in his defence. This is the man who, together with his father, drove from this very house the lawful owner, because that she was agentle, tender woman, and was at that moment alone and unable to defendherself from them. This is the man who is not ashamed to call himselfthe master of Basildene, and who has striven to compass by the foulestends the death of the true owner of the property -- though Raymond deBrocas braved the terrors of the Black Death to tend and soothe the lastdying agonies of that man's father. This is the man who would wed byforce this fair maiden, and strove to deceive her by the foulest tricksand jugglery. Say, gentlemen, what is the desert of this miscreant? Whatdoom shall we award him as the recompense of his past life?"

A score of hideous suggestions were raised at once, and the miserablePeter Sanghurst shook in his shoes as he saw the fierce, relentlessfaces of the soldiers making a ring round him. Those were cruel days, despite the softening influence of their vaunted chivalry, and the faceof the Prince was stern and black. It was plain that he had been deeplyroused by the story he had heard. 

But Joan was there, and she was a woman; and vile as had been this man'slife, and deeply as he had injured her and him she loved tenfold morethan her own life, he was still a human creature, and a creature withouta hope either in this world or the world to come. She could not but pityhim as he stood there cowering and shuddering, and she turned swiftlytowards the Prince and spoke to him in a rapid undertone. 

Young Edward listened, and the dark cloud passed from his brow. He waskeenly susceptible to the nobler emotions, and an appeal to hisgenerosity was not unheeded. Raising his hand in token that he demandedsilence, he turned towards the quaking criminal, and thus addressed him:

"Peter Sanghurst, you stand convicted of many and hideous crimes --witchcraft, sorcery, treachery to your King, vile cruelty to hissubjects -- crimes for which death alone is scarce punishment enough. You well merit a worse fate than the gallows. You well merit some ofthose lingering agonies that you have inflicted upon your wretchedvictims, and have rejoiced to witness. But we in England do not tortureour prisoners, and it is England's pride that this is so. This fairlady, who owes you naught but grievous wrong, has spoken for you; shesays that were Raymond de Brocas here, he would join with her in prayingthat your fate might be swift and merciful. Therefore I decree that youare led forth without the gates of Basildene, and hanged upon the firsttree out of sight of its walls. 

"See to it, marshal. Let there be no delay. It is not fit that such awretch should longer cumber the earth. Away with him, I say!"

The soldiers closed around the condemned man and bore him forth, one ofthe marshals following to see the deed done. Joan had for a momentcovered her face with her hand, for even so it was rather terrible tosee this tyrant and oppressor led forth from his own house to anignominious death, and she was unused to such stern scenes. But thosearound the table were already turning their attention to other matters, and the Prince was addressing himself to certain men who had come intothe hall covered with cobweb and green mould. 

"Has the treasure been found?" he asked. 

"Yes, Sire, " answered the leader of this strange-looking band. "It wascleverly hidden, in all truth, in the cellars of the house, and weshould scarce have lighted on it but for the help of some of the peoplehere, who, so soon as they heard that their master was doomed to certaindeath, were as eager to help us as they had been fearful before. It hasall been brought up for you to see; and a monstrous hoard it is. It mustalmost be true, I trow, that the old man had the golden secret. So muchgold I have never seen in one place. "

"It is ill-gotten gold, " said the Prince, sternly, as he rose, and, followed by the nobles and Master Bernard de Brocas, went to look at thecoffers containing the treasure hoarded up and amassed by the Sanghurstsduring a long period of years. "But I trow since the Black Death has soravaged these parts, it would be idle to strive to seek out the owners, and it would but raise a host of false claims that no man might sift. 

"Master Bernard de Brocas, I award this treasure to Raymond de Brocas, the true lord of Basildene, to whom and to whose heirs shall be securedthis house and all that belongs to it. Into your hands I now intrust thegold and the lands, to be kept by you until the rightful owner appearsto lay claim to them. Let a part of this gold be spent upon making fitthis house for the reception of its master and this fair maiden, whowill one day be the mistress here with him. Let it be thy part, goodMaster Bernard, to remove from these walls the curse which has beenbrought upon them by the vile sorceries and cruelties of this wickedfather and more wicked son. Let Holy Church do her part to cleanse andpurify the place, and then let it be made meet for the reception of itslord and lady when they shall return hither to receive their own. "

The good Bernard's face glowed with satisfaction at this charge. It wasjust such a one as pleased him best, and such as he was well able tofulfil. Nobody more capable could well have been found for theguardianship and restoration of Basildene; and with this hoard to drawupon, the old house might well grow to a beauty and grandeur it hadnever known before. 

"Gracious Prince, I give you thanks on behalf of my nephew, and I willgladly do all that I may to carry out your behest. The day will comewhen Raymond de Brocas shall come in person to thank you for yourprincely liberality and generosity. "

"Tush, man, the gold is not mine; and some of it may have been come byhonestly, and belong fairly enough to the Sanghurst family. You say themother of these bold Gascon youths was a Sanghurst: it follows, then, that Basildene and all pertaining to it should be theirs. Raymond deBrocas has suffered much from the Sanghursts. By every law of right andjustice, it is he who should reap the reward, and find Basildenerestored to its former beauty before he comes to dwell within it. "

"And he shall so find it if I have means to compass it, " answered theuncle, with glad pride. 

His eye was then drawn to another part of the hall; for Sir HughVavasour had just come galloping up to the door in hot haste, havingheard all manner of strange rumours: the first being that his daughterhad been found, and was in hiding at Basildene; the second, which hadonly just reached his ears, that Peter Sanghurst was dead -- hanged byorder of the Prince, and that Basildene had been formally granted as theperpetual right of Raymond de Brocas and his heirs. 

"And Raymond de Brocas is the plighted husband of thy daughter, good SirHugh, " said Master Bernard, coming up to help his old friend out of hisbewilderment -- "plighted, that is, by themselves, by the right of atrue and loyal love. Thy daughter will still be the Lady of Basildene, and I think that thou wilt rather welcome my nephew as her lord than yonmiscreant, whose body is swinging on some tree not far away. Thou wertsomething too willing, my friend, to sell thy daughter for wealth; butfortune has been kind to her as well as to thee, and thou hast gainedfor her the wealth, and yet hast not sacrificed her brave young heart. Go to her now, and give her thy blessing, and tell her she may wed youngRaymond de Brocas so soon as he comes to claim her hand. "

 CHAPTER XXX. WITH THE PRINCE. [i]

"Sanghurst dead! Joan free! her father's consent won! I the Lord ofBasildene! Gaston, thou takest away my breath! Art sure thou art notmocking me?"

"Art sure that thou art indeed thyself, my lord of Basildene?" wasGaston's merry response, as he looked his brother over from head to footwith beaming face; "for, in sooth, I scarce should know thee for thebrother I left behind -- that wan and wasted creature, more like acorpse than a man. The good Brothers have indeed done well by thee, Raymond. Save that thou hast not lost thine old saintly look, whichstamps thee as something different from the rest of us, I should scarcehave thought it could be thee. This year spent in thine own native climehas made a new man of thee!"

"In truth I think it has, " answered Raymond, who was indeed wonderfullychanged from the time when Gaston had left him, rather more than tenmonths before. "We had no snow and no cold in the winter gone by, and Iwas able to take the air daily, and I grew strong wondrous fast. Thouhadst told me to be patient, to believe that all was well if I heardnothing from thee; and I strove to follow thy maxim, and that with goodsuccess. I knew that thou wouldst not let me go on hoping if hope meantbut a bitterer awaking. I knew that silence must mean there was workwhich thou wert doing. Many a time, as a white-winged vessel spread hersails for England's shores, have I longed to step on board and followthee across the blue water to see how thou wast faring; but then camealways the thought that thou mightest be on thy way hither, and thatthou wouldst chide me for having left these sheltering walls. And so Istayed on day after day, and week after week, until months had rolledby; and I began to say within myself that, if thou camest not before theautumn storms, I must e'en take ship and follow thee, for I could waitno 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 ourEnglish chivalry are here at Bordeaux this day. The hollow truce is atan end. Insult upon insult has been heaped upon England's King by theKing of France, the King of Navarre (who called himself our ally till hedeserted us to join the French King, who will yet avenge upon him hisfoul murder of Charles of Spain), and the Count of Blois in Brittany. England has been patient. Edward has listened long to the pleadings ofthe Pope, and has not rushed into war; but he cannot wait patiently forever. They have roused the lion at last, and he will not slumber againtill he has laid his foes in the dust. 

