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

by Evelyn Everett-Green

  CHAPTER XVI. IN THE OLD HOME.

  The memorable siege of Calais at an end, Edward, his Queen and son andnobility generally, set sail for England, where many matters wererequiring the presence of the sovereign after an absence so prolonged.

  When the others of the Prince's comrades were thronging on hoard toaccompany him homewards, Gaston and Raymond sought him to petition forleave to remain yet longer in France, that they might revisit the homeof their youth and the kind-hearted people who had protected them duringtheir helpless childhood.

  Leave was promptly and willingly given, though the Prince was graciouslypleased to express a hope that he should see his faithful comrades inEngland again ere long.

  It had begun to be whispered abroad that these two lads with theirknightly bearing, their refinement of aspect, and their fearlessness inthe field, were no common youths sprung from some lowly stock. Thatthere was some mystery surrounding their birth was now pretty welladmitted, and this very mystery encircled them with something of a charm-- a charm decidedly intensified by the aspect of Raymond, who neverlooked so much the creature of flesh and blood as did his brother andthe other young warriors of Edward's camp. The fact, which was wellknown now, that he had walked unharmed and unchallenged through thestreets of Calais upon the day of its capitulation, but before the termshad been agreed upon, was in itself, in the eyes of many, a proof ofsome strange power not of this world which encircled the youth. Andindeed Gaston himself was secretly of the opinion that his brother wassomething of a saint or spirit, and regarded him with a reverentialaffection unusual between brothers of the same age.

  Through the four years since he had left his childhood's home, Gastonhad felt small wish to revisit it. The excitement and exaltation of thenew life had been enough for him, and the calm quiet of the peacefulpast had lost, its charm. Now, however, that the war was for the presentover, and with it the daily round of adventure and change; now that hehad gold in his purse, a fine charger to ride, and two or three stoutmen-at-arms in his train, a sudden wish to see again the familiar hauntsof his childhood had come over him, and he had willingly agreed toRaymond's suggestion that they should go together to Sauveterre, to aska blessing from Father Anselm, and tell him how they had fared sincethey had parted from him long ago. True, Raymond had seen him a yearbefore, but he had not then been in battle; he had not had much to tellsave of the cloister life he had been sharing; and of Gaston's fortuneshe had himself known nothing.

  Both brothers were for the present amply provided for. They had receivedrich rewards from the Prince after the Battle of Crecy, and the spoilsof Calais had been very great. They could travel in ease through thesunny plains of France, sufficiently attended to be safe frommolestation, even if the terror of the English arms were not protectionenough for those who wore the badge of the great Edward. From Bordeauxthey could find easy means of transport to England later; and nothingpleased them better than the thought of this long ride through theplains of France, on the way to the old home.

  They did not hurry themselves on this pleasant journey, taken just asthe trying heats of summer had passed, but before the winter's cold hadmade its first approach. The woods were scarce showing their firstrusset tints as the brothers found themselves in familiar country onceagain, and looked about them with eager glances of recognition as theytraversed the once well-known tracks.

  "Let us first to Father Anselm," said Raymond, as they neared thevillage where the good priest held his cure. "He will gladly have uspass a night beneath his roof ere we go onward to the mill; and our goodfellows will find hospitable shelter with the village folks. They havebeen stanch and loyal in these parts to the cause of the Roy Outremer,and any soldier coming from his camp will be doubly welcome, as thebearer of news of good luck to the English arms. The coward King ofFrance is little loved by the bold Gascons, save where a rebel lordthinks to forward his private ends by transferring his allegiance fromEngland to France."

  "To the good Father's, then, with all my heart," answered Gastonheartily; and the little troop moved onwards until, to the astonishmentof the simple villagers clustered round the little church and theircure's house, the small but brilliant cavalcade of armed travellers drewup before that lowly door.

  The Father was within, and, as the sound of trampling feet made itselfheard, appeared at his door in some astonishment; but when the twoyouths sprang from their horses and bent the knee before him, begginghis blessing, and he recognized in them the two boys who had filled sogreat a portion of his life not so many years ago, a mist came beforehis eyes, and his voice faltered as he gave the benediction, whilstraising them afterwards and tenderly embracing them, he led them withinthe well-known doorway, at the same time calling his servant and biddinghim see to the lodging of the men without.

  The low-ceiled parlour of the priest, with its scanty plenishing andrush-strewn floor, was well known to the boys; yet as Raymond steppedacross the threshold he uttered a cry of surprise, not at any change inthe aspect of the room itself, but at sight of a figure seated in ahigh-backed chair, with the full sunlight shining upon the calm, thinface. With an exclamation of joyful recognition the lad sped forward andthrew himself upon his knees before the erect figure, with the name ofFather Paul upon his lips.

