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diff --git a/9780-h/9780-h.htm b/9780-h/9780-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7395407 --- /dev/null +++ b/9780-h/9780-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15540 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Fair Margaret, by H. Rider Haggard</title> +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top:.5em; margin-bottom:.5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 +{font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.footnote {font-size: 90%; +text-indent: 0%; +margin-left: 10%; +margin-right: 10%; +margin-top: 1em; +margin-bottom: 1em; } + +sup { vertical-align: top; font-size: 0.6em; } + +div.fig { display:block; + margin:0 auto; + text-align:center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + +p.caption {font-weight: bold; + text-align: center; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Fair Margaret, by H. Rider Haggard</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Fair Margaret</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: H. Rider Haggard</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: J. R. Skelton</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 15, 2003 [eBook #9780]<br /> +[Most recently updated: October 7, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Juliet Sutherland, Steve Flynn, Tonya Allen and PG Distributed Proofreaders</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FAIR MARGARET ***</div> + +<div class="fig" style="width:55%;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" style="width:100%;" alt="[Illustration]" /> +</div> + +<h1>Fair Margaret</h1> + +<h2 class="no-break">by H. Rider Haggard</h2> + +<p class="center"> +Author of “King Solomon’s Mines,” “She,” “Jess,” etc.<br /> +<br /> +</p> + +<p class="caption"> +WITH 15 ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. R. SKELTON<br /><br /> +</p> + +<p class="caption"> +London: HUTCHINSON & CO.<br /> +Paternoster Row<br /> +1907<br /> +</p> + +<hr></hr> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">CHAPTER I. HOW PETER MET THE SPANIARD.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">CHAPTER II. JOHN CASTELL.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">CHAPTER III. PETER GATHERS VIOLETS.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">CHAPTER IV. LOVERS DEAR.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">CHAPTER V. CASTELL’S SECRET.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">CHAPTER VI. FAREWELL.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap07">CHAPTER VII. NEWS FROM SPAIN.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap08">CHAPTER VIII. D’AGUILAR SPEAKS.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap09">CHAPTER IX. THE SNARE.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap10">CHAPTER X. THE CHASE.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap11">CHAPTER XI. THE MEETING ON THE SEA.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap12">CHAPTER XII. FATHER HENRIQUES.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap13">CHAPTER XIII. THE ADVENTURE OF THE INN.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap14">CHAPTER XIV. INEZ AND HER GARDEN.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap15">CHAPTER XV. PETER PLAYS A PART.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap16">CHAPTER XVI. BETTY SHOWS HER TEETH.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap17">CHAPTER XVII. THE PLOT.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap18">CHAPTER XVIII. THE HOLY HERMANDAD.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap19">CHAPTER XIX. BETTY PAYS HER DEBTS.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap20">CHAPTER XX. ISABELLA OF SPAIN.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap21">CHAPTER XXI. BETTY STATES HER CASE.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap22">CHAPTER XXII. THE DOOM OF JOHN CASTELL.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap23">CHAPTER XXIII. FATHER HENRIQUES AND +THE BAKER’S OVEN.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap24">CHAPTER XXIV. THE FALCON STOOPS.</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap25">CHAPTER XXV. HOW THE <i>MARGARET</i> WON OUT +TO SEA.</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> <a href="#envoi">ENVOI.</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<h2> LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<table summary="style="> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus01">“A DOVE, COMRADES!—A DOVE!”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus02">CASTELL DECLARES HIMSELF A JEW</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus03">“YOU MEAN THAT YOU WISH TO MURDER ME”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus04">MARGARET APPEARED DESCENDING +THE BROAD OAK STAIRS</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus05">IN ANOTHER MOMENT THAT STEEL +WOULD HAVE PIERCED HIS HEART</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus06">THE GALE CAUGHT HIM AND BLEW +HIM TO AND FRO</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus07">“LADY,” HE SAID, “THIS IS NO +DEED OF MINE”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus08">A CRUEL-LOOKING KNIFE AND A NAKED ARM +PROJECTED THROUGH THE PANELLING</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus09">“MY NAME IS INEZ. YOU WANDER +STILL, SEÑOR”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus10">“THERE ARE OTHERS WHERE THEY +CAME FROM”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus11">“TO-DAY I DARE TO HOPE THAT +IT MAY BE OTHERWISE”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus12">A MAGNIFICENTLY ATTIRED LADY OF MIDDLE AGE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus13">“WAY! MAKE WAY FOR THE MARCHIONESS +OF MORELLA!”</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus14">“WE ARE PLAYERS IN A STRANGE GAME, MY LADY +MARGARET”</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> <a href="#illus15">“YOU WILL HAVE TO FIGHT ME FIRST, +PETER”</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<h2> +FAIR MARGARET +</h2> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>CHAPTER I.<br /> +HOW PETER MET THE SPANIARD.</h2> + +<p> +It was a spring afternoon in the sixth year of the reign of King Henry VII. of +England. There had been a great show in London, for that day his Grace opened +the newly convened Parliament, and announced to his faithful people—who +received the news with much cheering, since war is ever popular at +first—his intention of invading France, and of leading the English armies +in person. In Parliament itself, it is true, the general enthusiasm was +somewhat dashed when allusion was made to the finding of the needful funds; but +the crowds without, formed for the most part of persons who would not be called +upon to pay the money, did not suffer that side of the question to trouble +them. So when their gracious liege appeared, surrounded by his glittering +escort of nobles and men-at-arms, they threw their caps into the air, and +shouted themselves hoarse. +</p> + +<p> +The king himself, although he was still young in years, already a weary-looking +man with a fine, pinched face, smiled a little sarcastically at their clamour; +but, remembering how glad he should be to hear it who still sat upon a somewhat +doubtful throne, said a few soft words, and sending for two or three of the +leaders of the people, gave them his royal hand, and suffered certain children +to touch his robe that they might be cured of the Evil. Then, having paused a +while to receive petitions from poor folk, which he handed to one of his +officers to be read, amidst renewed shouting he passed on to the great feast +that was made ready in his palace of Westminster. +</p> + +<p> +Among those who rode near to him was the ambassador, de Ayala, accredited to +the English Court by the Spanish sovereigns, Ferdinand and Isabella, and his +following of splendidly attired lords and secretaries. That Spain was much in +favour there was evident from his place in the procession. How could it be +otherwise, indeed, seeing that already, four years or more before, at the age +of twelve months, Prince Arthur, the eldest son of the king, had been formally +affianced to the Infanta Catherine, daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, aged +one year and nine months? For in those days it was thought well that the +affections of princes and princesses should be directed early into such paths +as their royal parents and governors considered likely to prove most profitable +to themselves. +</p> + +<p> +At the ambassador’s left hand, mounted on a fine black horse, and dressed +richly, but simply, in black velvet, with a cap of the same material in which +was fastened a single pearl, rode a tall cavalier. He was about five-and-thirty +years of age, and very handsome, having piercing black eyes and a stern, +clean-cut face. +</p> + +<p> +In every man, it is said, there can be found a resemblance, often far off and +fanciful enough, to some beast or bird or other creature, and certainly in this +case it was not hard to discover. The man resembled an eagle, which, whether by +chance or design, was the crest he bore upon his servants’ livery, and +the trappings of his horse. The unflinching eyes, the hooked nose, the air of +pride and mastery, the thin, long hand, the quick grace of movement, all +suggested that king of birds, suggested also, as his motto said, that what he +sought he would find, and what he found he would keep. Just now he was watching +the interview between the English king and the leaders of the crowd whom his +Grace had been pleased to summon, with an air of mingled amusement and contempt. +</p> + +<p> +“You find the scene strange, Marquis,” said the ambassador, +glancing at him shrewdly. +</p> + +<p> +“Señor, here in England, if it pleases your Excellency,” he +answered gravely, “Señor d’Aguilar. The marquis you +mentioned lives in Spain—an accredited envoy to the Moors of Granada; the +Señor d’Aguilar, a humble servant of Holy Church,” and he +crossed himself, “travels abroad—upon the Church’s business, +and that of their Majesties’.” +</p> + +<p> +“And his own too, sometimes, I believe,” answered the ambassador +drily. “But to be frank, what I do not understand about you, Señor +d’Aguilar, as I know that you have abandoned political ambitions, is why +you do not enter my profession, and put on the black robe once and for all. +What did I say—black? With your opportunities and connections it might be +red by now, with a hat to match.” +</p> + +<p> +The Señor d’Aguilar smiled a little as he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“You said, I think, that sometimes I travel on my own business. Well, +there is your answer. You are right, I have abandoned worldly +ambitions—most of them. They are troublesome, and for some people, if +they be born too high and yet not altogether rightly, very dangerous. The acorn +of ambition often grows into an oak from which men hang.” +</p> + +<p> +“Or into a log upon which men’s heads can be cut off. Señor, +I congratulate you. You have the wisdom that grasps the substance and lets the +shadows flit. It is really very rare.” +</p> + +<p> +“You asked why I do not change the cut of my garments,” went on +d’Aguilar, without noticing the interruption. “Excellency, to be +frank, because of my own business. I have failings like other men. For +instance, wealth is that substance of which you spoke, rule is the shadow; he +who has the wealth has the real rule. Again, bright eyes may draw me, or a hate +may seek its slaking, and these things do not suit robes, black or red.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet many such things have been done by those who wore them,” +replied the ambassador with meaning. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, Excellency, to the discredit of Holy Church, as you, a priest, know +better than most men. Let the earth be evil as it must; but let the Church be +like heaven above it, pure, unstained, the vault of prayer, the house of mercy +and of righteous judgment, wherein walks no sinner such as I,” and again +he crossed himself. +</p> + +<p> +There was a ring of earnestness in the speaker’s voice that caused de +Ayala, who knew something of his private reputation, to look at him curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“A true fanatic, and therefore to us a useful man,” he thought to +himself, “though one who knows how to make the best of two worlds as well +as most of them;” but aloud he said, “No wonder that our Church +rejoices in such a son, and that her enemies tremble when he lifts her sword. +But, Señor, you have not told me what you think of all this ceremony and +people.” +</p> + +<p> +“The people I know well, Excellency, for I dwelt among them in past years +and speak their language; and that is why I have left Granada to look after +itself for a while, and am here to-day, to watch and make +report——” He checked himself, then added, “As for the +ceremony, were I a king I would have it otherwise. Why, in that house just now +those vulgar Commons—for so they call them, do they not?