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

"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 forth to save his fair young mistress from her fate.

But Joan shook her head, perplexed beyond measure, yet not able to restrain the wildest hopes.

The Prince – that noble youth so devoted to chivalry, so generous and fearless, and the friend of the twin brothers, one of whom was her lost Raymond! Oh, could it be that some rumour had reached his ears? Could it be that he had come to set her free? It seemed scarce possible, and yet what besides could have brought him hither? And at least with help so near 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 of release from her hated lover by some other means than that of death; and with that hope came surging up the love of life so deeply implanted in human nature, the wild hope that her lover might yet live, that she had been tricked and deceived by the false Sanghurst – all manner of vague and unformed hopes, to which there was no time to give definite form even in her thoughts. She was only conscious that a ray of golden sunshine had fallen athwart her path, and that the darkness in which she had been enwrapped was changing – changing to what?

There were strange sounds in the house – a tumult of men's voices, the clash 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 a voice – a voice that sent thrills all through her – and yet it was not Raymond's voice; it was deeper, louder, more authoritative. But the footsteps were approaching, were mounting the turret stair, and Joan, with a hasty movement, flung over her shoulders a sweeping supertunic lined with fur, which Peter Sanghurst had placed in the room for her use, but which she had not hitherto deigned to wear. She had but just secured the buckle and girdle, and concealed her boy's garb by the means of these rich folds of velvet, before a hand was upon the latch of the door, and the same thrilling voice was speaking through the panels in urgent accents.

"Lady – Mistress Joan – art thou there?"

"I am within this turret – I am here, fair sir," answered Joan, as calmly as her beating heart would allow. "But I cannot open to thee, for I am but a captive here – the captive of Peter Sanghurst."

"Now a prisoner bound, and answering for his sins before the Prince and some of the highest nobles of the land. Lady, I and my men have come to set 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 to batter down this strong door, and we will set thee free, and take thee to the Prince, to bear witness against the false traitor, who stands in craven terror before him below!"

But these last words were quite lost upon Joan. She had sunk, trembling and white, upon a couch, overcome by the excess of joy with which she had heard her lover's name pronounced. She heard heavy blows dealt upon the 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 those wonderful words just spoken, until the woodwork fell inwards with a loud crash, 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 I come from him whom thou lovest and therefore I know myself welcome. Fair mistress, my brother has been sorely sick – sick unto death – or he would be here himself to claim this fair hand. He has been sick in body and sick in mind – sick with fear lest that traitor and villain who robbed him of your token should make foul use of it by deceiving thee with tales of his death or falsity.

"Lady, he was robbed by Peter Sanghurst of that token. Sanghurst and our ancient foe of Navailles leagued themselves together and carried off my brother 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 a way to save and rescue him from their hands. They had done him some hurt even then, and they had robbed him of what had become almost dearer to him than life itself; but he was saved from their malice. It was long ere he could tell us of his loss, tell us of thee; for he lay sick of a wasting fever for many a long month, and we knew not what the trouble was that lay so sore upon him. But no sooner had he recovered so as to speak more plainly than we learned all, and I have been seeking news of thee ever since. I should have been here long ago but for the contrary winds 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; but sure thou art not the wife of him who calls himself its lord?"

"Wife! no – ten thousand times no!" answered Joan, springing to her feet, and looking superb in her stately beauty, the light of love and happiness in her eyes, the flush of glad triumph on her cheek. "Sir Knight, thou art Raymond's brother, thou art my saviour, and I will tell thee all. I was fleeing from Sanghurst – fleeing to France, to learn for myself if the tale he told of Raymond's death were true; for sorely did I misdoubt me if those false lips could speak truth. He guessed my purpose, followed and brought me back hither a captive. To force me to wed him has long been his resolve, and he has won my father to take his side. He was about to summon my father and a priest and make me his wife, here in this very place, and never let me stir thence till the chain was bound about me. But I had a way of escape. Yon faithful servant, who shared my perils and my wanderings, had given me his word to strike me dead ere he would see me wedded to Sanghurst. No false vow should ever have passed my lips; no mockery of marriage should ever have been consummated. I have no fear of death. I only longed to die that I might go to my Raymond, and be with him for ever."

