SIR TRISTRAM DE ROCHEFORT, Seneschal of Auvergne and Lord ofVillefranche, was a fierce and renowned soldier who had growngray in the English wars. As lord of the marches and guardian ofan exposed country-side, there was little rest for him even intimes of so-called peace, and his whole life was spent in raidsand outfalls upon the Brabanters, late-comers, flayers freecompanions, and roving archers who wandered over his province.At times he would come back in triumph, and a dozen corpsesswinging from the summit of his keep would warn evil-doers thatthere was still a law in the land. At others his ventures werenot so happy, and he and his troop would spur it over thedrawbridge with clatter of hoofs hard at their heels and whistleof arrows about their ears. Hard he was of hand and harder ofheart, hated by his foes, and yet not loved by those whom heprotected, for twice he had been taken prisoner, and twice hisransom had been wrung by dint of blows and tortures out of thestarving peasants and ruined farmers. Wolves or watch-dogs, itwas hard to say from which the sheep had most to fear.

The Castle of Villefranche was harsh and stern as its master. Abroad moat, a high outer wall turreted at the corners, with agreat black keep towering above all--so it lay before them in themoonlight. By the light of two flambeaux, protruded through thenarrow slit-shaped openings at either side of the ponderous gate,they caught a glimpse of the glitter of fierce eyes and of thegleam of the weapons of the guard. The sight of the two-headedeagle of Du Guesclin, however, was a passport into any fortalicein France, and ere they had passed the gate the old border knightcame running forwards with hands out-thrown to greet his famouscountryman. Nor was he less glad to see Sir Nigel, when theEnglishman's errand was explained to him, for these archers hadbeen a sore thorn in his side and had routed two expeditionswhich he had sent against them. A happy day it would be for theSeneschal of Auvergne when they should learn that the last yewbow was over the marches.

The material for a feast was ever at hand in days when, if therewas grim want in the cottage, there was at least rude plenty inthe castle. Within an hour the guests were seated around a boardwhich creaked under the great pasties and joints of meat, variedby those more dainty dishes in which the French excelled, thespiced ortolan and the truffled beccaficoes. The Lady Rochefort,a bright andlaughter-loving dame, sat upon the left of her warlike spouse,with Lady Tiphaine upon the right. Beneath sat Du Guesclin andSir Nigel, with Sir Amory Monticourt, of the order of theHospitallers, and Sir Otto Harnit, a wandering knight from thekingdom of Bohemia. These with Alleyne and Ford, four Frenchsquires, and the castle chaplain, made the company who sattogether that night and made good cheer in the (Castle ofVillefranche. The great fire crackled in the grate, the hoodedhawks slept upon their perches, the rough deer-hounds withexpectant eyes crouched upon the tiled floor; close at the elbowsof the guests stood the dapper little lilac-coated pages; thelaugh and jest circled round and all was harmony and comfort.Little they recked of the brushwood men who crouched in theirrags along the fringe of the forest and looked with wild andhaggard eyes at the rich, warm glow which shot a golden bar oflight from the high arched windows of the castle.

Supper over, the tables dormant were cleared away as by magic andtrestles and bancals arranged around the blazing fire, for therewas a bitter nip in the air. The Lady Tiphaine had sunk back inher cushioned chair, and her long dark lashes drooped low overher sparkling eyes. Alleyne, glancing at her, noted that herbreath came quick and short, and that her cheeks had blanched toa lily white. Du Guesclin eyed her keenly from time to time, andpassed his broad brown fingers through his crisp, curly blackhair with the air of a man who is perplexed in his mind.

"These folk here," said the knight of Bohemia, "they do not seemtoo well fed."

"Ah, canaille!" cried the Lord of Villefranche. "You wouldscarce credit it, and yet it is sooth that when I was taken atPoictiers it was all that my wife and foster-brother could do toraise the money from them for my ransom. The sulky dogs wouldrather have three twists of a rack, or the thumbikins for anhour, than pay out a denier for their own feudal father and liegelord. Yet there is not one of them but hath an old stocking fullof gold pieces hid away in a snug corner."

