In the Days of Chivalry: A Tale of the Times of the Black Prince by Everett-Green (best romantic books to read TXT) 📖
- Author: Everett-Green
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Gaston ground his teeth, and his eyes flashed fire, as he thought of all the wickedness of Peter Sanghurst. He was within the walls of Basildene, his brother's rightful inheritance; the memory of the cruelty and the treachery of this man was fresh in his mind. The Prince was hearing all the tale; the Prince would judge and condemn. Gaston knew well what the fate of the tyrant would be, and there was no room for aught in his heart beside a great exultant triumph.
Giving his arm to Joan, who was looking absolutely radiant in her stately beauty, he led her down into the hall below, where the Prince was seated with some knights and nobles round him -- Master Bernard de Brocas occupying a seat upon his right hand -- examining witnesses and looking at the papers respecting the ownership of Basildene which were now laid before him. At the lower end of the hall, his hands bound behind him, and his person guarded by two strong troopers, stood Peter Sanghurst, his face a chalky-white colour, his eyes almost starting from his head with terror, all his old ease and assumption gone, the innate cowardice of his nature showing itself in every look and every gesture.
A thoroughly cruel man is always at heart a coward, and Peter Sanghurst, who had taken the liveliest delight in inflicting pain of every kind upon those in his power, now stood shivering and almost fainting with apprehension at the fate in store for himself. As plentiful evidence had been given of his many acts of barbarity and tyranny, there had been fierce threats passed from mouth to mouth that hanging was too good for him -- that he ought to taste what he had inflicted on others; and the wretched man stood there in an agony of apprehension, every particle of his swaggering boldness gone, and without a vestige of real courage to uphold him in the hour of his humiliation.
As the Prince saw the approach of Joan, he sprang to his feet, and all the assembled nobles did the same. With that chivalrous courtesy for which he became famous in history, the Prince bent the knee before the lady, and taking her by the hand, led her to a seat of honour beside himself, asking her of herself and her story, and listening with respectful attention to every word she spoke.
Gaston then stood forward and told again his tale of Raymond's capture, and deep murmurs of indignation ran through the hall as he did so. The veins swelled upon the Prince's forehead as he heard the tale, and his eyes emitted sparks of fierce light as they flashed from time to time upon the trembling prisoner.
"Methinks we have heard enough, gentlemen," said he at length, as Gaston's narrative drew to a close.
"Marshal, bring hither your prisoner.
"This man, gentlemen, is the hero of these brave deeds of valour of which we have been hearing. This is the man who dares to waylay and torture English subjects to wring from them treasure and gold; the man who dares to bring this vilely-won wealth to purchase with it the favour of England's King; the man who wages war on foreign soil with the friends of England, and treacherously sells them into the hand of England's foe; who deals with them as we have heard he dealt and would have dealt with Raymond de Brocas had not Providence worked almost a miracle in his defence. This is the man who, together with his father, drove from this very house the lawful owner, because that she was a gentle, tender woman, and was at that moment alone and unable to defend herself from them. This is the man who is not ashamed to call himself the master of Basildene, and who has striven to compass by the foulest ends the death of the true owner of the property -- though Raymond de Brocas braved the terrors of the Black Death to tend and soothe the last dying agonies of that man's father. This is the man who would wed by force this fair maiden, and strove to deceive her by the foulest tricks and jugglery. Say, gentlemen, what is the desert of this miscreant? What doom shall we award him as the recompense of his past life?"
A score of hideous suggestions were raised at once, and the miserable Peter Sanghurst shook in his shoes as he saw the fierce, relentless faces of the soldiers making a ring round him. Those were cruel days, despite the softening influence of their vaunted chivalry, and the face of the Prince was stern and black. It was plain that he had been deeply roused by the story he had heard.
But Joan was there, and she was a woman; and vile as had been this man's life, and deeply as he had injured her and him she loved tenfold more than her own life, he was still a human creature, and a creature without a hope either in this world or the world to come. She could not but pity him as he stood there cowering and shuddering, and she turned swiftly towards the Prince and spoke to him in a rapid undertone.
Young Edward listened, and the dark cloud passed from his brow. He was keenly susceptible to the nobler emotions, and an appeal to his generosity was not unheeded. Raising his hand in token that he demanded silence, he turned towards the quaking criminal, and thus addressed him:
"Peter Sanghurst, you stand convicted of many and hideous crimes -- witchcraft, sorcery, treachery to your King, vile cruelty to his subjects -- crimes for which death alone is scarce punishment enough. You well merit a worse fate than the gallows. You well merit some of those lingering agonies that you have inflicted upon your wretched victims, and have rejoiced to witness. But we in England do not torture our prisoners, and it is England's pride that this is so. This fair lady, who owes you naught but grievous wrong, has spoken for you; she says that were Raymond de Brocas here, he would join with her in praying that your fate might be swift and merciful. Therefore I decree that you are led forth without the gates of Basildene, and hanged upon the first tree out of sight of its walls.
