Amongst those on board Raymond had frequently noticed the figure of a tall man always in full armour, and always wearing his visor down, so that none might see his face.  His armour was of fine workmanship, light and strong, and seemed in no way to incommode him.  There was no device upon it, save some serpents cunningly inlaid upon the breastplate, and the visor was richly chased and inlaid with black, so that the whole effect was gloomy and almost sinister.  Raymond had once or twice asked the name of the Black Visor, as men called him, but none had been able to tell him.  It was supposed that he was under some vow —­ a not very uncommon thing in the days of chivalry —­ and that he might not remove his visor until he had performed some gallant feat of arms.

Sometimes it had seemed to the youth as though the dark eyes looking out through the holes in that black covering were fixed more frequently upon himself than upon any one else; and if he caught full for a moment the fiery gleam, he would wonder for the instant it lasted where and when he had seen those eyes before.  But his mind was not in any sense of the word concerned with the Black Visor, and it was only now and then he gave him a passing thought.

And now the good vessel was slipping through the still waters of the magnificent harbour of Bordeaux.  The deck was all alive with the bustle of speedy landing, and the Gascon brothers were scanning the familiar landmarks and listening with delight to the old familiar tongue.

Familiar faces there were none to be seen, it is true.  The boys were too much of foreigners now to have many old friends in the queenly city.  But the whole place was homelike to them, and would be so to their lives’ ends.  Moreover, they hoped ere they took ship again to have time and opportunity to revisit old haunts and see their foster parents and the good priest once more; but for the present their steps were turned northward towards the gallant little beleaguered town which had appealed to the English King for aid.

A few days were spent at Bordeaux collecting provisions for the town, and mustering the reinforcements which the loyal city was always ready and eager to supply in answer to any demand on the part of the Roy Outremer.

The French King had died the previous year, and his son John, formerly Duke of Normandy, was now upon the throne; but the situation between the two nations had by no means changed, and indeed the bitter feeling between them was rather increased than diminished by the many petty breaches of faith on one side or another, of which this siege of St. Jean d’Angely was an example.

On the whole the onus of breaking the truce rested more with the French than the English.  But a mere truce, where no real peace is looked for on either side, is but an unsatisfactory state of affairs at best; and although both countries were sufficiently exhausted by recent wars and the ravages of the plague to desire the interlude prolonged, yet hostilities of one kind or another never really ceased, and the struggles between the rival lords of Brittany and their heroic wives always kept the flame of war smouldering.