In the Days of Chivalry Part 2

"We will not," answered the boys in a breath. "But the rest of your story, good Father."

"You shall hear it all, my sons. It was in the year of grace 1329 that your father first brought his wife here, and in the following year you twain were born. Your father stayed till he could fold you in his arms, and bestow upon you the blessing of a father; but then his duties to his master called him to England, and for a whole long year we heard no news of him. At the end of that time a messenger arrived with despatches for his lady. She sent to ask my help in reading these; and together we made out that the letter contained a summons for her to join her lord in England, where he would meet her at the port of Southampton, into which harbour many of our vessels laden with wine put in for safe anchorage.

As for the children, said the letter, she must either bring or leave them, as seemed best to her at the time; and after long and earnest debate we resolved that she should go alone, and that you should be left to good Margot's tender care. I myself escorted our gentle lady to Bordeaux, and there it was easy to find safe and commodious transport for her across the sea. She left us, and we heard no more until more than a year had pa.s.sed by, and she returned to us, sorely broken down in mind and body, to tell a sorrowful tale."

"Sorrowful? Had our proud uncles refused to receive her?" asked Gaston, with flas.h.i.+ng eyes. "I trow if that be so --"

But the Father silenced him by a gesture.

"Wait and let me tell my tale, boy. Thou canst not judge till thou knowest all. She came back to us, and to me she told all her tale, piece by piece and bit by bit, not all at once, but as time and opportunity served. And this is what I learned. When your father summoned her back to join him, it was because her one brother was dead -- dead without leaving children behind -- and her father, now growing old, wished to see her once again, and give over to her before he died the fair domain of Basildene, which she would now inherit, but to which she had had no t.i.tle when she married your father. It seemed like enow to both of them that if Arnald de Brocas could lead a well-dowered bride to his brothers' halls, all might be well between them and so it came about when the old man died, and the lady had succeeded to the lands, that he started forth to tell the news, not taking her, as the weather was inclement, and she somewhat suffering from the damp and fog which they say prevail so much in England, but faring forth alone on his emba.s.sy, trusting to come with joy to fetch her anon."

"And did he not?" asked the boys eagerly.

"I will tell you what chanced in his absence. You must know that your grandsire on your mother's side had a kinsman, by name Peter Sanghurst, who had long cast covetous eyes upon Basildene. He was next of kin after your mother, and he, as a male, claimed to call the property his. He had failed to make good his claim by law; but so soon as he knew your mother to be alone in the house, he came down upon it with armed retainers and drove her forth ere she well knew what had befallen; and she, not knowing whither her lord had gone, nor how to find him, and being in sore danger from the malice of the wicked man who had wrested from her the inheritance, and would gladly have done her to death, knew not what better to do than to fly back here, leaving word for her lord where she was to be found; and thus it came that ere she had been gone from us a year, she returned in more desolate plight than at the first."

Gaston's face was full of fury, and Raymond's hands were clenched in an access of rage.

"And what did our father then? Sure he waged war with the vile usurper, and won back our mother's lands for her! Sure a De Brocas never rested quiet under so foul an insult!"

"My sons, your father had been taught patience in a hard school. He returned to Basildene, not having seen either of his brothers, who were both absent on the King's business, to find his wife fled, and the place in the firm grasp of the wily man, who well knew how to strengthen himself in the possession of ill-gotten gains. His first care was for your mother's safety, and he followed her hither before doing aught else. When he found her safe with honest Jean and Margot, and when they had taken counsel together, he returned to England to see what could be done to regain the lost inheritance and the favour of his kinsmen who had been estranged. You were babes of less than three summers when your father went away, and you never saw him more."

"He did not come again?"

"Nay, he came no more, for all too soon a call which no man may disobey came for him, and he died before the year was out."

"And had he accomplished naught?"

"So little that it must needs come to naught upon his death. He sent a trusty messenger -- one of his stout Gascon henchmen -- over to us with all needful tidings. But there was little of good to tell. He had seen his brother, Sir John, the head of the family, and had been received not unkindly by him; but in the matter of the recovery of Basildene the knight had but shaken his head, and had said that the King had too many great matters on hand just then to have leisure to consider so small a pet.i.tion as the one concerning a Manor of no repute or importance. If Arnald had patience to wait, or to interest Prince John in the matter, something might in time be done; but Peter Sanghurst would strive to make good his claim by any means bad or good, and as he held possession it might be difficult indeed to oust him. The property belonged to one who had been a cause of much offence, and perchance that weighed with Sir John and made him less willing to bestir himself in the matter. But be that as it may, nothing had been done when Arnald de Brocas breathed his last; and his wife, when she heard the tale, looked at you two young children as you lay upon the gra.s.s at play, and she said with a sigh and a smile, 'Father, I will wait till my boys be grown, for what can one weak woman do alone? and then we will go together to the land that is mine by birth, and my boys shall win back for me and for themselves the lost inheritance of Basildene.'"