"Why do they not buy food then?" asked Sir Nigel. "By St. Paul!it seemed to me their bones were breaking through their skin."

"It is their grutching and grumbling which makes them thin. Wehave a saying here, Sir Nigel, that if you pummel JacquesBonhomme he will pat you, but if you pat him he will pummel you.Doubtless you find it so in England."

"Ma foi, no!" said Sir Nigel. "I have two Englishmen of thisclass in my train, who are at this instant, I make little doubt,as full of your wine as any cask in your cellar. He whopummelled them might come by such a pat as he would be likely toremember."

"I cannot understand it," quoth the seneschal, "for the Englishknights and nobles whom I have met were not men to brook theinsolence of the base born."

"Perchance, my fair lord, the poor folk are sweeter and of abetter countenance in England," laughed the Lady Rochefort. "MonDieu! you cannot conceive to yourself how ugly they are!Without hair, without teeth, all twisted and bent; for me, Icannot think how the good God ever came to make such people. Icannot bear it, I, and so my trusty Raoul goes ever before mewith a cudgel to drive them from my path."

"Yet they have souls, fair lady, they have souls!" murmured thechaplain, a white-haired man with a weary, patient face.

"So I have heard you tell them," said the lord of the castle;"and for myself, father, though I am a true son of holy Church,yet I think that you were better employed in saying your mass andin teaching the children of my men-at-arms, than in going overthe country-side to put ideas in these folks' heads which wouldnever have been there but for you. I have heard that you havesaid to them that their souls are as good as ours, and that it islikely that in another life they may stand as high as the oldestblood of Auvergne. For my part, I believe that there are so manyworthy knights and gallant gentlemen in heaven who know how suchthings should be arranged, that there is little fear that weshall find ourselves mixed up with base roturiers and swine-herds. Tell your beads, father, and con your psalter, but do notcome between me and those whom the king has given to me!"

"God help them!" cried the old priest. "A higher King than yourshas given them to me, and I tell you here in your own castlehall, Sir Tristram de Rochefort, that you have sinned deeply inyour dealings with these poor folk, and that the hour will come,and may even now be at hand, when God's hand will be heavy uponyou for what you have done." He rose as he spoke, and walkedslowly from the room.

"Pest take him!" cried the French knight. "Now, what is a man todo with a priest, Sir Bertrand?--for one can neither fight himlike a man nor coax him like a woman."

"Ah, Sir Bertrand knows, the naughty one!" cried the LadyRochefort. "Have we not all heard how he went to Avignon andsqueezed fifty thousand crowns out of the Pope."

"Ma foi!" said Sir Nigel, looking with a mixture of horror andadmiration at Du Guesclin. "Did not your heart sink within you?Were you not smitten with fears? Have you not felt a curse hangover you?"

"I have not observed it," said the Frenchman carelessly. "But bySaint Ives! Tristram, this chaplain of yours seems to me to be aworthy man, and you should give heed to his words, for though Icare nothing for the curse of a bad pope, it would be a grief tome to have aught but a blessing from a good priest."

"Hark to that, my fair lord," cried the Lady Rochefort. "Takeheed, I pray thee, for I do not wish to have a blight cast overme, nor a palsy of the limbs. I remember that once before youangered Father Stephen, and my tire-woman said that I lost morehair in seven days than ever before in a month."

"If that be sign of sin, then, by Saint Paul! I have much uponmy soul," said Sir Nigel, amid a general laugh. "But in verytruth, Sir Tristram, if I may venture a word of counsel, I shouldadvise that you make your peace with this good man."