—almost +threatened their royal master when he humbly craved a tithe of the +country’s wealth to fight the country’s war. Yes, and I saw him +turn pale and tremble at the rough voices, as though their echoes shook his +throne. I tell you, Excellency, that the time will come in this land when those +Commons will be king. Look now at that fellow whom his Grace holds by the hand, +calling him ‘sir’ and ‘master,’ and yet whom he knows +to be, as I do, a heretic, a Jew in disguise, whose sins, if he had his rights, +should be purged by fire. Why, to my knowledge last night, that Israelite said +things against the Church——” +</p> + +<p> +“Whereof the Church, or its servant, doubtless made notes to be used when +the time comes,” broke in de Ayala. “But the audience is done, and +his Highness beckons us forward to the feast, where there will be no heretics +to vex us, and, as it is Lent, not much to eat. Come, Señor! for we stop +the way.” +</p> + +<p> +Three hours had gone by, and the sun sank redly, for even at that spring season +it was cold upon the marshy lands of Westminster, and there was frost in the +air. On the open space opposite to the banqueting-hall, in front of which were +gathered squires and grooms with horses, stood and walked many citizens of +London, who, their day’s work done, came to see the king pass by in +state. Among these were a man and a lady, the latter attended by a handsome +young woman, who were all three sufficiently striking in appearance to attract +some notice in the throng. +</p> + +<p> +The man, a person of about thirty years of age, dressed in a merchant’s +robe of cloth, and wearing a knife in his girdle, seemed over six feet in +height, while his companion, in her flowing, fur-trimmed cloak, was, for a +woman, also of unusual stature. He was not, strictly speaking, a handsome man, +being somewhat too high of forehead and prominent of feature; moreover, one of +his clean-shaven cheeks, the right, was marred by the long, red scar of a +sword-cut which stretched from the temple to the strong chin. His face, +however, was open and manly, if rather stern, and the grey eyes were steady and +frank. It was not the face of a merchant, but rather that of one of good +degree, accustomed to camps and war. For the rest, his figure was well-built +and active, and his voice when he spoke, which was seldom, clear and distinct +to loudness, but cultivated and pleasant—again, not the voice of a +merchant. +</p> + +<p> +Of the lady’s figure little could be seen because of the long cloak that +hid it, but the face, which appeared within its hood when she turned and the +dying sunlight filled her eyes, was lovely indeed, for from her birth to her +death-day Margaret Castell—fair Margaret, as she was called—had +this gift to a degree that is rarely granted to woman. Rounded and flower-like +was that face, most delicately tinted also, with rich and curving lips and a +broad, snow-white brow. But the wonder of it, what distinguished her above +everything else from other beautiful women of her time, was to be found in her +eyes, for these were not blue or grey, as might have been expected from her +general colouring, but large, black, and lustrous; soft, too, as the eyes of a +deer, and overhung by curling lashes of an ebon black. The effect of these eyes +of hers shining above those tinted cheeks and beneath the brow of ivory +whiteness was so strange as to be almost startling. They caught the beholder +and held him, as might the sudden sight of a rose in snow, or the morning star +hanging luminous among the mists of dawn. Also, although they were so gentle +and modest, if that beholder chanced to be a man on the good side of fifty it +was often long before he could forget them, especially if he were privileged to +see how well they matched the hair of chestnut, shading into black, that waved +above them and fell, tress upon tress, upon the shapely shoulders and down to +the slender waist. +</p> + +<p> +Peter Brome, for he was so named, looked a little anxiously about him at the +crowd, then, turning, addressed Margaret in his strong, clear voice. +</p> + +<p> +“There are rough folk around,” he said; “do you think you +should stop here? Your father might be angered, Cousin.” +</p> + +<p> +Here it may be explained that in reality their kinship was of the slightest, a +mere dash of blood that came to her through her mother. Still they called each +other thus, since it is a convenient title that may mean much or nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! why not?” she answered in her rich, slow tones, that had in +them some foreign quality, something soft and sweet as the caress of a southern +wind at night. “With you, Cousin,” and she glanced approvingly at +his stalwart, soldier-like form, “I have nothing to fear from men, +however rough, and I do greatly want to see the king close by, and so does +Betty. Don’t you, Betty?” and she turned to her companion. +</p> + +<p> +Betty Dene, whom she addressed, was also a cousin of Margaret, though only a +distant connection of Peter Brome. She was of very good blood, but her father, +a wild and dissolute man, had broken her mother’s heart, and, like that +mother, died early, leaving Betty dependent upon Margaret’s mother, in +whose house she had been brought up. This Betty was in her way remarkable, both +in body and mind. Fair, splendidly formed, strong, with wide, bold, blue eyes +and ripe red lips, such was the fashion of her. In speech she was careless and +vigorous. Fond of the society of men, and fonder still of their admiration, for +she was romantic and vain, Betty at the age of five-and-twenty was yet an +honest girl, and well able to take care of herself, as more than one of her +admirers had discovered. Although her position was humble, at heart she was +very proud of her lineage, ambitious also, her great desire being to raise +herself by marriage back to the station from which her father’s folly had +cast her down—no easy business for one who passed as a waiting-woman and +was without fortune. +</p> + +<p> +For the rest, she loved and admired her cousin Margaret more than any one on +earth, while Peter she liked and respected, none the less perhaps because, try +as she would—and, being nettled, she did try hard enough—her beauty +and other charms left him quite unmoved. +</p> + +<p> +In answer to Margaret’s question she laughed and answered: +</p> + +<p> +“Of course. We are all too busy up in Holborn to get the chance of so +many shows that I should wish to miss one. Still, Master Peter is very wise, +and I am always counselled to obey him. Also, it will soon be dark.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well,” said Margaret with a sigh and a little shrug of her +shoulders, “as you are both against me, perhaps we had best be going. +Next time I come out walking, cousin Peter, it shall be with some one who is +more kind.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she turned and began to make her way as quickly as she could through the +thickening crowd. Finding this difficult, before Peter could stop her, for she +was very swift in her movements, Margaret bore to the right, entering the space +immediately in front of the banqueting-hall where the grooms with horses and +soldiers were assembled awaiting their lords, for here there was more room to +walk. For a few moments Peter and Betty were unable to escape from the mob +which closed in behind her, and thus it came about that Margaret found herself +alone among these people, in the midst, indeed, of the guard of the Spanish +ambassador de Ayala, men who were notorious for their lawlessness, for they +reckoned upon their master’s privilege to protect them. Also, for the +most part, they were just then more or less in liquor. +</p> + +<p> +One of these fellows, a great, red-haired Scotchman, whom the +priest-diplomatist had brought with him from that country, where he had also +been ambassador, suddenly perceiving before him a woman who appeared to be +young and pretty, determined to examine her more closely, and to this end made +use of a rude stratagem. Pretending to stumble, he grasped at Margaret’s +cloak as though to save himself, and with a wrench tore it open, revealing her +beautiful face and graceful figure. +</p> + +<p> +“A dove, comrades!—a dove!” he shouted in a voice thick with +drink, “who has flown here to give me a kiss.” And, casting his +long arms about her, he strove to draw her to him. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus01"></a> +<br /> +<img src="images/fig01.jpg" width="425" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“A dove, comrades!—A dove!” +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“Peter! Help me, Peter!” cried Margaret as she struggled fiercely +in his grip. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, if you want a saint, my bonny lass,” said the drunken +Scotchman, “Andrew is as good as Peter,” at which witticism those +of the others who understood him laughed, for the man’s name was Andrew. +</p> + +<p> +Next instant they laughed again, and to the ruffian Andrew it seemed as though +suddenly he had fallen into the power of a whirlwind. At least Margaret was +wrenched away from him, while he spun round and round to fall violently upon +his face. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s Peter!” exclaimed one of the soldiers in Spanish. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered another, “and a patron saint worth +having”; while a third pulled the recumbent Andrew to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +The man looked like a devil. His cap had gone, and his fiery red hair was +smeared with mud. Moreover, his nose had been broken on a cobble stone, and +blood from it poured all over him, while his little red eyes glared like a +ferret’s, and his face turned a dirty white with pain and rage. Howling +out something in Scotch, of a sudden he drew his sword and rushed straight at +his adversary, purposing to kill him. +</p> + +<p> +Now, Peter had no sword, but only his short knife, which he found no time to +draw. In his hand, however, he carried a stout holly staff shod with iron, and, +while Margaret clasped her hands and Betty screamed, on this he caught the +descending blow, and, furious as it was, parried and turned it. Then, before +the man could strike again, that staff was up, and Peter had leapt upon him. It +fell with fearful force, breaking the Scotchman’s shoulder and sending +him reeling back. +</p> + +<p> +“Shrewdly struck, Peter! Well done, Peter!” shouted the spectators. +</p> + +<p> +But Peter neither saw nor heard them, for he was mad with rage at the insult +that had been offered to Margaret. Up flew the iron-tipped staff again, and +down it came, this time full on Andrew’s head, which it shattered like an +egg-shell, so that the brute fell backwards, dead. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment there was silence, for the joke had taken a tragic turn. Then one +of the Spaniards said, glancing at the prostrate form: +</p> + +<p> +“Name of God! our mate is done for. That merchant hits hard.” +</p> + +<p> +Instantly there arose a murmur among the dead man’s comrades, and one of +them cried: +</p> + +<p> +“Cut him down!” +</p> + +<p> +Understanding that he was to be set on, Peter sprang forward and snatched the +Scotchman’s sword from the ground where it had fallen, at the same time +dropping his staff and drawing his dagger with the left hand. Now he was well +armed, and looked so fierce and soldier-like as he faced his foes, that, +although four or five blades were out, they held back. Then Peter spoke for the +first time, for he knew that against so many he had no chance. +</p> + +<p> +“Englishmen,” he cried in ringing tones, but without shifting his +head or glance, “will you see me murdered by these Spanish dogs?” +</p> + +<p> +There was a moment’s pause, then a voice behind cried: +</p> + +<p> +“By God! not I,” and a brawny Kentish man-at-arms ranged up beside +him, his cloak thrown over his left arm, and his sword in his right hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Nor I,” said another. “Peter Brome and I have fought +together before.