"Listen, Raymond: the Prince is here in Bordeaux. The faithful Gasconnobles -- 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 thePrince will but come to lead them, they will make gallant war upon theFrench King. John has long been striving to undermine England's power inhis kingdom, to rid himself of an enemy's presence in his country, to beabsolute lord over his vassals without their intermediate allegiance toanother master. It does not suffice that our great King does homage forhis lands in France (though he by rights is King of France himself). Heknows that here, in these sunny lands of the south, the Roy Outremer isbeloved as he has never been. He would fain rob our King of all hislands; he is planning and plotting to do it. "

"But the Roy Outremer is not to be caught asleep, " cried Raymond, with akindling glance, "and John of France is to learn what it is to havearoused 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 ashis English subjects, " answered Gaston quickly. "They love our Englishrule, they love our English ways; they will not tamely be transformedinto a mere fief of the French crown. They will fight for their feudallord, and stand stanchly by his banner. It is their express request thatbrings the Prince hither today. The King is to land farther north -- atCherbourg methinks it was to be; whilst my Lord of Lancaster has setsail for Brittany, to defend the Countess of Montford from the Count ofBlois, who has now paid his ransom and is free once more. His Majesty ofFrance will have enough to do to meet three such gallant foes in the field. 

"And listen still farther, Raymond, for the Prince has promised thisthing to me -- that as he marches through the land, warring against theFrench King, he will pause before the Castle of Saut and smoke out theold fox, who has long been a traitor at heart to the English cause. Andthe 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 thouthink of that?"

"Brother, I am glad at heart. It seemeth almost like a dream. Thou thelord of Saut and I of Basildene! Would that she were living yet to seethe fulfilment of her dream!"

"Ay, truly I would she were. But, Raymond, thou wilt join the Prince'sstandard; thou wilt march with us to strike a blow for England's honourand glory? Basildene and fair Mistress Joan are safe. No harm will cometo them by thine absence. And thou owest all to the Prince. Surely thouwilt not leave him in the hour of peril; thou wilt march beneath hisbanner and take thy share of the peril and the glory?"

Gaston spoke with eager energy, looking affectionately into hisbrother's face; and as he saw that look, Raymond felt that he could notrefuse his brother's request. For just a few moments he hesitated, forthe longing to see Joan once again and to clasp her in his arms was verystrong within him; but his brother's next words decided him. 

"Thy brother and the Prince have won Basildene for thee; surely thouwilt 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 henceforthbe divided; wherefore it behoves us in the time that remains to us tocling the more closely together. I will go with thee, brother, as thyfaithful esquire and comrade, and we will win back for thee the right tocall the old lands thine. How often we have dreamed together in ourchildhood of some such day! How far away it then appeared! and yet theday has come. "

"And thou wilt then see my Constanza, " said Gaston, in low, exultanttones -- "my lovely and gentle mistress, to whom thou, my brother, owestthy life. It is meet that thou shouldst be one to help to set her freefrom the tyranny of her rude uncle and the isolation of her dreary lifein 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 lookedupon, saving of course (to thee) thine own beauteous lady?"

"Methought it was some angel visitor from the unseen world, " answeredRaymond, "flitting into yon dark prison house, where it seemed that nosuch radiant creature could dwell. There was fever in my blood, and allI saw was through a misty veil, I scarce believed it more than a sweetvision; but I will thank her now for the whispered word of hope breathedin mine ear in the hour of my sorest need. "

"Ay, that thou shalt do!" cried Gaston, with all a lover's delight inthe 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 thisearth before -- my fairy Constanza, a creature of fire and snow; thyJoan, a veritable queen amongst women, stately, serene, full of dignityand courage, and beautiful as she is noble. "

"And thou art sure that she is safe?" questioned Raymond, his heartstill longing for the moment of reunion after the long separation, albeit those were days when the separation of years was no infrequentthing, even betwixt those most closely drawn by bonds of love. "There isnone else to come betwixt her and me? Her father will not strive tosunder us more?"

"Her father is but too joyous to be free from the power of theSanghurst; and the Prince spoke words that brought the flush of shametingling to his face. An age of chivalry, and a man selling his daughterfor filthy lucre to one renowned for his evil deeds and remorselesscruelties! A lady forced to flee her father's house and brave the perilsof 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 ofindignation in his eyes. And thy Joan stood beside him; he held her handthe while, as though he would show to all men that the heir of Englandwas the natural protector of outraged womanhood, that the upholder ofchivalry would stand to his colours, and be the champion of everydistressed damsel throughout the length and the breadth of the land. Andthe lady looked so proud and beautiful that I trow she might have hadsuitors and to spare in that hour; but the Prince, still holding herhand, told her father all the story of her plighted troth to thee --that truest troth plight of changeless love. And he told him how thatBasildene and all its treasure had been secured to thee, and asked himwas he willing to give his daughter to the Lord of Basildene? And SirHugh was but too glad that no more than this was asked of him, and inpresence of the Prince and of us all he pledged his daughter's hand tothee, I standing as thy proxy, as I have told thee. And now thy Joan iswell-nigh as fully thine as though ye had joined your hands in holywedlock. Thou hast naught to fear from her father's act. He is but toomuch rejoiced with the fashion in which all has turned out. His word ispledged before the Prince; and moreover thou art the lord of Basildeneand its treasure, and what more did he ever desire? It was a share inthat 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 ofblood. I would that the King had taken it for his own. It seemeth asthough it could never bring a blessing with it. "

"Methinks it could in thy hands and Joan's, " answered Gaston, with afond, proud glance at his brother's beautiful face; "and as the Princetruly said, since this scourge has swept through the land, claiming afull half of its inhabitants, it would be a hopeless task to try todiscover the real owners; and moreover a part may be the Sanghurststore, which men have always said is no small thing, and which in verytruth is now thine. But thou canst speak to Father Paul of all that. TheChurch will give thee holy counsel. Methinks that gold in thy handswould 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 theeagain. He has not forgot thee, brother mine, nor that exploit of thineat the surrender of Calais. "

Father Paul was not at that time within the Monastery walls, his dutiescalling him hither and thither, sometimes in one land and sometimes inanother. Raymond had enjoyed a peaceful time of rest and mentalrefreshment with the good monks, but he was more than ready to go forthinto the world again. Quiet and study were congenial to him, but thelife of a monk was not to his taste. He saw clearly the evils to whichsuch a calling was exposed, and how easy it was to forget the highideal, and fall into self indulgence, idleness, and sloth. 

Not that the abuses which in the end caused the monastic system to fallinto such contempt were at that time greatly developed; but the germs ofthe evil were there, and it needed a nature such as that of Father Pauland men of his stamp to show how noble the life of devotion could bemade. Ordinary men fell into a routine existence, and were in danger ofletting their duties and even their devotions become purely mechanical. 

Raymond said adieu to his hospitable entertainers with some naturalregrets, yet with a sense that there was a wider work for him to do inthe world than any he should ever find between Monastery walls. Evenapart from all thoughts of love and marriage, there was attraction forhim in the world of chivalry and warfare. His ambition took a differentform from that of the average youth of the day, but none the less forthat did it act upon him like a spur, driving him forth where strife andconflict were being waged, and where hard blows were to be struck. 

Gaston's brother was warmly welcomed in the camp of the Prince. Manythere were who remembered the dreamy-faced lad, who had seemed like ayoung Saint Michael amongst them, and still bore about with himsomething of that air of remoteness which was never without its effecteven upon the rudest of his companions. Indeed the ordeal through whichhe had passed had left an indelible stamp upon him. If the face lookedolder than of yore, it was not that the depth and spirituality of theexpression had in any wise diminished. 

The two brothers standing together formed a perfect picture incontrasted types -- the bronzed, stalwart soldier in his coat of mail, looking every inch the brave knight he was; and the slim, pale-facedRaymond, with the haunting eyes and wonderful smile, which irradiatedhis face like a gleam of light from another world, bearing about withhim that which seemed to stamp him as somewhat different from hisfellows, 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 allthat goodwill which naturally follows an act of generous interference onbehalf of an injured person. He made him sit beside him in his tent atsupper time, and tell him all his history; and the promise made toGaston with reference to the tyrant Lord of Saut was ratified anew asthe wine circulated at table. The chosen comrades of the Prince, who hadmost of them known the twin brothers for many years, vowed themselves tothe enterprise with hearty goodwill; and had the Lord of Navailles beenthere to hear, he might well have trembled for his safety, despite thestrong walls and deep moat that environed Saut. 

"Let his walls be never so strong, I trow we can starve or smoke the oldfox out!" quoth young Edward, laughing. "There be many strong citadels, many a fortified town, that will ere long open their gates at thesummons of England's Prince. How say ye, my gallant comrades? Shall theold Tower of Saut defy English arms? Shall we own ourselves beaten byany 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 thePrince, were bent on a career of glory and plunder. The inaction of thelong truce, with its perpetual sources of irritation and friction, hadbeen exasperating in the extreme. It was an immense relief to them tofeel that war had at last been declared, and that they could unfurltheir banners and march forth against their old enemy, and enrichthemselves for life at his expense. 

