ere is
thy brother Gaston, whom thou wentest forth to seek? and where the
faithful Roger, whose name thou hast spoken many times before?"

"I have left them together in the camp before Calais," answered Raymond.
"Roger would fain have come with me, but I thought it not well that he
should place himself so near his ancient foes and masters, even though I
trow the spell has been snapped once and for ever. He loves Gaston only
second to me, and was persuaded at length to stay with him. I, too,
would have stayed likewise, but they said the winter's cold would kill
me, and I could no longer bear arms or serve in the ranks. So I was fain
to leave them and come to England with our uncle. And the thought of
spending the winter months with thee and with the books made amends for
all I left behind beneath the walls of Calais."

"What ails thee then, Raymond? Is it some unhealed wound?"

The youth shook his head.

"Nay, I have no wound. It was some hurt I got in that last melee on the
field of Crecy, when the Prince nearly lost his life just as the day was
won. I was hurled to the ground and trampled upon. Methought for many
long minutes that I should never rise again. But for days afterwards I
knew not that the hurt was aught to think about or care for. It pained
me to move or breathe, but I thought the pain would pass, and heeded it
but little. We rode gaily enough to the walls of Calais, and we set
about building a second city without its walls (when the governor
refused to surrender it into our hands), which the King has been pleased
to call Newtown the Bold. I strove to work with the rest, thinking that
the pain I suffered would abate by active toil, and liking not to speak
of it when many who had received grievous wounds were to be seen lending
willing service in the task set us. But there came a day when I could no
more. I could scarce creep to the tent which Gaston, Roger, and I shared
together; and then I can remember naught but the agony of a terrible
pain that never left me night or day, and I only longed that I might die
and so find rest."

"Ah, poor lad, I too have known that wish," said John. "Doubtless it was
some grave inflammation of the hidden tissues of the body from the which
you so grievously suffered. And how came it that our uncle found you
out? He is a notable leech, as many men have found ere now. Was it as
such that he then came to thee?"

"Yes, truly; and our generous and kindly Prince sent him. He