CHAPTER XXXIII. "AT LAST!"
"At last, my love, at last!"
"Raymond! My own true lord -- my husband!"
"My life! my love!"
At last the dream had fulfilled itself; at last the long probation waspast. Raymond de Brocas and Joan Vavasour had been made man and wife bygood Master Bernard de Brocas in his church at Guildford, and in thesoft sunlight of an October afternoon were riding together in thedirection of Basildene, from henceforth to be their home.
Raymond had not yet seen Basildene. He had hurried to Joan's side themoment that he left the ship which bore him from the shores of France,and the marriage had been celebrated almost at once, there being noreason for farther delay, and Sir Hugh being eager to be at the Court toreceive the triumphant young Prince when he should return to Englandwith his kingly captive.
All the land was ringing with the news of the glorious victory, of whichRaymond's vessel was the first to bring tidings. He himself, as havingbeen one of those who had taken part in the battle and having won hisspurs on the field of Poitiers, was regarded with no small admirationand respect. But Raymond had thoughts of nothing but his beloved; and tofind her waiting for him, her loving heart as true to him as his was toher, was happiness sweeter than any he had once dreamed could be his.
The time had flown by on golden wings. He scarce knew how to reckon itsflight. He and Joan lived in a world of their own -- a world thatreckons not time by our calendar, but has its own fashion ofcomputation; and hours that once had crept by leaden footed, now flewpast as if on wings. He and his love were together at last, soon to beunited in a bond that only death could sunder. And neither of them heldthat it could be broken even by the stern cold hand of death. Such loveas theirs was not for time alone; it would last on and on through theboundless cycles of eternity.
And now the holy vows had been spoken. At last the solemn ceremony wasover and past. Raymond and Joan were man and wife, and were riding sideby side through the whispering wood in the direction of Basildene.
Joan had not changed much since the day she and Raymond had plightedtheir troth beside the dying bed of John de Brocas. As a young girl shehad looked older than her years; as a woman she looked scarce more.Perhaps in those great dark eyes there was more of softness; wearywaiting had not dimmed their brightness, but had imparted just a touchof wistfulness, which gave to them an added charm. The full, curved lipswere calmly resolute as of old, yet touched with a new sweetness and thegracious beauty of a great happiness.
Raymond had changed more than she, having developed from the youth intothe man; retaining in a wonderful way the peculiar charm of hisboyhood's beauty, the ethereal purity of expression and slim grace offigure, yet adding to these the dignity and purpose of a more advancedage, and all the stateliness and power of one who has struggled andsuffered and battled in the world, and who has come forth from thatstruggle with a stainless shield, and a name unsullied by the smallestbreath of slander.
Joan's eyes dwelt upon her husband's face with a proud, joyous light inthem. Once she laid her hand upon his as they rode, and said, in lowtones very full of feeling:
"Methinks I have found my Galahad at last. Methinks that thou hast founda treasure as precious as the Holy Grail itself. Methinks no treasurecould be more precious than that which thou hast won."
He turned his eyes upon her tenderly.
"The treasure of thy love, my Joan?"
"I was not thinking of that," she answered; "we have loved each other solong. I was thinking of that other treasure -- the love which hasenabled thee to triumph over evil, to forgive our enemies, to do good tothose that have hated us, to fight the Christian's battle as well asthat of England's King. I was thinking of that higher chivalry of whichin old days we have talked so much. Perchance we should give it nowanother name. But thou hast been true and faithful in thy quest. Ah, howproud I am of the stainless name of my knight!"
His fingers closed fast over hers, but he made no reply in words.Raymond's nature was a silent one. Of his deepest feelings he spoke theleast. He had told his story to Joan; he knew that she understood all itmeant to him. It was happiness to feel that this was so without the needof words. That union of soul was sweeter to him than even the possessionof the hand he held in his.
And so they rode on to Basildene.
But was this Basildene? Raymond passed his hand across his eyes, andgazed and gazed again. Joan sat quietly in her saddle, watching him withsmiling eyes.
Basildene! yes, truly Basildene. There was the quaint old house with itsmany gables and mullioned casements and twisted chimneys, its warm redwalls and timbered grounds around it; but where was the old look ofmisery, decay, neglect, and blight? Who could look at that picturesqueold mansion, with its latticed casements glistening in the sun, andthink of aught but home-like comfort and peace? What had been done toit? what spell had been at work? This was the Basildene of his boyhood'sdreams -- the Basildene that his mother had described to them. It wasnot the Basildene of later years. How had the change come about?
"That has been our uncle's work these last two years," answered Joan,who was watching the changes passing over her husband's face, and seemedto read the unspoken thought of his heart. "He and I together haveplanned it all, and the treasure has helped to carry all out. The hiddenhoard has brought a blessing at last, methinks, Raymond; for the chapelhas likewise been restored, and holy mass and psalm now ascend dailyfrom it. The wretched hovels around the gates, where miserable peasantsherded like swine in their sties, have been cleared away, and places fitfor human habitation have been erected in their stead. That fearfulquagmire, in which so many wretched travellers have lost their lives,has been drained, and a causeway built across it. Basildene is becominga blessing to all around it; and so long as thou art lord here, myRaymond, it will remain a blessing to all who come within shelter of itswalls."
He looked at her with his dreamy smile. His mind was going back inreview over all these long years since first the idea had formed itselfin his brain that they two -- Gaston and himself -- would win backBasildene. How long those years seemed in retrospect, and yet how short!How many changes they had seen! how many strange events in the checkeredcareer of the twin brothers!
"I would that Gaston were with me now; I would that he might see it."
"And so he shall, come next summer," answered Joan. "Is it not a promisethat he comes hither with his bride to see thy home and mine, Raymond,and that we pass one of England's inclement winters in the softer air ofsunny France? You are such travellers, you brethren, that the journey isbut child's play to you; and I too have known something of travel, andit hath no terrors for me. There shall be no sundering of the bondbetwixt the twin brothers of Basildene. Years shall only bind that bondfaster, for to their faithful love and devotion one to the otherBasildene owes its present weal, and we our present happiness."
"The twin brothers of Basildene," repeated Raymond dreamily, gazinground him with smiling eyes, as he held Joan's hand fast in his. "Mymother, I wonder if thou canst see us now -- Gaston at Saut and Raymondhere at Basildene? Methinks if thou canst thou wilt rejoice in ourhappiness. We have done what thou biddedst us. We have fought and wehave overcome. Thine own loved home has been won back by thine own sons,and Raymond de Brocas is Lord of Basildene."
THE END.
i If any reader has taken the trouble to follow this storyclosely, he may observe that the expedition of the Black Prince has beenslightly antedated. In order not to interrupt the continuity of thefictitious narrative, the time spent in long-drawn and fruitlessnegotiation at the conclusion of the truce has been omitted.
In the Days of Chivalry: A Tale of the Times of the Black Prince Page 33