With the march of the Prince through south France we have little concernin this history. It was one long triumphal progress, not over and aboveglorious from a military standpoint; for there were no real battles, andthe accumulation of plunder and the infliction of grievous damage uponthe French King's possessions seemed the chief object of the expedition. Had there been any concerted resistance to the Prince's march, doubtlesshe might have shown something of his great military talents in directinghis forces in battle; but as it was, the country appeared paralyzed athis approach: place after place fell before him, or bought him off by aheavy price; and though there were several citadels in the vanquishedtowns which held out for France, the Prince seldom stayed to subduethem, but contented himself with plundering and burning the town. Not avery glorious style of warfare for those days of vaunted chivalry, yetone, nevertheless, characteristic enough of the times. Everyundertaking, however small, gave scope for deeds of individual gallantryand the exercise of individual acts of courtliness and chivalry; andeven the battles were often little more than a countless number ofhand-to-hand conflicts carried on by the individual members of theopposing armies. The Prince and his chosen comrades, always on the watchfor opportunities of showing their prowess and of exercising theirknightly 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 sawtheir path marked out by blazing villages and wasted fields; and almostall his own energies were concentrated in striving to do what one mancould achieve to mitigate the horrors of war for some of its helplessvictims. 

Narbonne, on the Gulf of Lions, was the last place attacked and taken bythe Prince, who then decided to return with his spoil to Bordeaux, andpass the remainder of the winter in the capture of certain places thatwould be useful to the English. 

Nothing had all this time been spoken as to Saut, which lay out of theline of their march in the heart of friendly Gascony. But the projecthad by no means been abandoned, and the Prince was but waiting afavourable 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, butby no means prepared to adventure his person into the hands of a feudallord against whom his own sword had more than once been drawn. He waswell aware, no doubt, that there were pages in his past history withregard to his relations with France that would not bear inspection byEnglish eyes, and perhaps he trusted to the remoteness and obscurity ofhis two castles to save him from the notice of the Prince. 

The terror inspired by the English arms in France is a thing that mustalways excite the wonder and curiosity of the readers of history. It wasdisplayed on and after the Battle of Crecy, when Edward's army, ifnumbers counted for anything, ought to have been simply annihilated bythe vast musters of the French, who were in their own land surrounded byfriends, whilst the English were a small band in the midst of a hostileand infuriated population. This same thing was seen again in the marchof the Prince of Wales, soon to be called the Black Prince, when cityafter city bought him off, hopeless of resisting his progress; and whenthe army mustered by the Count of Armagnac to oppose the retreat of theEnglish to Bordeaux with their spoil was seized with a panic after themerest skirmish, and fled, leaving the Prince to pursue his way unmolested. 

If the conduct of the English army was somewhat inglorious, certainlythe behaviour of their foes was still more so. The English were alwaysready to fight if they could find an enemy to meet them. Possibly thedoubtful character of the Prince's first campaign was less his faultthan that of his pusillanimous enemies. 

Bordeaux reached, however, and the Gascon soldiers dismissed to theirhomes for the winter months, the Prince promising to lead them next yearupon a more glorious campaign, in which fresh spoil was to be won andmore victories achieved, there was time for the consideration of objectsof minor importance, and a breathing space wherein private interestscould be considered. 

Gaston had repressed all impatience during the march of the Prince. Hehad not looked that his own affairs should take the foremost place inthe Prince's scheme. Moreover, he saw well that it would give a falsecolour to the expedition if the first march of the Prince had been intoGascony; nor was the capture of so obscure a fortress as the Castle ofSaut a matter to engross the energies of the whole of the allied army. 

But now that the army was partially disbanded, whilst the Englishcontingent was either in winter quarters in Bordeaux or engaged here andthere in the capture of such cities and fortresses as the Prince decidedworth the taking, the moment appeared to be favourable for thatlong-wished-for capture of Saut; and Gaston, taking his brother asideone day, eagerly opened to him his mind. 

"Raymond, I have spoken to the Prince. He is ready and willing to giveme men at any time I ask him. Perchance he will even come himself, ifduty 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 dayand the hour for such a matter. "

Gaston passed his hand through his hair, and a softer light shone in hiseyes. His brother knew of whom he was thinking, and he was not surprisedat the next words. 

"Raymond, methinks before I do aught else I must see her once more. Myheart is hungry for her. I think of her by day and dream of her bynight. Perchance there might be some more peaceful way of winningentrance to Saut than by battering down the walls, and doing by hap somehurt to the precious treasure within. Brother, wilt thou wander forthwith me once again -- thou and I, and a few picked men, in case of perilby the way, to visit Saut by stealth? We would go by the way of FatherAnselm's and our old home. I have a fancy to see the dear old faces onceagain. 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 Iadventured not myself so near the den of Navailles. The Brothers wouldnot permit it. They feared lest I might fall again into his power. Gladly, indeed, would I come and see them once again. I have picturedmany times how, when thou art Lord of Saut, I will bring my Joan tovisit thee, and show her to good Jean and Margot and saintly FatherAnselm. I would fain talk to them of that day. They ever feel towards usas though we were their children in very truth. "

There was no difficulty in obtaining the Prince's sanction to thisabsence from Bordeaux. He gave the brothers free leave to carry outtheir plan by any means they chose, promising if they sent him word atany time that they were ready for the assault, he would either comehimself or send a picked band of veterans to their aid; and saying thatGaston was to look upon himself as Lord of Saut, by mandate from theEnglish King, who would enforce his right by his royal power if anyusurping noble dared to dispute it with him. 

Thus fortified by royal warrant, and with a heart beating high with hopeand love, Gaston set out with some two score soldiers as a bodyguard toreconnoitre the land; and upon the evening of the second day, thebrothers saw, in the fast-fading light of the winter's day, the redroofs of the old mill lying peacefully in the gathering shadows of theearly night. 

Their men had been dismissed to find quarters in the village forthemselves, and Roger was their only attendant, as they drew rein beforethe door of the mill, and saw the miller coming quickly round the angleof 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 hishome springing easily to his lips, though the English tongue was now theone in which his thoughts framed themselves. "Good Jean, dost thou notknow 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 wordspassed Gaston's lips before there darted out from the open door of thehouse a light and fairy-like form, and a silvery cry of rapture brokefrom the lips of the winsome maiden, whilst Gaston leaped from his horsewith a smothered exclamation, and in another moment the light fairy formseemed 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 loverstowards 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, " answeredJean, all aglow with delight; but then, understanding better the driftof 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 onenight nigh upon six months agone, and we had long been abed, when weheard a wailing sound beneath our windows, and Margot declared there wasa maiden sobbing in the garden below. She went down to see, and then themaid told her a strange, wild tale. She was of the kindred of the Sieurde 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 heardof your captivity and rescue, we knew that she spoke the truth. She saidthat since the escape, which had so perplexed the wicked lord, he hadbecome more fierce and cruel than before, and that he seemed in somesort to suspect her, though of what she scarce knew. She told us thathis mind seemed to be deserting him, that she feared he was growinglunatic. He was so fierce and wild at times that she feared for her ownlife. She bore it as long as her maid, the faithful Annette, lived; butin the summer she fell sick of a fever, and died -- the lady knew not ifit were not poison that had carried her off -- and a great terror seizedher. Not two days later, she fled from her gloomy home, and not knowingwhere else to hide her head, she fled hither, trusting that her loverwould shortly come to free her from her uncle's tyranny, as he hadsworn, and believing that the home which had sheltered the infancy ofthe 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 ithard. "It was like you to do it, kind, good souls! My brother will thankyou, 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. Iwould see her and thank her, for Gaston has no eyes nor ears for any onebut his fair lady. "

Gaston, indeed, was like one in a dream. He could scarce believe theevidence of his senses; and it was a pretty sight to see how the winsomeConstanza clung to him, and how it seemed as though she could not bearto let her eyes wander for a moment from his face. 

Only at night, when the brothers stood together in the room they hadoccupied of yore, and clasped each other by the hand in warmcongratulation, did Raymond really know how this meeting affected theobject 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 fromwhat Constanza says. Tomorrow we will to Saut, to see what we maydiscover there on the spot. It may be we may have no bloody warfare towage; it may be that Saut may be won without the struggle we havethought. His own people are terrified before him. Constanza thinks thatI have but to declare myself and show the King's warrant to beproclaimed by all as Lord and Master of Saut. "

 CHAPTER XXXI. THE SURRENDER OF SAUT. 

"In the King's name!"

The old seneschal at the drawbridge eyed with glances of awed suspicionthe gallant young knight who had ridden so boldly up to the walls ofSaut and had bidden him lower the bridge. A few paces behind the leaderwas a compact little body of horsemen, all well mounted and well armed, though it was little their bright weapons could do against the solidwalls of the grim old fortress, girdled as it was with its wide and deepmoat. The pale sunshine of a winter's day shone upon the trappings ofthe little band, and lighted up the stone walls with something ofunwonted brightness. It revealed to those upon the farther side of themoat the perplexed countenance of the old seneschal, who did not meetGaston's bold demand for admittance with defiance or refusal, but stoodstaring at the apparition, as if not knowing what to make of it; andwhen the demand had been repeated somewhat more peremptorily, he stillstood doubtful and hesitating, saying over and over to himself the samewords:

"In the King's name! in the King's name!"