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor I,” shouted a third, “for we were born in the same Essex +hundred.” +</p> + +<p> +And so it went on, until there were as many stout Englishmen at his side as +there were Spaniards and Scotchmen before him. +</p> + +<p> +“That will do,” said Peter, “we want no more than man to man. +Look to the women, comrades behind there. Now, you murderers, if you would see +English sword-play, come on, or, if you are afraid, let us go in peace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, come on, you foreign cowards,” shouted the mob, who did not +love these turbulent and privileged guards. +</p> + +<p> +By now the Spanish blood was up, and the old race-hatred awake. In broken +English the sergeant of the guard shouted out some filthy insult about +Margaret, and called upon his followers to “cut the throats of the London +swine.” Swords shone red in the red sunset light, men shifted their feet +and bent forward, and in another instant a great and bloody fray would have +begun. +</p> + +<p> +But it did not begin, for at that moment a tall señor, who had been +standing in the shadow and watching all that passed, walked between the +opposing lines, as he went striking up the swords with his arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Have done,” said d’Aguilar quietly, for it was he, speaking +in Spanish. “You fools! do you want to see every Spaniard in London torn +to pieces? As for that drunken brute,” and he touched the corpse of +Andrew with his foot, “he brought his death upon himself. Moreover, he +was not a Spaniard, there is no blood quarrel. Come, obey me! or must I tell +you who I am?” +</p> + +<p> +“We know you, Marquis,” said the leader in a cowed voice. +“Sheath your swords, comrades; after all, it is no affair of ours.” +</p> + +<p> +The men obeyed somewhat unwillingly; but at this moment arrived the ambassador +de Ayala, very angry, for he had heard of the death of his servant, demanding, +in a loud voice, that the man who had killed him should be given up. +</p> + +<p> +“We will not give him up to a Spanish priest,” shouted the mob. +“Come and take him if you want him,” and once more the tumult grew, +while Peter and his companions made ready to fight. +</p> + +<p> +Fighting there would have been also, notwithstanding all that d’Aguilar +could do to prevent it; but of a sudden the noise began to die away, and a hush +fell upon the place. Then between the uplifted weapons walked a short, richly +clad man, who turned suddenly and faced the mob. It was King Henry himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Who dare to draw swords in my streets, before my very palace +doors?” he asked in a cold voice. +</p> + +<p> +A dozen hands pointed at Peter. +</p> + +<p> +“Speak,” said the king to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Margaret, come here,” cried Peter; and the girl was thrust forward +to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Sire,” he said, “that man,” and he pointed to the +corpse of Andrew, “tried to do wrong to this maiden, John Castell’s +child. I, her cousin, threw him down. He drew his sword and came at me, and I +killed him with my staff. See, it lies there. Then the Spaniards—his +comrades—would have cut me down, and I called for English help. Sire, +that is all.” +</p> + +<p> +The king looked him up and down. +</p> + +<p> +“A merchant by your dress,” he said; “but a soldier by your +mien. How are you named?” +</p> + +<p> +“Peter Brome, Sire.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! There was a certain Sir Peter Brome who fell at Bosworth +Field—not fighting for me,” and he smiled. “Did you know him +perchance?” +</p> + +<p> +“He was my father, Sire, and I saw him slain—aye, and slew the +slayer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well can I believe it,” answered Henry, considering him. +“But how comes it that Peter Brome’s son, who wears that battle +scar across his face, is clad in merchant’s woollen?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire,” said Peter coolly, “my father sold his lands, lent +his all to the Crown, and I have never rendered the account. Therefore I must +live as I can.” +</p> + +<p> +The king laughed outright as he replied: +</p> + +<p> +“I like you, Peter Brome, though doubtless you hate me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so, Sire. While Richard lived I fought for Richard. Richard is gone; +and, if need be, I would fight for Henry, who am an Englishman, and serve +England’s king.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well said, and I may have need of you yet, nor do I bear you any grudge. +But, I forgot, is it thus that you would fight for me, by causing riot in my +streets, and bringing me into trouble with my good friends the Spaniards?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sire, you know the story.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know your story, but who bears witness to it? Do you, maiden, Castell +the merchant’s daughter?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, Sire. The man whom my cousin killed maltreated me, whose only wrong +was that I waited to see your Grace pass by. Look on my torn cloak.” +</p> + +<p> +“Little wonder that he killed him for the sake of those eyes of yours, +maiden. But this witness may be tainted.” And again he smiled, adding, +“Is there no other?” +</p> + +<p> +Betty advanced to speak, but d’Aguilar, stepping forward, lifted his +bonnet from his head, bowed and said in English: +</p> + +<p> +“Your Grace, there is; I saw it all. This gallant gentleman had no blame. +It was the servants of my countryman de Ayala who were to blame, at any rate at +first, and afterwards came the trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +Now the ambassador de Ayala broke in, claiming satisfaction for the killing of +his man, for he was still very angry, and saying that if it were not given, he +would report the matter to their Majesties of Spain, and let them know how +their servants were treated in London. +</p> + +<p> +At these words Henry grew grave, who, above all things, wished to give no +offence to Ferdinand and Isabella. +</p> + +<p> +“You have done an ill day’s work, Peter Brome,” he said, +“and one of which my attorney must consider. Meanwhile, you will be best +in safe keeping,” and he turned as though to order his arrest. +</p> + +<p> +“Sire,” exclaimed Peter, “I live at Master Castell’s +house in Holborn, nor shall I run away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who will answer for that,” asked the king, “or that you will +not make more riots on your road thither?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will answer, your Grace,” said d’Aguilar quietly, +“if this lady will permit that I escort her and her cousin home. +Also,” he added in a low voice, “it seems to me that to hale him to +a prison would be more like to breed a riot than to let him go.” +</p> + +<p> +Henry glanced round him at the great crowd who were gathered watching this +scene, and saw something in their faces which caused him to agree with +d’Aguilar. +</p> + +<p> +“So be it, Marquis,” he said. “I have your word, and that of +Peter Brome, that he will be forthcoming if called upon. Let that dead man be +laid in the Abbey till to-morrow, when this matter shall be inquired of. +Excellency, give me your arm; I have greater questions of which I wish to speak +with you ere we sleep.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>CHAPTER II.<br /> +JOHN CASTELL.</h2> + +<p> +When the king was gone, Peter turned to those men who had stood by him and +thanked them very heartily. Then he said to Margaret: +</p> + +<p> +“Come, Cousin, that is over for this time, and you have had your wish and +seen his Grace. Now, the sooner you are safe at home, the better I shall be +pleased.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” she replied. “I have seen more than I desire to +see again. But before we go let us thank this Spanish +señor——” and she paused. +</p> + +<p> +“D’Aguilar, Lady, or at least that name will serve,” said the +Spaniard in his cultured voice, bowing low before her, his eyes fixed all the +while upon her beautiful face. +</p> + +<p> +“Señor d’Aguilar, I thank you, and so does my cousin, Peter +Brome, whose life perhaps you saved—don’t you, Peter? Oh! and so +will my father.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered Peter somewhat sulkily, “I thank him very +much; though as for my life, I trusted to my own arm and to those of my friends +there. Good night, Sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“I fear, Señor,” answered d’Aguilar with a smile, +“that we cannot part just yet. You forget, I have become bond for you, +and must therefore accompany you to where you live, that I may certify the +place. Also, perhaps, it is safest, for these countrymen of mine are +revengeful, and, were I not with you, might waylay you.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, seeing from his face that Peter was still bent upon declining this escort, +Margaret interposed quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that is wisest, also my father would wish it. Señor, I will +show you the way,” and, accompanied by d’Aguilar, who gallantly +offered her his arm, she stepped forward briskly, leaving Peter to follow with +her cousin Betty. +</p> + +<p> +Thus they walked in the twilight across the fields and through the narrow +streets beyond that lay between Westminster and Holborn. In front tripped +Margaret beside her stately cavalier, with whom she was soon talking fast +enough in Spanish, a tongue which, for reasons that shall be explained, she +knew well, while behind, the Scotchman’s sword still in his hand, and the +handsome Betty on his arm, came Peter Brome in the worst of humours. +</p> + +<p> +John Castell lived in a large, rambling, many-gabled, house, just off the main +thoroughfare of Holborn, that had at the back of it a garden surrounded by a +high wall. Of this ancient place the front part served as a shop, a store for +merchandise, and an office, for Castell was a very wealthy trader—how +wealthy none quite knew—who exported woollen and other goods to Spain +under the royal licence, bringing thence in his own ships fine, raw Spanish +wool to be manufactured in England, and with it velvet, silks, and wine from +Granada; also beautiful inlaid armour of Toledo steel. Sometimes, too, he dealt +in silver and copper from the mountain mines, for Castell was a banker as well +as a merchant, or rather what answered to that description in those days. +</p> + +<p> +It was said that beneath his shop were dungeon-like store-vaults, built of +thick cemented stone, with iron doors through which no thief could break, and +filled with precious things. However this might be, certainly in that great +house, which in the time of the Plantagenets had been the fortified palace of a +noble, existed chambers whereof he alone knew the secret, since no one else, +not even his daughter or Peter, ever crossed their threshold. Also, there slept +in it a number of men-servants, very stout fellows, who wore knives or swords +beneath their cloaks, and watched at night to see that all was well. For the +rest, the living-rooms of this house where Castell, Margaret his daughter, and +Peter dwelt, were large and comfortable, being new panelled with oak after the +Tudor fashion, and having deep windows that looked out upon the garden. +</p> + +<p> +When Peter and Betty reached the door, not that which led into the shop, but +another, it was to find that Margaret and d’Aguilar, who were walking +very quickly, must have already passed it, since it was shut, and they had +vanished. At his knock—a hard one—a serving-man opened, and Peter +strode through the vestibule, or ante-chamber, into the hall, where for the +most part they ate and sat, for thence he heard the sound of voices. It was a +fine room, lit by hanging lamps of olive oil, and having a large, open hearth +where a fire burned pleasantly, while the oaken table in front of it was set +for supper. Margaret, who had thrown off her cloak, stood warming herself at +the fire, and the Señor d’Aguilar, comfortably seated in a big +chair, which he seemed to have known for years, leaned back, his bonnet in his +hand, and watched her idly. +</p> + +<p> +Facing them stood John Castell, a stout, dark-bearded man of between fifty and +sixty years of age, with a clever, clean-cut face and piercing black eyes. Now, +in the privacy of his home, he was very richly attired in a robe trimmed with +the costliest fur, and fastened with a gold chain that had a jewel on its +clasp. When Castell served in his shop or sat in his counting-house no merchant +in London was more plainly dressed; but at night, loving magnificence at heart, +it was his custom thus to indulge in it, even when there were none to see him. +From the way in which he stood, and the look upon his face, Peter knew at once +that he was much disturbed. Hearing his step, Castell wheeled round and +addressed him at once in the clear, decided voice which was his characteristic. +</p> + +<p> +“What is this I am told, Peter? A man killed by you before the palace +gates? A broil! A public riot in which things went near to great bloodshed +between the English, with you at the head of them, and the bodyguard of his +Excellency, de Ayala. You arrested by the king, and bailed out by this +señor. Is all this true?” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite,” answered Peter calmly. