The Lances of Lynwood, Charlotte Mary Yonge [romantic books to read TXT] 📗

were not so easily uplifted as I had thought. I saw you as diligent in the study of all that was knightly as if your spurs were yet to earn, and I knew the Prince had a brave young servant in you.”

“If he would have trusted me!” said Eustace.

“He hath been deceived by the flatterers who have gained his ear. It should not have been thus had I been at court; but things have been much against my counsel. It may be that I have been too plain spoken—forgetting that he is not the boy who used to be committed to my charge—it may be that he hath been over hasty—and yet, when I look on his changed mien and wasted face, I can scarce blame him, nor must you, Sir Eustace, though cruel injustice hath, I fear, been done you.”

“I blame our glorious Prince!” exclaimed the young Knight. “I would as soon blame the sun in heaven because the clouds hide his face from me for a time!”

“The clouds are likely to be dispersed with a vengeance,” said Chandos. “The confession of yonder mutinous traitors will clear you from all that your accusers have said, by proving their villainy and baseness!”

“How? Sanchez and his fellows? Have they surrendered?”

“Yes. They kept themselves shut up in Montfort’s tower until they lost all hope of relief from their friends without; then, being in fear of starvation, they were forced to surrender, and came forth, praying that their lives might be spared. I, as you may suppose, would as lief have spared the life of a wolf, and the halters were already round their necks, when your dark-visaged Squire prayed me to attempt to gain a confession from them; and, sure enough, they told a marvellous tale:—that Clarenham had placed them here to deliver you up to the enemy, whom they were to admit by a secret passage—and that they would have done it, long since, save that you and your Squire not only discovered the passage, but showed such vigilance, and so frustrated all their plans, that they firmly believed that you held commerce with the foul fiend. Did you, in truth, suspect their treachery?”

“Yes,” replied Eustace, looking at Arthur. “The recognition of Le Borgne Basque in the Seneschal would have been sufficient to set us on our guard.”

“But the passage?” asked Sir John, “what knowledge had you of that? for they vow that you could never have discovered it but by art magic.”

“We found it by long and diligent search.”

“And what led you to search, Sir Eustace? I you can clear up the matter, it will be the better for you; for this accusation of witchcraft will hang to you like a burr—the more, perhaps, as you are somewhat of a scholar!”

“It was I who warned him of it, Sir Knight,” said Arthur, stepping forward.

“You, young Page!” exclaimed Sir John. “Are you jesting? Ha! then you must have, page-like, been eaves-dropping!—I should scarce have thought it of you.”

“Oh, uncle!” exclaimed Arthur, in great distress, “you do not believe me capable of aught so unknightly? Do but say that you, at least, trust my word, when I say that I learnt their plots by no means unbecoming the son of Sir Reginald Lynwood.”

“I believe you fully, Arthur,” replied his uncle; “the more, that I should have been the last person to whom you would have brought information gained in such a fashion.”

“And how was it gained?” asked Sir John.

“That,” said the boy, “is a secret I am bound never to disclose.”

“Strange, passing strange,” repeated the old Knight, shaking his head. “Clarenham and Ashton would scarce have taken any into their councils who would warn you. And you will or can tell no more?”

“No more,” replied the boy. “I was bidden secretly to warn my uncle of the entrance to the vaults, and of the treachery of this villain garrison. I did so, and he who says aught dishonourable of him or of me lies in his throat.”

“Can you read this riddle, Sir Eustace?” asked Chandos, looking rather suspiciously at the very faint glow which mantled in the white cheek of the wounded Knight.

“I know nothing but what he has told you, Sir John,” replied he.

“Nor guess aught?” said Sir John; “but perhaps that is scarce a fair query; and I will to the rest of my business, though it is scarce needed—only I would have the Prince see the full extent of the falsehoods with which he has been gulled.” And he then proceeded to inquire into the circumstances of Lady Eleanor’s funeral, the brawling, the violent abstraction of Arthur, and of a considerable portion of his property, and the long delay, which had given his enemies so much opportunity to blacken his character. Eustace explained all fully to the satisfaction of Chandos, and appealed to numerous witnesses.

“That is well,” said the old Knight. “We shall have it all clear as daylight;—and the only wonder is, that the Prince could be so long deceived by such monstrous falsehoods. Let me see—your right to the wardship is established?”

“Yes; it hath been so decided by the Bishop of Winchester.”

“And let me tell you, Sir Eustace, you did yourself little good by getting the interest of the Duke of Lancaster. Methought it still further prejudiced the Prince.”

“It was justice that I sought, not favour,” said Eustace.

“The knightly view,” said Sir John; “and it was more the work of your friends than yourself; but I never loved that young John of Lancaster, and still less since he hath seemed willing to make a party for himself. I trow he hath given the Prince a distrust of all uncles. Ha! little varlet!” added he, as he met Arthur’s eyes— “if you can keep one secret, keep another, or, still better, forget what I have said. Understandest thou?”

“I will answer for him,” said Eustace.

“And now,” said Chandos, “I must be on my way back; for that expedition to Bescancon must be looked to. But what is to be done with the boy?”

“Oh, I remain here,” cried Arthur, eagerly. “The Prince consented. Oh, I pray of you let me stay here.”

“In this dismal old Castle, Arthur,” said Eustace, “apart from all your playmates? It will not be like home, remember; for scarce ever will you be able to go beyond the walls—and with me lying here, and Gaston always occupied, you will find it weary work.”

“Not with you, Uncle Eustace! I shall sit by you, and tend you, and read to you. It is so long since I have been with you! Oh, send me not away! I care for no playmate—for nothing in the wide world, as for you!”

“Well, let him e’en stay,” said Sir John; “it will be a better training for him than among the gilded little varlets who are cockered up among Princess Joan’s ladies.”

The two Knights had next to arrange some matters respecting the garrison; Sir John leaving a sufficient number of men to secure the castle in case of a second attack. He was somewhat inclined to leave Master Henry Neville to command them; but consideration for Eustace and Gaston induced him to spare the young gentleman a sojourn which he would have regarded as so far from enviable. Nor was the leech more desirous of a lengthened stay with a patient whom he suspected to be unable to requite him for the discomfort which he might endure in his service. He therefore pronounced Sir Eustace to stand in no further need of his attentions; and recommending rest, and providing him with good store of remedies, he saddled his mule to accompany Sir John Chandos.

The old Commander took his leave, with many kind wishes for Sir Eustace’s speedy recovery, and promises that he should ere long hear from Bordeaux. In ten minutes more Arthur, standing at the window, announced that the troop was riding off, with Clisson’s pennon borne among them in triumph, and Sanchez and his accomplices, with their hands tied, and their feet fastened together beneath the bodies of their horses.