"Ay, fellow, in the King's name, " repeated Gaston sternly. "Wilt thousee his warrant? I have it here. Thou hadst best have a care how thousettest at defiance the King's seal and signet. Knowest thou not thathis royal son is within a few leagues of this very spot?"

The old man only shook his head, as if scarce comprehending the drift ofthese words, and presently he looked up to ask:

"Of which King speak you, good Sir Knight?"

"Of the English King, fellow, the only King I acknowledge! Whose servantdoth thy master call himself? Thou hadst better go and tell him thatKing Edward of England has sent a message to him. "

"Tell my master!" repeated the seneschal, with a strange gesture, as helifted his hand and touched his head. "To what good would that be? Mymaster understands no word that is said to him. He raves up and down thehall day by day, taking note of naught about him. Thou hadst best have acare how thou beardest him, Sir Knight. We go in terror of our verylives through him. "

"Ye need go no longer in that fear, " cried Gaston, with a kindling ofthe eyes, as he bared his noble head and looked forth at the old manwith his fearless glance, "for in me ye will find a master whom noneneed fear who do their duty by him and by the King. Seneschal, I standhere the lawful Lord of Saut -- lord by hereditary right, and by themandate of England's King, the Roy Outremer, as you call him. I amGaston de Brocas, of the old race who owned these lands long before thefalse Navailles had set foot therein. I have come back armed with theKing's warrant to claim mine own. 

"Say, men, will ye have me for your lord? or will ye continue to serveyon raging madman till England's King sends an army to raze Saut to theground, and slay the rebellious horde within these ancient walls?"

Gaston had raised his voice as he had gone on speaking, for he saw thatthe dialogue with the old seneschal had attracted the attention of anumber of men-at-arms, who had gradually mustered about the gate to hearwhat was passing. 

Gaston spoke his native dialect like one of themselves. The name of DeBrocas was known far and wide in that land, and was everywhere spokenwith affection and respect. The fierce rapacity of the Navailles wasequally feared and hated. Even the stout soldiers who had followed hisfortunes so long regarded him with fear and distrust. No man in thosedays felt certain of his life. If he chanced to offend the madman, asavage blow from that strong arm might fell him to the earth; whilstsome amongst their companions had from time to time mysteriouslydisappeared, and their fate had never been disclosed. 

A sense of fearfulness and uncertainty had long reigned at Saut. The madmaster had his own myrmidons in the Tower, who would do his biddingwhatever that bidding might be; and that there were dark secrets hiddenaway in those underground dungeons and secret chambers everybody in theCastle well knew. Hardly one of the men now gathered on the oppositeside of the moat but had awakened at some time or other from a horriddream, believing himself to have been spirited down into those gloomysubterranean places, there to expiate some trifling offence, accordingas their savage lord should give order. Many of these men had assistedat scenes which seemed frightful to them when they pictured themselvesthe victims of the cruelty of the fierce man they had long served, butwhom now they had grown to fear and distrust. 

A sense of horror had long been hanging over Saut, and since thedisappearance of the maiden who once had brightened the grim place byher presence, this horror had perceptibly deepened. Not one of all themen-at-arms dared even to his fellow to propose the remedy. Each fearedthat if he breathed what was in his own mind, the very walls wouldwhisper it in the ears of their lord, and that the offender would bedoomed to some horrible death, to act as a warning to others like-mindedwith himself. Since the loss of his niece, almost as mysterious to himas the escape of Raymond de Brocas from the prison, the clouds of doubtand suspicion had closed more and more darkly round the miserable man, who had let himself become the slave of his passions until these hadincreased to absolute madness. His unbridled fury and fits of maniacrage had estranged from him even the most attached of his old retainers, and in proportion as he felt this with the instinct of cunning andmadness, the more did he exact from those about him protestations ofzeal and faithfulness, the more did he watch the words and actions ofhis servants, and mark the smallest attempt on their part to restrain orthwart him. 

Small wonder was it, then, when Gaston de Brocas stood forth in thesunshine, the King's warrant in his hand, words of good augury upon hislips, and a compact little body of armed men at his back, proclaiminghimself the Lord of Saut, and inviting to his service the men who werenow trembling before the caprices and cruel cunning of a madman, thatthey exchanged wondering glances, and spoke in eager whispers together, fearful lest the Navailles should approach from behind ere they wereaware of it, and feeling that there was here such a chance of escapefrom miserable bondage as might never occur again. 

And whilst they still hesitated -- for the fear of treachery was neverabsent from the minds of those bred up in habits and thoughts oftreachery -- another wonder happened. Out from the little knot a fewpaces behind the young knight two more figures pressed forward, and themen-at-arms rubbed their eyes and looked on in silent wonder: for one ofthe pair was none other than the fairy maiden who had lived so longamongst them, and had endeared herself even to these rude spirits by hergrace and sweetness and undefinable charm; the other, that youth withthe wonderful eyes and saint-like face who had been captured and borneaway to Saut after the battle before St. Jean d'Angely, and whose bodythey all believed had long ago been lying beneath the sullen waters ofthe moat, where so many victims of their lord's hatred had found theirlast resting place. 

And as they stared and looked at one another and stared again, a silveryvoice was uplifted, and they all held their breath to listen. 

"My friends, " said the lady, urging her palfrey till she reachedGaston's side, and could feel his hand upon hers, "I have come hitherwith this noble knight, Sir Gaston de Brocas, because he is my betrothedhusband and liege lord, and I have the right to be at his side even inthe hour of peril, but also because you all know me; and when I tell youthat every word he has spoken is true, I trow ye will believe it. Therehe stands, the lawful Lord of Saut, and if ye will but own him as yourlord, you will find in him a wise, just, and merciful master, who willprotect you from the mad fury of yon miserable man whom now ye serve, and will lead you to more glorious feats of arms than any ye havedreamed of before. Hitherto ye have been little better than robbers andoutlaws. Have ye no wish for better things than ye have won under thebanner of Navailles?"

The men exchanged glances, and visibly wavered. They compared theircoarse and stained garments, their rusty arms and batteredaccoutrements, with the brilliant appearance of the little band ofsoldiers standing on the opposite side of the moat, their armour shiningin the sunlight, their steeds well fed and well groomed, arching theirnecks and pawing the ground, every man and every horse showing plainlythat they came from a region of abundance of good things; whilst themilitary precision of their aspect showed equally well that they wouldbe antagonists of no insignificant calibre, if the moment should comewhen they were transformed from friends to foes. 

Constanza saw the wavering and hesitation amongst her uncle's men. Shewell knew their discontent at their own lot, their fearful distrust oftheir lord. She knew, too, that it was probably some fear of treacheryalone that withheld them from making cause at once with the De Brocas --treachery having been only too much practised amongst them by their ownfierce master -- and again her voice rang out clear and sweet. 

"Men, listen again to me. I speak to counsel you for your good; forfierce and cruel as ye have been to your foes, ye have ever been kindand gentle to me when I was with you in these walls. What think ye togain by defying the great King of England? Think ye that he will spareyou if ye arouse him to anger by impotent resistance? What more couldKing have done for you than send to be your lord a noble Gascon knight;one of your own race and language; one who, as ye all must know, has afar better right to hold these lands than any of the race of Navailles?Here before you stands Sir Gaston de Brocas, offering you place in hisservice if ye will but swear to him that allegiance he has the right toclaim. The offer is made in clemency and mercy, because he would notthat any should perish in futile resistance. Men, ye know that he comesto this place with the King's mandate that Saut be given up to him. Ifit be not peaceably surrendered, what think ye will happen next?

"I will tell you. Ye have heard of the Prince of Wales, son of the RoyOutremer; doubtless even to these walls has come the news of thattriumphal march of his, where cities have surrendered or ransomedthemselves to him, and nothing has been able to stay the might of hisconquering arm. That noble Prince and valiant soldier is now not faraway. We have come from his presence, and are here with his knowledgeand sanction. If we win you over, and gain peaceable possession of thesewalls, good; no harm will befall any living creature within them. But ifye prove obdurate; if ye will not listen to the voice of reason; if yestill hold with rebellious defiance to the lord ye have served, and whohas shown himself so little worthy of your service, then will the Princeand his warriors come with all their wrath and might to inflictchastisement upon you, and take vengeance upon you, as enemies of the King. 

"Say, men, how can ye hope to resist the might of the Prince's arm? Say, which will ye do -- be the free servants of Gaston de Brocas, or dielike rats in a hole for the sake of yon wicked madman, whose slaves yehave long been? Which shall it be -- a De Brocas or a Navailles?"