"He shall have four silver candlesticks," said the seneschalmoodily. "And yet I would that he would leave the folk alone.You cannot conceive in your mind how stubborn and brainless theyare. Mules and pigs are full of reason beside them. God Heknows that I have had great patience with them. It was but lastweek that, having to raise some money, I called up to the castleJean Goubert, who, as all men know, has a casketful of goldpieces hidden away in some hollow tree. I give you my word thatI did not so much as lay a stripe upon his fool's back, but afterspeaking with him, and telling him how needful the money was tome, I left him for the night to think over the matter in mydungeon. What think you that the dog did? Why, in the morningwe found that he had made a rope from strips of his leathernjerkin, and had hung himself to the bar of the window."

"For me, I cannot conceive such wickedness!" cried the lady.

"And there was Gertrude Le Boeuf, as fair a maiden as eye couldsee, but as bad and bitter as the rest of them. When young Amoryde Valance was here last Lammastide he looked kindly upon thegirl, and even spoke of taking her into his service. What doesshe do, with her dog of a father? Why, they tie themselvestogether and leap into the Linden Pool, where the water is fivespears'-lengths deep. I give you my word that it was a greatgrief to young Amory, and it was days ere he could cast it fromhis mind. But how can one serve people who are so foolish and soungrateful?"

Whilst the Seneschal of Villefranche had been detailing the evildoings of his tenants, Alleyne had been unable to take his eyesfrom the face of Lady Tiphaine. She had lain back in her chair,with drooping eyelids and bloodless face, so that he had fearedat first her journey had weighed heavily upon her, and that thestrength was ebbing out of her. Of a sudden, however, there camea change, for a dash of bright color flickered up on to eithercheek, and her lids were slowly raised again upon eyes whichsparkled with such lustre as Alleyne had never seen in human eyesbefore, while their gaze was fixed intently, not on the company,but on the dark tapestry which draped the wall. So transformedand so ethereal was her expression, that Alleyne, in hisloftiest dream of archangel or of seraph, had never pictured sosweet, so womanly, and yet so wise a face. Glancing at DuGuesclin, Alleyne saw that he also was watching his wife closely,and from the twitching of his features, and the beads upon hisbrick-colored brow, it was easy to see that he was deeplyagitated by the change which he marked in her.

"How is it with you, lady?" he asked at last, in a tremulousvoice.

Her eyes remained fixed intently upon the wall, and there was along pause ere she answered him. Her voice, too, which had beenso clear and ringing, was now low and muffled as that of one whospeaks from a distance.

"All is very well with me, Bertrand," said she. "The blessedhour of sight has come round to me again."

"I could see it come! I could see it come!" he exclaimed,passing his fingers through his hair with the same perplexedexpression as before.

"This is untoward, Sir Tristram," he said at last. "And I scarceknow in what words to make it clear to you, and to your fairwife, and to Sir Nigel Loring, and to these other strangerknights. My tongue is a blunt one, and fitter to shout word ofcommand than to clear up such a matter as this, of which I canmyself understand little. This, however, I know, that my wife iscome of a very sainted race, whom God hath in His wisdom endowedwith wondrous powers, so that Tiphaine Raquenel was knownthroughout Brittany ere ever I first saw her at Dinan. Yet thesepowers are ever used for good, and they are the gift of God andnot of the devil, which is the difference betwixt white magic andblack."

"Perchance it would be as well that we should send for FatherStephen," said Sir Tristram.

"It would be best that he should come," cried the Hospitaller

"And bring with him a flask of holy water," added the knight ofBohemia.

"Not so, gentlemen," answered Sir Bertrand. "It is not needfulthat this priest should be called, and it is in my mind that inasking for this ye cast some slight shadow or slur upon the goodname of my wife, as though it were still doubtful whether herpower came to her from above or below. If ye have indeed such adoubt I pray that you will say so, that we may discuss the matterin a fitting way."