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I am ruined; we are all ruined. Oh! it was an evil hour when I took +one of your bloodthirsty trade into my house. What have you to say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only that I want my supper,” said Peter. “Those who began +the story can finish it, for I think their tongues are nimbler than my +own,” and he glanced wrathfully at Margaret, who laughed outright, while +even the solemn d’Aguilar smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Father,” broke in Margaret, “do not be angry with cousin +Peter, whose only fault is that he hits too hard. It is I who am to blame, for +I wished to stop to see the king against his will and Betty’s, and +then—then that brute,” and her eyes filled with tears of shame and +anger, “caught hold of me, and Peter threw him down, and afterwards, when +he attacked him with a sword, Peter killed him with his staff, and—all +the rest happened.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was beautifully done,” said d’Aguilar in his soft voice +and foreign accent. “I saw it all, and made sure that you were dead. The +parry I understood, but the way you got your smashing blow in before he could +thrust again—ah! that——” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well,” said Castell, “let us eat first and talk +afterwards. Señor d’Aguilar, you will honour my poor board, will +you not, though it is hard to come from a king’s feast to a +merchant’s fare?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is I who am honoured,” answered d’Aguilar; “and as +for the feast, his Grace is sparing in this Lenten season. At least, I could +get little to eat, and, therefore, like the señor Peter, I am +starved.” +</p> + +<p> +Castell rang a silver bell which stood near by, whereon servants brought in the +meal, which was excellent and plentiful. While they were setting it on the +table, the merchant went to a cupboard in the wainscoting, and took thence two +flasks, which he uncorked himself with care, saying that he would give the +señor some wine of his own country. This done, he said a Latin grace and +crossed himself, an example which d’Aguilar followed, remarking that he +was glad to find that he was in the house of a good Christian. +</p> + +<p> +“What else did you think that I should be?” asked Castell, glancing +at him shrewdly. +</p> + +<p> +“I did not think at all, Señor,” he answered; “but +alas! every one is not a Christian. In Spain, for instance, we have many Moors +and—Jews.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know,” said Castell, “for I trade with them both.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you have never visited Spain?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; I am an English merchant. But try that wine, Señor; it came +from Granada, and they say that it is good.” +</p> + +<p> +d’Aguilar tasted it, then drank off his glass. +</p> + +<p> +“It is good, indeed,” he said; “I have not its equal in my +own cellars there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you, then, live in Granada, Señor d’Aguilar?” +asked Castell. +</p> + +<p> +“Sometimes, when I am not travelling. I have a house there which my +mother left me. She loved the town, and bought an old palace from the Moors. +Would you not like to see Granada, Señora?” he asked, turning to +Margaret as though to change the subject. “There is a wonderful building +there called the Alhambra; it overlooks my house.” +</p> + +<p> +“My daughter is never likely to see it,” broke in Castell; “I +do not purpose that she should visit Spain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! you do not purpose; but who knows? God and His saints alone,” +and again he crossed himself, then fell to describing the beauties of Granada. +</p> + +<p> +He was a fine and ready talker, and his voice was very pleasant, so Margaret +listened attentively enough, watching his face, and forgetting to eat, while +her father and Peter watched them both. At length the meal came to an end, and +when the serving-men had cleared away the dishes, and they were alone, Castell +said: +</p> + +<p> +“Now, kinsman Peter, tell me your story.” +</p> + +<p> +So Peter told him, in few words, yet omitting nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“I find no blame in you,” said the merchant when he had done, +“nor do I see how you could have acted otherwise than you did. It is +Margaret whom I blame, for I only gave her leave to walk with you and Betty by +the river, and bade her beware of crowds.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, father, the fault is mine, and for it I pray your pardon,” +said Margaret, so meekly that her father could not find the heart to scold her +as he had meant to do. +</p> + +<p> +“You should ask Peter’s pardon,” he muttered, “seeing +that he is like to be laid by the heels in a dungeon over this business, yes, +and put upon his trial for causing the man’s death. Remember, he was in +the service of de Ayala, with whom our liege wishes to stand well, and de +Ayala, it seems, is very angry.” +</p> + +<p> +Now Margaret grew frightened, for the thought that harm might come to Peter cut +her heart. The colour left her cheek, and once again her eyes swam with tears. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! say not so,” she exclaimed. “Peter, will you not fly at +once?” +</p> + +<p> +“By no means,” he answered decidedly. “Did I not say it to +the king, and is not this foreign lord bond for me?” +</p> + +<p> +“What can be done?” she went on; then, as a thought struck her, +turned to d’Aguilar, and, clasping her slender hands, looked pleadingly +into his face and asked: “Señor, you who are so powerful, and the +friend of great people, will you not help us?” +</p> + +<p> +“Am I not here to do so, Señora? Although I think that a man who +can call half London to his back, as I saw your cousin do, needs little help +from me. But listen, my country has two ambassadors at this Court—de +Ayala, whom he has offended, and Doctor de Puebla, the friend of the king; and, +strangely enough, de Puebla does not love de Ayala. Yet he does love money, +which perhaps will be forthcoming. Now, if a charge is to be laid over this +brawl, it will probably be done, not by the churchman, de Ayala, but through de +Puebla, who knows your laws and Court, and—do you understand me, +Señor Castell?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered the merchant; “but how am I to get at de +Puebla? If I were to offer him money, he would only ask more.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see that you know his Excellency,” remarked d’Aguilar +drily. “You are right, no money should be offered; a present must be made +after the pardon is delivered—not before. Oh! de Puebla knows that John +Castell’s word is as good in London as it is among the Jews and infidels +of Granada and the merchants of Seville, at both of which places I have heard +it spoken.” +</p> + +<p> +At this speech Castell’s eyes flickered, but he only answered: +</p> + +<p> +“May be; but how shall I approach him, Señor?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you will permit me, that is my task. Now, to what amount will you go +to save our friend here from inconvenience? Fifty gold angels?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is too much,” said Castell; “a knave like that is not +worth ten. Indeed, he was the assailant, and nothing should be paid at +all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! Señor, the merchant is coming out in you; also the dangerous +man who thinks that right should rule the world, not kings—I mean might. +The knave is worth nothing, but de Puebla’s word in Henry’s ear is +worth much.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fifty angels be it then,” said Castell, “and I thank you, +Señor, for your good offices. Will you take the money now?” +</p> + +<p> +“By no means; not till I bring the debt discharged. Señor, I will +come again and let you know how matters stand. Farewell, fair maiden; may the +saints intercede for that dead rogue who brought me into your company, and that +of your father and your cousin of the quick eye and the stalwart arm! Till we +meet again,” and, still murmuring compliments, he bowed himself out of +the room in charge of a manservant. +</p> + +<p> +“Thomas,” said Castell to this servant when he returned, “you +are a discreet fellow; put on your cap and cloak, follow that Spaniard, see +where he lodges, and find out all you can about him. Go now, swiftly.” +</p> + +<p> +The man bowed and went, and presently Castell, listening, heard a side door +shut behind him. Then he turned and said to the other two: +</p> + +<p> +“I do not like this business. I smell trouble in it, and I do not like +the Spaniard either.” +</p> + +<p> +“He seems a very gallant gentleman, and high-born,” said Margaret. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, very gallant—too gallant, and high-born—too high-born, +unless I am mistaken. So gallant and so high-born——” And he +checked himself, then added, “Daughter, in your wilfulness you have +stirred a great rock. Go to your bed and pray God that it may not fall upon +your house and crush it and us.” +</p> + +<p> +So Margaret crept away frightened, a little indignant also, for after all, what +wrong had she done? And why should her father mistrust this splendid-looking +Spanish cavalier? +</p> + +<p> +When she was gone, Peter, who all this while had said little, looked up and +asked straight out: +</p> + +<p> +“What are you afraid of, Sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Many things, Peter. First, that use will be made of this matter to +extort much money from me, who am known to be rich, which is a sin best +absolved by angels. Secondly, that if I make trouble about paying, other +questions will be set afoot.” +</p> + +<p> +“What questions?” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you ever heard of the new Christians, Peter, whom the Spaniards +call Maranos?” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you know that a Marano is a converted Jew. Now, as it +chances—I tell you who do not break secrets—my father was a Marano. +His name does not matter—it is best forgotten; but he fled from Spain to +England for reasons of his own, and took that of the country whence he +came—Castile, or Castell. Also, as it is not lawful for Jews to live in +England, he became converted to the Christian faith—seek not to know his +motives, they are buried with him. Moreover, he converted me, his only child, +who was but ten years old, and cared little whether I swore by ‘Father +Abraham’ or by the ‘Blessed Mary.’ The paper of my baptism +lies in my strong box still. Well, he was clever, and built up this business, +and died unharmed five-and-twenty years ago, leaving me already rich. That same +year I married an Englishwoman, your mother’s second cousin, and loved +her and lived happily with her, and gave her all her heart could wish. But +after Margaret’s birth, three-and-twenty years gone by, she never had her +health, and eight years ago she died. You remember her, since she brought you +here when you were a stout lad, and made me promise afterwards that I would +always be your friend, for except your father, Sir Peter, none other of your +well-born and ancient family were left. So when Sir Peter—against my +counsel, staking his all upon that usurping rogue Richard, who had promised to +advance him, and meanwhile took his money—was killed at Bosworth, leaving +you landless, penniless, and out of favour, I offered you a home, and you, +being a wise man, put off your mail and put on woollen and became a +merchant’s partner, though your share of profit was but small. Now, again +you have changed staff for steel,” and he glanced at the +Scotchman’s sword that still lay upon a side table, “and Margaret +has loosed that rock of which I spoke to her.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is the rock, Sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“That Spaniard whom she brought home and found so fine.” +</p> + +<p> +“What of the Spaniard?” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a while and I will tell you.” And, taking a lamp, he left the +room, returning presently with a letter which was written in cipher, and +translated upon another sheet in John Castell’s own hand. +</p> + +<p> +“This,” he said, “is from my partner and connection, Juan +Bernaldez, a Marano, who lives at Seville, where Ferdinand and Isabella have +their court. Among other matters he writes this: ‘I warn all brethren in +England to be careful. I have it that a certain one whose name I will not +mention even in cipher, a very powerful and high-born man, and, although he +appears to be a pleasure-seeker only, and is certainly of a dissolute life, +among the greatest bigots in all Spain, has been sent, or is shortly to be +sent, from Granada, where he is stationed to watch the Moors, as an envoy to +the Court of England to conclude a secret treaty with its king. Under this +treaty the names of rich Maranos that are already well known here are to be +recorded, so that when the time comes, and the active persecution of Jews and +Maranos begins, they may be given up and brought to Spain for trial before the +Inquisition. Also he is to arrange that no Jew or Marano may be allowed to take +refuge in England. This is for your information, that you may warn any whom it +concerns.’” +</p> + +<p> +“You think that d’Aguilar is this man?” asked Peter, while +Castell folded up the letter and hid it in the pocket of his robe. +</p> + +<p> +“I do; indeed I have heard already that a fox was on the prowl, and that +men should look to their hen-houses. Moreover, did you note how he crossed +himself like a priest, and what he said about being among good Christians? +Also, it is Lent and a fast-day, and by ill-fortune, although none of us ate of +it, there was meat upon the table, for as you know,” he added hurriedly, +“I am not strict in such matters, who give little weight to forms and +ceremonies. Well, he observed it, and touched fish only, although he drank +enough of the sweet wine. Doubtless a report of that meat will go to Spain by +the next courier.