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

by Evelyn Everett-Green

  CHAPTER XI. A QUIET RETREAT.

  Little did Raymond de Brocas think, as he stepped across the thresholdof that quiet monastic home, that the two next years of his own lifewere to be spent beneath that friendly and hospitable roof. And yet soit was, and to the training and teaching he received during hisresidence there he attributed much of the strength of mind and force ofcharacter that distinguished him in days to come.

  The small community to which they had brought the persecuted victim ofthe sorcerer's evil practices belonged to the order of the Cistercians,who have been described as the Quakers of their day. At a time when manyof the older orders of monks were falling from their first rigidsimplicity -- falling into those habits of extravagance which in days tocome caused their fall and ultimate suppression -- the Cistercians stillheld to their early regime of austere simplicity and plainness of life;and though no longer absolutely secluding themselves from the sight orsound of their fellow men, or living in complete solitude, they werestill men of austere life and self-denying habits, and retained thereputation for sanctity of life that was being lost in other orders,though men had hardly begun to recognize this fact as yet.

  From the first moment that Raymond's eyes fell upon the wonderful faceof Father Paul, his heart was touched by one of those strangeattractions for which it is difficult to account, yet which often form aturning point in the history of a human life. It was not the venerableappearance of the holy man alone; it was an indescribable something thatdefied analysis, yet drew out all that was best and highest in thespirit of the youth. But after the first glance at the monk, as he cameforward and received the inanimate form of the woodman's son in hisstrong arms, Raymond's attention was differently occupied; for onlooking round at his companions, he saw that John's face was as white asdeath, and that he swayed in his saddle as though he would fall.

  It then occurred to the boy for the first time that this long and tiringnight's ride was an undertaking for which John was little fit. He hadbut recently recovered from a bout of sickness that had left him weakand fit for little fatigue, and yet the whole night through he had beenriding hard, and had only yielded to exhaustion when the object forwhich the journey had been taken had been accomplished.

  The kindly monks came out and bore him into their house, and presentlyhe and the woodman's son lay side by side in the room especially setapart for the sick, watched over by Father Paul, and assiduously tendedby Raymond, to whom John was by this time greatly attached.

  As for Gaston, after a rest extending over two nights and days, he wasdespatched to Windsor with the escort who had accompanied them on theirride hither, to tell John's father what had befallen the travellers, andhow, John's wound having broken out afresh, he purposed to remain forsome time the guest of the holy Fathers.

  Thus, for the first time in their lives, were the brothers separated;for though Gaston had no thought but of speedy return when he set out onhis journey, they saw him no more in that quiet cloistered home, and fortwo long years the brothers did not meet again. Truth to tell, the quietof a religious retreat had no charm for Gaston, as it had for hisbrother, and the stirring doings in the great world held him altogetherin thrall. The King of England was even then engaged in activepreparations for the war with France that did not commence in realearnest till two years later. But all men believed that the invasion ofthe enemy's land was very near. Proclamations of the most warlike naturewere being issued alike by King and Parliament. Edward was again puttingforward his inconsistent and illogical claim to the crown of France.Men's hearts were aflame for the glory and the stress of war, and Gastonfound himself drawn into the vortex, and could only send an urgentmessage to his brother, bidding him quickly come to him at Windsor. Hehad been taken amongst the number of the Prince's attendants. He longedfor Raymond to come and share his good fortune.

  But Raymond, when that message reached him, had other things to think ofthan the clash of arms and the struggle with a foreign foe; and he couldonly send back a message to his brother that for the time at least theirpaths in life must lie in different worlds. Doubtless the day would comewhen they should meet again; but for the present his own work lay herein this quiet place, and Gaston must win his spurs without his brotherbeside him. So Gaston threw himself into the new life with all the zestof his ardent nature, following sometimes the Prince and sometimes theKing, according as it was demanded of him, making one of those whofollowed Edward into Flanders the following year, only to be thwarted oftheir object through the most unexpected tragedy of the murder of VanArtevelde.

