In the Days of Chivalry: A Tale of the Times of the Black Prince

by Evelyn Everett-Green

  CHAPTER XXXI. THE SURRENDER OF SAUT.

  "In the King's name!"

  The old seneschal at the drawbridge eyed with glances of awed suspicionthe gallant young knight who had ridden so boldly up to the walls ofSaut and had bidden him lower the bridge. A few paces behind the leaderwas a compact little body of horsemen, all well mounted and well armed,though it was little their bright weapons could do against the solidwalls of the grim old fortress, girdled as it was with its wide and deepmoat. The pale sunshine of a winter's day shone upon the trappings ofthe little band, and lighted up the stone walls with something ofunwonted brightness. It revealed to those upon the farther side of themoat the perplexed countenance of the old seneschal, who did not meetGaston's bold demand for admittance with defiance or refusal, but stoodstaring at the apparition, as if not knowing what to make of it; andwhen the demand had been repeated somewhat more peremptorily, he stillstood doubtful and hesitating, saying over and over to himself the samewords:

  "In the King's name! in the King's name!"

  "Ay, fellow, in the King's name," repeated Gaston sternly. "Wilt thousee his warrant? I have it here. Thou hadst best have a care how thousettest at defiance the King's seal and signet. Knowest thou not thathis royal son is within a few leagues of this very spot?"

  The old man only shook his head, as if scarce comprehending the drift ofthese words, and presently he looked up to ask:

  "Of which King speak you, good Sir Knight?"

  "Of the English King, fellow, the only King I acknowledge! Whose servantdoth thy master call himself? Thou hadst better go and tell him thatKing Edward of England has sent a message to him."

  "Tell my master!" repeated the seneschal, with a strange gesture, as helifted his hand and touched his head. "To what good would that be? Mymaster understands no word that is said to him. He raves up and down thehall day by day, taking note of naught about him. Thou hadst best have acare how thou beardest him, Sir Knight. We go in terror of our verylives through him."

  "Ye need go no longer in that fear," cried Gaston, with a kindling ofthe eyes, as he bared his noble head and looked forth at the old manwith his fearless glance, "for in me ye will find a master whom noneneed fear who do their duty by him and by the King. Seneschal, I standhere the lawful Lord of Saut -- lord by hereditary right, and by themandate of England's King, the Roy Outremer, as you call him. I amGaston de Brocas, of the old race who owned these lands long before thefalse Navailles had set foot therein. I have come back armed with theKing's warrant to claim mine own.

  "Say, men, will ye have me for your lord? or will ye continue to serveyon raging madman till England's King sends an army to raze Saut to theground, and slay the rebellious horde within these ancient walls?"

  Gaston had raised his voice as he had gone on speaking, for he saw thatthe dialogue with the old seneschal had attracted the attention of anumber of men-at-arms, who had gradually mustered about the gate to hearwhat was passing.

  Gaston spoke his native dialect like one of themselves. The name of DeBrocas was known far and wide in that land, and was everywhere spokenwith affection and respect. The fierce rapacity of the Navailles wasequally feared and hated. Even the stout soldiers who had followed hisfortunes so long regarded him with fear and distrust. No man in thosedays felt certain of his life. If he chanced to offend the madman, asavage blow from that strong arm might fell him to the earth; whilstsome amongst their companions had from time to time mysteriouslydisappeared, and their fate had never been disclosed.

  A sense of fearfulness and uncertainty had long reigned at Saut. The madmaster had his own myrmidons in the Tower, who would do his biddingwhatever that bidding might be; and that there were dark secrets hiddenaway in those underground dungeons and secret chambers everybody in theCastle well knew. Hardly one of the men now gathered on the oppositeside of the moat but had awakened at some time or other from a horriddream, believing himself to have been spirited down into those gloomysubterranean places, there to expiate some trifling offence, accordingas their savage lord should give order. Many of these men had assistedat scenes which seemed frightful to them when they pictured themselvesthe victims of the cruelty of the fierce man they had long served, butwhom now they had grown to fear and distrust.

