Evelyn Everett-Green - In the Days of Chivalry - A Tale of the Times of the Black Prince

Autumn was upon the world – the warm and gorgeous autumn of the south – autumn that turned the leaves upon the trees to every hue of russet, scarlet, and gold, that transformed the dark solemn aisles of the trackless forests of Gascony into what might well have been palaces of fairy beauty, and covered the ground with a thick and soundless carpet of almost every hue of the rainbow.

The sun still retained much of its heat and power, and came slanting in between the huge trunks of the forest trees in broad shafts of quivering light. Overhead the soft wind from the west made a ceaseless, dreamy music and here and there the solemn silence of the forest was broken by the sweet note of some singing bird or the harsh croak of the raven. At night the savage cry of the wolf too often disturbed the rest of the scattered dwellers in that vast forest, and made a belated traveller look well to the sharpness of his weapons and the temper of his bowstring; but by day and in the sunlight the forest was beautiful and quiet enough – something too quiet, perhaps, for the taste of the two handsome lads who were pacing the dim aisles together, their arms entwined and their curly heads in close proximity as they walked and talked.

The two lads were of exactly the same height, and bore a strong likeness one to the other. Their features were almost identical, but the colouring was different, so that no one who saw them in a good light would be likely to mistake or confuse them. Both had the oval face and delicate regular features which we English sometimes call "foreign-looking;" but then again they both possessed the broad shoulders, the noble height, the erect carriage, and frank, fearless bearing which has in it something distinctively English, and which had distinguished these lads from their infancy from the children of the country of their adoption. Then, though Raymond had the dark, liquid eyes of the south, Gaston's were as blue as the summer skies; and again, whilst Gaston's cheek was of a swarthy hue, Raymond's was as fair as that of an English maiden; and both had some golden gleams in their curly brown hair – hair that clustered round their heads in a thick, waving mass, and gave a leonine look to the bold, eager faces. "The lion cubs" had been one of the many nicknames given to the brothers by the people round, who loved them, yet felt that they would not always keep them in their quiet forest. "The twin eaglets" was another such name; and truly there was something of the keen wildness of the eagle's eye in the flashing blue eyes of Gaston. The eager, delicate features and the slightly aquiline noses of the pair added, perhaps, to this resemblance; and there had been many whispers of late to the effect that the eaglets would not remain long in the nest now, but would spread their wings for a wider flight.

Born and bred though they had been at the mill in the great forest that covered almost the whole of the district of Sauveterre, they were no true children of the mill. What had scions of the great house of the De Brocas to do with a humble miller of Gascony? The boys were true sons of their house – grafts of the parent stock. The Gascon peasants looked at them with pride, and murmured that the day would come when they would show the world the mettle of which they were made. Those were stirring times for Gascony – when Gascony was a fief of the English Crown, sorely coveted by the French monarch, but tenaciously held on to by the "Roy Outremer," as the great Edward was called; the King who, as was rumoured, was claiming as his own the whole realm of France. And Gascony, it must be remembered, did not in those days hold herself to be a part of France nor a part of the French monarchy. She held a much more important place than she would have done had she been a mere fief of the French Crown. She had a certain independence of her own – her own language, her own laws, her own customs and she saw no humiliation in owning the sovereignty of England's King, since she bad passed under English rule through no act of conquest or aggression on England's part, but by the peaceful fashion of marriage, when nearly two centuries ago Eleanor of Aquitaine had brought to her lord, King Henry the Second, the fair lands of which Gascony formed a part. Gascony had grown and flourished apace since then, and was rich, prosperous, and content. Her lords knew how important she might be in days to come, when the inevitable struggle between the rival Kings of France and England should commence; and like an accomplished coquette, she made the most of her knowledge, and played her part well, watching her opportunity for demanding an increase of those rights and privileges of which she had not a few already.

But it was not of their country's position that the twin brothers were so eagerly talking as they wandered together along the woodland paths. It was little indeed that they knew of what was passing in the wide world that lay beyond their peaceful home, little that they heard of the strife of party or the suspicious jealousy of two powerful monarchs – jealousy which must, as all long-sighted men well knew, break into open warfare before long. It was of matters nearer to their own hearts that the brothers spoke as they sauntered through the woodland paths together; and Gaston's blue eyes flashed fire as he paused and tossed back the tangled curls from his broad brow.

"It is our birthright – our land, our castle. Do they not all say that in old days it was a De Brocas, not a Navailles, that ruled there? Father Anselm hath told us a thousand times how the English King issued mandate after mandate bidding him give up his ill-gotten gains, and restore the lands of his rival; and yet he failed to do it. I trow had I been in the place of our grandsire, I would not so tamely have sat down beneath so great an affront. I would have fought to the last drop of my blood to enforce my rights, and win back my lost inheritance Brother, why should not thou and I do that one day? Canst thou be content for ever with this tame life with honest Jean and Margot at the mill? Are we the sons of peasants? Does their blood run in our veins? Raymond, thou art as old as I – thou hast lived as long. Canst thou remember our dead mother? Canst thou remember her last charge to us?"

Raymond had nodded his head at the first question; he nodded it again now, a glance of strange eagerness stealing into his dark eyes. Although the two youths wore the dress of peasant boys – suits of undyed homespun only very slightly finer in make than was common in those parts – they spoke the English tongue, and spoke it with purity and ease. It needed no trained eye to see that it was something more than peasant blood that ran in their veins, albeit the peasant race of Gascony in those days was perhaps the freest, the finest, the most independent in the whole civilized world.

"I remember well," answered Raymond quickly; "nay, what then?"

"What then? Spoke she not of a lost heritage which it behoved us to recover? Spoke she not of rights which the sons of the De Brocas had power to claim – rights which the great Roy Outremer had given to them, and which it was for them to win back when the time should come? Dost thou remember? dost thou heed? And now that we are approaching to man's estate, shall we not think of these things? Shall we not be ready when the time comes?"

Raymond gave a quick look at his brother. His own eyes were full of eager light, but he hesitated a moment before asking:

"And thinkest thou, Gaston, that in speaking thus our mother would fain have had us strive to recover the castle and domain of Saut?"

"In good sooth yea," answered Gaston quickly. "Was it not reft from our grandsire by force? Has it not been kept from him ever since by that hostile brood of Navailles, whom all men hate for their cruelty and oppression? Brother, have we not heard of dark and hideous deeds done in that same castle – deeds that shame the very manhood of those that commit them, and make all honest folk curse them in their hearts? Raymond, thou and I have longed this many a day to sally forth to fight for the Holy Sepulchre against the Saracens; yet have we not a crusade here at home that calls us yet more nearly? Hast thou not thought of it, too, by day, and dreamed of it by night? To plant the De Brocas ensign above the walls of Saut – that would indeed be a thing to live for. Methinks I see the banner already waving over the proud battlements."