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

by Evelyn Everett-Green

  CHAPTER XIX. THE STRICKEN SORCERER.

  "Thou to Guildford then, my son, and I and the Brethren to London."

  So said Father Paul some three weeks later, as he stood once againinside the precincts of the Monastery, with Raymond by his side, lookinground the thinned circle of faces of such of the Brothers as hadsurvived the terrible visitation which had passed over them, and nowgone, as it seemed, elsewhere. Quite one-half of the inhabitants of thatsmall retreat had fallen victims to the scourge. Scarce ten souls out ofall those who had sought shelter within those walls had risen from theirbeds and gone forth to their desolated homes again. The great trench inthe burying ground had received the rest; and of the Brothers whogathered round Father Paul to welcome him back, several showed, by theirpinched and stricken appearance, how near they themselves had been tothe gates of death.

  Few stricken by the fatal sickness itself ever recovered; but there weremany others who, falling ill of overwork or some other feverish ailment,were accounted to have caught the distemper, and many of these didamend, though all sickness at such a time seemed to get a firmer holdupon its victims. But Father Paul and both his young assistants hadescaped unscathed, though they had been waging a hand-to-hand fight withthe destroyer for three long weeks, that seemed years in the retrospect.

  The Brothers came crowding round them as about those returned from thegrave. Indeed, to them it did almost seem as though this was aresurrection from the dead; for they had long since given up all hope ofseeing their beloved Superior and Father again in the flesh.

  But the Father himself only accounted his work begun. Although thepestilence appeared to have passed from the immediate district, and suchcases as occurred amid the few survivors of the visitation were by nomeans so fatal as they had been in the beginning, yet the sicknessitself in its most virulent form was sweeping along northward andeastward, spreading death and desolation in its track; and Father Paulhad but one purpose in his mind, which was to follow in the path of thedestroyer, performing for the sufferers wherever he went the sameoffices of piety and mercy that he had been wont to undertake all thesepast days; and the Brothers, who had finished their labour of lovewithin the walls of their home, and had grown fearless before thepestilence with that fearlessness which gradually comes to those wholook long and steadily upon death, were not wanting in resolve to faceit even in its most terrible shape.

  So that they one and all vowed that they would go with Father Paul; andhis steps were bound for the capital of the kingdom, where he knew thatthe need would be the sorest.

  It seemed to the Brothers, who had long lived beneath his austere butwise and fatherly rule, that not only did he himself bear a charmedlife, but that all who worked with him felt the shelter of that charm.Raymond and Roger had returned, having suffered no ill effects from theterrible sights and scenes through which they had passed. Though thecountry in these almost depopulated districts literally reeked with thepestilence, owing to the effluvia from the carcasses of men and beastswhich lay rotting on the ground unburied, yet they had passed unscathedthrough all, and were ready to go forth again upon the same errand of mercy.

  Raymond was much divided in mind as to his own course of action. Much ashe longed to remain with Father Paul, whom he continued to revere with aloving admiration that savoured of worship, he yet had a great desire toknow how it was faring with his cousin John. He could not but be verysure that the pestilence would not pass Guildford by, and he knew thatJohn would go forth amongst the sick and dying, and bring them into hisown house for tendance, even though his own life paid the forfeit. Itwas therefore with no small eagerness that he longed for news of him;and when he spoke of this to the Father, the latter at once advised thatthey should part company -- he and such of the Brethren as were fit forthe journey travelling on to London, whilst the two youths took thedirect road to Guildford, to see how matters fared there.

  "Ye are but striplings," said the Father kindly, "and though ye bewilling and devoted, ye have not the strength of men, nor are ye suchseasoned vessels. In London the scenes will be terrible to look upon. Itmay be that they would be more than ye could well brook. Go, then, toGuildford. They will need helpers there who know how best to wrestlewith the foul distemper, and ye have both learned many lessons with me.I verily believe that your work lies there, as mine lies yonder. Gothen, and the Lord be with you. It may be we shall meet again in thisworld, but if not, in that world beyond into which our Blessed Saviourhas passed, that through His intercession, offered unceasingly for us,we too may obtain an entrance through the merits of His redeeming Blood."