Something in this last appeal stirred the hearts of the men. It seemedas though a veil were torn from their eyes. They seemed to see all in amoment the hopelessness of their position as vassals of Navailles, andthe folly of attempting resistance to one so infinitely more worthy tobe called their lord. It was no stranger coming amongst them -- it wasone of the ancient lords of the soil; and the sight of the youthfulknight, sitting there on his fine horse, with his fair lady beside him, was enough to stir the pulses and awaken the enthusiasm of an ardentrace, even though the nobler instincts had been long sleeping in thebreasts of these men. They hated and distrusted their old lord with ahatred he had well merited; and degraded as they had become in hisservice, they had not yet sunk so low but that they could feel with thekeenness of instinct, rather than by any reasoning powers theypossessed, that this young knight was a man to be trusted and be loved-- that if they became his vassals they would receive vastly differenttreatment from any they had received from the Sieur de Navailles. 

There was one long minute's pause, whilst looks and whispered words wereexchanged, and then a shout arose:

"De Brocas! De Brocas! We will live and die the servants of De Brocas!"whilst at the same moment the drawbridge slowly descended, and Gaston, at the head of his gallant little band, with Raymond and Constanza athis side, rode proudly over the sounding planks, and found himself, forthe first time in his life, in the courtyard of the Castle of Saut. 

"De Brocas! De Brocas!" shouted the men, all doubt and hesitation doneaway with in a moment at sight of the gallant show thus made, enthusiasmkindling in every breast as the sweet lady rained smiles and graciouswords upon the rough men, who had always had a soft spot in their heartfor her; whilst Raymond's earnest eyes and Gaston's courtly andchivalrous bearing were not without effect upon the ruder natures ofthese lonely residents of Saut. It seemed to them as though they hadbeen invaded by some denizens from another world, and murmurs of wonderand reverent admiration mingled with the cheering with which Gaston deBrocas was received as Lord of Saut. 

But there was still one more person to be faced. The men had acceptedthe sovereignty of a new lord, and were already rejoicing in the escapefrom the dreaded tyranny they had not had the resolution to shake offunprompted; but there was still the Sieur de Navailles to be dealt with, and impotent as he might be in the desertion of his old followers, itwas necessary to see and speak with him, and decide what must be donewith the man who was believed by those about him to be little betterthan a raging maniac. 

"Where is your master?" asked Gaston of the old seneschal, who stood athis bridle rein, his eyes wandering from his face to that of Raymond andConstanza and back again; "I marvel that this tumult has not brought himforth. "

"The walls are thick, " replied the old man, "and he lives for daystogether in a world of his own, no sound or sight from withoutpenetrating his understanding. Then again he will awaken from his dream, and show us that he has heard and seen far more than we have thought. And if any man amongst us has dropped words that have incensed him --well, there have been men who have disappeared from amongst us and havenever been seen more; and tales are whispered of horrid cries and groansthat have issued as from the very bowels of the earth each timefollowing their spiriting away. "

Constanza shuddered, and a black frown crossed Gaston's face as he gaveone quick glance at his brother, who had so nearly shared thatmysterious and terrible doom. 

"The man is a veritable fiend. He merits scant mercy at our hands. Hehas black crimes upon his soul. Seneschal, lead on. Take us to him yeonce owned as sovereign lord. I trow ye will none of you lament the dayye transferred your allegiance from yon miscreant to Gaston de Brocas!"

Another cheer, heartier than the last, broke from the lips of all themen. They had been joined now by their comrades within the Castle, andin the sense of freedom from the hateful tyranny of their old master allwere rejoicing and filled with enthusiasm. 

For once they were free from all fear of treachery. Gaston's own pickedband of stalwart veterans was guarantee enough that might as well asright was on the side of the De Brocas. The sight of those well-equippedmen-at-arms, all loyal and full of affectionate enthusiasm for theiryouthful lord, showed these rude retainers how greatly to theiradvantage would be this change of masters; and before Gaston haddismounted and walked across the courtyard towards the portal of theCastle, he felt, with a swelling of the heart that Raymond wellunderstood, that Saut was indeed his own. 

"This is the way to the Sieur de Navailles, " said the old seneschal, asthey passed beneath the frowning doorway into a vaulted stone hall. "Hespends whole days and nights pacing up and down like a wild beast in acage. He scarce leaves the hall, save when he wanders forth into theforest, and that has not happened since the cold winds have blown hard. You will find him within those doors, good gentlemen. Shall I make knownyour presence to him?"

It was plain that the old man had no small fear of his master, and wouldgladly be spared this office. Gaston looked round to see that some ofhis own followers were close behind and on the alert, and then takingConstanza's hand in his, and laying his right hand upon the hilt of hissword, he signed to the seneschal to throw open the massive oaken doors, and walked fearlessly in with Raymond at his side. 

They found themselves in the ancient banqueting hall of the fortress --a long, lofty, rather narrow room, with a heavily-raftered ceiling, twohuge fireplaces, one at either end, and a row of very narrow windows cutin the great thickness of the wall occupying almost the whole of oneside of the place; whilst a long table was placed against the oppositewall, with benches beside it, and another smaller table was placed upona small raised dais at the far end of the apartment. On this dais wasalso set a heavy oaken chair, close beside the glowing hearth; and atthis moment it was plain that the occupant of the chair had beendisturbed by the commotion from without, and had suddenly risen to hisfeet, for he stood grasping the oaken arms, his wild gray hair hangingin matted masses about his seamed and wrinkled face, and his holloweyes, in which a fierce light blazed, turned upon the intruders in aglare of impotent fury. 

"Who are ye who thus dare to intrude upon me here? What is all thistumult I hear in mine own halls?

"Seneschal, art thou there? Send hither to me my soldiers; bid them bindthese men, and carry them to the dungeons. I will see them there. Ha, ha! I will talk with them there. I will deal with them there. What ho!Send me the jailer and his assistants! Let them light the fires and heathot the irons. Let them prepare our welcome for guests to Saut. Ha, ha!Ho, ho! These brave gallants shall taste our hospitality. Who broughtthem in? Where were they found? Methinks they will prove a rich booty. Would that good Peter Sanghurst were here to help me in the task ofentertaining these new guests!"

The man was a raving lunatic; that was plain to the most inexperiencedeye from the first moment. He knew not his own niece, he knew not the DeBrocas brothers, though Raymond's face must have been familiar to himhad he been in his right senses. He was still in fancy the undisputedlord of these wide lands, scouring the country for English travellers orprisoners of meaner mould; acting here in Gascony much the same part asthe Sanghursts had more cautiously done in England, and as the Barons ofboth France and England had long done, though their day of irresponsibleand autocratic power was well-nigh at an end. 

He glared upon the brothers and their attendants with savage fury, stillcalling out to his men to carry them to the dungeons, still believingthem to be a band of travellers taken prisoners by his own orders, raving and raging in his impotent fury till the gust of passion had wornitself out, and in a sullen amaze he sank into his seat, still gazingout from under his shaggy brows at the intruders, but the passion andfury for a moment at an end. 

"He will understand better what you say to him now, Sir Knight, "whispered the old seneschal, who alone of the men belonging to theCastle dared to enter the hall where their maniac master was. "His mindcomes back to him sometimes after he has raved himself quiet. We dreadhis sullen moods almost more than his wild ones. 

"Have a care how you approach him. He is as cunning as a fox, and ascrafty as he is cruel. He always has some weapon beneath his robe. Havea care, I say, how you approach him. "

Gaston nodded, but he was too fearless by nature to pay much heed to thewarning; he felt himself more than a match for that bowed-down old man. Giving Constanza into Raymond's charge, he stepped boldly up to thedais, and doffing his headpiece, addressed himself to his adversary infirm though courteous accents. 

"My Lord of Navailles, " he said, "I am come to claim mine own. If thouknowest me not, I will tell thee who I am -- Gaston de Brocas, the Lordof Saut in mine own right, and by the mandate of the King which I holdin mine hand. Long hast thou held lands to which thou hadst no right, but the day has come when I claim mine own again, and am prepared to dobattle for it to the death. But here is no battle needed. Thine own menhave called me lord; they have obeyed the mandate of the King, and haveopened their gates to me. I stand here the Lord of Saut. Thy power andthy reign are over for ever. Grossly hast thou abused that power when itwas thine. Now, like all tyrants, thou art finding that thy servantsfall away in the hour of peril, and that thou, who hast been a cruelmaster, canst command no service from them in the time of need. I, and Ialone, am Lord of Saut. Hast thou aught to say ere thou yieldestdominion to me?"

Did he understand? Those standing round and breathlessly watching thecurious scene could scarce be sure; but there was a look ofcomprehension and of intense baffled rage and malice in those cavernouseyes that sent a shiver through Constanza's light frame. 

"Have a care, Gaston; have a care!" she cried, with sudden shrillness, as she saw a quick movement of those knotted sinewy hands beneath thecoarse robe the old man wore; and in another moment both she and Raymondhad sprung forward, for there was a flash of keen steel, and the madmanhad flung himself upon Gaston with inconceivable rapidity of motion. 