  The keen, austere face did not soften as Father Anselm's had done. TheCistercian monk, true to the severity of his order, permitted nothing ofpleasure to appear in his face as he looked at the youth whose characterhe had done so much to form. He did not even raise his hand at once inthe customary salutation or blessing, but fixed his eyes upon Raymond'sface, now lifted to his in questioning surprise; and not until he hadstudied that face with great intentness for many long minutes did he layhis hand upon the lad's head and say, in a low, deep voice, "Peace bewith thee, my son."

  This second and most unexpected meeting was almost a greater pleasure toRaymond than the one with Father Anselm. Whilst Gaston engrossed his oldfriend's time and thought, sitting next him at the board, and pacing athis side afterwards in the little garden in which he loved to spend hisleisure moments, Raymond remained seated at the feet of Father Paul,listening with breathless interest to his history of the voyage he hadtaken to the far East (as it then seemed), and to the strange andterrible sights he had witnessed in some of those far-off lands.

  Raymond had vaguely heard before of the plague, but had regarded it as ascourge confined exclusively to the fervid heat of far-off countries --a thing that would never come to the more temperate latitudes of thenorth; but when he spoke these words to the monk, Father Paul shook hishead, and a sudden sombre light leaped into his eyes.

  "My son, the plague is the scourge of God. It is not confined to oneland or another. It visits all alike, if it be God's will to send it inpunishment for the many and grievous sins of its inhabitants. True, inthe lands of the East, where the paynim holds his court, and everywhereis blasphemy and abomination, the scourge returns time after time, andnever altogether ceases from amongst the blinded people. But of late ithas spread farther and farther westward -- nearer and nearer to our ownshores. God is looking down upon the lands whose people call themselvesafter His name, and what does he see there but corruption in highplaces, greed, lust, the covetousness that is idolatry, the slothfulease that is the curse of the Church?"

  The monk's eyes flashed beneath their heavily-fringed lids; the firethat glowed in them was of a strange and sombre kind. Raymond turned hispure young face, full of passionate admiration and reverence, towardsthe fine but terribly stern countenance of the ecclesiastic. A painterwould have given much to have caught the expression upon those two facesat that moment. The group was a very striking one, outlined against theluminous saffron of the western sky behind.

  "Father, tell me more!" pleaded Raymond. "I am so young, so ignorant;and many of the things the world praises and calls deeds of good turn myheart sick and my spirit faint within me. I would fain know how I maysafely tread the difficult path of life. I would fain choose the goodand leave the evil. But
there be times when I know not how to act, whenit seems as though naught in this world were wholly pure. Is it onlythose who yield themselves up to the life of the cloister who may choosearight and see with open eyes? Must I give up my sword and turn monk ereI may call myself a son of Heaven?"

  The boy's eyes were full of an eager, questioning light. His hands wereclasped together, and his face was turned full upon his companion. TheFather's eyes rested on the pure, ethereal face with a softer look thanthey had worn before, and then a deep sadness came into them.

  "My son," he answered, very gravely, "I am about to say a thing to theewhich I would not say to many young and untried as thou art. There havebeen times in my life when I should have triumphed openly had men spokento me the words that I shall speak to thee -- times when I had gladlysaid that all which men call holiness was but a mask for corruption anddeceit, and should have rejoiced that the very monks themselves wereforced to own to their own wanton disregard of their vows. My son, I seethe shrinking and astonishment in thine eyes; but yet I would for amoment that thou couldst see with mine. I spoke awhile ago of thejudgment of an angry God. Wherefore, thinkest thou, is it that His angeris so hotly burning against those lands that call themselves by His name-- that call day by day upon His name, and make their boast that theyhold the faith whole and undefiled?"

  Raymond shook his head. He had no words with which to answer. He wasbeginning slowly yet surely to feel his eyes opened to the evil of theworld -- even that world of piety and chivalry of which such brightdreams had been dreamed. His fair ideals were being gradually dashed andeffaced. Something of sickness of heart had penetrated his being, and hehad said in the unconscious fashion of pure-hearted youth, "Vanity ofvanities! is all around but vanity?" and he had found no answer to hisown pathetic question.

  As an almost necessary consequence of all this had his thoughts turnedtowards the holy, dedicated life of the sons of the Church; and thoughit was with a strong sense of personal shrinking, with a sense that thesacrifice would be well-nigh bitterer than the bitterness of death, hehad asked himself if it might not be that God had called him, and thatif he would be faithful to the love he had ever professed to hold, heought to rise up without farther delay and offer himself to thededicated service of the Church.