  A sense of horror had long been hanging over Saut, and since thedisappearance of the maiden who once had brightened the grim place byher presence, this horror had perceptibly deepened. Not one of all themen-at-arms dared even to his fellow to propose the remedy. Each fearedthat if he breathed what was in his own mind, the very walls wouldwhisper it in the ears of their lord, and that the offender would bedoomed to some horrible death, to act as a warning to others like-mindedwith himself. Since the loss of his niece, almost as mysterious to himas the escape of Raymond de Brocas from the prison, the clouds of doubtand suspicion had closed more and more darkly round the miserable man,who had let himself become the slave of his passions until these hadincreased to absolute madness. His unbridled fury and fits of maniacrage had estranged from him even the most attached of his old retainers,and in proportion as he felt this with the instinct of cunning andmadness, the more did he exact from those about him protestations ofzeal and faithfulness, the more did he watch the words and actions ofhis servants, and mark the smallest attempt on their part to restrain orthwart him.

  Small wonder was it, then, when Gaston de Brocas stood forth in thesunshine, the King's warrant in his hand, words of good augury upon hislips, and a compact little body of armed men at his back, proclaiminghimself the Lord of Saut, and inviting to his service the men who werenow trembling before the caprices and cruel cunning of a madman, thatthey exchanged wondering glances, and spoke in eager whispers together,fearful lest the Navailles should approach from behind ere they wereaware of it, and feeling that there was here such a chance of escapefrom miserable bondage as might never occur again.

  And whilst they still hesitated -- for the fear of treachery was neverabsent from the minds of those bred up in habits and thoughts oftreachery -- another wonder happened. Out from the little knot a fewpaces behind the young knight two more figures pressed forward, and themen-at-arms rubbed their eyes and looked on in silent wonder: for one ofthe pair was none other than the fairy maiden who had lived so longamongst them, and had endeared herself even to these rude spirits by hergrace and sweetness and undefinable charm; the other, that youth withthe wonderful eyes and saint-like face who had been captured and borneaway to Saut after the battle before St. Jean d'Angely, and whose bodythey all believed had long ago been lying beneath the sullen waters ofthe moat, where so many victims of their lord's hatred had found theirlast resting place.

  And as they stared and looked at one another and stared again, a silveryvoice was uplifted, and they all held their breath to listen.

  "My friends," said the lady, urging her palfrey till she reachedGaston's side, and could feel his hand upon hers, "I have come hitherwith this noble knight, Sir Gaston de Brocas, because he is my betrothedhusband and liege lord, and I have the right to be at his side even inthe hour of peril, but also because you all know me; and when I tell youthat every word he has spoken is true, I trow ye will believe it. Therehe stands, the lawful Lord of Saut, and if ye will but own him as yourlord, you will find in him a wise, just, and merciful master, who willprotect you from the mad fury of yon miserable man whom now ye serve,and will lead you to more glorious feats of arms than any ye havedreamed of before. Hitherto ye have been little better than robbers andoutlaws. Have ye no wish for better things than ye have won under thebanner of Navailles?"

  The men exchanged glances, and visibly wavered. They compared theircoarse and stained garments, their rusty arms and batteredaccoutrements, with the brilliant appearance of the little band ofsoldiers standing on the opposite side of the moat, their armour shiningin the sunlight, their steeds well fed and well groomed, arching theirnecks and pawing the ground, every man and every horse showing plainlythat they came from a region of abundance of good things; whilst themilitar
y precision of their aspect showed equally well that they wouldbe antagonists of no insignificant calibre, if the moment should comewhen they were transformed from friends to foes.

  Constanza saw the wavering and hesitation amongst her uncle's men. Shewell knew their discontent at their own lot, their fearful distrust oftheir lord. She knew, too, that it was probably some fear of treacheryalone that withheld them from making cause at once with the De Brocas --treachery having been only too much practised amongst them by their ownfierce master -- and again her voice rang out clear and sweet.