For a moment there was a hideous scuffle. Blood was flowing, they knewnot whose. Gaston acted solely on the defensive. He would not raise hishand against one who was old and lunatic, and near in blood to her whomhe held dear; but he wrestled valiantly in the iron grip of armsstronger than his own, and he felt that some struggle was going on abovehim, though for the moment his own breath seemed suspended, and his verylife pressed out of him. 

Then came a sudden sense of release. His enemy had relaxed his bear-likeclasp. Gaston sprang to his feet to see his enemy falling backwards in ahelpless collapse, the hilt of a dagger clasped between his knottedhands -- the sharp blade buried in his own heart. 

"He has killed himself!" cried Constanza, with eyes dilated with horror, as she sprang to Gaston's side. It had all been so quick that it washard to tell what had befallen in those few seconds of life-and-deathstruggle. Gaston was bleeding from a slight flesh wound in the arm, butthat was the only hurt he had received; whilst his foe --

"He strove to plunge the dagger in thy breast, Gaston, " said Raymond, who was supporting the head of the dying man; "and failing that, hethought to smother thee in his bear-like clasp, that has crushed thelife out of enemies before now, as we have ofttimes heard. When he feltother foes around him unloosing that clasp, and knew himself balked ofhis purpose, he clutched the weapon thou hadst dashed from his hand andburied it in his own body. As he has lived, so has he died -- defiant tothe very end. But the madness-cloud may have hung long upon his spirit. Perchance some of the worst of his crimes may not be laid to his charge. "

As Raymond spoke, the dying man opened his eyes, and fixed them upon theface bending over him. The light of sullen defiance which had shonethere but a few short moments ago changed to something strange and newas he met the calm, compassionate glance of those expressive eyes nowfixed upon him. He seemed to give a slight start, and to strive to drawhimself away. 

"Thou here!" he gasped -- "thou! Hast thou indeed come from the spiritworld to mock me in my last moments? I know thee now, Raymond de Brocas!I have seen thee before -- thou knowest how and where. Methinks the veryangels of heaven must have spirited thee away. Why art thou here now?"

"To bid thee ask forgiveness for thy sins with thy dying breath, "answered Raymond, gently yet firmly; "to bid thee turn thy thoughts forone last moment towards thy Saviour, and though thou hast scorned andrebelled against Him in life, to ask His pardoning mercy in death. Hehas pardoned a dying miscreant ere now. Wilt thou not take upon thy lipsthat dying thief's petition, and cry 'Lord, remember me;' or thisprayer, 'Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner'?"

A gray shadow was creeping over the rugged face, the lips seemed tomove, but no words came forth. There was no priest at hand to listen toa dying confession, or to pronounce a priestly absolution, and yetRaymond had spoken as if there might yet be mercy for an erring, sin-stained soul, if it would but turn in its last agony to theCrucified One -- the Saviour crucified for the sins of the whole world. 

It must be remembered that there was less of priestcraft -- less of whatwe now call popery -- in those earlier days than there came to be lateron; and the springs of truth, though somewhat tainted, were notpoisoned, as it were, at the very source, as they afterwards became. Something of the purity of primitive times lingered in the minds of men, and here and there were always found pure spirits upon whom the errorsof man obtained no hold -- spirits that seemed to rise superior to theirsurroundings, and hold communion direct with heaven itself. Such anature and such a mind was Raymond's; and his clear, intense faith hadbeen strengthened and quickened by the vicissitudes through which he hadpassed. He did not hesitate to point the dying soul straight to theSaviour Himself, without mediation from the Blessed Virgin or the HolySaints. Love and revere these he might and did; but in the presence ofthat mighty power of death, in that hour when flesh and heart do fail, he felt as he had felt when he believed his own soul was to be calledaway -- when it seemed as though no power could avail to save him from afearful fate -- that to God alone must the cry of the suffering soul beraised; that into the Saviour's hands alone could the departing soul becommitted. He did not speak to others of these thoughts -- thoughtswhich in later days came to be branded with the dreaded name of "heresy"-- but he held them none the less surely in the depths of his ownspirit; and now, when all but he would have stood aside with pitifulhelplessness, certain that nothing could be done for the dying man inabsence of a priest, Raymond strove to lead his thoughts upwards, thatthough his life had been black and evil, he might still die with hisface turned Godwards, with a cry for mercy on his lips. 

Nor was this hope in vain; for at the last the old man raised himselfwith a strength none believed him to possess, and raising his hand heclasped that of Raymond, and said:

"Raymond de Brocas, I strove to compass thy death, and thou hast come tome in mine hour of need, and spoken words of hope. If thou canst forgive-- thou so cruelly treated, so vilely betrayed -- it may be that theSaviour, whose servant thou art, can forgive yet greater crimes. 

"Christ have mercy upon me! Lord have mercy upon me! Christ have mercyupon me! My worldly possessions are fled: let them go; they are in goodhands. May Christ pardon my sins, and receive me at last to Himself!"

He looked earnestly at Raymond, who understood him, and whispered thelast prayers of the Church in his ear. A look of calm and peace fellupon that wild and rugged face; and drawing one sigh, and slightlyturning himself towards his former foe, the old ruler of Saut fellasleep, and died with the two De Brocas brothers standing beside him. 

 CHAPTER XXXII. ON THE FIELD OF POITIERS. 

The face of the Prince was dark and grave. He had posted his gallantlittle army in the strongest position the country afforded; but his menwere ill-fed, and though brave as lions and eager for the battle, werebut a handful of troops compared with the vast French host opposed to them. 

Eight thousand against fifty or even sixty thousand! Such an inequalitymight well make the stoutest heart quail. But there was no fear in youngEdward's eyes, only a glance of stern anxiety slightly dashed withregret; for the concessions just made to the Cardinal de Perigord, whowas earnestly striving to arrange terms between the rival armies and soavoid the bloodshed of a battle, went sorely against the grain of thewarrior prince, and he was almost disposed to repent that he had beeninduced to make them. 

But his position was sufficiently critical, and defeat meant theannihilation of the gallant little army who had followed his fortunesthrough two campaigns, and who were to a man his devoted servants. Hehad led them, according to promise, upon another long march of unopposedplunder and victory, right into the very heart of France; whilst anotherEnglish army in Normandy and Brittany had been harassing the FrenchKing, and averting his attention from the movements of his son. 

Perhaps young Edward's half-matured plan had been to join the otherEnglish forces in the north, for he was too much the general and thesoldier to think of marching upon Paris or of attacking the French armywith his own small host. Indeed, a few reverses had recently taught himthat he had already ventured almost too far into the heart of a hostilecountry; and he was, in fact, retreating upon Bordeaux, believing theFrench army to be behind him, when he discovered that it was in front ofhim, intercepting his farther progress, and he was made aware of thisunwelcome fact by seeing the advance guard of his own army literally cutto pieces by the French soldiers before he could come to their assistance. 

Realizing at once the immense peril of his position, the Prince hadmarched on till he reached a spot where he could post his men to someadvantage amongst hedges and bushes that gave them shelter, and wouldserve to embarrass an attacking foe, and in particular any charge ofcavalry. The place selected was some six miles from Poitiers, andpossessed so many natural advantages that the Prince felt encouraged tohope for a good issue to the day, albeit the odds were fearfully to hisdisadvantage. 

He had looked to be speedily attacked by the French King, who was inperson leading his host; but the Saturday passed away without anyadvance, and on Sunday morning the good Cardinal de Perigord began tostrive to bring matters to a peaceable issue. 

Brave as the young Prince was, and great as his reliance on his men hadalways been, his position was perilous in the extreme, and he had beenwilling to listen to the words of the Cardinal. Indeed, he had madewonderful concessions to the messenger of peace, for he had at lastconsented to give up all the places he had taken, to set free allprisoners, and to swear not to take up arms against the King of Francefor seven years; and now he stood looking towards the French host with afrown of anxious perplexity upon his face, for the Cardinal had goneback to the French King with this message, and already the Prince washalf repentant at having conceded so much. He had been persuaded ratheragainst his will, and he was wondering what his royal father would saywhen he should hear. 

He had been thinking rather of his brave soldiers' lives than his ownmilitary renown, when he had let himself be won over by the goodCardinal. Had he, after all, made a grand mistake?

His knights stood around, well understanding the conflict going on inhis breast, and sympathizing deeply with him in this crisis of his life, but not knowing themselves what it were best to do. The sun was creepingto the horizon before the Cardinal was seen returning, and his face wasgrave and sorrowful as he was ushered into the presence of the Prince. 