  Of wars, adventures, and battles we shall have enough in the pages tofollow; so without farther concerning ourselves with the fortunes ofGaston through these two years of excitement and preparation, we willrather remain with Raymond, and describe in brief the events whichfollowed upon his admission within the walls of the Cistercian monks' home.

  Of those first weeks within its walls Raymond always retained a vividremembrance, and they left upon him a mark that was never afterwardseffaced. He became aware of a new power stirring within him which he hadnever hitherto dreamed of possessing.

  As has before been said, Roger the woodman's son was carried into thebare but spotlessly clean room upon the upper floor of the buildingwhich was used for any of the sick of the community, and John was laidin another of the narrow pallet beds, of which there were four in thatplace. All this while Roger lay as if dead, in a trance that might beone simply of exhaustion, or might be that strange sleep into which theold sorcerer had for years been accustomed to throw him at will. Leavinghim thus passive and apparently lifeless (save that the heart's actionwas distinctly perceptible), Father Paul busied himself over poor John,who was found to be in pitiable plight; for his wound had opened withthe exertion of the long ride, and he had lost much blood before any oneknew the state he was in. For some short time his case was somewhatcritical, as the bleeding proved obstinate, and was checked withdifficulty; and but for Father Paul's accurate knowledge of surgery(accurate for the times he lived in, at any rate), he would likelyenough have bled to death even as he lay.

  Then whilst the kindly monks were bending over him, and Father Paul'sentire time and attention were given up to the case before him, so thathe dared not leave John's bedside for an instant, Roger suddenly uttereda wild cry and sprang up in his bed, his lips parted, his eyes wide openand fixed in a dreadful stare.

  "I come! I come!" he cried, in a strange, muffled voice; and with arapidity and energy of which no one would have believed him capable whohad seen him lifted from the horse an hour before, he rose and strove topush aside his father's detaining hand.

  The old man uttered a bitter cry, and flung his arms about the boy.

  "It has come! it has come! I knew it would. There is no hope, none! Heis theirs, body and soul. He will go back to them, and they will --"

  The words were drowned in a wild cry, as the boy struggled so fiercelythat it was plain even the old man's frenzied strength would not sufficeto detain him long. Father Paul and the monk who was assisting him withJohn could not move without allowing the bleeding to recommence. ButRaymond was standing by disengaged, and the keen eyes of the Fatherfixed themselves upon his face. He had heard a brief sketch of therescue of Roger as the boy had been undressed and laid in the bed, andnow he said, in accents of quiet command,

  "Take the crucifix that hangs at my girdle, and lay it upon his brow.Bid him lie down once again -- adjure him in the name of the Holy Jesus.It is not earthly force that will prevail here. We may save him but bythe Name that is above every name. Go!"

  Again over Raymond's senses there stole that sense of mystic unreality,or to speak more truly, the sense of the reality of the unseen over theseen things about and around us that men call mysticism, but which maybe something widely different; and with it came that quickening of thefaculties that he had experienced before as he had knelt in thesorcerer's unhallowed hall, the same sense of fearlessness and power. Hetook the crucifix without a word, and went straight to the
frenzied boy,struggling wildly against the detaining clasp of his father's arms.

  "Let him go," he said briefly; and there was that in the tone thatcaused the astonished old man to loose his hold, and stand gazing in aweand amaze at the youthful face, kindling with its strange look ofresolve and authoritative power.

  It seemed as though the possessed boy felt the power himself; for thoughhis open eyes took in no answering impression from the scenes aroundhim, his arms fell suddenly to his side. The struggles ceased, he madeno attempt to move; whilst Raymond laid the crucifix against his brow,and said in a low voice:

  "In the Name of the Holy Son of God, in the Name of the Blessed Jesus, Iforbid you to go. Awake from that unhallowed sleep! Call upon the Nameof all names. He will hear you -- He will save you."

