In the Days of Chivalry: A Tale of the Times of the Black Prince by Everett-Green (the chimp paradox txt) 📗

see it, there is more chivalry in yon simple merchant than in half the knights who stand about his throne."

It is seldom that a noble example is thrown away upon men. Hardly had the burst of weeping died away before two more men, brothers, to judge by their likeness to each other, mounted the steps and stood beside St. Pierre. He held out his hand and greeted them by name.

"My good friends Jacques and Peter de Wisant, we go hand in hand to death, as we have gone hand in hand in other ventures of another kind. And hither to join us comes our good friend Jehan d'Aire. Truly if we march to death, we shall march in good company."

The full number was soon made up. Six of the wealthiest and best known of the citizens came forward and stood together to be disrobed and led before the King.

But Raymond could bear the sight no longer. With a bursting heart he hurried through the crowd, which made way wonderingly for him as he moved, and went straight towards the gate by which he had entered, none hindering his path.

"It is the blessed saint who came amongst us in our hour of need," said the women one to another, "and now perchance he goes to intercede with the mighty conqueror! See how his face is set towards the gate; see the light that shines in his eyes! Sure he can be no being of this earth, else how could he thus come and go in our beleaguered city!"

The guard at the gate looked with doubtful eyes at the stranger, and one man stood in his path as if to hinder him; but Raymond's eyes seemed to look through and beyond him, and in a clear, strange voice he said:

"In the name of the Blessed Son of God, I bid thee let me pass. I go upon an errand of mercy in that most Holy Name."

The man fell back, his comrades crossed themselves and bent the knee. Raymond passed out of the gate, scarce knowing how he had done so, and sped back to the English camp as if his feet had wings. With that same strangely rapt expression upon his face, he went straight to the lodging of the Prince of Wales, and entering without ceremony found not only the Prince there, but also his royal mother, the gracious Queen Philippa.

Bending his knee to that fair lady, but without one thought beyond the present urgent need of the moment, Raymond told all his tale in the ear of the Queen and the Prince. With that power of graphic description which was the gift of his vivid imagination and deep sense of sympathy with the needs of others, he brought the whole scene before the eyes of his listeners the crowded marketplace, the famine-stricken people in their extremity and despair, the calm heroism of the men who willingly offered their lives to save those of their townspeople, and the wailing multitude watching the start of the devoted six going forth to a shameful and ignominious death on their behalf.

And as Raymond spoke the Prince's cheek flushed, and the eyes of the beautiful Queen kindled and filled with sudden tears; and rising to her feet she held out her hand to Raymond and said:

"Good lad, I thank thee for thy tale, and the request thy lips have not spoken shall be granted. Those men shall not die! I, the Queen of England, will save them. I pledge thee here my royal word. I will to my noble husband and win their pardon myself."

Raymond sank upon his knee and kissed the fair hand extended to him, and both he and the Prince hastened after the Queen, who hoped to find her royal husband alone and in a softened mood, as he was wont to be after the stress of the day was over.

But time had fled fast whilst Raymond had been telling his tale, and already notice had been brought to Edward of the approach of the six citizens, and he had gone forth into a pavilion erected for his convenience in an open part of the camp; and there he was seated with grim aspect and frowning brow as his Queen approached to speak with him.

"I will hear thee anon, good wife," he said, seeing that she craved his ear. "I have sterner work on hand today than the dallying of women. Stay or go as thou wilt, but speak not to me till this day's work is carried through."

Raymond's heart sank as he heard these words, and saw the relentless look upon the King's face. None realized better than he the cruel side to the boasted chivalry of the age; and these middle-aged burgesses, with no knightliness of dress or bearing, would little move the loftier side of the King's nature. There would be no glamour of romance surrounding them. He would think only of the thousands of pounds the resistance of the city had cost him, and he would order to a speedy death those whom he would regard as in part the cause of all this trouble and loss.