  Then blessing both the boys and embracing them with a tenderness new inone generally so reserved and austere, he sent them away, and they settheir faces steadily whence they had come, not knowing what adventuresthey might meet upon the way.

  This return journey was by no means so rapid as the ride hither hadbeen. Both the horses they had then ridden had perished of the sickness,and as none others were to be found, and had they been obtainable mightbut have fallen down by the wayside to die, the youths travelled onfoot. And they did not even take the most direct route, but turned asideto this place or the other, wherever they knew of the existence of humanhabitations; for wherever such places were, there might there be needfor human help and sympathy. And not a few acts of mercy did the boysperform as they travelled slowly onwards through an almost depopulatedregion.

  Time fails to tell of all they saw and heard as they thus journeyed; butthey found ample employment for all their skill and energy. The lives ofmany little children, whose parents had died or fled, were saved bythem, and the neglected little orphans left in the kindly care of somedevoted Sisterhood, whose inmates gladly received them, fearless of therisk they might run by so doing.

  Wandering so often out of their way, they scarce knew their exactwhereabouts when darkness fell upon them on the third day of theirjourneying; but after walking still onwards for some time in what theyjudged to be the right direction, they presently saw a light in acottage window, and knocking at the door, asked shelter for the night.

  Travellers at such a time as this were regarded with no small suspicion,and the youths hardly looked to get any answer to their request; butrather to their surprise, the door was quickly opened, and Roger uttereda cry of recognition as he looked in the face of the master of the house.

  It was no other, in fact, than the ranger with whom as a boy he hadfound a temporary home, from which home he had been taken in hisfather's absence and sold into the slavery of Basildene. The boy's cryof astonishment was echoed by the man when once he had made sure thathis senses were not deceiving him, but that it was really little Roger,whom he had long believed to be dead; and both he and his companion wereeagerly welcomed in and set down to a plentiful meal of bread andvenison pasty, whilst the boy told his long and adventurous story asbriefly as he could, Stephen listening with parted lips and staringeyes, as if to the recital of some miraculous narrative.

  And in truth the tale was strange enough, told in its main aspects: theescape from Basildene, which to himself always partook of the nature ofa miracle, the conflict with the powers of darkness in the Monastery,his adventures in France, and now his marvellous escape in the midst ofthe plague-stricken people whom he had tended and helped. The ranger,who had lost his own wife and children in the distemper, and had himselfescaped, had lost all fear of the contagion --indeed he cared littlewhether he lived or died; and when he heard upon what errand the youthswere bent, he declared he would gladly come with them, for the solitudeof his cottage was so oppressive to him that he would have welcomed evena plague-stricken guest sooner than be left much longer with only hishounds and his own thoughts for company.

  "If I cannot tend the sick, I can at least bury the dead," he said,drawing his horny hand across his eyes, remembering for whom he had butlately performed that last sad office. And Raymond, to whom this offerwas addressed, accepted his company gladly, for he knew by recentexperience how great was the need for helpe
rs where the sick and thedead so far outnumbered the whole and sound.

  He had gone off into a reverie as he sat by the peat fire, whilst Rogerand the ranger continued talking together eagerly of many matters, andhe heard little of what passed until roused by the name of Basildenespoken more than once, and he commanded his drowsy and wearied facultiesto listen to what the ranger was saying.

  "Yes, the Black Death has found its way in behind those walls, men say.The old sorcerer tried all his black arts to keep it out; but there cameby one this morning who told me that the old man had been seized, andwas lying without a soul to go near him. They have but two servants thathave ever stayed with them in that vile place, and these both thoughtthe old man's dealings with the devil would at least suffice to keep thescourge away, and felt themselves safer there than elsewhere. But themoment he was seized they both ran away and left him, and there they sayhe is lying still, untended and unwatched -- if he be not dead by now.For as for the son, he had long since made his own preparations. He hasshut himself up in a turret, with a plentiful supply of food; and heburns a great fire of scented wood and spices at the foot of thestairway, and another in the place he lives in, and never means to stirforth until the distemper has passed. One of the servants, before hefled, went to the stair foot and called to him to tell him that hisfather lay a-dying of the plague below; but he only laughed, and said itwas time he went to the devil, who had been waiting so long for him; andthe man rushed out of the house in affright at the sound of suchterrible blasphemy and unnatural wickedness at a time like this."