"My Liege, " he said, in accents of regret, "it is but sorry news I haveto bring you. My royal master of his own will would have gladly listenedto the terms to which your consent has been won, save for the viciouscounsel of my lord Bishop of Chalons, Renaud Chauveau, who hates yournation so sorely that he has begged the King, even upon his bendedknees, to slay every English soldier in this realm rather than sufferthem to escape just when they had fallen into his power, rather thanlisten to overtures of submission without grasping the victory of bloodwhich God had put into his hands. Wherefore my liege the King has vowedthat he will consent to nothing unless you yourself, together with onehundred of your knights, will give yourselves up into his hand withoutcondition. "

Young Edward's eyes flashed fire. A look more like triumph than dismaycrossed his noble face. Looking at the sorrowful Cardinal, with thelight of battle in his eyes, he said in ringing tones:

"My Lord Cardinal, I thank you for your goodwill towards us. You are agood and holy man, an ambassador of peace, and as such you arefulfilling your Master's will. But I can listen no longer to your words. Go back to the King of France, and tell him that I thank him for hislast demand, because it leaves me no choice but to fight him to thedeath; and ten thousand times would I rather fight than yield, albeitpersuaded to submit to terms by your eloquent pleading. Return to yourlord, and tell him that Edward of England defies him, and will meet himin battle so soon as it pleases him to make the attack. I fear him not. The English have found no such mighty antagonists in the French thatthey should fear them now. 

"Go, my Lord Cardinal, and carry back my message of defiance. Ereanother sun has set I hope to meet John of France face to face in theforemost of the fight!"

A shout of joy and triumph rose from a hundred throats as this answerwas listened to by the Prince's knights, and the cheer was taken up andechoed by every soldier in the camp. It was the signal, as all knewwell, that negotiation had failed; and the good Cardinal wentsorrowfully back to the French lines, whilst the English soldiersredoubled their efforts at trenching the ground and strengthening theirposition -- efforts which had been carried on ceaselessly all throughthis and the preceding day, regardless of the negotiations for peace, which many amongst them hoped would prove abortive. 

Then up to the Prince's side stepped bold Sir James Audley, who had beenhis counsellor and adviser during the whole of the campaign, and bywhose advice the coming battle was being arranged. 

"Sire, " he said, bending the knee before his youthful lord, "I long agovowed a vow that if ever I should find myself upon the field of battlewith the King of England or his son, I would be foremost in the fightfor his defence. Sire, that day has now dawned -- or will dawn withtomorrow's sun. Grant me, I pray you, leave to be the first to chargeinto yon host, and so fulfil the vow long registered before God. "

"Good Sir James, it shall be even as thou wilt, " answered the Prince, extending his hand. "But if thou goest thus into peril, sure thou wiltnot go altogether alone?"

"I will choose out four knightly comrades, " answered Sir James, "andtogether we will ride into the battle. I know well that there will be nolack of brave men ready and willing to fight at my side. Gaston deBrocas has claimed already to be one, and his brother ever strives to beat his side. But he has yet his spurs to win, and I may but take with methose who are knights already. "

"Raymond de Brocas's spurs unwon!" cried the Prince, with kindling eye, "and he the truest knight amongst us! Call him hither this moment to me. Shame upon me that I have not ere this rewarded such pure and loftycourage as his by that knighthood he so well merits!"

And then and there upon the field of Poitiers Raymond received hisknighthood, amid the cheers of the bystanders, from the hands of thePrince, on the eve of one of England's most glorious victories. 

Gaston's eyes were shining with pride as he led his brother back totheir tent as the last of the September daylight faded from the sky. 

"I had set my heart on sending thee back to thy Joan with the spurs ofknighthood won, " he said, affectionately pressing his brother's hands. "And truly, as they all say, none were ever more truly won than thinehave been, albeit thou wilt ever be more the saint than the warrior. "

Raymond's eyes were bright. For Joan's sake rather than his own herejoiced in his new honour; though every man prided himself upon thatwelcome distinction, especially when bestowed by the hand of King orPrince. And the thought of a speedy return to England and his true lovethere was as the elixir of life to Raymond, who was counting the daysand hours before he might hope to set sail for his native land again. 

He had remained with his brother at Saut all through the past winter. Gaston and Constanza had been married at Bordeaux very shortly after thedeath of old Navailles; and they had returned to Saut, their futurehome, and Raymond had gone with them. Greatly as he longed for Englandand Joan, his duty to the Prince kept him beside him till he shouldobtain his dismissal to see after his own private affairs. The Princeneeded his faithful knights and followers about him in his projectedexpedition of the present year; and Gaston required his brother's helpand counsel in setting to rights the affairs of his new kingdom, and ingetting into better order a long-neglected estate and its people. 

There had been work enough to fill their minds and hands for the wholetime the Prince had been able to spare them from his side; and aninterchange of letters between him and his lady love had helped Raymondto bear the long separation from her. She had assured him of herchangeless devotion, of her present happiness and wellbeing, and hadbidden him think first of his duty to the Prince, and second of hisdesire to rejoin her. They owed much to the Prince: all their presenthappiness and security were the outcome of his generous interposition ontheir behalf. Raymond's worldly affairs were not suffering by hisabsence. Master Bernard de Brocas was looking to that. He would find allwell on his return to England; and it were better he should do his dutynobly by the Prince now, and return with him when they had subdued theirenemies, than hasten at once to her side. In days to come it wouldgrieve them to feel that they had at this juncture thought first ofthemselves, when King and country should have taken the foremost place. 

So Raymond had taken the counsel thus given, and now was one of those tobe foremost in the field on the morrow. No thought of fear was in hisheart or Gaston's; peril was too much the order of the day to excite anybut a passing sense of the uncertainty of human life. They had comeunscathed through so much, and Raymond had so long been said to bear acharmed life, that he and Gaston had alike ceased to tremble before theissue of a battle. Well armed and well mounted, and versed in every artof attack and defence, the young knights felt no personal fear, and onlylonged to come forth with honour from the contest, whatever else theirfate might be. 

Monday morning dawned, and the two opposing armies were all in readinessfor the attack. The fighting began almost by accident by the bold actionof a Gascon knight, Eustace d'Ambrecicourt, who rode out alone towardswhat was called the "battle of the marshals, " and was met by Louis deRecombes with his silver shield, whom he forthwith unhorsed. Thisprovoked a rapid advance of the marshals' battle, and the fighting beganin good earnest. 

The moment this was soon to have taken place, the brave James Audley, calling upon his four knights to follow him, dashed in amongst theFrench in another part of the field, giving no quarter, taking noprisoners, but performing such prodigies of valour as struck terror intothe breasts of the foe. The French army (with the exception of threehundred horsemen, whose mission was to break the ranks of the bowmen)had been ordered, on account of the nature of the ground, all to fighton foot; and when the bold knight and his four chosen companions camecharging in upon them, wheeling their battle-axes round their heads andflashing through the ranks like a meteor, the terrified andimpressionable Frenchmen cried out that St. George himself had appearedto fight against them, and an unreasoning panic seized upon them. 

Flights of arrows from the dreaded English longbow added immeasurably totheir distress and bewilderment. The three hundred horsemen utterlyfailed in their endeavour to approach these archers, securely postedbehind the hedges, and protected by the trenches they had dug. Thearrows sticking in the horses rendered them perfectly wild andunmanageable, and turning back upon their own comrades, they threw theranks behind into utter confusion, trampling to death many of thefootmen, and increasing the panic tenfold. 

Then seeing the utter confusion of his foes, the Prince charged inamongst them, dealing death and destruction wherever he went. The terrorof the French increased momentarily; and the division under the Duke ofNormandy, that had not even taken any part as yet in the battle, rushedto their horses, mounted and fled without so much as striking a blow. 

The King of France, however, behaved with far greater gallantry thaneither his son or the majority of his knights and nobles, and the battlethat he led was long and fiercely contested. 

If, as the chronicler tells us, one-fourth of his soldiers had shown thesame bravery as he did, the fortunes of the day would have been vastlydifferent; but though personally brave, he was no genius in war, and hisfatal determination to fight the battle on foot was a gross blunder inmilitary tactics. Even when he and his division were being charged bythe Prince of Wales at full gallop, at the head of two thousand lances, the men all flushed with victory, John made his own men dismount, andhimself did the same, fighting with his axe like a common soldier;whilst his little son Philip crouched behind him, narrowly watching hisassailants, and crying out words of warning to his father as he sawblows dealt at him from right or left. 

The French were driven back to the very gates of Poitiers, where a greatslaughter ensued; for those gates were now shut against them, and theyhad nowhere else to fly. The battle had begun early in the morning, andby noon the trumpets were sounding to recall the English from thepursuit of their flying foes. 

Such a victory and such vast numbers of noble prisoners almostbewildered even the victors themselves; and the Prince was anxious toassemble his knights once more about him, to learn some of the detailsof the issue of the day. That the French King had either been killed ormade prisoner appeared certain, for it was confidently asserted that hehad not left the field; but for some time the confusion was so greatthat it was impossible to ascertain what had actually happened, and thePrince, who had gone to his tent to take some refreshment after thelabours of the day, had others than his high-born prisoners to think for. 