"And so we will!" cried Gaston, with flas.h.i.+ng eyes; "and so we will!

Here as I stand I vow that we will win it back from the false and coward kinsman who holds it now."

"Ay," answered Raymond, with equal ardour and enthusiasm, "that, Brother, will we do; and we will win for ourselves the name that she herself gave to us -- The Twin Brothers of Basildene."

CHAPTER III. THE UNKNOWN WORLD.

So that was the story of their past. That was why they two, with the blood of the De Brocas running in their veins, had lived all their past lives in the seclusion of a humble mill; why they had known nothing of their kinsfolk, albeit they had always known that they must have kindred of their own name and race; and why their mother upon her deathbed had spoken to them not of any inheritance that they might look to claim from descent through their father, but of Basildene, which was theirs in very right, as it had been hers before, till her ambitious and unscrupulous kinsman had driven her forth.

And now what should they do? Whither should they go; and what should be the object of the lives -- the new lives of purpose and resolve which had awakened within them?

Gaston had given voice to this feeling in vowing them to the attempt to recover their lost heritage of Basildene, and Father Anselm did not oppose either that desire or the ardent wish of the youths to fare forth into the great world alone.

"My sons," he said a few days later, when he had come to see if the twins held yet to their first resolve. "You are something young as yet to sally forth into the unknown world and carve for yourselves your fortunes there; but nevertheless I trow the day has come, for this place is no longer a safe shelter for you. The Sieur de Navailles, as it is told me, is already searching for you. It cannot be long before he finds your hiding place, and then no man may call your lives safe by night or day. And not only would ye yourselves be in peril, but peril would threaten good Jean and Margot; and methinks you would be sorely loath that harm should come to them through the faithful kindness they have ever shown to you and yours."

"Sooner would we die than that one hair of their head should be touched!" cried both the boys impetuously; "and Margot lives in fear and trembling ever since we told her of the words we spoke to yon tyrant and usurper of Saut. We told her for her comfort that he would think us too poor and humble and feeble to vent his rage on us; but she shook her head at that, and feared no creature hearing the name of De Brocas would be too humble to be a mark for his spite. And then we told her that we would sally forth to see the world, as we had ever longed to do and though she wept to think that we must go, she did not bid us stay. She said, as thou hast done, good Father, that she had known that such day would surely come; and though it has come something early and something suddenly, she holds that we shall be safer facing the perils of the unknown world, than living here a mark for the spite and malice of the foe of our house. If no man holds us back, why go we not forth tomorrow?"

The priest's face was grave and even sorrowful, but he made no objection even to so rapid a move.

"My sons, if this thing is to be, it is small use to tarry and linger. I would not that the Sieur de Navailles should know that you have hidden your heads here so long; and a secret, however faithfully kept, that belongs to many, may not be a secret always. It is right that you should go, and with the inclement winter season hard upon us, with its dangers from heavy snows, tempests at sea, and those raids from wolves that make the peril of travellers when the cold once sets in, it behoves you, if go ye must, to go right speedily. And in the belief that I should find your minds made up and your preparations well-nigh complete, I have brought to you the casket given into my charge by your mother on her dying bed. Methinks that you will find therein gold enough to carry you safe to England, and such papers as shall suffice to prove to your proud kinsmen at the King's Court that ye are in very truth the sons of their brother, and that it is of just and lawful right that you make your claim to Basildene."

The brothers looked eagerly at the handsome case, wrought and inlaid with gold, in which certain precious parchments had lain ever since they had been carried in haste from England. The boys looked at these with a species of awe, for they had but very scant knowledge of letters, and such as they had acquired from the good Father was not enough to enable them to master the contents of the papers. Learning was almost entirely confined to the ecclesiastics in those days, and many were the men of birth and rank who could scarce read or write their own name.

But the devices upon the parchments told a tale more easily understood.

There was the golden lion rampant upon the black ground -- the arms of the De Brocas family, as the Father told them; whilst the papers that referred to Basildene were adorned with a s.h.i.+eld bearing a silver stag upon an azure ground. They would have no difficulty in knowing the deeds apart; and good Margot sewed them first into a bag of untanned leather, and then st.i.tched them safely within the breast of Gaston's leathern jerkin. The golden pieces, and a few rings and trinkets that were all that remained to the boys of their lost inheritance, were sewn in like manner into Raymond's clothing, and there was little more to be done ere the brothers went forth into the unknown world.