  Raymond's face took a new expression as he heard these words. Thelassitude and weariness passed out of it, and a curious light crept intohis eyes. Roger and the ranger continued to talk together of manythings, but their silent companion still sat motionless beside thehearth. Over his face was stealing a look of purpose -- such purpose asfollows a struggle of the spirit over natural distaste and disgust.

  When the ranger presently left them, to see what simple preparations hecould make for their comfort during the night, he motioned to Roger tocome nearer, and looking steadily at him, he said:

  "Roger, I am going to Basildene tonight, to see what human skill may dofor the old Sanghurst. He is our enemy -- thine and mine -- thereforedoubly is it our duty to minister to him in the hour of his extremity. Igo forth this night to seek him. Wilt thou go with me? or dost thou fearto fall again under the sway of his evil mind, or his son's, if thouputtest foot within the halls of Basildene again?"

  For a moment a look of strong repulsion crossed Roger's face. He shrankback a little, and looked as though he would have implored his youngmaster to reconsider his resolution. But something in the luminousglance of those clear bright eyes restrained him, and presently some oftheir lofty purpose seemed to be infused into his own soul.

  "If thou goest, I too will go," he said. "At thy side no harm from theEvil One can come nigh me. Have I not proved that a hundred times erenow? And the spell has long been broken off my neck and off my spirit. Ifear neither the sorcerer nor his son. If it be for us -- if it be acall -- to go even to him in the hour of his need, I will go without athought of fear. I go in the name of the Holy Virgin and her Son. I neednot fear what man can do against me."

  Great was the astonishment of the worthy ranger when he returned to hearthe purpose upon which his guests were bent; but he had already imbibedsome of that strange reverential admiration for Raymond which he sofrequently inspired in those about him, and it did not for a momentoccur to him to attempt to dissuade him from an object upon which hismind was bent.

  The October night, though dark and moonless, was clear, and the starswere shining in the sky as the little procession started forth. Theranger insisted on being one of the number. Partly from curiosity,partly from sheer hatred of solitude, and a good deal from interest inhis companions and their errand of mercy, he had decided to come withthem, not merely to show them the way to Basildene, which he could findequally well by night as by day, but to see the result of their journeythere, and take on with him to Guildford the description of the oldsorcerer's home and his seizure there.

  As they moved along through the whispering wood, the man, in low andawe-stricken tones, asked Roger of his old life there, and what it wasthat made him of such value to the Sanghursts. Raymond had never talkedto the lad of that chapter in his past life, always abiding by FatherPaul's advice to let him forget it as far as possible.

  Now, however, Roger seemed able to speak of it calmly, and without theterror and emotion that any recollection of that episode used to causehim in past years. He could talk now of the strange trances into whichhe was thrown, and how he was made to see things at a distance and tellall he saw. Generally it was travellers upon the road he was instructedto watch, and forced to describe the contents of the mails they carriedwith them. Some instinct made the boy many times struggle hard againstrevealing the nature of the valuables he saw that these people had aboutthem, knowing well how they would be plundered by his rapacious masters,after they had tempted them upon the treacherous swamp not far fromBasildene, where, if they escaped with their lives, it would be as muchas they could hope to do. But the truth was always wrung from him bysuffering at last -- not that his body was in any way injured by them,save by the prolonged fasts inflicted upon him to intensify his gift ofclairvoyance; but whilst in these trances they could make him believethat any sort of pain was being inflicted, and he suffered it exactly asthough it had been actually done upon his bodily frame. Thus they forcedfrom his reluctant lips every item of information they desired; and heknew when plunder was brought into the house, and stored in the deepunderground cellars, how and whence it had come -- knew, too, that manyand many a wretched traveller had been overwhelmed in the swamp whomight have escaped with life and goods but for him.

  It was the horror of this conviction, and the firm belief that he hadbeen bound over body and soul to Satan, that was killing him by incheswhen the twin brothers effected his rescue. He did not always rememberclearly in his waking moments what had passed in his hours of trance,but the horror of great darkness always remained with him; and at somemoments everything would come upon him with a fearful rush, and he wouldremain stupefied and overwhelmed with anguish.