"But now thou needest not die to be with him!" cried Gaston, enchanted at once by her beauty, her fearless spirit, and her loyalty and devotion to Raymond. "My brother lives! He lives for thee alone! I have come to lead thee to him, if thou wilt go. But first, sweet mistress, let me take thee to our Prince. It is our noble Prince who has come to see into this 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 me lead thee to him. Tell him all thy tale. We have the craven foe in our hands now, and this time he shall not escape us!"

Gaston ground his teeth, and his eyes flashed fire, as he thought of all the wickedness of Peter Sanghurst. He was within the walls of Basildene, his brother's rightful inheritance; the memory of the cruelty and the treachery of this man was fresh in his mind. The Prince was hearing all the tale; the Prince would judge and condemn. Gaston knew well what the fate of the tyrant would be, and there was no room for aught in his heart beside a great exultant triumph.

Giving his arm to Joan, who was looking absolutely radiant in her stately beauty, he led her down into the hall below, where the Prince was seated with some knights and nobles round him – Master Bernard de Brocas occupying a seat upon his right hand – examining witnesses and looking at the papers respecting the ownership of Basildene which were now laid before him. At the lower end of the hall, his hands bound behind him, and his person guarded by two strong troopers, stood Peter Sanghurst, his face a chalky-white colour, his eyes almost starting from his head with terror, all his old ease and assumption gone, the innate cowardice 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 kind upon those in his power, now stood shivering and almost fainting with apprehension at the fate in store for himself. As plentiful evidence had been given of his many acts of barbarity and tyranny, there had been fierce threats passed from mouth to mouth that hanging was too good for him – that he ought to taste what he had inflicted on others; and the wretched man stood there in an agony of apprehension, every particle of his swaggering boldness gone, and without a vestige of real courage to uphold him in the hour of his humiliation.

As the Prince saw the approach of Joan, he sprang to his feet, and all the assembled nobles did the same. With that chivalrous courtesy for which he became famous in history, the Prince bent the knee before the lady, and taking her by the hand, led her to a seat of honour beside himself, asking her of herself and her story, and listening with respectful 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. The veins swelled upon the Prince's forehead as he heard the tale, and his eyes emitted sparks of fierce light as they flashed from time to time upon the trembling prisoner.

"Methinks we have heard enough, gentlemen," said he at length, as Gaston's narrative drew to a close.

"Marshal, bring hither your prisoner.

"This man, gentlemen, is the hero of these brave deeds of valour of which we have been hearing. This is the man who dares to waylay and torture English subjects to wring from them treasure and gold; the man who dares to bring this vilely-won wealth to purchase with it the favour of England's King; the man who wages war on foreign soil with the friends of England, and treacherously sells them into the hand of England's foe; who deals with them as we have heard he dealt and would have dealt with Raymond de Brocas had not Providence worked almost a miracle in his defence. This is the man who, together with his father, drove from this very house the lawful owner, because that she was a gentle, tender woman, and was at that moment alone and unable to defend herself from them. This is the man who is not ashamed to call himself the master of Basildene, and who has striven to compass by the foulest ends the death of the true owner of the property – though Raymond de Brocas braved the terrors of the Black Death to tend and soothe the last dying agonies of that man's father. This is the man who would wed by force this fair maiden, and strove to deceive her by the foulest tricks and jugglery. Say, gentlemen, what is the desert of this miscreant? What doom shall we award him as the recompense of his past life?"

A score of hideous suggestions were raised at once, and the miserable Peter Sanghurst shook in his shoes as he saw the fierce, relentless faces of the soldiers making a ring round him. Those were cruel days, despite the softening influence of their vaunted chivalry, and the face of the Prince was stern and black. It was plain that he had been deeply roused by the story he had heard.

But Joan was there, and she was a woman; and vile as had been this man's life, and deeply as he had injured her and him she loved tenfold more than her own life, he was still a human creature, and a creature without a hope either in this world or the world to come. She could not but pity him as he stood there cowering and shuddering, and she turned swiftly towards the Prince and spoke to him in a rapid undertone.

Young Edward listened, and the dark cloud passed from his brow. He was keenly susceptible to the nobler emotions, and an appeal to his generosity was not unheeded. Raising his hand in token that he demanded silence, 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 his subjects – crimes for which death alone is scarce punishment enough. You well merit a worse fate than the gallows. You well merit some of those lingering agonies that you have inflicted upon your wretched victims, and have rejoiced to witness. But we in England do not torture our prisoners, and it is England's pride that this is so. This fair lady, who owes you naught but grievous wrong, has spoken for you; she says that were Raymond de Brocas here, he would join with her in praying that your fate might be swift and merciful. Therefore I decree that you are led forth without the gates of Basildene, and hanged upon the first tree out of sight of its walls.

