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 kisse
d 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 w
ith 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."
In the Days of Chivalry: A Tale of the Times of the Black Prince Page 29
