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!"
In the Days of Chivalry: A Tale of the Times of the Black Prince Page 23