As for their worldly possessions, they were soon numbered, and comprised little more than their clothing, their bows and arrows, and the poniards which hung at their girdles. As they were to proceed on foot to Bordeaux, and would probably journey in the same simple fas.h.i.+on when they reached the sh.o.r.es of England, they had no wish to hamper themselves with any needless enc.u.mbrances, and all that they took with them was a single change of under vest and hose, which they were easily able to carry in a wallet at their back. They sallied forth in the dress they commonly wore all through the inclement winter season -- an under-dress of warm blue homespun, with a strong jerkin of leather, soft and well-dressed, which was as long as a short tunic, and was secured by the girdle below the waist which was worn by almost all ranks of the people in that age. The long hose were likewise guarded by a species of gaiter of the same strong stuff. And a peasant clad in his own leather garments was often a match for a mailed warrior, the tough substance turning aside sword point or arrow almost as effectually as a coat of steel, whilst the freedom and quickness of motion allowed by the simpler dress was an immense advantage to the wearer in attack or defence.

The good Father looked with tender glances at the brave bright boys as they stood forth on the morning of their departure, ready to sally out into the wide world with the first glimpse of dawn. He had spent the previous night at the mill, and many words of fatherly counsel and good advice had he bestowed upon the lads, now about to be subjected to temptations and perils far different from any they had known in their past life. And his words had been listened to with reverent heed, for the boys loved him dearly, and had been trained by him in habits of religious exercise, more common in those days than they became, alas in later times. They had with them an English breviary which had been one of their mother's most valued possessions, and they promised the Father to study it with reverent heed; for they were very familiar with the pet.i.tions, and could follow them without difficulty despite their rudimentary education. So that when they knelt before him for his last blessing, he was able to give it with a heart full of hope and tender confidence; and he felt sure that whether the lads went forth for weal or woe, he should (if they and he both lived through the following years) see their faces again in this selfsame spot. They would not forget old friends -- they would seek them out in years to come; and if fate smiled upon their path, others would share in the suns.h.i.+ne of their good fortune.

And so the boys rose to their feet again to meet a proud, glad smile from the eyes of the kind old man; and though Margot's face was buried in her ap.r.o.n, and honest Jean was not ashamed to let the tears run down his weatherbeaten face, there was no attempt made to hinder or to sadden the eager lads. They kissed their good nurse with many protestations of love and grat.i.tude, telling her of the days to come when they would return as belted knights, riding on fine horses, and with their esquires by their side, and how they would tell the story of how they had been born and bred in this very mill, and of all they owed to those who had sheltered them in their helpless infancy.

The farewells once over, with the inevitable sadness that such scenes must entail, the boys' spirits rose with wonderful celerity. True, they looked back with fond glances at the peaceful homestead where their childhood had been pa.s.sed, as they reached the ridge of the undulating plain from which the last glimpse of the red roofs and tumbling water was to be had. Raymond even felt a mist rise before his eyes as he stood and gazed, and Gaston dashed his hand impatiently across his eyes as though something hindered his vision; but his voice was steady and full of courage as he waved his right arm and cried aloud:

"We will come back! we will see this place again! Ah, Raymond, methinks I shall love it better then than I do today; for though it has been a timely place of shelter, it has not been -- it never could be -- our true home. Our home is Basildene, in the fair realm of England's King. I will rest neither day nor night until I have looked upon the home our mother dwelt in, and have won the right to call that home our own."

Then the brothers strode with light springy steps along the road which would in time lead them to the great seaport city of Bordeaux, towards which all the largest roads of the whole province converged.

The royal city of the Garonne was full forty leagues away -- over a hundred British miles -- and the boys had never visited it yet, albeit their dream had long been to travel thither on their feet, and see the wonders of which travellers spoke. A day's march of ten leagues or more was as nothing to them. Had the days been longer they would have done more, but travelling in the dark through these forest-clad countries was by no means safe, and the Father had bid them promise that they would always strive to seek shelter ere the shades of night fell; for great picks of wolves ravaged the forests of Gascony until a much later date, and though the season of their greatest boldness and fierceness had not yet come, they were customers not to be trifled with at any time, and a hunting knife and a crossbow would go but a small way in defence if a resolute attack were to be made by even half-a-dozen of the fierce beasts.