The Queen made no further effort to win his notice, but with graceful dignity placed herself beside him; whilst the Prince, quivering with suppressed excitement, stepped behind his father's chair. Raymond stood in the surrounding circle, and felt Gaston's arm slipped within his. But he had eyes only for the mournful procession approaching from the direction of the city, and every nerve was strained to catch the lightest tone of the Queen's voice if she should speak.

The governor of Calais, though disabled by wounds from walking, was pacing on horseback beside the devoted six thus giving themselves up to death; and as he told how they had come forward to save their fellow citizens from death, tears gathered in many eyes, and brave Sir Walter Manny, who had pleaded their cause before, again threw himself upon his knees before his sovereign, and besought his compassion for the brave burgesses.

But Edward would not listen -- would not allow the better feelings within him to have play. With a few angry and scathing words, bidding his servants remember what Calais had cost them to take, and what the obstinacy of its citizens had made England pay, he relentlessly ordered the executioner to do his work, and that right quickly; and as that grim functionary slowly advanced to do the royal bidding, a shiver ran through the standing crowd, the devoted six alone holding themselves fearlessly erect.

But just at the moment when it seemed as if all hope of mercy was at an end, the gentle Queen arose and threw herself at her husband's feet, and her silvery voice rose clear above the faint murmur rising in the throng.

"Ah, gentle Sire, since I have crossed the sea with great peril, I have never asked you anything; now I humbly pray, for the sake of the Son of the Holy Mary and your love of me, that you will have mercy on these six brave men!"

Raymond's breath came so thick and fast as he waited for the answer, that he scarce heard it when it came, though the ringing cheer which broke from the lips of those who stood by told him well its purport.

The King's face, gloomy at first, softened as he gazed upon the graceful form of his wife, and with a smile he said at last:

"Dame, I wish you had been somewhere else this day; but I cannot refuse you. I put them into your keeping; do with them what you will."

Raymond felt himself summoned by a glance from the Prince. The Queen-mother had bidden him take the men, and feast them royally, and send them away with rich gifts.

As the youth who had done so much for them forced his way to the side of the Prince, his face full of a strange enthusiasm and depth of feeling, the citizens looked one upon another and whispered:

"Sure it was true what the women said to us. That was the youth with the face of painted saint that we saw within the walls of the city. Sure the Blessed Saints have been watching over us this day, and have sent an angel messenger down to deliver us in our hour of sorest need!"

CHAPTER XVI. IN THE OLD HOME.

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

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

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

It had begun to be whispered abroad that these two lads with their knightly bearing, their refinement of aspect, and their fearlessness in the field, were no common youths sprung from some lowly stock. That there was some mystery surrounding their birth was now pretty well admitted, and this very mystery encircled them with something of a charm -- a charm decidedly intensified by the aspect of Raymond, who never looked so much the creature of flesh and blood as did his brother and the other young warriors of Edward's camp. The fact, which was well known now, that he had walked unharmed and unchallenged through the streets of Calais upon the day of its capitulation, but before the terms had been agreed upon, was in itself, in the eyes of many, a proof of some strange power not of this world which encircled the youth. And indeed Gaston himself was secretly of the opinion that his brother was something of a saint or spirit, and regarded him with a reverential affection unusual between brothers of the same age.

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

Both brothers were for the present amply provided for. They had received rich rewards from the Prince after the Battle of Crecy, and the spoils of Calais had been very great. They could travel in ease through the sunny plains of France, sufficiently attended to be safe from molestation, even if the terror of the English arms were not protection enough for those who wore the badge of the great Edward. From Bordeaux they could find easy means of transport to England later; and nothing pleased them better than the thought of this long ride through the plains of France, on the way to the old home.

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

"Let us first to Father Anselm," said Raymond, as they neared the village where the good priest held his cure. "He will gladly have us pass a night beneath his roof ere we go onward to the mill; and our good fellows will find hospitable shelter with the village folks. They have been 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 the bearer of news of good luck to the English arms. The coward King of France is little loved by the bold Gascons, save where a rebel lord thinks to forward his private ends by transferring his allegiance from England to France."

"To the good Father's, then, with all my heart," answered Gaston heartily; and the little troop