  "Men, listen again to me. I speak to counsel you for your good; forfierce and cruel as ye have been to your foes, ye have ever been kindand gentle to me when I was with you in these walls. What think ye togain by defying the great King of England? Think ye that he will spareyou if ye arouse him to anger by impotent resistance? What more couldKing have done for you than send to be your lord a noble Gascon knight;one of your own race and language; one who, as ye all must know, has afar better right to hold these lands than any of the race of Navailles?Here before you stands Sir Gaston de Brocas, offering you place in hisservice if ye will but swear to him that allegiance he has the right toclaim. The offer is made in clemency and mercy, because he would notthat any should perish in futile resistance. Men, ye know that he comesto this place with the King's mandate that Saut be given up to him. Ifit be not peaceably surrendered, what think ye will happen next?

  "I will tell you. Ye have heard of the Prince of Wales, son of the RoyOutremer; doubtless even to these walls has come the news of thattriumphal march of his, where cities have surrendered or ransomedthemselves to him, and nothing has been able to stay the might of hisconquering arm. That noble Prince and valiant soldier is now not faraway. We have come from his presence, and are here with his knowledgeand sanction. If we win you over, and gain peaceable possession of thesewalls, good; no harm will befall any living creature within them. But ifye prove obdurate; if ye will not listen to the voice of reason; if yestill hold with rebellious defiance to the lord ye have served, and whohas shown himself so little worthy of your service, then will the Princeand his warriors come with all their wrath and might to inflictchastisement upon you, and take vengeance upon you, as enemies of the King.

  "Say, men, how can ye hope to resist the might of the Prince's arm? Say,which will ye do -- be the free servants of Gaston de Brocas, or dielike rats in a hole for the sake of yon wicked madman, whose slaves yehave long been? Which shall it be -- a De Brocas or a Navailles?"

  Something in this last appeal stirred the hearts of the men. It seemedas though a veil were torn from their eyes. They seemed to see all in amoment the hopelessness of their position as vassals of Navailles, andthe folly of attempting resistance to one so infinitely more worthy tobe called their lord. It was no stranger coming amongst them -- it wasone of the ancient lords of the soil; and the sight of the youthfulknight, sitting there on his fine horse, with his fair lady beside him,was enough to stir the pulses and awaken the enthusiasm of an ardentrace, even though the nobler instincts had been long sleeping in thebreasts of these men. They hated and distrusted their old lord with ahatred he had well merited; and degraded as they had become in hisservice, they had not yet sunk so low but that they could feel with thekeenness of instinct, rather than by any reasoning powers theypossessed, that this young knight was a man to be trusted and be loved-- that if they became his vassals they would receive vastly differenttreatment from any they had received from the Sieur de Navailles.

  There was one long minute's pause, whilst looks and whispered words wereexchanged, and then a shout arose:

  "De Brocas! De Brocas! We will live and die the servants of De Brocas!"whilst at the same moment the drawbridge slowly descended, and Gaston,at the head of his gallant little band, with Raymond and Constanza athis side, rode proudly over the sounding planks, and found himself, forthe first time in his life, in the courtyard of the Castle of Saut.

  "De Brocas! De Brocas!" shouted the men, all doubt and hesitation doneaway with in a moment at sight of the gallant show thus made, enthusiasmkindling in every breast as the sweet lady rained smiles and graciouswords upon the rough men, who had always had a soft spot in their heartfor her; whilst Raymond's earnest eyes and Gaston's courtly andchivalrous bearing were not without effect upon the ruder natures ofthese lonely residents of Saut. It seemed to them as though they hadbeen invaded by some denizens from another world, and murmurs of wonderand reverent admiration mingled with the cheering with which Gaston deBrocas was received as Lord of Saut.

  But there was still one more person to be faced. The men had acceptedthe sovereignty of a new lord, and were already rejoicing in the escapefrom the dreaded tyranny they had not had the resolution to shake offunprompted; but there was still the Sieur de Navailles to be dealt with,and impotent as he might be in the desertion of his old followers, itwas necessary to see and speak with him, and decide what must be donewith the man who was believed by those about him to be little betterthan a raging maniac.

