Raymond had heard from her once since that time.  In the letter she had contrived to send him she had told him that her mother was dead, having fallen a victim to the dreaded distemper she had fled to avoid, but which had nevertheless seized her almost immediately upon her arrival at her husband’s house.  He too had been stricken, but had recovered; and his mind having been much affected by his illness and trouble, he had resolved upon a pilgrimage to Rome, in which his daughter was to accompany him.  She did not know how long they would be absent from England, and save for the separation from her true love, she was glad to go.  Her brother would return to the Court, and only she and her father would take the journey.  She had heard nothing all these weeks of the dreaded foe, and hoped he might have passed for ever from her life.

And in this state matters stood with the brothers as the vessel bore them through the tossing blue waves that bright May morning, every plunge of the well-fitted war sloop bringing them nearer and nearer to the well-known and well-loved harbour of Bordeaux.

Yet it was on no private errand that they were bound, though Gaston could not approach the familiar shores of Gascony without thinking of that long-cherished hope of his now taking so much more solid a shape.

The real object of this small expedition was, however, the relief of the town of St. Jean d’Angely, belonging to the English King, which had been blockaded for some time by the French monarch.  The distressed inhabitants had contrived to send word to Edward of their strait, and he had despatched the Earl of Warwick with a small picked army to its relief.

The Gascon twins had been eager to join this small contingent, and had volunteered for the service.  Gaston was put in command of a band of fine soldiers, and his brother took service with him.

This was the first time for several years that Raymond had been in arms, for of late his avocations had been of a more peaceful nature.  But he possessed all the soldier instincts of his race, and by his brother’s side would go joyfully into battle again.

He did not know many of the knights and gentlemen serving in this small expedition, nor did Gaston either, for that matter.  It was too small an undertaking to attract the flower of Edward’s chivalry, and the Black Death had made many gaps in the ranks of the comrades the boys had first known when they had fought under the King’s banner.  But the satisfaction of being together again made amends for all else.  Indeed they scarce had eyes for any but each other, and had so much to tell and to ask that the voyage was all too short for them.