  His eyes were fixed upon the trembling boy; his face was shining withthe light of his own implicit faith; his strong will braced itself tothe fulfilment of the task set him to do. Confident that what the Fatherbid him accomplish, that he could and must fulfil, Raymond did indeedresemble some pictured saint on painted window, engaged in conflict withthe Evil One; and when with a sudden start and cry the boy woke suddenlyto the sense of passing things, perhaps it was small wonder that he sankat Raymond's feet, clasping him round the knees and sobbing wildly hisbroken and incoherent words:

  "O blessed Saint George -- blessed and glorious victor! thou hast cometo me a second time to strengthen and to save. Ah, leave me not! To theeI give myself; help, O help me to escape out of this snare, which ismore cruel than that of death itself! I will serve thee ever, blessedsaint. I will be thine in life and death! Only fight my battle with thedevil and his host, and take me for thine own for ever and ever."

  Raymond kindly lifted him up, and laid him upon the bed again.

  "I am no saint," he said, a little shamefacedly; "I am but a youth likethyself. Thou must not pray to me. But I will help thee all I may, andperchance some day, when this yoke be broken from off thy neck, we willride forth into the world together, and do some service there for thosewho are yet oppressed and in darkness."

  "I will follow thee to the world's end, be thou who thou mayest!"exclaimed the boy ecstatically, clasping his thin hands together, whilsta look of infinite peace came into his weary eyes. "If thou wouldestwatch beside my bed, then might I sleep in peace. He will not dare tocome nigh me; his messengers must stand afar off, fearing to approachwhen they see by whom I am guarded."

  It was plainly useless to try to disabuse Roger of the impression thathis visitor was other than a supernatural one, and Raymond saw that withthe boy's mind so enfeebled and unhinged he had better let him thinkwhat he would. He simply held the crucifix over him once again, andsaid, with a calm authority that surprised even himself:

  "Trust not in me, nor in any Saint however holy. In the Name of theBlessed Jesus alone put thy faith. Speak the prayer His lips havetaught, and then sleep, and fear nothing."

  With hands locked together, and a wonderful look of rest upon his face,Roger repeated after Raymond the long-unused Paternoster which he hadnever dared to speak beneath the unhallowed roof of his master atBasildene. With the old sense of restful confidence in prayer came atonce the old untroubled sleep of the little child; and when Raymond atlast looked up from his own devotions at the bedside, it was to see thatRoger had fallen into the tranquil slumber that is the truest restorerof health, and that Father Paul was standing on the opposite side of thebed, regarding him with a very gentle yet a very penetrating andauthoritative gaze. He bent his head once more as if to demand ablessing, and the Father laid a hand upon his head, and said, in grave,full tones:

  "Peace be with thee, my son."

  That was all. There was no comment upon what had passed; and afterpartaking of a simple meal, Raymond was advised to retire to resthimself after his long night's ride, and glad enough was he of the sleepthat speedily came to him.

  All the next day he was occupied with Gaston, who had many charges toundertake for John; and only when his brother had gone was he free totake up his place at John's bedside, and be once again his nurse,companion, and fellow student.

  Roger still occupied the bed in the same room where he had first beenlaid. A low fever of a nature little understood had fastened upon him,and he still fell frequently into those strange unnatural trances whichwere looked upon by the brothers of the order as due to purely satanicagency. What Father Paul thought about them none ever knew, and nonedared to ask.

  Father Paul was a man who had lived in the world till past the meridianof life. He was reported to have travelled much, to have seen many landsand many things, and to have been in his youth a reckless and evilliver. Some even believed him to have committed some great crime; butnone rightly knew his history, and his present sanctity and power andholiness were never doubted. A single look into that stern, worn,powerful face, with the coal-black eyes gleaming in their deep sockets,was enough to convince the onlooker that the man was intensely, eventerribly in earnest. His was the leading spirit in that small andaustere community, and he began at once to exercise a strong influenceupon each of the three youths so unexpectedly thrown across his path.