  "Where is your master?" asked Gaston of the old seneschal, who stood athis bridle rein, his eyes wandering from his face to that of Raymond andConstanza and back again; "I marvel that this tumult has not brought himforth."

  "The walls are thick," replied the old man, "and he lives for daystogether in a world of his own, no sound or sight from withoutpenetrating his understanding. Then again he will awaken from his dream,and show us that he has heard and seen far more than we have thought.And if any man amongst us has dropped words that have incensed him --well, there have been men who have disappeared from amongst us and havenever been seen more; and tales are whispered of horrid cries and groansthat have issued as from the very bowels of the earth each timefollowing their spiriting away."

  Constanza shuddered, and a black frown crossed Gaston's face as he gaveone quick glance at his brother, who had so nearly shared thatmysterious and terrible doom.

  "The man is a veritable fiend. He merits scant mercy at our hands. Hehas black crimes upon his soul. Seneschal, lead on. Take us to him yeonce owned as sovereign lord. I trow ye will none of you lament the dayye transferred your allegiance from yon miscreant to Gaston de Brocas!"

  Another cheer, heartier than the last, broke from the lips of all themen. They had been joined now by their comrades within the Castle, andin the sense of freedom from the hateful tyranny of their old master allwere rejoicing and filled with enthusiasm.

  For once they were free from all fear of treachery. Gaston's own pickedband of stalwart veterans was guarantee enough that might as well asright was on the side of the De Brocas. The sight of those well-equippedmen-at-arms, all loyal and full of affectionate enthusiasm for theiryouthful lord, showed these rude retainers how greatly to theiradvantage would be this change of masters; and before Gaston haddismounted and walked across the courtyard towards the portal of theCastle, he felt, with a swelling of the heart that Raymond wellunderstood, that Saut was indeed his own.

  "This is the way to the Sieur de Navailles," said the old seneschal, asthey passed beneath the frowning doorway into a vaulted stone hall. "Hespends whole days and nights pacing up and down like a wild beast in acage. He scarce leaves the hall, save when he wanders forth into theforest, and that has not happened since the cold winds have blown hard.You will find him within those doors, good gentlemen. Shall I make knownyour presence to him?"

  It was plain that the old man had no small fear of his master, and wouldgladly be spared this office. Gaston looked round to see that some ofhis own followers were close behind and on the alert, and then takingConstanza's hand in his, and laying his right hand upon the hilt of hissword, he signed to the seneschal to throw open the massive oaken doors,and walked fearlessly in with Raymond at his side.

  They found themselves in the ancient banqueting hall of the fortress --a long, lofty, rather narrow room, with a heavily-raftered ceiling, twohuge fireplaces, one at either end, and a row of very narrow windows cutin the great thickness of the wall occupying alm
ost the whole of oneside of the place; whilst a long table was placed against the oppositewall, with benches beside it, and another smaller table was placed upona small raised dais at the far end of the apartment. On this dais wasalso set a heavy oaken chair, close beside the glowing hearth; and atthis moment it was plain that the occupant of the chair had beendisturbed by the commotion from without, and had suddenly risen to hisfeet, for he stood grasping the oaken arms, his wild gray hair hangingin matted masses about his seamed and wrinkled face, and his holloweyes, in which a fierce light blazed, turned upon the intruders in aglare of impotent fury.

  "Who are ye who thus dare to intrude upon me here? What is all thistumult I hear in mine own halls?

  "Seneschal, art thou there? Send hither to me my soldiers; bid them bindthese men, and carry them to the dungeons. I will see them there. Ha,ha! I will talk with them there. I will deal with them there. What ho!Send me the jailer and his assistants! Let them light the fires and heathot the irons. Let them prepare our welcome for guests to Saut. Ha, ha!Ho, ho! These brave gallants shall taste our hospitality. Who broughtthem in? Where were they found? Methinks they will prove a rich booty.Would that good Peter Sanghurst were here to help me in the task ofentertaining these new guests!"