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if it does, what matter? We are in England, and Englishmen will not +suffer their Spanish laws and ways. Perhaps the señor d’Aguilar +learned as much as that to-night outside the banqueting-hall. There is +something to be feared from this brawl at home; but while we are safe in +London, no more from Spain.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am no coward, but I think there is much more to be feared, Peter. The +arm of the Pope is long, and the arm of the crafty Ferdinand is longer, and +both of them grope for the throats and moneybags of heretics.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Sir, we are not heretics.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, perhaps not heretics; but we are rich, and the father of one of us +was a Jew, and there is something else in this house which even a true son of +Holy Church might desire,” and he looked at the door through which +Margaret had passed to her chamber. +</p> + +<p> +Peter understood, for his long arms moved uneasily, and his grey eyes flashed. +</p> + +<p> +“I will go to bed,” he said; “I wish to think.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, lad,” answered Castell, “fill your glass and stay +awhile. I have words to say to you, and there is no time like the present. Who +knows what may happen to-morrow?” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>CHAPTER III.<br /> +PETER GATHERS VIOLETS.</h2> + +<p> +Peter obeyed, sat down in a big oak chair by the dying fire, and waited in his +silent fashion. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” said Castell. “Fifteen months ago you told me +something, did you not?” +</p> + +<p> +Peter nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“What was it, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“That I loved my cousin Margaret, and asked your leave to tell her +so.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what did I answer?” +</p> + +<p> +“That you forbade me because you had not proved me enough, and she had +not proved herself enough; because, moreover, she would be very wealthy, and +with her beauty might look high in marriage, although but a merchant’s +daughter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and then?” +</p> + +<p> +“And then—nothing,” and Peter sipped his wine deliberately +and put it down upon the table. +</p> + +<p> +“You are a very silent man, even where your courting is concerned,” +said Castell, searching him with his sharp eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I am silent because there is no more to say. You bade me be silent, and +I have remained so.” +</p> + +<p> +“What! Even when you saw those gay lords making their addresses to +Margaret, and when she grew angry because you gave no sign, and was minded to +yield to one or the other of them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, even then—it was hard, but even then. Do I not eat your +bread? and shall I take advantage of you when you have forbid me?” +</p> + +<p> +Castell looked at him again, and this time there were respect and affection in +his glance. +</p> + +<p> +“Silent and stern, but honest,” he said as though to himself, then +added, “A hard trial, but I saw it, and helped you in the best way by +sending those suitors—who were worthless fellows—about their +business. Now, say, are you still of the same mind towards Margaret?” +</p> + +<p> +“I seldom change my mind, Sir, and on such a business, never.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good! Then I give you my leave to find out what her mind may be.” +</p> + +<p> +In the joy which he could not control, Peter’s face flushed. Then, as +though he were ashamed of showing emotion, even at such a moment, he took up +his glass and drank a little of the wine before he answered. +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you; it is more than I dared to hope. But it is right that I +should say, Sir, that I am no match for my cousin Margaret. The lands which +should have been mine are gone, and I have nothing save what you pay me for my +poor help in this trade; whereas she has, or will have, much.” +</p> + +<p> +Castell’s eyes twinkled; the answer amused him. +</p> + +<p> +“At least you have an upright heart,” he said, “for what +other man in such a case would argue against himself? Also, you are of good +blood, and not ill to look on, or so some maids might think; whilst as for +wealth, what said the wise king of my people?—that ofttimes riches make +themselves wings and fly away. Moreover, man, I have learned to love and honour +you, and sooner would I leave my only child in your hands than in those of any +lord in England.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know not what to say,” broke in Peter. +</p> + +<p> +“Then say nothing. It is your custom, and a good one—only listen. +Just now you spoke of your Essex lands in the fair Vale of Dedham as gone. +Well, they have come back, for last month I bought them all, and more, at a +price larger than I wished to give because others sought them, and but this day +I have paid in gold and taken delivery of the title. It is made out in your +name, Peter Brome, and whether you marry my daughter, or whether you marry her +not, yours they shall be when I am gone, since I promised my dead wife to +befriend you, and as a child she lived there in your Hall.” +</p> + +<p> +Now moved out of his calm, the young man sprang from his seat, and, after the +pious fashion of the time, addressed his patron saint, on whose feast-day he +was born. +</p> + +<p> +“Saint Peter, I thank thee—” +</p> + +<p> +“I asked you to be silent,” interrupted Castell, breaking him +short. “Moreover, after God, it is one John who should be thanked, not +St. Peter, who has no more to do with these lands than Father Abraham or the +patient Job. Well, thanks or no thanks, those estates are yours, though I had +not meant to tell you of them yet. But now I have something to propose to you. +Say, first, does Margaret think aught of that wooden face and those shut lips +of yours?” +</p> + +<p> +“How can I know? I have never asked her; you forbade me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pshaw! Living in one house as you do, at your age I would have known all +there was to know on such a matter, and yet kept my word. But there, the blood +is different, and you are somewhat over-honest for a lover. Was she frightened +for you, now, when that knave made at you with the sword?” +</p> + +<p> +Peter considered the question, then answered: +</p> + +<p> +“I know not. I did not look to see; I looked at the Scotchman with his +sword, for if I had not, I should have been dead, not he. But she was certainly +frightened when the fellow caught hold of her, for then she called for me loud +enough.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what is that? What woman in London would not call for such a one as +Peter Brome in her trouble? Well, you must ask her, and that soon, if you can +find the words. Take a lesson from that Spanish don, and scrape and bow and +flatter and tell stories of the war and turn verses to her eyes and hair. Oh, +Peter! are you a fool, that I at my age should have to teach you how to court a +woman?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mayhap, Sir. At least I can do none of these things, and poesy wearies +me to read, much more to write. But I can ask a question and take an +answer.” +</p> + +<p> +Castell shook his head impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +“Ask the question, man, if you will, but never take the answer if it is +against you. Wait rather, and ask it again—” +</p> + +<p> +“And,” went on Peter without noticing, his grey eyes lighting with +a sudden fire, “if need be, I can break that fine Spaniard’s bones +as though he were a twig.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said Castell, “perhaps you will be called upon to make +your words good before all is done. For my part, I think his bones will take +some breaking. Well, ask in your own way—only ask and let me hear the +answer before to-morrow night. Now it grows late, and I have still something to +say. I am in danger here. My wealth is noised abroad, and many covet it, some +in high places, I think. Peter, it is in my mind to have done with all this +trading, and to withdraw me to spend my old age where none will take any notice +of me, down at that Hall of yours in Dedham, if you will give me lodging. +Indeed for a year and more, ever since you spoke to me on the subject of +Margaret, I have been calling in my moneys from Spain and England, and placing +them out at safe interest in small sums, or buying jewels with them, or lending +them to other merchants whom I trust, and who will not rob me or mine. Peter, +you have worked well for me, but you are no chapman; it is not in your blood. +Therefore, since there is enough for all of us and more, I shall pass this +business and its goodwill over to others, to be managed in their name, but on +shares, and if it please God we will keep next Yule at Dedham.” +</p> + +<p> +As he spoke the door at the far end of the hall opened, and through it came +that serving-man who had been bidden to follow the Spaniard. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said Castell, “what tidings?” +</p> + +<p> +The man bowed and said: +</p> + +<p> +“I followed the Don as you bade me to his lodging, which I reached +without his seeing me, though from time to time he stopped to look about him. +He rests near the palace of Westminster, in the same big house where dwells the +ambassador de Ayala, and those who stood round lifted their bonnets to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Watching I saw some of these go to a tavern, a low place that is open +all night, and, following them there, called for a drink and listened to their +talk, who know the Spanish tongue well, having worked for five years in your +worship’s house at Seville. They spoke of the fray to-night, and said +that if they could catch that long-legged fellow, meaning Master Brome yonder, +they would put a knife into him, since he had shamed them by killing the Scotch +knave, who was their officer and the best swordsman in their company, with a +staff, and then setting his British bulldogs on them. I fell into talk with +them, saying that I was an English sailor from Spain, which they were too drunk +to question, and asked who might be the tall don who had interfered in the fray +before the king came. They told me he is a rich señor named +d’Aguilar, but ill to serve in Lent because he is so strict a churchman, +although not strict in other matters. I answered that to me he looked like a +great noble, whereon one of them said that I was right, that there was no blood +in Spain higher than his, but unfortunately, there was a bend in its stream, +also an inkpot had been upset into it.” +</p> + +<p> +“What does that mean?” asked Peter. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a Spanish saying,” answered Castell, “which signifies +that a man is born illegitimate, and has Moorish blood in his veins.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I asked what he was doing here, and the man answered that I had +best put that question to the Holy Father and to the Queen of Spain. Lastly, +after I had given the soldier another cup, I asked where the don lived, and +whether he had any other name. He replied that he lived at Granada for the most +part, and that if I called on him there I should see some pretty ladies and +other nice things. As for his name, it was the Marquis of Nichel. I said that +meant Marquis of Nothing, whereon the soldier answered that I seemed very +curious, and that was just what he meant to tell me—nothing. Also he +called to his comrades that he believed I was a spy, so I thought it time to be +going, as they were drunk enough to do me a mischief.