"See to it, marshal. Let there be no delay. It is not fit that such a wretch should longer cumber the earth. Away with him, I say!"

The soldiers closed around the condemned man and bore him forth, one of the marshals following to see the deed done. Joan had for a moment covered her face with her hand, for even so it was rather terrible to see this tyrant and oppressor led forth from his own house to an ignominious death, and she was unused to such stern scenes. But those around the table were already turning their attention to other matters, and the Prince was addressing himself to certain men who had come into the 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 was cleverly hidden, in all truth, in the cellars of the house, and we should scarce have lighted on it but for the help of some of the people here, who, so soon as they heard that their master was doomed to certain death, were as eager to help us as they had been fearful before. It has all been brought up for you to see; and a monstrous hoard it is. It must almost be true, I trow, that the old man had the golden secret. So much gold 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 the coffers containing the treasure hoarded up and amassed by the Sanghursts during a long period of years. "But I trow since the Black Death has so ravaged 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 secured this house and all that belongs to it. Into your hands I now intrust the gold and the lands, to be kept by you until the rightful owner appears to lay claim to them. Let a part of this gold be spent upon making fit this house for the reception of its master and this fair maiden, who will one day be the mistress here with him. Let it be thy part, good Master Bernard, to remove from these walls the curse which has been brought upon them by the vile sorceries and cruelties of this wicked father and more wicked son. Let Holy Church do her part to cleanse and purify the place, and then let it be made meet for the reception of its lord and lady when they shall return hither to receive their own."

The good Bernard's face glowed with satisfaction at this charge. It was just such a one as pleased him best, and such as he was well able to fulfil. Nobody more capable could well have been found for the guardianship and restoration of Basildene; and with this hoard to draw upon, the old house might well grow to a beauty and grandeur it had never known before.

"Gracious Prince, I give you thanks on behalf of my nephew, and I will gladly do all that I may to carry out your behest. The day will come when Raymond de Brocas shall come in person to thank you for your princely liberality and generosity."

"Tush, man, the gold is not mine; and some of it may have been come by honestly, and belong fairly enough to the Sanghurst family. You say the mother of these bold Gascon youths was a Sanghurst: it follows, then, that Basildene and all pertaining to it should be theirs. Raymond de Brocas has suffered much from the Sanghursts. By every law of right and justice, it is he who should reap the reward, and find Basildene restored 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 the uncle, with glad pride.

His eye was then drawn to another part of the hall; for Sir Hugh Vavasour had just come galloping up to the door in hot haste, having heard all manner of strange rumours: the first being that his daughter had been found, and was in hiding at Basildene; the second, which had only just reached his ears, that Peter Sanghurst was dead – hanged by order of the Prince, and that Basildene had been formally granted as the perpetual right of Raymond de Brocas and his heirs.

"And Raymond de Brocas is the plighted husband of thy daughter, good Sir Hugh," said Master Bernard, coming up to help his old friend out of his bewilderment – "plighted, that is, by themselves, by the right of a true 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 yon miscreant, whose body is swinging on some tree not far away. Thou wert something too willing, my friend, to sell thy daughter for wealth; but fortune has been kind to her as well as to thee, and thou hast gained for 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 young Raymond de Brocas so soon as he comes to claim her hand."

CHAPTER XXX. WITH THE PRINCE.[1 - If any reader has taken the trouble to follow this story closely, he may observe that the expedition of the Black Prince has been slightly antedated. In order not to interrupt the continuity of the fictitious narrative, the time spent in long-drawn and fruitless negotiation at the conclusion of the truce has been omitted.]

"Sanghurst dead! Joan free! her father's consent won! I the Lord of Basildene! Gaston, thou takest away my breath! Art sure thou art not mocking me?"

"Art sure that thou art indeed thyself, my lord of Basildene?" was Gaston's merry response, as he looked his brother over from head to foot with beaming face; "for, in sooth, I scarce should know thee for the brother I left behind – that wan and wasted creature, more like a corpse than a man. The good Brothers have indeed done well by thee, Raymond. Save that thou hast not lost thine old saintly look, which stamps thee as something different from the rest of us, I should scarce have thought it could be thee. This year spent in thine own native clime has made a new man of thee!"

