In the Days of Chivalry: A Tale of the Times of the Black Prince

by Evelyn Everett-Green

"The only one, Sir; and you will never have another. Strive as you will, keep me imprisoned as long as you will, I will never yield. I will never be yours; I belong to another --"

A fierce gleam was in Sanghurst's eyes, though he retained the suave softness of speech that he had assumed all along.

"He is dead, fair mistress."

"Living or dead, I am yet his," answered Joan unfalteringly; "and were I as free as air -- had I never pledged my faith to him -- I should yet have none other answer for you. Think you that your evil deeds have not been whispered in mine ear? Think you that this imprisonment in which you think fit to keep me is like to win my heart?"

"Nay, sweetest lady, call it not by that harsh name. Could a princess have been better served or tended than you have been ever since you came beneath my humble roof? It is no imprisonment; it is but the watchful care of one who loves you, and would fain save you from the peril into which you had recklessly plunged. Lady, had you known the dangers of travel in these wild and lawless days, you never would have left the shelter of your father's house with but one attendant to protect you. Think you that those peerless charms could ever have been hidden beneath the dress of a peasant lad? Well was it for you, lady, that your true love was first to follow and find you, ere some rude fellow had betrayed the secret to his fellows, and striven to turn it to their advantage. Here you are safe; and I have sent to your father to tell him you are found and are secure. He, too, is searching for you; but soon he will receive my message, and will come hastening hither. Then will our marriage be solemnized with all due rites. Your obstinate resistance will avail nothing to hinder our purpose. But I would fain win this lovely hand by gentle means; and it will be better for thee, Joan Vavasour, to lay down thine arms and surrender while there is yet time."

There was a distinct accent of menace in the last words, and the underlying expression upon that smiling face was evil and threatening in the extreme. But Joan's eyes did not falter beneath the searching gaze of her would-be husband. Her face was set in lines of fearless resolution. She still wore the rough blue homespun tunic of a peasant lad, and her chestnut locks hung in heavy natural curls about her shoulders. The distinction in dress between the sexes was much less marked in those days than it has since become. Men of high degree clothed themselves in flowing robes, and women of humble walk in life in short kirtles; whilst the tunic was worn by boys and girls alike, though there was a difference in the manner of the wearing, and it was discarded by the girl in favour of a longer robe or sweeping supertunic with the approach of womanhood. In the lower ranks of life, however, the difference in dress between boy and girl was nothing very distinctive; and the disguise had been readily effected by Joan, who had only to cut somewhat shorter her flowing locks, clothe herself in the homespun tunic and leather gaiters of a peasant boy, and place a cloth cap jauntily on her flowing curls before she was transformed into as pretty a lad as one could wish to see.

With the old henchman Nat to play the part of father, she had journeyed fearlessly forth, and had made for the coast, which she would probably have reached in safety had it not been for the acuteness of Peter Sanghurst, who had guessed her purpose, had dogged her steps with the patient sagacity of a bloodhound, and had succeeded in the end in capturing his prize, and in bringing her back in triumph to Basildene.

He had not treated her badly. He had not parted her from the old servant under whose escort she had travelled. Perhaps he felt he would have other opportunities of avenging this insult to himself; perhaps there was something in the light in Joan's eyes and in the way in which she sometimes placed her hand upon the hilt of the dagger in her belt which warned him not to try her too far. Joan was something of an enigma to him still. She was like no other woman with whom he had ever come in contact. He did not feel certain what she might say or do. It was rather like treading upon the crust of some volcanic crater to have dealings with her. At any moment something quite unforeseen might take place, and cause a complete upheaval of all his plans. From policy, as well as from his professed love, he had shown himself very guarded during the days of their journey and her subsequent residence beneath the roof of Basildene; but neither this show of submission and tenderness, nor thinly-veiled threats and menaces, had sufficed to bend her will to his. It had now come to this -- marry him of her own free will she would not. Therefore the father must be summoned, and with him the priest, and the ceremony should be gone through with or without the consent of the lady. Such marriages were not so very unusual in days when daughters were looked upon as mere chattels to be disposed of as their parents or guardians desired. It was usual, indeed, to marry them off at an earlier age, when reluctance had not developed into actual resistance; but still it could be done easily enough whatever the lady might say or do.

Peter Sanghurst, confident that the game was now entirely in his own hands, could even afford to be indulgent and patient. In days to come he would be amply avenged for all the slights now inflicted upon him. He often pictured the moment when he should tell to Joan the true story of his possession of the love token she had bestowed upon Raymond. He thought that she would suffer even more in the hearing of it than he had done upon the rack; and his wife could not escape him as his other victim had. He could wring her heartstrings as he had hoped to wring the nerves of Raymond's sensitive frame, and none could deliver her out of his hand.

But now he was still playing the farce of the suppliant lover, guessing all the while that she knew as well as he what a farce the part was. He strove to make her surrender, but was met by an invincible firmness.