Part 9 (1/2)
The twins exchanged glances. It seemed as though they were threatened on every hand by the malice of those who had usurped their rights and their lands; yet they felt no fear, rather a secret exultation at the thought of what lay before them. But their curiosity was strongly stirred about the strange old man at Basildene, and they eagerly asked John of the truth of those reports which spoke of him as being a tool and slave of the devil.
A grave light came into John's eyes as he replied:
”Methinks that every man is the tool of Satan who willingly commits sin with his eyes open, and will not be restrained. I cannot doubt that old Peter Sanghurst has done this again and again. He is an evil man and a wicked one. But whether or no he has visible dealings with the spirits of darkness, I know not. Men can sin deeply and darkly and yet win no power beyond that vouchsafed to others.”
”But the woodman's son,” said Raymond, in awestruck tones, ”him he most certainly bewitched. How else could he have so possessed him that even his own father could not restrain him from going back to the dread slavery once again?”
A thoughtful look was on John's face. He was lying on his couch in the large room where his learned uncle stored all his precious books and parchments, safely locked away in carved presses; and rising slowly to his feet -- for he was still feeble and languid in his movements -- he unlocked one of these, and took from it a large volume in some dead language, and laid it upon the table before him.
”I know not whether or no I am right, but I have heard before of a strange power that some men may possess over the minds and wills of others -- a power so great that they become their helpless tools, and can be made to act, to see, to feel just as they are bidden, and are as helpless to resist that power as the snared bird to avoid the outstretched hand of the fowler. That this power is a power of evil, and comes from the devil himself, I may not disbelieve; for it has never been G.o.d's way of dealing with men to bind captive their wills and make them blind and helpless agents of the will of others. Could you read the words of this book, you would find many things therein as strange as any you have heard today. For myself, I have little doubt that old Peter Sanghurst, who has spent years of his life amongst the heathen Moors, and is, as all men avow, steeped to the lips in their strange and unchristian lore, has himself the art of thus gaining the mastery over the minds and wills of others, and that it was no demoniacal possession, but just the wicked will of the old man exercised upon that of his helpless victim, which drew the boy back to him when his father had him safe at home (as he thought) once more. In this book it is written that young boys, especially if they be beautiful of form and receptive of mind, make the best tools for this black art. They can be thrown into strange trances, in which many things are revealed to them. They can be sent in the spirit to places they have never seen, and can be made to describe what is pa.s.sing thousands of miles away. I cannot tell how these things may be, unless indeed it is the devil working in them; yet here it is written down as if it were some art which certain men with certain gifts may acquire, as they may acquire other knowledge and learning. In truth, I think such things smack of the Evil One himself; yet I doubt if there be that visible bond with Satan that is commonly reported amongst the unlettered and ignorant. It is a cruel and a wicked art without doubt, and it says here that the children who are caught and subjected to these trances and laid under this spiritual bondage seldom live long; and that but for this, there seems no end to the wonders that might be performed. But the strain upon their spirits almost always results in madness or death, and thus the art never makes the strides that those who practise it long to see.”
John was turning the leaves of the book as he spoke, reading a word here and there as if to refresh his memory. The Gascon brothers listened with breathless interest, and suddenly Raymond started to his feet, saying:
”John, thou hast spoken of a knightly quest that would win no praise from man, but yet be such as a true knight would fain undertake. Would not the rescue of yon wretched boy from the evil thraldom of that wicked sorcerer be such a task as that? Is not Basildene ours? Is it not for us to free it from the curse of such pollution? Is not that child one of the oppressed and wronged that it is the duty of a true servant of the old chivalry to rescue at all costs?
”Gaston, wilt thou go with me? Shall we s.n.a.t.c.h from the clutches of this devilish old man the boy whose story we have heard today? Methinks I can never rest happy till the thing is done. Will not a curse light upon the very house itself if these dark deeds go on within its walls? Who can have a better right to avert such curse than we -- its rightful lords?”