"For myself," said Sir Nigel, "I have heard such words fall fromthe lips of this lady that I am of the opinion that there is nowoman, save only one, who can be in any way compared to her inbeauty and in goodness. Should any gentleman think otherwise, Ishould deem it great honor to run a small course with him, ordebate the matter in whatever way might be most pleasing to him."

"Nay, it would ill become me to cast a slur upon a lady who isboth my guest and the wife of my comrade-in-arms," said theSeneschal of Villefranche. "I have perceived also that on hermantle there is marked a silver cross, which is surely signenough that there is nought of evil in these strange powers whichyou say that she possesses."

This argument of the seneschal's appealed so powerfully to theBohemian and to the Hospitaller that they at once intimated thattheir objections had been entirely overcome, while even the LadyRochefort, who had sat shivering and crossing herself, ceased tocast glances at the door, and allowed her fears to turn tocuriosity.

"Among the gifts which hare been vouchsafed to my wife," said DuGuesclin, "there is the wondrous one of seeing into the future;but it comes very seldom upon her, and goes as quickly, for nonecan command it. The blessed hour of sight, as she hath named it,has come but twice since I have known her, and I can vouch for itthat all that she hath told me was true, for on the evening ofthe Battle of Auray she said that the morrow would be an ill dayfor me and for Charles of Blois. Ere the sun had sunk again hewas dead, and I the prisoner of Sir John Chandos. Yet it is notevery question that she can answer, but only those----"

"Bertrand, Bertrand!" cried the lady in the same mutterings far-away voice, "the blessed hour passes. Use it, Bertrand, whileyou may."

"I will, my sweet. Tell me, then, what fortune comes upon me?"

"Danger, Bertrand--deadly, pressing danger--which creeps upon youand you know it not."

The French soldier burst into a thunderous laugh, and his greeneyes twinkled with amusement. "At what time during these twentyyears would not that have been a true word?" he cried. "Dangeris in the air that I breathe. But is this so very close,Tiphaine?"

"Here--now--close upon you!" The words came out in broken,strenuous speech, while the lady's fair face was writhed anddrawn like that of one who looks upon a horror which strikes, thewords from her lips. Du Guesclin gazed round the tapestriedroom, at the screens, the tables, the abace, the credence, thebuffet with its silver salver, and the half-circle of friendly,wondering faces. There was an utter stillness, save for thesharp breathing of the Lady Tiphaine and for the gentle soughingof the wind outside, which wafted to their ears the distant callupon a swine-herd's horn.

"The danger may bide," said he, shrugging his broad shoulders."And now, Tiphaine, tell us what will come of this war in Spain."

"I can see little," she answered, straining her eyes andpuckering her brow, as one who would fain clear her sight."There are mountains, and dry plains, and flash of arms andshouting of battle-cries, Yet it is whispered to me that byfailure you will succeed."

"Ha! Sir Nigel, how like you that?" quoth Bertrand, shaking hishead. "It is like mead and vinegar, half sweet, half sour. Andis there no question which you would ask my lady?"

"Certes there is. I would fain know, fair lady, how all thingsare at Twynham Castle, and above all how my sweet lady employsherself."

"To answer this I would fain lay hand upon one whose thoughtsturn strongly to this castle which you have named. Nay, my LordLoring, it is whispered to me that there is another here who haththought more deeply of it than you."

"Thought more of mine own home?" cried Sir Nigel. "Lady, I fearthat in this matter at least you are mistaken."

"Not so, Sir Nigel. Come hither, young man, young English squirewith the gray eyes! Now give me your hand, and place it hereacross my brow, that I may see that which you have seen. What isthis that rises before me? Mist, mist, rolling mist with asquare black tower above it. See it shreds out, it thins, itrises, and there lies a castle in green plain, with the seabeneath it, and a great church within a bow-shot. There are tworivers which run through the meadows, and between them lie thetents of the besiegers."

"The besiegers!" cried Alleyne, Ford, and Sir Nigel, all three ina breath.