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good,” said Castell. “You are watchman tonight, Thomas, are +you not? See that all doors are barred so that we may sleep without fear of +Spanish thieves. Rest you well, Peter. Nay, I do not come yet; I have letters +to send to Spain by the ship which sails to-morrow night.” +</p> + +<p> +When Peter had gone, John Castell extinguished all the lamps save one. This he +took in his hand and passed from the hall into an apartment that in old days, +when this was a noble’s house, had been the private chapel. There was an +altar in it, and over the altar a crucifix. For a few moments Castell knelt +before the altar, for even now, at dead of night, how knew he what eyes might +watch him? Then he rose and, lamp in hand, glided behind it, lifted some +tapestry, and pressed a spring in the panelling beneath. It opened, revealing a +small secret chamber built in the thickness of the wall and without windows; a +mere cupboard that once perhaps had been a place where a priest might robe or +keep the sacred vessels. +</p> + +<p> +In this chamber was a plain oak table on which stood candles and an ark of +wood, also some rolls of parchment. Before this table he knelt down, and put up +earnest prayers to the God of Abraham, for, although his father had caused him +to be baptized into the Christian Church as a child, John Castell remained a +Jew. For this good reason, then, he was so much afraid, knowing that, although +his daughter and Peter knew nothing of his secret, there were others who did, +and that were it revealed ruin and perhaps death would be his portion and that +of his house, since in those days there was no greater crime than to adore God +otherwise than Holy Church allowed. Yet for many years he had taken the risk, +and worshipped on as his fathers did before him. +</p> + +<p> +His prayer finished, he left the place, closing the spring-door behind him, and +passed to his office, where he sat till the morning light, first writing a +letter to his correspondent at Seville, and then painfully translating it into +cipher by aid of a secret key. His task done, and the cipher letter sealed and +directed, he burned the draft, extinguished his lamp, and, going to the window, +watched the rising of the sun. In the garden beneath blackbirds sang, and the +pale primroses were abloom. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder,” he said aloud, “whether when those flowers come +again I shall live to see them. Almost I feel as though the rope were +tightening about my throat at last; it came upon me while that accursed +Spaniard crossed himself at my table. Well, so be it; I will hide the truth +while I can, but if they catch me I’ll not deny it. The money is safe, +most of it; my wealth they shall never get, and now I will make my daughter +safe also, as with Peter she must be. I would I had not put it off so long; but +I hankered after a great marriage for her, which, being a Christian, she well +might make. I’ll mend that fault; before to-morrow’s morn she shall +be plighted to him, and before May-day his wife. God of my fathers, give us one +month more of peace and safety, and then, because I have denied Thee openly, +take my life in payment if Thou wilt.” +</p> + +<p> +Before John Castell went to bed Peter was already awake—indeed, he had +slept but little that night. How could he sleep whose fortunes had changed thus +wondrously between sun set and rise? Yesterday he was but a merchant’s +assistant—a poor trade for one who had been trained to arms, and borne +them bravely. To-day he was a gentleman again, owner of the broad lands where +he was bred, and that had been his forefathers’ for many a generation. +Yesterday he was a lover without hope, for in himself he had never believed +that the rich John Castell would suffer him, a landless man, to pay court to +his daughter, one of the loveliest and wealthiest maids in London. He had asked +his leave in past days, and been refused, as he had expected that he would be +refused, and thenceforward, being on his honour as it were, he had said no +tender word to Margaret, nor pressed her hand, nor even looked into her eyes +and sighed. Yet at times it had seemed to him that she would not have been +ill-pleased if he had done one of these things, or all; that she wondered, +indeed, that he did not, and thought none the better of him for his abstinence. +Moreover, now he learned that her father wondered also, and this was a strange +reward of virtue. +</p> + +<p> +For Peter loved Margaret with heart and soul and body. Since he, a lad, had +played with her, a child, he loved her, and no other woman. She was his thought +by day and his dream by night, his hope, his eternal star. Heaven he pictured +as a place where for ever he would be with Margaret, earth without her could be +nothing but a hell. That was why he had stayed on in Castell’s shop, +bending his proud neck to this tradesman’s yoke, doing the bidding and +taking the rough words of chapmen and of lordly customers, filling in bills of +exchange, and cheapening bargains, all without a sign or murmur, though +oftentimes he felt as though his gorge would burst with loathing of the life. +Indeed, that was why he had come there at all, who otherwise would have been +far away, hewing a road to fame and fortune, or digging out a grave with his +broadsword. For here at least he could be near to Margaret, could touch her +hand at morn and evening, could watch the light shine in her beauteous eyes, +and sometimes, as she bent over him, feel her breath upon his hair. And now his +purgatory was at an end, and of a sudden the gates of joy were open. +</p> + +<p> +But what if Margaret should prove the angel with the flaming sword who forbade +him entrance to his paradise? He trembled at the thought. Well, if so, so it +must be; he was not the man to force her fancy, or call her father to his aid. +He would do his best to win her, and if he failed, why then he would bless her, +and let her go. +</p> + +<p> +Peter could lie abed no longer, but rose and dressed himself, although the dawn +was not fully come. By his open window he said his prayers, thanking God for +mercies past, and praying that He would bless him in his great emprise. +Presently the sun rose, and there came a great longing on him to be alone in +the countryside, he who was country-born and hated towns, with only the sky and +the birds and the trees for company. +</p> + +<p> +But here in London was no country, wherever he went he would meet men; +moreover, he remembered that it might be best that just now he should not +wander through the streets unguarded, lest he should find Spaniards watching to +take him unawares. Well, there was the garden; he would go thither, and walk a +while. So he descended the broad oak stairs, and, unbolting a door, entered +this garden, which, though not too well kept, was large for London, covering an +acre of ground perhaps, surrounded by a high wall, and having walks, and at the +end of it a group of ancient elms, beneath which was a seat hidden from the +house. In summer this was Margaret’s favourite bower, for she too loved +Nature and the land, and all the things it bore. Indeed, this garden was her +joy, and the flowers that grew there were for the most part of her own +planting—primroses, snowdrops, violets, and, in the shadow of the trees, +long hartstongue ferns. +</p> + +<p> +For a while Peter walked up and down the central path, and, as it chanced, +Margaret, who also had risen early and not slept too well, looking through her +window curtains, saw him wandering there, and wondered what he did at this +hour; also, why he was dressed in the clothes he wore on Sundays and holidays. +Perhaps, she thought, his weekday garments had been torn or muddied in last +night’s fray. Then she fell to thinking how bravely he had borne him in +that fray. She saw it all again; the great red-headed rascal tossed up and +whirled to the earth by his strong arms; saw Peter face that gleaming steel +with nothing but a staff; saw the straight blows fall, and the fellow go +reeling to the earth, slain with a single stroke. +</p> + +<p> +Ah! her cousin, Peter Brome, was a man indeed, though a strange one, and +remembering certain things that did not please her, she shrugged her ivory +shoulders, turned red, and pouted. Why, that Spaniard had said more civil words +to her in an hour than had Peter in two years, and he was handsome and +noble-looking also; but then the Spaniard was—a Spaniard, and other men +were—other men, whereas Peter was—Peter, a creature apart, one who +cared as little for women as he did for trade. +</p> + +<p> +Why, then, if he cared for neither women nor trade, did he stop here? she +wondered. To gather wealth? She did not think it; he seemed to have no leanings +that way either. It was a mystery. Still, she could wish to get to the bottom +of Peter’s heart, just to see what was hid there, since no man has a +right to be a riddle to his loving cousin. Yes, and one day she would do it, +cost what it might. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile, she remembered that she had never thanked Peter for the brave part +which he had played, and, indeed, had left him to walk home with Betty, a +journey that, as she gathered from her sprightly cousin’s talk while she +undressed her, neither of them had much enjoyed. For Betty, be it said here, +was angry with Peter, who, it seemed, once had told her that she was a +handsome, silly fool, who thought too much of men and too little of her +business. Well, since after the day’s work had begun she would find no +opportunity, she would go down and thank Peter now, and see if she could make +him talk for once. +</p> + +<p> +So Margaret threw her fur-trimmed cloak about her, drawing its hood over her +head, for the April air was cold, and followed Peter into the garden. When she +reached it, however, there was no Peter to be seen, whereon she reproached +herself for having come to that damp place so early and meditated return. Then, +thinking that it would look foolish if any had chanced to see her, she walked +down the path pretending to seek for violets, and found none. Thus she came to +the group of great elms at the end, and, glancing between their ancient boles, +saw Peter standing there. Now, too, she understood why she could find no +violets, for Peter had gathered them all, and was engaged, awkwardly enough, in +trying to tie them and some leaves into a little posy by the help of a stem of +grass. With his left hand he held the violets, with his right one end of the +grass, and since he lacked fingers to clasp the other, this he attempted with +his teeth. Now he drew it tight, and now the brittle grass stem broke, the +violets were scattered, and Peter used words that he should not have uttered +even when alone. +</p> + +<p> +“I knew you would break it, but I never thought you could lose your +temper over so small a thing, Peter,” said Margaret; and he in the shadow +looked up to see her standing there in the sunlight, fresh and lovely as the +spring itself. +</p> + +<p> +Solemnly, in severe reproof, she shook her head, from which the hood had fallen +back, but there was a smile upon her lips, and laughter in her eyes. Oh! she +was beautiful, and at the sight of her Peter’s heart stood still. Then, +remembering what he had just said, and certain other things that Master Castell +had said, he blushed so deeply that her own cheeks went red in sympathy. It was +foolish, but she could not help it, for about Peter this morning there was +something strange, something that bred blushes. +</p> + +<p> +“For whom are you gathering violets so early,” she asked, +“when you ought to be praying for that Scotchman’s soul?” +</p> + +<p> +“I care nothing for his soul,” answered Peter testily. “If +the brute had one, he can look after it himself; and I was gathering the +violets—for you.” +</p> + +<p> +She stared. Peter was not in the habit of making her presents of flowers. No +wonder he had looked strange. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I will help you to tie them. Do you know why I am up so early? It +is for your sake. I behaved badly to you last night, for I was cross because +you wanted to thwart me about seeing the king. I never thanked you for all you +did, you brave Peter, though I thanked you enough in my heart. Do you know that +when you stood there with that sword, in the middle of those Englishmen, you +looked quite noble? Come out into the sunlight, and I will thank you +properly.” +</p> + +<p> +In his agitation Peter let the remainder of the flowers fall. Then an idea +struck him, and he answered: +</p> + +<p> +“Look! I can’t; if you are really grateful for nothing at all, come +in here and help me to pick up these violets—a pest on their short +stalks!” +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated a little, then by degrees drew nearer, and, bending down, began +to find the flowers one by one. Peter had scattered them wide, so that at first +the pair were some way apart, but when only a few remained, they drew close. +Now there was but one violet left, and, both stretching for it, their hands +met. Margaret held the violet, and Peter held Margaret’s fingers. Thus +linked they straightened themselves, and as they rose their faces were very +near together and oh! most sweet were Margaret’s wonderful eyes; while in +the eyes of Peter there shone a flame. For a second they looked at each other, +and then of a sudden he kissed her on the lips. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br /> +LOVERS DEAR.</h2> + +<p> +“Peter!” gasped Margaret—“<i>Peter!