  The man was a raving lunatic; that was plain to the most inexperiencedeye from the first moment. He knew not his own niece, he knew not the DeBrocas brothers, though Raymond's face must have been familiar to himhad he been in his right senses. He was still in fancy the undisputedlord of these wide lands, scouring the country for English travellers orprisoners of meaner mould; acting here in Gascony much the same part asthe Sanghursts had more cautiously done in England, and as the Barons ofboth France and England had long done, though their day of irresponsibleand autocratic power was well-nigh at an end.

  He glared upon the brothers and their attendants with savage fury, stillcalling out to his men to carry them to the dungeons, still believingthem to be a band of travellers taken prisoners by his own orders,raving and raging in his impotent fury till the gust of passion had wornitself out, and in a sullen amaze he sank into his seat, still gazingout from under his shaggy brows at the intruders, but the passion andfury for a moment at an end.

  "He will understand better what you say to him now, Sir Knight,"whispered the old seneschal, who alone of the men belonging to theCastle dared to enter the hall where their maniac master was. "His mindcomes back to him sometimes after he has raved himself quiet. We dreadhis sullen moods almost more than his wild ones.

  "Have a care how you approach him. He is as cunning as a fox, and ascrafty as he is cruel. He always has some weapon beneath his robe. Havea care, I say, how you approach him."

  Gaston nodded, but he was too fearless by nature to pay much heed to thewarning; he felt himself more than a match for that bowed-down old man.Giving Constanza into Raymond's charge, he stepped boldly up to thedais, and doffing his headpiece, addressed himself to his adversary infirm though courteous accents.

  "My Lord of Navailles," he said, "I am come to claim mine own. If thouknowest me not, I will tell thee who I am -- Gaston de Brocas, the Lordof Saut in mine own right, and by the mandate of the King which I holdin mine hand. Long hast thou held lands to which thou hadst no right,but the day has come when I claim mine own again, and am prepared to dobattle for it to the death. But here is no battle needed. Thine own menhave called me lord; they have obeyed the mandate of the King, and haveopened their gates to me. I stand here the Lord of Saut. Thy power andthy reign are over for ever. Grossly hast thou abused that power when itwas thine. Now, like all tyrants, thou art finding that thy servantsfall away in the hour of peril, and that thou, who hast been a cruelmaster, canst command no service from them in the time of need. I, and Ialone, am Lord of Saut. Hast thou aught to say ere thou yieldestdominion to me?"

  Did he understand? Those standing round and breathlessly watching thecurious scene could scarce be sure; but there was a look ofcomprehension and of intense baffled rage and malice in those cavernouseyes that sent a shiver through Constanza's light frame.

  "Have a care, Gaston; have a care!" she cried, with sudden shrillness,as she saw a quick movement of those knotted sinewy hands beneath thecoarse robe the old man wore; and in another moment both she and Raymondhad sprung forward, for there was a flash of keen steel, and the madmanhad flung himself upon Gaston with inconceivable rapidity of motion.

  For a moment there was a hideous scuffle. Blood was flowing, they knewnot whose. Gaston acted solely on the defensive. He would not raise hishand against one who was old and lunatic, and near in blood to her whomhe held dear; but he wrestled valiantly in the iron grip of armsstronger than his own, and he felt that some struggle was going on abovehim, though for the moment his own breath seemed suspended, and his verylife pressed out of him.

  Then came a sudden sense of release. His enemy had relaxed his bear-likeclasp. Gaston sprang to his feet to see his enemy falling backwards in ahelpless collapse, the hilt of a dagger clasped between his knottedhands -- the sharp blade buried in his own heart.

  "He has killed himself!" cried Constanza, with eyes dilated with horror,as she sprang to Gaston's side. It had all been so quick that it washard to tell what had befallen in those few seconds of life-and-deathstruggle. Gaston was bleeding from a slight flesh wound in the arm, butthat was the only hurt he had received; whilst his foe --

  "He strove to plunge the dagger in thy breast, Gaston," said Raymond,who was supporting the head of the dying man; "and failing that, hethought to smother thee in his bear-like clasp, that has crushed thelife out of enemies before now, as we have ofttimes heard. When he feltother foes around him unloosing that clasp, and knew himself balked ofhis purpose, he clutched the weapon thou hadst dashed from his hand andburied it in his own body. As he has lived, so has he died -- defiant tothe very end. But the madness-cloud may have hung long upon his spirit.Perchance some of the worst of his crimes may not be laid to his charge."