"Who has seen Sir James Audley -- gallant Sir James?" he asked, lookinground upon the circle of faces about him and missing that of the one heperhaps loved best amongst his knights. "Who has seen him since hisgallant charge that made all men hold their breath with wonder? I wouldfain reward him for that gallant example he gave to our brave soldiersat the beginning of the day. "

News was soon brought that Sir James had been badly wounded, and hadbeen carried by his knights to his tent. The Prince would have gone tovisit him there; but news of this proposal having been brought to theknight, he caused himself to be transported to the Prince's tent by hisknights, all of whom had escaped almost unscathed from their gallantescapade. Thus it came about that Gaston and Raymond stood within theroyal tent, whilst the Prince bent over his faithful knight, andpromised as the reward for that day's gallantry that he should remainhis own knight for ever, and receive five hundred marks yearly from theroyal treasury. 

Then, when poor Sir James, too spent and faint to remain longer, hadbeen carried hence by some of the bystanders, the Prince turned to thetwin brothers and grasped them by the hand. 

"I greatly rejoice that ye have come forth unhurt from that fiercestrife in the which ye so boldly plunged. What can I do for you, bravecomrades, to show the gratitude of a King's son for all your faithfulservice?"

"Sire, " answered Gaston, "since you have asked us to claim our guerdon, and since your foes are at your feet, your rival a prisoner in yourroyal hands (if he be not a dead corpse), and the whole land subject toyou; since there be no further need in the present for us to fight foryou, and a time of peace seems like to follow upon this glorious day, methinks my brother and I would fain request your royal permission toretire for a while each to his own home, to regulate our privateconcerns, and dwell awhile each with the wife of his choice. Thouknowest that I have a wife but newly made mine, and that my brother onlytarries to fly to his betrothed bride till you have no farther need ofhis sword. If ever the day dawns when King or Prince of England needsthe faithful service of Gascon swords, those of Raymond and Gaston deBrocas will not be wanting to him. Yet in the present --"

"Ay, ay, I understand well: in the present there be bright eyes that aremore to you than glittering swords, and a service that is sweeter thanthat of King or Prince. Nay, blush not, boy; I like you the better forthat the softer passions dwell in your breast with those of sternersort. Ye have well shown many a day ere now that ye possess the courageof young lions, and that England will never call upon you in vain. Butnow that times of peace and quiet seem like to fall upon us, get you toyour homes and your wives. May Heaven grant you joy and happiness inboth; and England's King and Prince will over have smiles of welcome foryou when ye bring to the Court the sweet ladies of your choice. Do I notknow them both? and do I not know that ye have both chosen worthily andwell?"

A tumult without the tent now announced the approach of the French King, those who brought him disputing angrily together whose prisoner he was. The Prince stepped out to receive his vanquished foe with that winningcourtesy so characteristic of one who so longed to see the revival ofthe truer chivalry, and in the confusion which ensued Gaston and Raymondslipped away to their own tent. 

"And now, " cried Gaston, clasping his brother's hand, "our day ofservice is for the moment ended. Now for a space of peaceful repose andof those domestic joys of which thou and I, brother, know so little. "

"At last!" quoth Raymond, drawing a long breath, his eyes glowing andkindling as he looked into his brother's face and then far beyond it inthe direction of the land of his adoption. "At last my task is done; myduty to my Prince has been accomplished. Now I am free to go whither Iwill. Now for England and my Joan!"

 CHAPTER XXXIII. "AT LAST!"

"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 waspast. Raymond de Brocas and Joan Vavasour had been made man and wife bygood Master Bernard de Brocas in his church at Guildford, and in thesoft sunlight of an October afternoon were riding together in thedirection of Basildene, from henceforth to be their home. 

Raymond had not yet seen Basildene. He had hurried to Joan's side themoment that he left the ship which bore him from the shores of France, and the marriage had been celebrated almost at once, there being noreason for farther delay, and Sir Hugh being eager to be at the Court toreceive the triumphant young Prince when he should return to Englandwith his kingly captive. 

All the land was ringing with the news of the glorious victory, of whichRaymond's vessel was the first to bring tidings. He himself, as havingbeen one of those who had taken part in the battle and having won hisspurs on the field of Poitiers, was regarded with no small admirationand respect. But Raymond had thoughts of nothing but his beloved; and tofind her waiting for him, her loving heart as true to him as his was toher, 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 itsflight. He and Joan lived in a world of their own -- a world thatreckons not time by our calendar, but has its own fashion ofcomputation; and hours that once had crept by leaden footed, now flewpast as if on wings. He and his love were together at last, soon to beunited in a bond that only death could sunder. And neither of them heldthat it could be broken even by the stern cold hand of death. Such loveas theirs was not for time alone; it would last on and on through theboundless cycles of eternity. 

And now the holy vows had been spoken. At last the solemn ceremony wasover and past. Raymond and Joan were man and wife, and were riding sideby side through the whispering wood in the direction of Basildene. 

Joan had not changed much since the day she and Raymond had plightedtheir troth beside the dying bed of John de Brocas. As a young girl shehad looked older than her years; as a woman she looked scarce more. Perhaps in those great dark eyes there was more of softness; wearywaiting had not dimmed their brightness, but had imparted just a touchof wistfulness, which gave to them an added charm. The full, curved lipswere calmly resolute as of old, yet touched with a new sweetness and thegracious beauty of a great happiness. 

Raymond had changed more than she, having developed from the youth intothe man; retaining in a wonderful way the peculiar charm of hisboyhood's beauty, the ethereal purity of expression and slim grace offigure, yet adding to these the dignity and purpose of a more advancedage, and all the stateliness and power of one who has struggled andsuffered and battled in the world, and who has come forth from thatstruggle with a stainless shield, and a name unsullied by the smallestbreath of slander. 

Joan's eyes dwelt upon her husband's face with a proud, joyous light inthem. Once she laid her hand upon his as they rode, and said, in lowtones very full of feeling:

"Methinks I have found my Galahad at last. Methinks that thou hast founda treasure as precious as the Holy Grail itself. Methinks no treasurecould 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 solong. I was thinking of that other treasure -- the love which hasenabled thee to triumph over evil, to forgive our enemies, to do good tothose that have hated us, to fight the Christian's battle as well asthat of England's King. I was thinking of that higher chivalry of whichin old days we have talked so much. Perchance we should give it nowanother name. But thou hast been true and faithful in thy quest. Ah, howproud 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 theleast. He had told his story to Joan; he knew that she understood all itmeant to him. It was happiness to feel that this was so without the needof words. That union of soul was sweeter to him than even the possessionof the hand he held in his. 

And so they rode on to Basildene. 

But was this Basildene? Raymond passed his hand across his eyes, andgazed and gazed again. Joan sat quietly in her saddle, watching him withsmiling eyes. 

Basildene! yes, truly Basildene. There was the quaint old house with itsmany gables and mullioned casements and twisted chimneys, its warm redwalls and timbered grounds around it; but where was the old look ofmisery, decay, neglect, and blight? Who could look at that picturesqueold mansion, with its latticed casements glistening in the sun, andthink of aught but home-like comfort and peace? What had been done toit? what spell had been at work? This was the Basildene of his boyhood'sdreams -- the Basildene that his mother had described to them. It wasnot 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 seemedto read the unspoken thought of his heart. "He and I together haveplanned it all, and the treasure has helped to carry all out. The hiddenhoard has brought a blessing at last, methinks, Raymond; for the chapelhas likewise been restored, and holy mass and psalm now ascend dailyfrom it. The wretched hovels around the gates, where miserable peasantsherded like swine in their sties, have been cleared away, and places fitfor human habitation have been erected in their stead. That fearfulquagmire, in which so many wretched travellers have lost their lives, has been drained, and a causeway built across it. Basildene is becominga blessing to all around it; and so long as thou art lord here, myRaymond, it will remain a blessing to all who come within shelter of itswalls. "

He looked at her with his dreamy smile. His mind was going back inreview over all these long years since first the idea had formed itselfin his brain that they two -- Gaston and himself -- would win backBasildene. How long those years seemed in retrospect, and yet how short!How many changes they had seen! how many strange events in the checkeredcareer 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 promisethat 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 ofsunny France? You are such travellers, you brethren, that the journey isbut child's play to you; and I too have known something of travel, andit hath no terrors for me. There shall be no sundering of the bondbetwixt the twin brothers of Basildene. Years shall only bind that bondfaster, for to their faithful love and devotion one to the otherBasildene owes its present weal, and we our present happiness. "

"The twin brothers of Basildene, " repeated Raymond dreamily, gazinground him with smiling eyes, as he held Joan's hand fast in his. "Mymother, I wonder if thou canst see us now -- Gaston at Saut and Raymondhere at Basildene? Methinks if thou canst thou wilt rejoice in ourhappiness. We have done what thou biddedst us. We have fought and wehave 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 storyclosely, he may observe that the expedition of the Black Prince has beenslightly antedated. In order not to interrupt the continuity of thefictitious narrative, the time spent in long-drawn and fruitlessnegotiation at the conclusion of the truce has been omitted.