Part 2 (1/2)
CHAPTER III
The morning of departure arrived. The men-at-arms were drawn up in the court like so many statues of steel; Leonard Ashton sat on horseback, his eyes fixed on the door; Gaston d'Aubricour, wrapped in his gay mantle, stood caressing his Arab steed Brigliador, and telling him they should soon exchange the chilly fogs of England for the bright sun of Gascony; Ralph Penrose held his master's horse, and a black powerful charger was prepared for Eustace, but still the brothers tarried.
”My Eleanor, this should not be!” said Reginald as his wife clung to him weeping. ”Keep a good heart. 'Tis not for long. Take heed of your dealings with cousin Fulk. She knows not what I say. Father Cyril, keep guard over her and my boy, in case I should meet with any mishap.”
”I will, a.s.suredly, my son,” said the Chaplain, ”but it is little that a poor Priest like me can do. I would that grant to the Clarenhams were repealed.”
”That were soon done,” said Reginald, ”but it is no time for a loyal va.s.sal to complain of grievances when his liege lord has summoned him to the field. That were to make the King's need be his law. No! no!
Watch over her, good father, she is weak and tender. Look up, sweet heart, give me one cheerful wish to speed me on my journey. No? She has swooned. Eleanor! my wife--”
”Begone, begone, my son,” said Father Cyril, ”it will be the better for her.”
”It may be,” said Reginald, ”yet to leave her thus-- Here, nurse, support her, tend her well. Give her my tenderest greetings. Arthur, be duteous to her; talk to her of our return; farewell, my boy, and blessings on you. Eustace, mount.”
Sir Reginald, sighing heavily, swung himself into the saddle; Eustace waited a moment longer. ”Good Father, this was to have been in poor Eleanor's charge. It is the token, you know for whom.”
”It shall reach her, my son.”
”You will send me a letter whenever you can?”
”Truly, I will; and I would have you read and write, especially in Latin, when you have the chance--good gifts should not be buried.
Bethink you, too, that you will not have the same excuse for sin as the rude ignorant men you will meet.”
”Eustace!” hastily called Reginald, and with a hurried farewell to all around, the young Squire sprang on horseback, and the troop rode across the drawbridge. They halted on the mound beyond; Sir Reginald shook his pennon, till the long white swallow tails streamed on the wind, then placed it in the hands of Eustace, and saying, ”On, Lances of Lynwood! In the name of G.o.d, St. George, and King Edward, do your devoir;” he spurred his horse forward, as if only desirous to be out of sight of his own turrets, and forget the parting, the pain of which still heaved his breast and dimmed his eye.
A few days brought the troop to Southampton, where John of Gaunt was collecting his armament, and with it they embarked, crossed to St.
Malo, and thence proceeded to Bordeaux, but there found that the Prince of Wales had already set forth, and was waiting for his brother at Dax.
Advancing immediately, at the end of three days they came in sight of the forces encamped around that town. Glorious was the scene before them, the green plain covered in every direction with white tents, surmounted with the banners or pennons of their masters, the broad red Cross of St. George waving proudly in the midst, and beside it the royal Lions and Castles of the two Spanish monarchies. To the south, the snowy peaks of the Pyrenees began to gleam white like clouds against the sky, and the gray sea-line to the west closed the horizon.
Eustace drew his rein, and gazed in silent admiration, and Gaston, riding by his side, pointed out the several bearings and devices which, to the warrior of that day, spoke as plainly (often more so) as written words. ”See yonder, the tent of my brave countryman, the Captal de Buch, close to that of the Prince, as is ever his wont. No doubt he is willing to wipe away the memory of his capture at Auray. There, to the left, _gules_ and _argent_, per _pale_, is the pennon of the stout old Englishman, Chandos. Ha! I see the old Free Companions are here with Sir Hugh Calverly! Why, 'twas but the other day they were starting to set this very Don Enrique on the throne as blithely as they now go to drive him from his.”
While Gaston spoke, the sound of horses' feet approached rapidly from another quarter, and a small party came in sight, the foremost of whom checked his bridle, as, at Reginald's signal, his Lances halted and drew respectfully aside. He was a man about thirty-six years of age, and looking even younger, from the remarkable fairness and delicacy of his complexion. The perfect regularity of his n.o.ble features, together with the commanding, yet gentle expression of his clear light blue eyes, would, even without the white ostrich feather in his black velvet cap, have enabled Eustace to recognize in him the flower of chivalry, Edward, Prince of Wales.
”Welcome, my trusty Reginald!” exclaimed he. ”I knew that the Lances of Lynwood would not be absent where knightly work is to be done. Is my brother John arrived?”
”Yes, my Lord,” replied Reginald; ”I parted from him but now as he rode to the castle, while I came to seek where to bestow my knaves.”
”I know you of old for a prudent man,” said the Prince, smiling; ”the Provost Marshal hath no acquaintance with that gallant little band.
Methinks I see there a fair face like enough to yours to belong to another loyal Lynwood.”
”I could wish it were a little browner and more manly, my Lord,” said Reginald. ”It is my brother Eustace, who has been suffered (I take shame to myself for it) to tarry at home as my Lady's page, till he looks as white as my Lady herself.”
”We will soon find a cure for that in the sun of Castile,” said Edward.
”You are well provided with Squires. The men of Somerset know where good training is to be found for their sons.”
”This, my Lord, is the son of Sir Philip Ashton, a loyal Knight of our country.”
”He is welcome,” said the Prince. ”We have work for all. Let me see you this evening at supper in my tent.”
”Well, Eustace, what sayest thou?” said Gaston, as the Prince rode on.