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 stor
y 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!"
In the Days of Chivalry: A Tale of the Times of the Black Prince Page 24