"In truth I think it has," answered Raymond, who was indeed wonderfully changed from the time when Gaston had left him, rather more than ten months before. "We had no snow and no cold in the winter gone by, and I was able to take the air daily, and I grew strong wondrous fast. Thou hadst told me to be patient, to believe that all was well if I heard nothing from thee; and I strove to follow thy maxim, and that with good success. I knew that thou wouldst not let me go on hoping if hope meant but a bitterer awaking. I knew that silence must mean there was work which thou wert doing. Many a time, as a white-winged vessel spread her sails for England's shores, have I longed to step on board and follow thee across the blue water to see how thou wast faring; but then came always the thought that thou mightest be on thy way hither, and that thou wouldst chide me for having left these sheltering walls. And so I stayed on day after day, and week after week, until months had rolled by; and I began to say within myself that, if thou camest not before the autumn storms, I must e'en take ship and follow thee, for I could wait no longer for news of thee – and her."

"And here I am with news of her, and news that to me is almost better. Raymond, I have not come hither alone. The Prince and the flower of our English chivalry are here at Bordeaux this day. The hollow truce is at an end. Insult upon insult has been heaped upon England's King by the King of France, the King of Navarre (who called himself our ally till he deserted us to join the French King, who will yet avenge upon him his foul murder of Charles of Spain), and the Count of Blois in Brittany. England has been patient. Edward has listened long to the pleadings of the Pope, and has not rushed into war; but he cannot wait patiently for ever. They have roused the lion at last, and he will not slumber again till he has laid his foes in the dust.

"Listen, Raymond: the Prince is here in Bordeaux. The faithful Gascon nobles – the Lord of Pommiers, the Lord of Rosen, the Lord of Mucident, and the Lord de l'Esparre – have sent to England to say that if the Prince will but come to lead them, they will make gallant war upon the French King. John has long been striving to undermine England's power in his kingdom, to rid himself of an enemy's presence in his country, to be absolute lord over his vassals without their intermediate allegiance to another master. It does not suffice that our great King does homage for his lands in France (though he by rights is King of France himself). He knows that here, in these sunny lands of the south, the Roy Outremer is beloved as he has never been. He would fain rob our King of all his lands; he is planning and plotting to do it."

"But the Roy Outremer is not to be caught asleep," cried Raymond, with a kindling glance, "and John of France is to learn what it is to have aroused the wrath of the royal Edward and of his brave people of England."

"Ay, verily; and our good Gascons are as forward in Edward's cause as his English subjects," answered Gaston quickly. "They love our English rule, they love our English ways; they will not tamely be transformed into a mere fief of the French crown. They will fight for their feudal lord, and stand stanchly by his banner. It is their express request that brings the Prince hither today. The King is to land farther north – at Cherbourg methinks it was to be; whilst my Lord of Lancaster has set sail for Brittany, to defend the Countess of Montford from the Count of Blois, who has now paid his ransom and is free once more. His Majesty of France will have enough to do to meet three such gallant foes in the field.

"And listen still farther, Raymond, for the Prince has promised this thing to me – that as he marches through the land, warring against the French King, he will pause before the Castle of Saut and smoke out the old fox, who has long been a traitor at heart to the English cause. And the lands so long held by the Navailles are to be mine, Raymond – mine. And a De Brocas will reign once more at Saut, as of old! What dost thou think of that?"

"Brother, I am glad at heart. It seemeth almost like a dream. Thou the lord of Saut and I of Basildene! Would that she were living yet to see the fulfilment of her dream!"

"Ay, truly I would she were. But, Raymond, thou wilt join the Prince's standard; thou wilt march with us to strike a blow for England's honour and glory? Basildene and fair Mistress Joan are safe. No harm will come to them by thine absence. And thou owest all to the Prince. Surely thou wilt not leave him in the hour of peril; thou wilt march beneath his banner and take thy share of the peril and the glory?"

Gaston spoke with eager energy, looking affectionately into his brother's face; and as he saw that look, Raymond felt that he could not refuse his brother's request. For just a few moments he hesitated, for the longing to see Joan once again and to clasp her in his arms was very strong within him; but his brother's next words decided him.