  This influence was the greatest at first over Raymond, in whom heappeared to take an almost paternal interest; and the strange warfarethat they waged together over the mental malady of the unhappy Rogerdrew them still closer together.

  Certainly for many long weeks it seemed as though the boy were labouringunder some demoniacal possession, and Raymond fully believed that suchwas indeed the case. Often it seemed as though no power could restrainhim from at least the attempt to return to the tyrant whom he believedto be summoning him back. Possibly much of the strange malady from whichhe was suffering might be due to physical causes -- overstrained nerves,and even an unconscious and morbid craving after that very hypnoticcondition (as it would now be termed) which had really reduced him tohis present pitiable state; but to Raymond it appeared to proceedentirely from some spiritual possession, and in helping the unhappy boyto resist and conquer the voice of the tempter, his own faith andstrength of spirit were marvellously strengthened; whilst Rogercontinued to regard him in the light of a guardian angel, and followedhim about like a veritable shadow.

  Father Paul watched the two youths with a keen and observant interest.It was by his command that Raymond was always summoned or roused fromsleep whenever the access of nervous terror fell upon Roger and hestrove to obey the summoning voice. He would watch with quiet intensitythe struggle between the wills of the two lads, and mark, with a faintsmile upon his thin lips, the triumph invariably attained by Raymond,and his growing and increasing faith in the power of the Name he invokedin his aid. Seldom indeed had he himself to come to the aid of the boy.He never did so unless Roger's paroxysm lasted long enough to tryRaymond's strength to the verge of exhaustion, and this was very seldom.

  The calm smile in the Father's eyes, and his quiet words ofcommendation, "Well done, my son!" were reward sufficient for Raymondeven when his strength had been most severely tasked; and as little bylittle he and his charge came to know the monk better, and to receivefrom him from time to time words of teaching, admonition, orencouragement, they found themselves growing more and more dominated byhis strong will and personality, more eager day by day to please him,more anxious to win the rare smile that occasionally flashed across theaustere face and illuminated it like a gleam of sunshine.

  John felt almost the same sense of fascination as Raymond, and was by nomeans impatient of the tardy convalescence that kept him so long aprisoner beneath the walls of the small religious house. He would indeedhave fain tarried longer yet, but that his father sent a retinue ofservants at length to bring him home again.

  But Raymond did not go with him. His work for Roger was not yet done,and warmly attached as he was to John, his heart was still more centredupon Father Paul. Besides, no mention was made of him in the letter thataccompanied the summons home. His brother was he knew not where, and hisduty lay with Roger, who looked to h
im as to a saviour and protector.

  There was no thought of Roger's leaving the retreat he had found in hishour of need. He scarce dared put foot outside the quiet cloisteredquadrangle behind whose gates and walls he alone felt safe. Besides, hisfather lay slowly dying in the hospital hard by. It seemed as though thevery joy of having his son restored to him had been too much for hisenfeebled frame after the long strain of grief that had gone before. Theprocess of decay might be slow, but it was sure, and all knew that theold man would ere long die. He had no desire for life, if only his boywere safe; and to Raymond he presented a pathetic petition that he wouldguard and cherish him, and save him from that terrible possession whichhad well-nigh been his ruin body and soul.

  To Raymond it seemed indeed as if this soul had been given him, and hepassed his word with a solemnity that brought great comfort to the dyingman.

  An incident which had occurred shortly before had added to Raymond'ssense of responsibility with regard to Roger, and had shown him likewisethat a new peril menaced his own path in life, though of personal dangerthe courageous boy thought little.

  One day, some six weeks after his admission to the Monastery, andshortly before John's departure thence, Roger had been strangely uneasyand depressed for many hours. It was no return of the trance-like statein which he was not master of his own words and actions. Those attackshad almost ceased, and he had been rapidly gaining in strength inconsequence. This depression and restless uneasiness was something newand strange. Raymond did not know what it might forebode, but he triedto dissipate it by cheerful talk, and Roger did his best to fightagainst it, though without much success.