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +But Peter made no answer, only he who had been red of face went white, so that +the mark of the sword-cut across his cheek showed like a scarlet line upon a +cloth. +</p> + +<p> +“Peter!” repeated Margaret, pulling at her hand which he still +held, “do you know what you have done?” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems that you do, so what need is there for me to tell you?” +he muttered. +</p> + +<p> +“Then it was not an accident; you really meant it, and you are not +ashamed.” +</p> + +<p> +“If it was, I hope that I may meet with more such accidents.” +</p> + +<p> +“Peter, leave go of me. I am going to tell my father, at once.” +</p> + +<p> +His face brightened. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell him by all means,” he said; “he won’t mind. He +told me——” +</p> + +<p> +“Peter, how dare you add falsehood to—to—you know what. Do +you mean to say that my father told you to kiss me, and at six o’clock in +the morning, too?” +</p> + +<p> +“He said nothing about kissing, but I suppose he meant it. He said that I +might ask you to marry me.” +</p> + +<p> +“That,” replied Margaret, “is a very different thing. If you +had asked me to marry you, and, after thinking it over for a long while, I had +answered Yes, which of course I should not have done, then, perhaps, before we +were married you might have—Well, Peter, you have begun at the wrong end, +which is very shameless and wicked of you, and I shall never speak to you +again.” +</p> + +<p> +“I daresay,” said Peter resignedly; “all the more reason why +I should speak to you while I have the chance. No, you shan’t go till you +have heard me. Listen. I have been in love with you since you were twelve years +old—” +</p> + +<p> +“That must be another falsehood, Peter, or you have gone mad. If you had +been in love with me for eleven years, you would have said so.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wanted to, always, but your father refused me leave. I asked him +fifteen months ago, but he put me on my word to say nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“To say nothing—yes, but he could not make you promise to show +nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought that the one thing meant the other; I see now that I have been +a fool, and, I suppose, have overstayed my market,” and he looked so +depressed that Margaret relented a little. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” she said, “at any rate it was honest, and of course I +am glad that you were honest.” +</p> + +<p> +“You said just now that I told falsehoods—twice; if I am honest, +how can I tell falsehoods?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. Why do you ask me riddles? Let me go and try to +forget all this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not till you have answered me outright. Will you marry me, Margaret? If +you won’t, there will be no need for you to go, for I shall go and +trouble you no more. You know what I am, and all about me, and I have nothing +more to say except that, although you may find many finer husbands, you +won’t find one who would love and care for you better. I know that you +are very beautiful and very rich, while I am neither one nor the other, and +often I have wished to Heaven that you were not so beautiful, for sometimes +that brings trouble on women who are honest and only have one heart to give, or +so rich either. But thus things are, and I cannot change them, and, however +poor my chance of hitting the dove, I determined to shoot my bolt and make way +for the next archer. Is there any chance at all, Margaret? Tell me, and put me +out of pain, for I am not good at so much talking.” +</p> + +<p> +Now Margaret began to grow disturbed; her wayward assurance departed from her. +</p> + +<p> +“It is not fitting,” she murmured, “and I do not wish—I +will speak to my father; he shall give you your answer.” +</p> + +<p> +“No need to trouble him, Margaret. He has given it already. His great +desire is that we should marry, for he seeks to leave this trade and to live +with us in the Vale of Dedham, in Essex, where he has bought back my +father’s land.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are full of strange tidings this morning, Peter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Margaret, our wheel of life that went so slow turns fast enough +to-day, for God above has laid His whip upon the horses of our Fate, and they +begin to gallop, whither I know not. Must they run side by side, or separate? +It is for you to say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Peter,” she said, “will you not give me a little time?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, Margaret, ten whole minutes by the clock, and then if it is nay, +all your life, for I pack my chest and go. It will be said that I feared to be +taken for that soldier’s death.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are unkind to press me so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, it is kindest to both of us. Do you then love some other man?” +</p> + +<p> +“I must confess I do,” she murmured, looking at him out of the +corners of her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Now Peter, strong as he was, turned faint, and in his agitation let go her hand +which she lifted, the violets still between her fingers, considering it as +though it were a new thing to her. +</p> + +<p> +“I have no right to ask you who he is,” he muttered, striving to +control himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, but, Peter, I will tell you. It is my father—what other man +should I love?” +</p> + +<p> +“Margaret!” he said in wrath, “you are fooling me.” +</p> + +<p> +“How so? What other man should I love—unless, indeed, it were +yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can bear no more of this play,” he said. “Mistress +Margaret, I bid you farewell. God go with you!” And he brushed past her. +</p> + +<p> +“Peter,” she said when he had gone a few yards, “would you +have these violets as a farewell gift?” +</p> + +<p> +He turned and hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, then, and take them.” +</p> + +<p> +So back he came, and with little trembling fingers she began to fasten the +flowers to his doublet, bending ever nearer as she fastened, until her breath +played upon his face, and her hair brushed his bonnet. Then, it matters not +how, once more the violets fell to earth, and she sighed, and her hands fell +also, and he put his strong arms round her and drew her to him and kissed her +again and yet again on the hair and eyes and lips; nor did Margaret forbid him. +</p> + +<p> +At length she thrust him from her and, taking him by the hand, led him to the +seat beneath the elms, and bade him sit at one end of it, while she sat at the +other. +</p> + +<p> +“Peter,” she whispered, “I wish to speak with you when I can +get my breath. Peter, you think poorly of me, do you not? No—be silent; +it is my turn to talk. You think that I am heartless, and have been playing +with you. Well, I only did it to make sure that you really do love me, since, +after that—accident of a while ago (when we were picking up the violets, +I mean), you would have been in honour bound to say it, would you not? Well, +now I am quite sure, so I will tell you something. I love you many times as +well as you love me, and have done so for quite as long. Otherwise, should I +not have married some other suitor, of whom there have been plenty? Aye, and I +will tell you this to my sin and shame, that once I grew so angry with you +because you would not speak or give some little sign, that I went near to it. +But at the last I could not, and sent him about his business also. Peter, when +I saw you last night facing that swordsman with but a staff, and thought that +you must die, oh! then I knew all the truth, and my heart was nigh to bursting, +as, had you died, it would have burst. But now it is all done with, and we know +each other’s secret, and nothing shall ever part us more till death comes +to one or both.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus Margaret spoke, while he drank in her words as desert sands, parched by +years of drought, drink in the rain—and watched her face, out of which +all mischief and mockery had departed, leaving it that of a most beauteous and +most earnest woman, to whom a sense of the weight of life, with its mingled +joys and sorrows, had come home suddenly. When she had finished, this silent +man, to whom even his great happiness brought few words, said only: +</p> + +<p> +“God has been very good to us. Let us thank God.” +</p> + +<p> +So they did, then, even there, seated side by side upon the bench, because the +grass was too wet for them to kneel on, praying in their simple, childlike +faith that the Power which had brought them together, and taught them to love +each other, would bless them in that love and protect them from all harms, +enemies, and evils through many a long year of life. +</p> + +<p> +Their prayer finished, they sat together on the seat, now talking, and now +silent in their joy, while all too fast the time wore on. At length—it +was after one of these spells of blissful silence—a change came over +them, such a change as falls upon some peaceful scene when, unexpected and +complete, a black stormcloud sweeps across the sun, and, in place of its warm +light, pours down gloom full of the promise of tempest and of rain. +Apprehension got a hold of them. They were both afraid of what they could not +guess. +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” she said, “it is time to go in. My father will miss +us.” +</p> + +<p> +So without more words or endearments they rose and walked side by side out of +the shelter of the elms into the open garden. Their heads were bent, for they +were lost in thought, and thus it came about that Margaret saw her feet pass +suddenly into the shadow of a man, and, looking up, perceived standing in front +of her, grave, alert, amused, none other than the Señor d’Aguilar. +She uttered a little stifled scream, while Peter, with the impulse that causes +a brave and startled hound to rush at that which frightens it, gave a leap +forward towards the Spaniard. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother of God! do you take me for a thief?” he asked in a laughing +voice, as he stepped to one side to avoid him. +</p> + +<p> +“Your pardon,” said Peter, shaking himself together; “but you +surprised us appearing so suddenly where we never thought to see you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Any more than I thought to see you here, for this seems a strange place +to linger on so cold a morning,” and he looked at them again with his +curious, mocking eyes that appeared to read the secret of their souls, while +they grew red as roses beneath his scrutiny. “Permit me to +explain,” he went on. “I came here thus early on your service, to +warn you, Master Peter, not to go abroad to-day, since a writ is out for your +arrest, and as yet I have had no time to quash it by friendly settlement. Well, +as it chanced, I met that handsome lady who was with you yesterday, returning +from her marketing—a friendly soul—she says she is your cousin. She +brought me to the house, and having learned that your father, whom I wished to +see, was at his prayers, good man, in the old chapel, led me to its door and +left me to seek him. I entered, but could not find him, so, having waited a +while, strayed into this garden through the open door, purposing to walk here +till some one should appear, and, you see, I have been fortunate beyond my +expectations or deserts.” +</p> + +<p> +“So!” said Peter shortly, for the man’s manner and elaborated +explanations filled him with disgust. “Let us seek Master Castell that he +may hear the story.” +</p> + +<p> +“And we thank you much for coming to warn us,” murmured Margaret. +“I will go find my father,” and she slipped past him towards the +door. +</p> + +<p> +d’Aguilar watched her enter it, then turned to Peter and said: +</p> + +<p> +“You English are a hardy folk who take the spring air so early. Well, in +such company I would do the same. Truly she is a beauteous maiden. I have some +experience of the sex, but never do I remember one so fair.” +</p> + +<p> +“My cousin is well enough,” answered Peter coldly, for this +Spaniard’s very evident admiration of Margaret did not please him. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered d’Aguilar, taking no notice of his tone, +“she is well enough to fill the place, not of a merchant’s +daughter, but of a great lady—a countess reigning over towns and lands, +or a queen even; the royal robes and ornaments would become that carriage and +that brow.” +</p> + +<p> +“My cousin seeks no such state who is happy in her quiet lot,” +answered Peter again; then added quickly, “See, here comes Master Castell +seeking you.” +</p> + +<p> +d’Aguilar advanced and greeted the merchant courteously, noticing as he +did so that, notwithstanding his efforts to appear unconcerned, Castell seemed +ill at ease. +</p> + +<p> +“I am an early visitor,” he said, “but I knew that you +business folk rise with the lark, and I wished to catch our friend here before +he went out,” and he repeated to him the reason of his coming. +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you, Señor,” answered Castell. “You are very +good to me and mine. I am sorry that you have been kept waiting. They tell me +that you looked for me in the chapel, but I was not there, who had already left +it for my office.