As the Prince saw the approach of Joan, he sprang to his feet, and all the assembled nobles did the same. With that chivalrous courtesy for which he became famous in history, the Prince bent the knee before the lady, and taking her by the hand, led her to a seat of honour beside himself, asking her of herself and her story, and listening with respectful attention to every word she spoke.
Gaston then stood forward and told again his tale of Raymond's capture, and deep murmurs of indignation ran through the hall as he did so. The veins swelled upon the Prince's forehead as he heard the tale, and his eyes emitted sparks of fierce light as they flashed from time to time upon the trembling prisoner.
"Methinks we have heard enough, gentlemen," said he at length, as Gaston's narrative drew to a close.
"Marshal, bring hither your prisoner.
"This man, gentlemen, is the hero of these brave deeds of valour of which we have been hearing. This is the man who dares to waylay and torture English subjects to wring from them treasure and gold; the man who dares to bring this vilely-won wealth to purchase with it the favour of England's King; the man who wages war on foreign soil with the friends of England, and treacherously sells them into the hand of England's foe; who deals with them as we have heard he dealt and would have dealt with Raymond de Brocas had not Providence worked almost a miracle in his defence. This is the man who, together with his father, drove from this very house the lawful owner, because that she was a gentle, tender woman, and was at that moment alone and unable to defend herself from them. This is the man who is not ashamed to call himself the master of Basildene, and who has striven to compass by the foulest ends the death of the true owner of the property -- though Raymond de Brocas braved the terrors of the Black Death to tend and soothe the last dying agonies of that man's father. This is the man who would wed by force this fair maiden, and strove to deceive her by the foulest tricks and jugglery. Say, gentlemen, what is the desert of this miscreant? What doom shall we award him as the recompense of his past life?"
A score of hideous suggestions were raised at once, and the miserable Peter Sanghurst shook in his shoes as he saw the fierce, relentless faces of the soldiers making a ring round him. Those were cruel days, despite the softening influence of their vaunted chivalry, and the face of the Prince was stern and black. It was plain that he had been deeply roused by the story he had heard.
But Joan was there, and she was a woman; and vile as had been this man's life, and deeply as he had injured her and him she loved tenfold more than her own life, he was still a human creature, and a creature without a hope either in this world or the world to come. She could not but pity him as he stood there cowering and shuddering, and she turned swiftly towards the Prince and spoke to him in a rapid undertone.
Young Edward listened, and the dark cloud passed from his brow. He was keenly susceptible to the nobler emotions, and an appeal to his generosity was not unheeded. Raising his hand in token that he demanded silence, he turned towards the quaking criminal, and thus addressed him:
"Peter Sanghurst, you stand convicted of many and hideous crimes -- witchcraft, sorcery, treachery to your King, vile cruelty to his subjects -- crimes for which death alone is scarce punishment enough. You well merit a worse fate than the gallows. You well merit some of those lingering agonies that you have inflicted upon your wretched victims, and have rejoiced to witness. But we in England do not torture our prisoners, and it is England's pride that this is so. This fair lady, who owes you naught but grievous wrong, has spoken for you; she says that were Raymond de Brocas here, he would join with her in praying that your fate might be swift and merciful. Therefore I decree that you are led forth without the gates of Basildene, and hanged upon the first tree out of sight of its walls.
"See to it, marshal. Let there be no delay. It is not fit that such a wretch should longer cumber the earth. Away with him, I say!"