"Yes, truly, and they press hard upon the castle, for they are anexceeding multitude and full of courage. See how they storm andrage against the gate, while some rear ladders, and others, lineafter line, sweep the walls with their arrows. They are manyleaders who shout and beckon, and one, a tall man with a goldenbeard, who stands before the gate stamping his foot and hallooingthem on, as a pricker doth the hounds. But those in the castlefight bravely. There is a woman, two women, who stand upon thewalls, and give heart to the men-at-arms. They shower downarrows, darts and great stones. Ah I they have struck down thetall leader, and the others give back. The mist thickens and Ican see no more."

"By Saint Paul!" said Sir Nigel, "I do not think that there canbe any such doings at Christchurch, and I am very easy of thefortalice so long as my sweet wife hangs the key of the outerbailey at the head of her bed. Yet I will not deny that you havepictured the castle as well as I could have done myself, and I amfull of wonderment at all that I have heard and seen."

"I would, Lady Tiphaine," cried the Lady Rochefort, "that youwould use your power to tell me what hath befallen my goldenbracelet which I wore when hawking upon the second Sunday ofAdvent, and have never set eyes upon since."

"Nay, lady," said du Guesclin, "it does not befit so great andwondrous a power to pry and search and play the varlet even tothe beautiful chatelaine of Villefranche. Ask a worthy question,and, with the blessing of God, you shall have a worthy answer."

"Then I would fain ask," cried one of the French squires, "as towhich may hope to conquer in these wars betwixt the English andourselves."

"Both will conquer and each will hold its own," answered the LadyTiphaine.

"Then we shall still hold Gascony and Guienne?" cried Sir Nigel.

The lady shook her head. "French land, French blood, Frenchspeech," she answered. "They are French, and France shall havethem."

"But not Bordeaux?" cried Sir Nigel excitedly.

"Bordeaux also is for France."

"But Calais?"

"Calais too."

"Woe worth me then, and ill hail to these evil words! IfBordeaux and Calais be gone, then what is left for England?"

"It seems indeed that there are evil times coming upon yourcountry," said Du Guesclin. "In our fondest hopes we neverthought to hold Bordeaux. By Saint Ives! this news hath warmedthe heart within me. Our dear country will then be very great inthe future, Tiphaine?"

"Great, and rich, and beautiful," she cried. "Far down thecourse of time I can see her still leading the nations, a waywardqueen among the peoples, great in war, but greater in peace,quick in thought, deft in action, with her people's will for hersole monarch, from the sands of Calais to the blue seas of thesouth."

"Ha!" cried Du Guesclin, with his eyes flashing in triumph, "youhear her, Sir Nigel?--and she never yet said word which was notsooth."

The English knight shook his head moodily. "What of my own poorcountry?" said he. "I fear, lady, that what you have said bodesbut small good for her."

The lady sat with parted lips, and her breath came quick andfast. "My God!" she cried, "what is this that is shown me?Whence come they, these peoples, these lordly nations, thesemighty countries which rise up before me? I look beyond, andothers rise, and yet others, far and farther to the shores of theuttermost waters. They crowd! They swarm! The world is givento them, and it resounds with the clang of their hammers and theringing of their church bells. They call them many names, andthey rule them this way or that but they are all English, for Ican hear the voices of the people. On I go, and onwards overseas where man hath never yet sailed, and I see a great landunder new stars and a stranger sky, and still the land isEngland. Where have her children not gone? What have they notdone? Her banner is planted on ice. Her banner is scorched inthe sun. She lies athwart the lands, and her shadow is over theseas. Bertrand, Bertrand! we are undone for the buds of her budare even as our choicest flower!" Her voice rose into a wild cry,and throwing up her arms she sank back white and nerveless intothe deep oaken chair.

"It is over," said Du Guesclin moodily, as he raised her droopinghead with his strong brown hand. "Wine for the lady, squire!The blessed hour of sight hath passed."