  To all of this Raymond listened with great interest. He and John hadread of some such phenomena in their books relating to the history ofmagic; and little as the hypnotic state was understood in those days,the young student had gained some slight insight into the matter, andwas able to speak of his convictions to Roger with some assurance. Hetold him that though he verily believed such power over the wills ofothers to be in some sort the work of the devil, it might yet besuccessfully withstood by a resolute will, bound over to thedetermination to yield nothing to the strong and evil wills of others.And Roger, who had long since fought his fight and gained strength andconfidence, was not afraid of venturing into the stronghold ofwickedness -- less so than ever now that he might go at Raymond's side.

  It was midnight before the lonely house was reached, and Raymond's heartbeat high as he saw the outline of the old walls looming up against thegloomy sky. Not a light was to be seen burning in any of the windows,save a single gleam from out the turret at the corner away to the left;and though owls hooted round the place, and bats winged their uncertainflight, no other living thing was to be seen, and the silence of deathseemed to brood over the house.

  "This is the way to the door that is the only one used," said Stephen,"and we shall find it unlocked for certain, seeing that the servantshave run away, and the young master will not go nigh his father, notthough he were ten times dying. My lantern will guide us surely enoughthrough the dark passages, and maybe young Roger will know where the oldman is like to be found."

  "Below stairs, I doubt not, amongst his bottles and books of magic,"answered Roger, with a light shiver, as he passed through the doorwayand found himself once again within the evil house. "He would think thatin yon place no contagion could touch him. He spent his days and
nightsalike there. He scarce left it save to go abroad, or perchance to have afew hours' sleep in his bed. But the treasure is buried somewhere nighat hand down in those cellars, though the spot I know not. And he fearsto leave it night or day, lest some stealthy hand filch away theill-gotten gain. Men thought he had the secret whereby all might bechanged to gold, and indeed he would ofttimes bring pure gold out fromthe crucibles over his fire; but he had cast in first, unknown to thosewho so greedily watched him, the precious baubles he had stolen fromtravellers upon the road. He was a very juggler with his hands. I havewatched him a thousand times at tricks which would have made the fortuneof a travelling mountebank. But soft! here is the door at the head ofthe stairs. Take heed how that is opened, lest the hound fly at thythroat. Give me the lantern, and have thou thy huntsman's knife toplunge into his throat, else he may not let us pass down alive."

  But when the door was opened, the hound, instead of growling orspringing, welcomed them with whines of eager welcome. The poor beastwas almost starved, and had been tamed by hunger to unwonted gentleness.

  Raymond, who had food in his wallet, fed him with small pieces as theycautiously descended the stairs, for Basildene would furnish them withmore if need be; the larder and cellar there were famous in their way,though few cared to accept of their owner's hospitality.

  Roger almost expected to find the great door of that subterranean roombolted and locked, so jealous was its owner of entrance being madethere; but it yielded readily to the touch, and the three, with thehound, passed in together.

  In a moment Raymond knew by the peculiar atmosphere, which even in solarge a place was sickly and fetid, that they were in the presence ofone afflicted with the true distemper. The place was in total darknesssave for the light of the lantern the ranger carried; but there werelamps in sconces all along the wall, and these Roger quickly lighted,being familiar enough with this underground place, which it had beenpart of his duty to see to. The light from these lamps was pure andwhite and very bright, and lit up the weird vaulted chamber from end toend. It shone upon a stiffened figure lying prone upon the floor not farfrom the vaulted fireplace, upon whose hearth the embers lay black andcold; and Raymond, springing suddenly forward as his glance rested uponthis figure, feared that he had come too late, and that the foe of hishouse had passed beyond the power of human aid.

  "Help me to lift him," he said to Stephen; "and, Roger, kindle thou afire upon the hearth. There may be life in him yet. We will try what weknow. Yes, methinks his heart beats faintly; and the tokens of thedistemper are plainly out upon him. Perchance he may yet live. Of late Ihave seen men rise up from their beds whom we have given up for lost."

  Raymond was beginning to realize that the black boils, so often lookedupon as the death tokens, were by no means in reality anything of thekind. As a matter of fact, of the cases that recovered, most, if notall, had the plague spots upon them. These boils were, in fact, nature'sown effort at expelling the virulent poison from the system, and ifproperly treated by mild methods and poultices, in some cases reallybrought relief, so that the patient eventually recovered.

