"Marry, for the reason that the lady hath disappeared these last three weeks from her father's house, and none can tell whither she has fled, or whether she has been spirited away, or what hath befallen her. Sir Hugh is in a mighty taking, for he had just arranged a marriage betwixt her and Peter Sanghurst, and the lady had given her consent (or so it is said, albeit there be some who doubt the truth of that), and he is sorely vexed to know what can have become of her."
"Peter Sanghurst! that arch-villain!" cried Gaston, involuntarily laying his hand on the hilt of his dagger. "Mine uncle, I have come to ask counsel of thee about that same miscreant. I am glad that he at least has not fled the country. He shall not escape the fate he so richly merits."
And then, with flashing eyes and words eloquent through excess of feeling, Gaston related the whole story of the past months: the appearance on board the vessel of the Black Visor; the concerted action against Raymond carried out by Sanghurst, thus disguised, and the Sieur de Navailles; and the cruelty devised against him, from which he had escaped only by something of a miracle.
And as Master Bernard de Brocas listened to this tale of treachery, planned and carried out against one of his own name and race, an answering light shone in his eyes, and he smote his palms together, crying out in sudden wrath:
"Gaston, the King shall hear of this! Thou shalt tell to him the tale as thou hast told it to me. He will not hear patiently of such indignities offered to a subject of his, not though the King of France himself had done it! That Sieur de Navailles is no friend to England. I know him well, and his false, treacherous ways. I have heard much of him ere now, and the King has his eye upon him. Gaston, this hollow truce cannot long continue. The nobles and the King are alike weary of a peace which is no peace, and which the King of France or his lords are continually breaking. A very little, and the flame of war will burst out anew. It may be that even this tale of thine may put the spark to the train (as they say of these new artillery engines that are so astonishing men by their smoke and noise), and that the Prince, when he hears of it, will urge his father to march once more into France, and put an end to the petty annoyances and treacherous attacks which are goading the royal lion of England to wrath and fury."
"Pray Heaven it may!" cried Gaston, starting to his feet and pacing up and down the hall. "Thou knowest, uncle mine, how the Prince and the King did long ago confirm to me the rights of the De Brocas to the ancient Castles of Orthez and Saut. If he would but give me his royal warrant for mustering men and recovering mine own, I trow, be the walls of Saut never so strong, that I would speedily make mine entrance within them! Uncle, the Sieur de Navailles is hated and feared and reviled by all men for miles around his walls. I trow that, even amongst those who bear arms for him, some would be found who would gladly serve another master. Stories of the punishments he is wont to inflict upon all who fall beneath his displeasure have passed from mouth to mouth, and bitter is the rage burning in the breasts of those whose helpless kinsfolk have suffered through his tyrant cruelty. I trow an armed band, coming in the name of the English King, could soon smoke that old fox out of his hole; whilst all men would rejoice at his fall. Let me to the King -- let me tell my tale! I burn to be on the wing once more! Where may his Majesty be found?"
"Softly, softly, boy! We must think somewhat more of this. And we have two foes, not one alone, to deal with. Peter Sanghurst is, as it were, beneath our very hand. He is at Basildene, fuming like a wild thing at the sudden disappearance of Mistress Joan. There be, nevertheless, some who say that this wrath is all assumed; that he has captured the lady, and holds her a prisoner in his hands, all the while pretending to know naught of her. I know not what truth there may be in such rumours. The Sanghurst bears an evil name, and many are the stories whispered about him."
"What!" almost shouted Gaston, in the fierceness of his excitement, "Mistress Joan a prisoner in Basildene, the captive of that miscreant! Uncle, let us lose not an hour! Let us forthwith to the King. He will give us his royal warrant, and armed with that we will to Basildene, and search for her there, and free her ere the set of sun. Oh, it would be like him -- it would be all in a piece with his villainy! I cannot rest nor breathe till I know all. Uncle, may we not set forth this very day -- this same night?"
The worthy ecclesiastic laid a hand upon Gaston's shoulder.
"Boy," he said, "I will myself to the King this very day. The moon will soon be up, and the way is familiar to me and my men. But thou shalt tarry here. Thou hast travelled far today, and art weary and in need of rest. Perchance, in this matter of the Sanghurst, I shall do better without thee. Thou shalt see the King anon, and shalt tell him all thy tale; but methinks this matter of Basildene had best be spoken of betwixt him and me alone. Thou knowest that I have for long been in the King's favour and confidence, and have managed many state matters for him. Thou mayest therefore leave thy cause in my hands. I have all the papers safe that thou broughtest from Gascony long since, and have left in my care these many years. I have been awaiting my opportunity to lay the matter of Basildene before the King, and now I trow that the hour has come."