CHAPTER X

FATHER AND SON SET OUT FOR HENNEBON

NEARLY four years have elapsed since the events recorded in the last chapter--years full of national interest. The naval battle of Sluys had been fought and won, and for the time the English fleet ruled the Channel, so that scarce a French or Spanish vessel dared to show itself betwixt Ushant and Cape Grisnez.

After the siege of Tournay, a treaty had been concluded between King Edward III. and Philip of France, but the former was ever on the alert to seize a favourable opportunity of renewing hostilities, and late in 1341 an incident occurred that gave the King the excuse to prosecute the war once more--a step that led to the glorious victory at Crécy and the overrunning of nearly the whole of France by the victorious arms of England.

The Duchy of Brittany was disputed between John of Montfort and Charles of Blois, and, while the latter was pressing his claims at the French Court, Montfort, by force or intrigue, had acquired the fortresses of Rennes, Nantes, Brest, and Hennebon; and in order to obtain a powerful supporter he had journeyed to England and concluded an offensive and defensive alliance with King Edward, at the same time offering to do him homage for the Duchy of Brittany.

Keeping this treaty a deep secret, Montfort did not hesitate to return to Paris to defend his case, but realising that the French King did not favour him, and fearing violence at his hands, the Earl retired to Brittany and declared war against the Count of Blois.

Philip sent his son, the Duke of Normandy, with a powerful force to aid Charles of Blois, and Montfort, after sending urgent requests for assistance to the King of England, shut himself up in Nantes, which was immediately besieged by the French.

By the treachery of the inhabitants Nantes fell, and Montfort, taken prisoner, was hurried to Paris, where he was loaded with chains and thrown into a loathsome dungeon in the Louvre.

But, though low, the fortunes of the Montforts were destined to recover. The cause was taken up by the Countess Joan of Montfort, the heroic wife of the imprisoned Earl, and being loyally supported by the Bretons, she withdrew her forces to the town of Hennebon, where she awaited the onslaught of the French, trusting in the expected aid from England.

* * * * *

But to return to Raymond Buckland and his adventures. As squire to Sir John Hacket, the Constable of the King's Castle of Portchester, he was now a member of the knight's household, spending the greater part of his time within the grey walls of the fortress.

Four years had made a great change in Raymond's appearance. He was now a youth of twenty, tall and well built. Thanks to his surroundings, he was skilled in the arts of warfare, and few could withstand him at the jousts and spear-runnings that were frequently held in the extensive grass-grown square that formed the outer bailey of the castle. Moreover, his monkish training admirably fitted him for the more clerkly duties that fell to him, and by his diligence, intelligence, and courage he was held in high esteem by the fiery old knight.

Redward, too, for his tried devotion and experience was made head master-bowman of the Constable's company, and, when occasion served, Sir John was not above asking his advice in the ordering of the castle and its defences.

But over Raymond hung a dark cloud of perplexity. The image of the fair Lady Audrey was ever present in his mind, and, encouraged by the Constable's prediction that in due course he might be entitled to wear the gilded spurs of knighthood, his hopes ran high of one day being in a position to win the maiden's heart and hand. But to his unbounded surprise, Raymond found that his father was tacitly opposed to this, his dearest wish. With difficulty Redward had been persuaded to allow the young squire to wait upon Sir Reginald Scarsdale, when that knight wished to thank him for his services. Any mention of the name of Scarsdale served to plunge the master-bowman into moodiness and silence, and any question that the lad put to his sire on the subject was turned in a way that puzzled Raymond in no small degree.

One day an event happened that was to transfer the lad from the pleasant life of ease at the castle to a far more active and dangerous sphere.

How well Raymond remembered it in after years. That morning he and another squire had mounted the four-storeyed Norman keep, and from the battlements looked down upon the scene below. It was a striking picture; the keep stood at the north-west-angle of the huge fortified enclosure. Immediately beneath the east and south faces of the donjon lay the inner bailey. In the far corner of the outer bailey stood the church, and close by was the water-gate, at which lay the Constable's state barge. Away to the south stretched the wide expanse of Portsmouth Harbour, its waters dotted with the sails of high-sided cogs and other merchant vessels, as they threaded their way up the sinuous deep-water channels that led to the castle.

Immediately opposite the water-gate was the landport, or gateway giving access to the castle from the land. The lads could follow the line of the dusty road as it passed through the little village, swept round the head of the harbour, and eventually was lost in the distance as it ran towards the City of London.

"Look, Raymond," exclaimed his companion, a Hampshire lad named Oswald Mant. "A horseman approaches, and, my faith, he does not spare his steed!"

"'Tis not one of the company?"

"Nay, look at the livery--murrey slashed with green--he is of the household of Sir John Chandos."

