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 no
t 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.
In the Days of Chivalry: A Tale of the Times of the Black Prince Page 14