  "Some evil presence is near!" he exclaimed suddenly; "I know it -- Ifeel it! I ever felt this sick shuddering when those wicked menapproached me. Methinks that one of them must even now be nigh at hand.Can they take me hence? Do I indeed belong to them? O save me -- helpme! Give me not up to their power!"

  His agitation became so violent, that it was a relief to Raymond thatFather Paul at this moment appeared; and as this phase in Roger's statewas something new, and did not partake of the nature of any spiritualpossession, he dismissed Raymond with a smile, bidding him go out forone of the brief wanderings in the woods that were at once pleasant andnecessary for him, whilst he himself remained beside Roger, soothing hisnameless terrors and assuring him that no power in the land, not eventhat of the King himself, would be strong enough to force from thekeeping of the Church any person who had sought Sanctuary beneath hershadow.

  Meantime Raymond went forth, as he was wont to do, into the beech woodthat lay behind the home of the monks. It was a very beautiful place atall times; never more so than when the first tender green of comingsummer was clothing the giant trees, and the primroses and wood sorrelwere carpeting the ground, which was yet brown with the fallen leaves ofthe past autumn. The slanting sunbeams were quivering through thegnarled tree trunks, and the birds were singing rapturously overhead, asRaymond bent his steps along the trodden path which led to the nearestvillage; but he suddenly stopped short with a start of surprise onencountering the intent gaze of a pair of fierce black eyes, and findinghimself face to face with a stranger he had never seen in his life before.

  Never seen? No; and yet he knew the man perfectly, and felt that hechanged colour as he stood gazing upon the handsome malevolent face thatwas singularly repulsive despite its regular features and bold beauty.In a moment he recollected where he had seen those very lineamentsportrayed with vivid accuracy, even to the sinister smile and the gleamin the coal-black eyes.

  Roger possessed a gift of face drawing that would in these days make thefortune of any portrait painter. He had many times drawn with a piece ofrough charcoal pictures of the monks as he saw them in the refectory,the refined and hollow face of John, and the keen and powerfulcountenance of Father Paul. So had he also portrayed for Raymond thefeatures of the two Sanghursts, father and son. The youth knew perfectlythe faces of both; and as he stopped short, gazing at this stranger withwide-open eyes, he knew in a moment that Roger's malevolent foe was nighat hand, and that the sensitive and morbidly acute faculties of the boyhad warned him of the fact, when he could by no possibility have knownit by any other means.

  Sanghurst stood looking intently at this bright-faced boy, a smile onhis lips, a frown in his eyes.

  "Methinks thou comest from the Monastery hard by?" he questionedsmoothly. "Canst tell me if there be shelter there for a weary travellerthis night?"

  "For a poor and weary traveller perchance there might be," answered theboy, with a gleam in his eye not lost upon his interlocutor; "but it isno house of entertainment for the rich and prosperous. Those are sentonwards to the Benedictine Brothers, some two miles south from this.Father Paul opens not his gates save to the sick, the sorrowful, theneedy. Shall I put you in the way of the other house, Sir? Methinks itwould suit you better than any place which calls Father Paul its head."

  The gaze bent upon the boy was searching and distinctly hostile. As thedialogue proceeded, the look of malevolence gradually deepened upon theface of the stranger, till it might have made a timid heart quail.

  "How then came John de Brocas to tarry there so long? For aught I knowhe may be there yet. By what right is he a guest beneath this sohospitable roof?"