  But the intensity of the poison, and its rapid action upon the humanorgans, made cases of recovery rare indeed at the outset, when theoutbreak always came in its most virulent form; and truly the appearanceof old Peter Sanghurst was such as almost to preclude hope ofrestoration. Tough as he was in constitution, the glaze of death seemedalready in his eyes. He was all but pulseless and as cold as death,whilst the spasmodic twitchings of his limbs when he was lifted spoke ofdeath rather than life.

  Still Raymond would not give up hope. He had the fire kindled, and itsoon blazed up hot and fierce, whilst the old man was wrapped in a richfurred cloak which Roger produced from a cupboard, and some hot cordialforced between his lips. After one or two spasmodic efforts which mighthave been purely muscular, he appeared to make an attempt to swallow,and in a few more minutes it became plain that he was really doing so,and with increasing ease each time. The blood began to run through hisveins again, the chest heaved, and the breath was drawn in long,labouring gasps. At last the old man's eyes opened, and fixed themselvesupon Raymond's face with a long, bewildered stare.

  They asked him no questions. They had no desire that he should speak.His state was critical in the extreme. They had but come to minister tohis stricken body. To cope with a mind such as his was a task thatRaymond felt must be far beyond his own powers. He would have given muchto have had Father Paul at this bedside for one brief hour, the more soas he saw the shrinking and terror creeping over the drawn, ashen face.Did his guilty soul know itself to be standing on the verge of eternity?and did the wretched man feel the horror of great darkness infolding himalready?

  All at once he spoke, and his words were like a cry of terror.

  "Alicia! Alicia! how comest thou here?"

  Raymond, to whom the words were plainly addressed, knew not how toanswer them, or what they could mean; but the wild eyes were still fixedupon his face, and again the old man's excited words broke forth --"Comest thou in this dread hour to claim thine own again? Alicia,Alicia! I do repent of my robbery. I would fain restore all. It has beena curse, and not a blessing; all has been against me -- all. I was ahappy man before I unlawfully wrested Basildene from thee. Since I havedone that deed naught has prospered with me; and here I am left to diealone, neglected by all, and thou alone -- thy spirit from the dead --comes to taunt me in my last hour with my robbery and my sin. O forgive,forgive! Thou art dead. Spirits cannot inherit this world's goods, elsewould I restore all to thee. Tell me what I may do to make amends ere Idie? But look not at me with those great eyes of thine, lightened withthe fire of the Lord. I cannot bear it -- I cannot bear it! Tell me onlyhow I may make restoration ere I am taken hence to meet my doom!"

  Raymond understood then. The old man mistook him for his mother, whomust have been about his own age when her wicked kinsman had ousted herfrom her possessions. Had they not told him in the old home how wondrouslike to her he was growing? The clouded vision of the old man could seenothing but the face of the youth bending over him, and to him it wasthe face of an avenging angel. He clasped his hands together in an agonyof supplication, and would have cast himself at the boy's feet had henot been restrained. The terrible remorse which so often falls upon aguilty conscience at the last hour had the miserable man in itsclutches. His mind was too far weakened to think of his many crimes evenblacker than this one. The sight of Raymond had awakened within him thememory of the defrauded woman, and he could think of nothing else. Shehad come back from the dead to put him in mind of his sin. If he couldbut make one act of restitution, he felt that he could almost die inpeace. He gripped Raymond's hand hard, and looked with agonizingintensity into his face.

  "I am not Alicia," he answered gently. "Her spirit is at rest and free,and no thought of malice or hatred could come from her now. I am herson. I know all -- how you drove her forth from Basildene, and madeyourself an enemy; but you are an enemy no longer now, for the hand ofGod is upon you, and I am here in His name to strive to soothe your lasthours, and point the way upwards whither she has gone."

  "Alicia's son! Alicia's son!" almost screamed the old man. "Now Heavenbe praised, for I can make restitution of all!"

  Raymond raised his eyes suddenly at an exclamation from Roger, to see atall dark figure standing motionless in the doorway, whilst PeterSanghurst's fiery eyes were fixed upon his face with a gaze of the mostdeadly malevolence in them.