  And now Father Paul, who had always seemed to read the very secrets ofhis heart, appeared about to answer this unspoken question. Greatly hadRaymond longed of late to speak with him again. Father Anselm was a goodand a saintly man, but he knew nothing of the life of the world. To himthe Church was the ark of refuge from all human ills, and gladly wouldhe have welcomed within its fold any weary or world-worn soul. But withFather Paul it was different. He had lived in the world; he had sinned(if men spoke truth), and had suffered bitterly. One look in his facewas enough to tell that; and having lived and sinned, repented andsuffered, he was far more able to offer counsel to one tempted andsometimes suffering, though perhaps in a very different fashion.

  The Father's eyes were bent upon the faint glow in the sky, seen throughthe open casement. His words were spoken quietly, yet with anearnestness that was almost terrible.

  "My son," he said, "I have come back but recently from lands where itseems that holiness should abound -- that righteousness should flowforth as from a perpetual fountain, where the Lord should be seenwalking almost visibly in the midst of His people. And what have I seeninstead? Luxury, corruption, unspeakable abominations -- abominationssuch as I may not dare to speak in thy pure ears, such as I would nothave believed had not mine own eyes seen, mine own ears heard. Where isthe poverty, the lowliness, the meekness, the chastity of the sons ofthe Church? Ah, God in Heaven only knows; and let it be our solemnrejoicing that He does know where His own faithful children are to befound, for assuredly man would miserably fail if he were sent forth tofind and to gather them. Leaving those lands which thou, my son, hastnever seen, and coming hither to France and England, what do we find?Those who have vowed themselves to the service of the Church walkinggaily in the dress of soldiers, engaged in carnal matters, letting theirhair hang down their shoulders curled and powdered, and thinking scornof the tonsure, which is the mark of the Kingdom of Heaven. And does notGod see? Will He not recompense to His people their sins? Yea, verily Hewill; and in an hour when they little think it, the wrath of God shallfall upon them. It is even now upon its way. I have seen it; I havemarked its progress. Ere another year has passed, if men repent not oftheir sins, it will be stalking amongst us. And thou, my son, when thatday comes, fear not. Think not of the cloister; keep thy good sword atthy side, but keep it bright in the cause of right, of mercy, of truth,and keep thy shield stainless and unspotted. Then when the hour ofjudgment falls upon this land, and men in wild terror begin to call uponthe God they have forgotten and abused, then go thou forth in the powerof that purity of heart which He in His mercy has vouchsafed to thee.Fear not the pestilence that walketh in darkness, nor the sickness thatdestroyeth at noonday. A thousand shall fall beside thee, and tenthousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee. With thineeyes shalt thou behold the destruction of thine enemies; but the angelsof God shall encamp around thy path, and guard thee in all thy ways.Only be true, be fearless, be steadfast. Thou shalt be a knight of theLord; thou shalt fight His battle; and from Him, and from no earthlysovereign, shalt thou reap thy reward at last!"

  As the Father continued speaking, it seemed as if something of propheticfire had lighted his eyes. Raymond held his breath in awe as he heardthis strange warning, benediction, and promise. But not for a moment didhe doubt that what the Father spoke would come to pass. He sank upon hisknees, and his heart went up in prayer that when the hour of trial camehe might be found faithful at his post; and at once and for ever waslaid to rest that restless questioning as to the life of the Church. Heknew from that moment forward that it was in the world and not out of itthat his work for his Lord was to be done.

  No more of a personal nature passed between him and Father Paul thatnight, and upon the morrow the brothers proceeded to the mill, and theFather upon his journey to England.

  "We shall meet again ere long," was Father Paul's parting word toRaymond, and he knew that it would be so.

  It was a pretty sight to witness the delighted pride with which honestJean and Margot welcomed back their boys again after the longseparation. Raymond hardly seemed a stranger after his visit of theprevious year, but of Gaston they knew not how to make enough. His tallhandsome figure and martial air struck them dumb with admiration. Theynever tired of listening to his tales of flood and field; and theadventures he had met with, though nothing very marvellous inthemselves, seemed to the simple souls, who had lived so quiet a life,to raise him at once to the position of some wonderful and almostmythical being.

  On their own side, they had a long story to tell of the disturbed stateof the country, and the constant fighting which had taken place untilthe English King's victory at Crecy had caused Philip to disband hisarmy, and had restored a certain amount of quiet to the country.

  The quiet was by no means assured or very satisfactory. Though the armyhad been disbanded, there was a great deal of brigandage in the remoterdistricts. So near as the mill was to Sauveterre, it had escaped withoutmolestation, and the people in the immediate vicinity had not sufferedto any extent; but there was a restless and uneasy feeling pervading thecountry, and it had been a source of considerable disappointment to thewell-disposed that the Roy Outremer had not paid a visit to Gascony inperson, to restore a greater amount of order, before returning to hisown kingdom.

