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

by Evelyn Everett-Green

"If I cannot tend the sick, I can at least bury the dead," he said, drawing his horny hand across his eyes, remembering for whom he had but lately performed that last sad office. And Raymond, to whom this offer was addressed, accepted his company gladly, for he knew by recent experience how great was the need for helpers where the sick and the dead so far outnumbered the whole and sound.

He had gone off into a reverie as he sat by the peat fire, whilst Roger and the ranger continued talking together eagerly of many matters, and he heard little of what passed until roused by the name of Basildene spoken more than once, and he commanded his drowsy and wearied faculties to listen to what the ranger was saying.

"Yes, the Black Death has found its way in behind those walls, men say. The old sorcerer tried all his black arts to keep it out; but there came by one this morning who told me that the old man had been seized, and was lying without a soul to go near him. They have but two servants that have ever stayed with them in that vile place, and these both thought the old man's dealings with the devil would at least suffice to keep the scourge away, and felt themselves safer there than elsewhere. But the moment he was seized they both ran away and left him, and there they say he is lying still, untended and unwatched -- if he be not dead by now. For as for the son, he had long since made his own preparations. He has shut himself up in a turret, with a plentiful supply of food; and he burns a great fire of scented wood and spices at the foot of the stairway, and another in the place he lives in, and never means to stir forth until the distemper has passed. One of the servants, before he fled, went to the stair foot and called to him to tell him that his father lay a-dying of the plague below; but he only laughed, and said it was time he went to the devil, who had been waiting so long for him; and the man rushed out of the house in affright at the sound of such terrible blasphemy and unnatural wickedness at a time like this."

Raymond's face took a new expression as he heard these words. The lassitude and weariness passed out of it, and a curious light crept into his eyes. Roger and the ranger continued to talk together of many things, but their silent companion still sat motionless beside the hearth. Over his face was stealing a look of purpose -- such purpose as follows a struggle of the spirit over natural distaste and disgust.

When the ranger presently left them, to see what simple preparations he could make for their comfort during the night, he motioned to Roger to come nearer, and looking steadily at him, he said:

"Roger, I am going to Basildene tonight, to see what human skill may do for the old Sanghurst. He is our enemy -- thine and mine -- therefore doubly is it our duty to minister to him in the hour of his extremity. I go forth this night to seek him. Wilt thou go with me? or dost thou fear to fall again under the sway of his evil mind, or his son's, if thou puttest foot within the halls of Basildene again?"

For a moment a look of strong repulsion crossed Roger's face. He shrank back a little, and looked as though he would have implored his young master to reconsider his resolution. But something in the luminous glance of those clear bright eyes restrained him, and presently some of their lofty purpose seemed to be infused into his own soul.

"If thou goest, I too will go," he said. "At thy side no harm from the Evil One can come nigh me. Have I not proved that a hundred times ere now? And the spell has long been broken off my neck and off my spirit. I fear neither the sorcerer nor his son. If it be for us -- if it be a call -- to go even to him in the hour of his need, I will go without a thought of fear. I go in the name of the Holy Virgin and her Son. I need not fear what man can do against me."

Great was the astonishment of the worthy ranger when he returned to hear the purpose upon which his guests were bent; but he had already imbibed some of that strange reverential admiration for Raymond which he so frequently inspired in those about him, and it did not for a moment occur to him to attempt to dissuade him from an object upon which his mind was bent.

The October night, though dark and moonless, was clear, and the stars were shining in the sky as the little procession started forth. The ranger insisted on being one of the number. Partly from curiosity, partly from sheer hatred of solitude, and a good deal from interest in his companions and their errand of mercy, he had decided to come with them, not merely to show them the way to Basildene, which he could find equally well by night as by day, but to see the result of their journey there, and take on with him to Guildford the description of the old sorcerer's home and his seizure there.