But the brothers thought not of peril as they strode through the clear crisp air, directing their course more by the sun than by any other guide, as they pursued their way engrossed in eager talk. They were pa.s.sing through the great grazing pastures, the Landes of Gascony, which supplied England with so many of her best horses, and walking was easy and they covered the ground fast. Later on would come dark stretches of lonely forest, but here were smiling pasture and bright suns.h.i.+ne and the brothers talked together of the golden future before them, of their proud kinsmen at the King's Court, of the Roy Outremer himself, and of Basildene and that other treacherous kinsman there. As they travelled they debated within themselves whether it were better to seek first the countenance of their uncles on their father's side, or whether to make their way first to Basildene and see what manner of place it was, and what likelihood there seemed of ousting the intruder.

How to decide this point themselves the brothers did not know; but as it chanced, fortune was to decide it for them in her own fas.h.i.+on, and that before many suns had set.

Two days of travel had pa.s.sed. The brothers had long left behind them every trace of what had been familiar to them in the old life. The evening of the third day was stealing fast upon them, and they were yet, as it seemed, in the heart of the vast forest which they had entered soon after noon, and which they had hoped to pa.s.s completely through before the daylight waned. They had been told that they might look, if they pushed on fast, to reach the town of Castres by nightfall; but the paths through the forest were intricate: they had several times felt uncertain as to whether they were going right. Now that the darkness was coming on so fast they were still more uncertain, and more than once they had heard behind and before them the unmistakable howl of the wolf.

The hardy twins would have thought nothing of sleeping in the open air even at this somewhat inclement season; but the proximity of the wolves was unpleasant. For two days the cold had been sharp, and though it was not probable that it had yet seriously interfered with the supplies of the wild beasts, yet it was plain that they had emerged from their summer retreats in the more remote parts of the forest, and were disposed to venture nearer to the habitable world on the outskirts. If the brothers slept out of doors at all, it would have to be in the fork of some tree, and in that elevated position they would be likely to feel the cold rather keenly, though down below in some hollow trunk they could make themselves a warm nest enough. Mindful of their promise to the priest, they resolved to try yet to reach some hut or place of shelter, however rude, before the night absolutely closed in, and marched quickly forward with the practised tread of those born to forest life.

Suddenly Gaston, who was a couple of paces in the front, paused and laid a hand upon his brother's arm.

"Hist!" he said below his breath. "Methought I heard a cry."

Raymond stopped short and listened, too. Yes; there was certainly some tumult going on a little distance ahead of them. The brothers distinguished the sound of human voices raised in shrill piercing cries, and with that sound was mingled the fierce baying note that they had heard too often in their lives to mistake at any time.

"It is some traveller attacked by wolves!" cried the brothers in a breath, and without a single thought of their own peril the gallant boys tore headlong through the dark wood to the spot whence the tumult proceeded.

Guided by the sound of shouts, cries, and the howling of the beasts, the brothers were not long in nearing the scene of the strife.

"Shout aloud!" cried Gaston to his brother as they ran. "Make the cowardly brutes believe that a company is advancing against them. It is the best, the only chance. They will turn and fly if they think there be many against them."

Raymond was not slow to act upon this hint. The next moment the wood rang again to the shouts and calls of the brothers, voice answering to voice till it seemed as though a score of men were approaching. The brothers, moreover, knew and used the sharp fierce call employed by the hunters of the wolves in summoning their dogs to their aid -- a call that they knew would be heard and heeded by the savage brutes, who would well know what it meant. And in effect the artifice was perfectly successful; for ere they had gained the spot upon which the struggle had taken place, they heard the breaking up of the wolf party, as the frightened beasts dashed headlong through the coverts, whilst their howling and barking died away in the distance, and a great silence succeeded.

"Thank Heaven for a timely rescue!" they heard a voice say in the English tongue; "for by my troth, good Malcolm, I had thought that thou and I would not live to tell this tale to others. But where are our good friends and rescuers? Verily, I have seen nothing, yet there must have been a good dozen or more. Light thy lantern, an thou canst, and let us look well round us, for by the ma.s.s I shall soon think we have been helped by the spirits of the forest."

"Nay, fair sir, but only by two travellers," said Gaston, advancing from the shadow of the giant trees, his brother closely following him. "We are ourselves benighted in this forest, having by some mischance lost our road to Castres, which we hoped to have sighted ere now. Hearing the struggle, and the shouts with which you doubtless tried to scare off the brutes, we came to see if we might not aid, and being well acquainted with the calls of the hunters of the wolves, succeeded beyond our hopes.

I trust the cowardly and treacherous beasts have done you no injury?"

"By my troth, it is strange to hear my native tongue in these parts, and so fairly spoken withal. I trust we are not bewitched, or the sport of spirits. Who art thou, brave boy? and whence comest thou? How comes it that thou, being, as it seems, a native of these parts, speakest so well a strange language?"