  "He was sick nigh to the death when he craved admittance," answeredRaymond briefly. "He --"

  "He had aided and abetted the flight from his true masters of a servantboy bound over to them lawfully and fast. If he thinks to deceive PeterSanghurst or if you do either, boy that you are, though with thehardihood of a man and the recklessness of a fool -- you little knowwith whom you have to deal. It was you -- you who broke into our house-- I know not how, but some day I shall know -- and stole away with oneyou fondly hope to hold against my power. Boy, I warn you fairly: noneever makes of Peter Sanghurst an enemy but he bitterly, bitterly ruesthe day. I give you one chance of averting the doom which else will fallupon you. Give back the boy. Lure him out hither some day when I amwaiting to seize him. Place him once again in my hands, and your rashact shall be forgiven. You have the power to do this. Be advised, andaccept my terms. The Sanghursts never forgive. Refuse, and the day willcome when you will so long to have done my bidding now, that you wouldeven sell your soul to undo the deed which has brought my enmity uponyou. Now choose. Will you deliver up the boy, or --"

  "Never!" answered Raymond, with flashing eyes, not even waiting to hearthe alternative. "I fear you not. I know you, and I defy you. I willthis moment to Father Paul, to warn him of your approach. The gates willbe closed, and you will be denied all entrance. You may strive as youwill, but your victim has taken Sanctuary, and not all the powers of theworld or the devil you serve can prevail against the walls of that havenof refuge. Go back whence you came, or stay and do your worst. We fearyou not. The Holy Saints and the Blessed Jesus are our protectors anddefenders. You have tried in vain your foul spells. You have seen whattheir power is against that which is from above. Go, and repent yourevil ways ere it be too late. You threaten me with your vengeance; haveyou ever thought of that vengeance of God which awaits those who defyHis laws and invoke the powers of darkness? My trust is in Him;wherefore I fear you not. Do then your worst. Magnify yourself as youwill. Your fate will be like that of the blaspheming giant of Gath whodefied the power of the living God and fell before the sling and thestone of the shepherd boy."

  And without waiting to hear the answer which was hurled at him with allthe fury of an execration, Raymond turned and sped back to theMonastery, not in any physical fear of the present vengeance of his foe,but anxious to warn the keeper of the gate of the close proximity of onewho was so deadly a foe to Father Paul's protege.

  Not a word of this adventure ever reached Roger's ears, and indeedRaymond thought little of it after the next few weeks had passed withoutfarther molestation from the foe. The old woodman died. Roger, thoughsincerely mourning his father, was too happy in returning health andstrength to be over-much cast down. His mind a
nd body were alike growingstronger. He was never permitted to speak of the past, nor of theabominations of his prison house. Father Paul had from the first biddenthe boy to forget, or at least to strive to forget, all that had passedthere, and never let his thoughts or his words dwell upon it. Raymond,despite an occasional access of boyish curiosity, ever kept this warningin mind, and never sought to discover what Roger had done or hadsuffered beneath the roof of Basildene. And so soon as the boy hadrecovered some measure of health, both he and Raymond were regularlyinstructed by Father Paul in such branches of learning as were likely tobe of most service to them in days to come.

  Whether or not he hoped that they would embrace the religious life theynever knew. He never dropped a hint as to his desires on that point, andthey never asked him. They were happy in their quiet home. All thebrothers were kind to them, and the Father was an object of lovingveneration which bordered on adoration.

  Two years slipped thus away so fast that it seemed scarce possible tobelieve how time had fled by. Save that they had grown much both in bodyand mind, the boys would have thought it had been months, not years,they had spent in that peaceful retreat.

  The break to that quiet life came with a mission which was entrusted byHis Holiness himself to Father Paul, and which involved a journey toRome. With the thought of travel there came to Raymond's mind a longingafter his own home and the familiar faces of his childhood. The Fatherwas going to take the route across the sea to Bordeaux, for he had amission to fulfil there first. Why might not he go with him and see hisfoster-mother and Father Anselm again? He spoke his wish timidly, but itwas kindly and favourably heard; and before the spring green had begunto clothe the trees, Father Paul, together with Raymond and his shadowRoger, had set foot once more upon the soil of France.