  As Raymond spoke, the dying man opened his eyes, and fixed them upon theface bending over him. The light of sullen defiance which had shonethere but a few short moments ago changed to something strange and newas he met the calm, compassionate glance of those expressive eyes nowfixed upon him. He seemed to give a slight start, and to strive to drawhimself away.

  "Thou here!" he gasped -- "thou! Hast thou indeed come from the spiritworld to mock me in my last moments? I know thee now, Raymond de Brocas!I have seen thee before -- thou knowest how and where. Methinks the veryangels of heaven must have spirited thee away. Why art thou here now?"

  "To bid thee ask forgiveness for thy sins with thy dying breath,"answered Raymond, gently yet firmly; "to bid thee turn thy thoughts forone last moment towards thy Saviour, and though thou hast scorned andrebelled against Him in life, to ask His pardoning mercy in death. Hehas pardoned a dying miscreant ere now. Wilt thou not take upon thy lipsthat dying thief's petition, and cry 'Lord, remember me;' or thisprayer, 'Lord, be merciful to me, a sinner'?"

  A gray shadow was creeping over the rugged face, the lips seemed tomove, but no words came forth. There was no priest at hand to listen toa dying confession, or to pronounce a priestly absolution, and yetRaymond had spoken as if there might yet be mercy for an erring,sin-stained soul, if it would but turn in its last agony to theCrucified One -- the Saviour crucified for the sins of the whole world.

  It must be remembered that there was less of priestcraft -- less of whatwe now call popery -- in those earlier days than there came to be lateron; and the springs of truth, though somewhat tainted, were notpoisoned, as it were, at the very source, as they afterwards became.Something of the purity of primitive times lingered in the minds of men,and here and there were always found pure spirits upon whom the errorsof man obtained no hold -- spirits that seemed to rise superior to theirsurroundings, and hold communion direct with heaven itself. Such anature and such a mind was Raymond's; and his clear, intense faith hadbeen strengthened and quickened by the vicissitudes through which he hadpassed
. He did not hesitate to point the dying soul straight to theSaviour Himself, without mediation from the Blessed Virgin or the HolySaints. Love and revere these he might and did; but in the presence ofthat mighty power of death, in that hour when flesh and heart do fail,he felt as he had felt when he believed his own soul was to be calledaway -- when it seemed as though no power could avail to save him from afearful fate -- that to God alone must the cry of the suffering soul beraised; that into the Saviour's hands alone could the departing soul becommitted. He did not speak to others of these thoughts -- thoughtswhich in later days came to be branded with the dreaded name of "heresy"-- but he held them none the less surely in the depths of his ownspirit; and now, when all but he would have stood aside with pitifulhelplessness, certain that nothing could be done for the dying man inabsence of a priest, Raymond strove to lead his thoughts upwards, thatthough his life had been black and evil, he might still die with hisface turned Godwards, with a cry for mercy on his lips.

  Nor was this hope in vain; for at the last the old man raised himselfwith a strength none believed him to possess, and raising his hand heclasped that of Raymond, and said:

  "Raymond de Brocas, I strove to compass thy death, and thou hast come tome in mine hour of need, and spoken words of hope. If thou canst forgive-- thou so cruelly treated, so vilely betrayed -- it may be that theSaviour, whose servant thou art, can forgive yet greater crimes.

  "Christ have mercy upon me! Lord have mercy upon me! Christ have mercyupon me! My worldly possessions are fled: let them go; they are in goodhands. May Christ pardon my sins, and receive me at last to Himself!"

  He looked earnestly at Raymond, who understood him, and whispered thelast prayers of the Church in his ear. A look of calm and peace fellupon that wild and rugged face; and drawing one sigh, and slightlyturning himself towards his former foe, the old ruler of Saut fellasleep, and died with the two De Brocas brothers standing beside him.