"Then something of importance hath taken place. I would 'twere good tidings from France!"

Leaving a dense white cloud of chalky dust behind him, the messenger clattered down the road, pulled up for a moment at the outer gateway to reply to the challenge of the guard, then spurred madly across the courtyard to the foot of the steps leading to the keep. Here a page ran forward to hold his horse, and, throwing himself wearily from the saddle, the rider staggered up the steps and disappeared under a low archway that gave access to the Constable's quarters.

An hour passed ere the messenger reappeared, and, after draining a cup of wine, he remounted and spurred his horse on his homeward journey.

While the two squires were debating over the matter, a page sought them, summoning Raymond to instantly repair to Sir John's apartment.

With beating heart, as if anticipating some good fortune, Raymond followed the page, and was ushered into the Constable's presence, where he found that Redward was already before him. It was a long, narrow room, lighted with lancet windows and hung with rich arras. At one end was a heavy table littered with papers and plans, and, for the nonce, unmindful of the dignity of his position, Sir John was sitting on its edge, swinging one leg, with the air of a man who is occupied by a perplexing problem.

Directly the page had retired, the Constable signed to Redward to draw a thick hanging over the door.

"Raymond," quoth he, "the King hath done us a signal honour. A messenger hath arrived with orders for me to send a trusty squire to the Countess of Montfort, who, as ye know, is beleaguere in Hennebon. 'Twill be a grave and hazardous task, yet withal one of great honour. To my mind, I cannot name a more promising messenger than thee. Art willing to take the risk?"

"To have a chance to distinguish myself in the King's service is my ardent desire, sir!"

"'Tis well. Now listen. Hennebon is on the sea coast of Brittany, betwixt the great River Loire and the town of Brest. As the foemen lie thick around it, and have also, I doubt not, a strong water-guard, 'tis a matter of stratagem rather than open work. But, in any case, this packet must be delivered into the hands of the Countess at all costs--at all costs, I repeat. I give thee a free hand in the matter. Take what men thou dost deem fit--though, methinks, the smaller the party the more chance of success."

"Methinks my father will be sufficient company for me, sir."

"Ah! as I thought. Thou hast chosen wisely. Now take this map and mark it well--'tis by the hand of the King's own guide--and get you gone to prepare for thy journey, for to-morrow morn a stout little craft will lie off the water-gate ready to bear thee over the sea."

Overjoyed at the prospects of such an adventure Raymond withdrew, and consulted with his father on the best means of getting through the cordon that was drawn round the beleaguered town.

As night drew on, father and son repaired to the little church within the walls, and for seven long hours kept an earnest vigil before the altar, praying fervently for the success of their enterprise, and invoking the protection of their patron saints against the perils of land and sea. Then, as daylight dawned, they arose, weary and stiff, to partake of food and drink ere embarking.

Tidings of their mission had already spread throughout the garrison of the castle, and when, accompanied by the Constable himself, the two travellers made their way to the water-gate, a large concourse of soldiers and members of the household flocked behind them to cheer them on their way and to wish them God-speed.

Riding easily at her hempen cable, on the first of the ebb tide, lay the staunch vessel that was to carry them across the Channel. On her stern were engraved the words _Les Trois Frères de Guernesey_, showing her to be one of the Channel Islands boats, whose crew, brave and hardy fishermen, were the best pilots obtainable.

They were, in fact, the only vessels that in those days were capable of making any pretence of sailing into the wind, and even then only, in nautical language, "full and bye." The usual type of ships, with their huge square sail, could only run before the breeze.

The skiff of _Les Trois Frères_ was waiting at the little Hard, and the farewells were quickly said. The precious despatch was sewn in the hem of Raymond's jerkin, and once again the stern old knight impressed upon his squire the necessity of the utmost caution. Then he extended his hand to the lad.

"God be with thee, and bring thee safely home again. I would be loth to lose so promising a lad!" exclaimed Sir John.

"Thanks for thy good wishes, fair sir," replied Raymond. "And should I not return," he added, with a faint catch in his voice which, in spite of his stout heart, he was unable to conceal, "I pray you send this packet to the lady whose superscription appears hereon." And, thrusting into the knight's hand a bulky missive, Raymond turned quickly on his heel, to hide his rising colour, and stepped into the skiff.

The Constable watched the Guernsey bark hoist her sails, and waited till she was well on her way down towards the harbour's mouth; then he returned slowly towards his quarters.

Glancing at the packet, he deciphered with difficulty the superscription, written in a scrawling hand: "To ye richt worshippefulle Ladye Audrey Scarsdale."

"Heaven bless the lad," he mused. "Certes I am of a mind to forward this missive whether he returns or not!"