"See to it, marshal. Let there be no delay. It is not fit that such a wretch should longer cumber the earth. Away with him, I say!"
The soldiers closed around the condemned man and bore him forth, one of the marshals following to see the deed done. Joan had for a moment covered her face with her hand, for even so it was rather terrible to see this tyrant and oppressor led forth from his own house to an ignominious death, and she was unused to such stern scenes. But those around the table were already turning their attention to other matters, and the Prince was addressing himself to certain men who had come into the hall covered with cobweb and green mould.
"Has the treasure been found?" he asked.
"Yes, Sire," answered the leader of this strange-looking band. "It was cleverly hidden, in all truth, in the cellars of the house, and we should scarce have lighted on it but for the help of some of the people here, who, so soon as they heard that their master was doomed to certain death, were as eager to help us as they had been fearful before. It has all been brought up for you to see; and a monstrous hoard it is. It must almost be true, I trow, that the old man had the golden secret. So much gold I have never seen in one place."
"It is ill-gotten gold," said the Prince, sternly, as he rose, and, followed by the nobles and Master Bernard de Brocas, went to look at the coffers containing the treasure hoarded up and amassed by the Sanghursts during a long period of years. "But I trow since the Black Death has so ravaged these parts, it would be idle to strive to seek out the owners, and it would but raise a host of false claims that no man might sift.
"Master Bernard de Brocas, I award this treasure to Raymond de Brocas, the true lord of Basildene, to whom and to whose heirs shall be secured this house and all that belongs to it. Into your hands I now intrust the gold and the lands, to be kept by you until the rightful owner appears to lay claim to them. Let a part of this gold be spent upon making fit this house for the reception of its master and this fair maiden, who will one day be the mistress here with him. Let it be thy part, good Master Bernard, to remove from these walls the curse which has been brought upon them by the vile sorceries and cruelties of this wicked father and more wicked son. Let Holy Church do her part to cleanse and purify the place, and then let it be made meet for the reception of its lord and lady when they shall return hither to receive their own."
The good Bernard's face glowed with satisfaction at this charge. It was just such a one as pleased him best, and such as he was well able to fulfil. Nobody more capable could well have been found for the guardianship and restoration of Basildene; and with this hoard to draw upon, the old house might well grow to a beauty and grandeur it had never known before.
"Gracious Prince, I give you thanks on behalf of my nephew, and I will gladly do all that I may to carry out your behest. The day will come when Raymond de Brocas shall come in person to thank you for your princely liberality and generosity."
"Tush, man, the gold is not mine; and some of it may have been come by honestly, and belong fairly enough to the Sanghurst family. You say the mother of these bold Gascon youths was a Sanghurst: it follows, then, that Basildene and all pertaining to it should be theirs. Raymond de Brocas has suffered much from the Sanghursts. By every law of right and justice, it is he who should reap the reward, and find Basildene restored to its former beauty before he comes to dwell within it."
"And he shall so find it if I have means to compass it," answered the uncle, with glad pride.
His eye was then drawn to another part of the hall; for Sir Hugh Vavasour had just come galloping up to the door in hot haste, having heard all manner of strange rumours: the first being that his daughter had been found, and was in hiding at Basildene; the second, which had only just reached his ears, that Peter Sanghurst was dead -- hanged by order of the Prince, and that Basildene had been formally granted as the perpetual right of Raymond de Brocas and his heirs.
"And Raymond de Brocas is the plighted husband of thy daughter, good Sir Hugh," said Master Bernard, coming up to help his old friend out of his bewilderment -- "plighted, that is, by themselves, by the right of a true and loyal love. Thy daughter will still be the Lady of Basildene, and I think that thou wilt rather welcome my nephew as her lord than yon miscreant, whose body is swinging on some tree not far away. Thou wert something too willing, my friend, to sell thy daughter for wealth; but fortune has been kind to her as well as to thee, and thou hast gained for her the wealth, and yet hast not sacrificed her brave young heart. Go to her now, and give her thy blessing, and tell her she may wed young Raymond de Brocas so soon as he comes to claim her hand."
CHAPTER XXX. WITH THE PRINCE.i"Sanghurst dead! Joan free! her father's consent won! I the Lord of Basildene! Gaston, thou takest away my breath! Art sure thou art not mocking me?"
"Art sure that thou art indeed thyself, my lord of Basildene?" was Gaston's merry response, as he looked his brother over from head to foot with beaming face; "for, in sooth, I scarce should know thee for the brother I left behind -- that wan and wasted creature, more like a corpse than a man. The good Brothers have indeed done well by thee, Raymond. Save that thou hast not
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