  The Sieur de Navailles had made himself more unpopular than ever by hisadhesion to the French cause when all the world had believed thatPhilip, with his two huge armies, would sweep the English out of thecountry. Of late, in the light of recent events, he had tried to annulhis disloyalty, and put another face upon his proceedings; but only hisobscurity, and the remoteness of his possessions in the far south, wouldprotect him from Edward's wrath when the affairs of the rebel Gasconscame to
be inquired into in detail.

  Gaston listened eagerly, and treasured it all carefully up, feeling surehe could place his rival and the usurper of the De Brocas lands in avery unenviable position with the royal Edward at any time when hewished to make good his own claim.

  The visit of the De Brocas brothers (as they were known in these parts)was not made by stealth. All the world might know it now for all theycared, protected as they were by their stout men-at-arms, and surroundedby the glamour of the English King's royal favour. Gaston and Raymondranged the woods and visited their old haunts with the zest of youth andaffectionate memories, and Gaston often hunted there alone whilst hisbrother paid a visit to Father Anselm, to read with him or talk ofFather Paul.

  It was after a day spent thus apart that Gaston came in looking asthough some unwonted thing had befallen him, and when he and his brotherwere alone in their room together, he began to speak with eager rapidity.

  "Raymond, methinks I have this day lost my heart to a woodland nymph orfairy. Such a strange encounter had I in the forest today! and with it awarning almost as strange as the being who offered it."

  "A warning, Gaston? what sort of warning?"

  "Why, against our old, old enemy the Navailles, who, it seems, knows ofour visit here, and, if he dared, would gladly make an end of us both.So at least the fairy creature told me, imploring me, with sweetestsolicitude, to be quickly gone, and to adventure myself in the woodsalone no more. I told her that our visit was well-nigh at an end, andthat we purposed to reach England ere the autumn gales blew shrill. Atthat she seemed mightily pleased, and yet she sighed when we said adieu.Raymond, she was the loveliest maiden my eyes have ever beheld: her hairlike silk, and of the deepest golden hue; her eyes of the colour ofviolets nestling beneath brown winter leaves. Her voice was like therippling of a summer's brook, and her form scarce of this earth, solight, so airy, so full of sylvan grace. She was like the angelic beingof a dream. I have never seen a daughter of earth so fair. Tell me,thinkest thou it was some dream? Yet it is not my wont to slumber at mysport, and the little hand I held in mine throbbed with the warmth of life."

  "Asked you not her name and station?"

  "Yea verily, but she would tell me naught; only the soft colour creptinto her cheeks, and she turned her eyes for a moment away. Raymond, Ihave heard men speak of love, but till that moment I knew not what theymeant. Now methinks I have a better understanding, for if yon sweetmaiden had looked long into my eyes, my very soul would sure have goneout to her, and I should have straightway forgot all else in the worldbut herself. Wherefore I wondered if she could be in truth a real andliving being, or whether some woodland siren sent to lure man to deathand destruction."

  Raymond smiled at the gravity of Gaston's words. Mystic as he was inmany matters, he had outgrown that belief in woodland nymphs and sirenswhich had woven itself into their life whilst the spell of the forestsremained upon them in their boyhood. That evil and good spirits didhover about the path of humanity, Raymond sincerely believed; but he wasequally certain that they took no tangible form, and that the visionGaston had seen in the wood was no phantom form of spirit.

  "Sure she came to try to warn and save," he answered; "that should beanswer enough. Gaston, methinks we will take that warning. We are stillbut striplings and our men are few, though brave and true. The land isdisturbed as in our memory it never was, and men are wild and lawless,none being strong enough to put down disorder. Wherefore we had best begone. It is no true bravery to court danger, and our errand here isdone. When the King comes, as one day he will, to punish rebels andreward faithful loyalty, then we will come with him, and thou shalt seekout thy woodland nymph once more, and thank her for her good counsel.Now wilt thou thank her best -- seeing she came express to warn thee ofcoming peril -- by taking her at her word. Honest Jean and Margot willnot seek to stay us longer. They have a secret fear of the Sieur deNavailles. We will not tell them all, but we will tell them something,and that will be enough. Tomorrow will we take to horse again; and wewill tell in the ears of the King how restless and oppressed bylawlessness and strife are his fair lands of Gascony."

  Raymond's advice was followed. Gaston had had enough of quiet andrepose, and only the desire to see again the face of the woodland spritecould have detained him. Not knowing where to seek her, he was willingenough to set his face for Bordeaux; and soon the brothers had landedonce again upon the shores of England.