Gaston sprang to his feet, and threw back his head with a proud and defiant gesture.
”Verily I will go with thee, Brother. I would gladly strike a blow for the freedom of the boy and against the despoiler of our mother's house.
I would fain go this very day.”
Both brothers looked to John, as if asking his sanction for the act. He closed his book, and raised his eyes with a smile; but he advocated prudence, and patience too.
”In truth, methinks it would be a deed of charity and true chivalry, yet one by no means without its peril and its risk. Old Sanghurst is a wily and a cruel foe, and failure would but mean more tyranny and suffering for the miserable victim he holds in his relentless hands. It might lead also to some mysterious vengeance upon you yourselves. There are ugly whispers breathed abroad about the old man and his evil practices.
Travellers through these forest tracks, richly laden, have been known to disappear, and no man has heard of them more. It is rumoured that they have been seized and done to death by the rapacious owners of Basildene, and that the father and son are growing wealthy beyond what any man knows by the plunder they thus obtain.”
”But if they hold the secret of the philosopher's stone, sure they would not need to fall upon travellers by the way!”
John slowly shook his head, a thoughtful smile upon his face.
”For mine own part,” he said quietly, ”I have no belief in that stone, or in that power of alchemy after which men since the beginning of time have been vainly striving. They may seek and seek, but I trow they will never find it; and I verily believe if found it would but prove a worthless boon. For in the hands of a rapacious master, so quickly would gold be poured upon the world that soon its value would be lost, and it would be no more prized than the base metals we make our horseshoes of.
It is not the beauty of gold that makes men covet it. It is because it is rare that it is precious. If this philosopher's stone were to be found, that rareness would speedily disappear, and men would cease to prize a thing that could be made more easily than corn may be grown.”
The brothers could scarce grasp the full meaning of these words; but it was not of the philosopher's stone that their minds were full, and John's next words interested them more.
”No: I believe that the wealth which is being acc.u.mulated at Basildene is won in far different fas.h.i.+on, and that this miserable boy, who is the helpless slave and tool of his master's illicit art, is an unwilling agent in showing the so-called magician the whereabouts of hapless travellers, and in luring them on to their destruction. But that the old man is wealthy above all those about him may not now be doubted; and it is this growing wealth, gotten no man knows how, that makes men believe in his possession of the magic stone.”
”And if we rescue the boy, some part of his power will be gone, and he will lose a tool that he will not easily replace,” cried Gaston, with eager animation. ”Brother, let us not delay. We have long desired to look upon Basildene; let us sally forth this very day.”
But John laid a detaining hand upon his arm.
”Nay now, why this haste? Thou art a bold lad, Gaston, but something more than boldness is needed when thou hast such a subtle foe to deal with. Then there is another thing to think of. What will it avail to rescue the boy, if his master holds his spirit so in thrall that he can by no means be restrained from rising in the dead of night to return to him again? There be many things to think of ere we can act. And we must take counsel of one who knows Basildene, as we do not. I have never seen the house, and know nothing of its ways. Till these things were recalled to my memory these last days, I had scarce remembered that such a place existed.”
”Of whom then shall we take counsel?” asked Gaston, with a touch of impatience, for to him action and not counsel was the mainspring of life. ”Of thine uncle, who thou sayest is a friend of this unholy man?”
”Scarce a friend,” answered John, ”albeit he has no quarrel with Master Sanghurst; and if thou knewest more of the temper of the times, thou wouldst know that the King's servants must have a care how they in any wise stir up strife amongst those who dwell in the realm. We have enemies and to spare abroad -- in Scotland, in Flanders, in France. At home we must all strive to keep the peace. It behoves not one holding office under the crown to embroil himself in private quarrels, or stir up any manner of strife. This is why I counsel you to make no claim on Basildene for the nonce, and why my uncle could give no help in the matter of this boy, kindly as his heart is disposed towards the poor and oppressed. He moved once in the matter, with the result that you know.
It could scarce be expected of him to do more.”
”Who then will help or counsel us?”