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I found. It is a quaint place, that old chapel of yours, and while I +waited I went to the altar and told my beads there, which I had no time to do +before I left my lodgings.” +</p> + +<p> +Castell started almost imperceptibly, and glanced at d’Aguilar with his +quick eyes, then turned the subject and asked if he would not breakfast with +them. He declined, however, saying that he must be about their business and his +own, then promptly proposed that he should come to supper on the following +night that was—Sunday—and make report how things had gone, a +suggestion that Castell could not but accept. +</p> + +<p> +So he bowed and smiled himself out of the house, and walked thoughtfully into +Holborn, for it had pleased him to pay this visit on foot, and unattended. At +the corner whom should he meet again but the tall, fair-haired Betty, returning +from some errand which she had found it convenient to fulfil just then. +</p> + +<p> +“What,” he said, “you once more! The saints are very kind to +me this morning. Come, Señora, walk a little way with me, for I would +ask you a few questions.” +</p> + +<p> +Betty hesitated, then gave way. It was seldom that she found the chance of +walking through Holborn with such a noble-looking cavalier. +</p> + +<p> +“Never look at your working-dress,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“With such a shape, what matters the robe that covers it?”—a +compliment at which Betty blushed, for she was proud of her fine figure. +</p> + +<p> +“Would you like a mantilla of real Spanish lace for your head and +shoulders? Well, you shall have one that I brought from Spain with me, for I +know no other lady in the land whom it would become better. But, Mistress +Betty, you told me wrong about your master. I went to the chapel and he was not +there.” +</p> + +<p> +“He was there, Señor,” she answered, eager to set herself +right with this most agreeable and discriminating foreigner, “for I saw +him go in a moment before, and he did not come out again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, Señora, where could he have hidden himself? Has the place a +crypt?” +</p> + +<p> +“None that I have heard of; but,” she added, “there is a kind +of little room behind the altar.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed. How do you know that? I saw no room.” +</p> + +<p> +“Because one day I heard a voice behind the tapestry, Señor, and, +lifting it, saw a sliding door left open, and Master Castell kneeling before a +table and saying his prayers aloud.” +</p> + +<p> +“How strange! And what was there on the table?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only a queer-shaped box of wood like a little house, and two +candlesticks, and some rolls of parchment. But I forgot, Señor; I +promised Master Castell to say nothing about that place, for he turned and saw +me, and came at me like a watchdog out of its kennel. You won’t say that +I told you, will you, Señor?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not I; your good master’s private cupboard does not interest me. +Now I want to know something more. Why is that beautiful cousin of yours not +married? Has she no suitors?” +</p> + +<p> +“Suitors, Señor? Yes, plenty of them, but she sends them all about +their business, and seems to have no mind that way.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps she is in love with her cousin, that long-legged, strong-armed, +wooden-headed Master Brome.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! no, Señor, I don’t think so; no lady could be in love +with him—he is too stern and silent.” +</p> + +<p> +“I agree with you, Señora. Then perhaps he is in love with +her.” +</p> + +<p> +Betty shook her head, and replied: +</p> + +<p> +“Peter Brome doesn’t think anything of women, Señor. At +least he never speaks to or of them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which shows that probably he thinks about them all the more. Well, well, +it is no affair of ours, is it? Only I am glad to hear that there is nothing +between them, since your mistress ought to marry high, and be a great lady, not +a mere merchant’s wife.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Señor. Though Peter Brome is not a merchant, at least by +birth, he is high-born, and should be Sir Peter Brome if his father had not +fought on the wrong side and sold his land. He is a soldier, and a very brave +one, they say, as all might see last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“No doubt, and perhaps would make a great captain, if he had the chance, +with his stern face and silent tongue. But, Señora Betty, say, how comes +it that, being so handsome,” and he bowed, “you are not married +either? I am sure it can be from no lack of suitors.” +</p> + +<p> +Again Betty, foolish girl, flushed with pleasure at the compliment. +</p> + +<p> +“You are right, Señor,” she answered. “I have plenty +of them; but I am like my cousin—they do not please me. Although my +father lost his fortune, I come of good blood, and I suppose that is why I do +not care for these low-born men, and would rather remain as I am than marry one +of them.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are quite right,” said d’Aguilar in his sympathetic +voice. “Do not stain your blood. Marry in your own class, or not at all, +which, indeed, should not be difficult for one so beautiful and +charming.” And he looked into her large eyes with tender admiration. +</p> + +<p> +This quality, indeed, soon began to demonstrate itself so actively, for they +were now in the fields where few people wandered, that Betty, who although vain +was proud and upright, thought it wise to recollect that she must be turning +homewards. So, in spite of his protests, she left him and departed, walking +upon air. +</p> + +<p> +How splendid and handsome this foreign gentleman was, she thought to herself, +really a great cavalier, and surely he admired her truly. Why should he not? +Such things had often been. Many a rich lady whom she knew was not half so +handsome or so well born as herself, and would make him a worse wife—that +is, and the thought chilled her somewhat—if he were not already married. +</p> + +<p> +From all of which it will be seen that d’Aguilar had quickly succeeded in +the plan which only presented itself to him a few hours before. Betty was +already half in love with him. Not that he had any desire to possess this +beautiful but foolish woman’s heart, who saw in her only a useful tool, a +stepping-stone by means of which he might draw near to Margaret. +</p> + +<p> +For with Margaret, it may be said at once, he was quite in love. At the sight +of her sweet yet imperial beauty, as he saw her first, dishevelled, angry, +frightened, in the crowd outside the king’s banqueting-hall, his southern +blood had taken sudden fire. Finished voluptuary though he was, the sensation +he experienced then was quite new to him. He longed for this woman as he had +never longed for any other, and, what is more, he desired to make her his wife. +Why not? Although there was a flaw in it, his rank was high, and therefore she +was beneath him; but for this her loveliness would atone, and she had wit and +learning enough to fill any place that he could give her. Also, great as was +his wealth, his wanton, spendthrift way of life had brought him many debts, and +she was the only child of one of the richest merchants in England, whose dower, +doubtless, would be a fortune that many a royal princess might envy. Why not +again? He would turn Inez and those others adrift—at any rate, for a +while—and make her mistress of his palace there in Granada. Instantly, as +is often the fashion of those who have Eastern blood in their veins, +d’Aguilar had made up his mind, yes, before he left her father’s +table on the previous night. He would marry Margaret and no other woman. +</p> + +<p> +Yet at once he had seen many difficulties in his path. To begin with, he +mistrusted him of Peter, that strong, quiet man who could kill a great armed +knave with his stick, and at a word call half London to his side. Peter, he was +sure, being human, must be in love with Margaret, and he was a rival to be +feared. Well, if Margaret had no thoughts of Peter, this mattered nothing, and +if she had—and what were they doing together in the garden that +morning?—Peter must be got rid of, that was all. It was easy enough if he +chose to adopt certain means; there were many of those Spanish fellows who +would not mind sticking a knife into his back in the dark. +</p> + +<p> +But sinful as he was, at such steps his conscience halted. Whatever +d’Aguilar had done, he had never caused a man to be actually murdered, he +who was a bigot, who atoned for his misdoings by periods of remorse and prayer, +in which he placed his purse and talents at the service of the Church, as he +was doing at this moment. No, murder must not be thought of; for how could any +absolution wash him clean of that stain? But there were other ways. For +instance, had not this Peter, in self-defence it is true, killed one of the +servants of an ambassador of Spain? Perhaps, however, it would not be necessary +to make use of them. It had seemed to him that the lady was not ill pleased +with him, and, after all, he had much to offer. He would court her fairly, and +if he were rejected by her, or by her father, then it would be time enough to +act. Meanwhile, he would keep the sword hanging over the head of Peter, +pretending that it was he alone who had prevented it from falling, and learn +all that he could as to Castell and his history. +</p> + +<p> +Here, indeed, Fortune, in the shape of the foolish Betty, had favoured him. +Without a doubt, as he had heard in Spain, and been sure from the moment that +he first saw him, Castell was still secretly a Jew. Mistress Betty’s +story of the room behind the altar, with the ark and the candles and the rolls +of the Law, proved as much. At least here was evidence enough to send him to +the fires of the Inquisition in Spain, and, perhaps, to drive him out of +England. Now, if John Castell, the Spanish Jew, should not wish, for any +reason, to give him his daughter in marriage, would not a hint and an extract +from the Commissions of their Majesties of Spain and the Holy Father suffice to +make him change his mind? +</p> + +<p> +Thus pondering, d’Aguilar regained his lodgings, where his first task was +to enter in a book all that Betty had told him, and all that he had observed in +the house of John Castell. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>CHAPTER V.<br /> +CASTELL’S SECRET.</h2> + +<p> +In John Castell’s house it was the habit, as in most others in those +days, for his dependents, clerks, and shopmen to eat their morning and mid-day +meals with him in the hall, seated at two lower tables, all of them save Betty, +his daughter’s cousin and companion, who sat with them at the upper +board. This morning Betty’s place was empty, and presently Castell, +lifting his eyes, for he was lost in thought, noted it, and asked where she +might be—a question that neither Margaret nor Peter could answer. +</p> + +<p> +One of the servants at the lower table, however—it was that man who had +been sent to follow d’Aguilar on the previous night—said that as he +came down Holborn a while before he had seen her walking with the Spanish don, +a saying at which his master looked grave. +</p> + +<p> +Just as they were finishing their meal, a very silent one, for none of them +seemed to have anything to say, and after the servants had left the hall, Betty +arrived, flushed as though with running. +</p> + +<p> +“Where have you been that you are so late?” asked Castell. +</p> + +<p> +“To seek the linen for the new sheets, but it was not ready,” she +answered glibly. “The mercer kept you waiting long,” remarked +Castell quietly. “Did you meet any one?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only the folk in the street.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will ask you no more questions, lest I should cause you to lie and +bring you into sin,” said Castell sternly. “Girl, how far did you +walk with the Señor d’Aguilar, and what was your business with +him?” +</p> + +<p> +Now Betty knew that she had been seen, and that it was useless to deny the +truth. +</p> + +<p> +“Only a little way,” she answered, “and that because he +prayed me to show him his path.” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, Betty,” went on Castell, taking no notice of her words. +“You are old enough to guard yourself, therefore as to your walking +abroad with gallants who can mean you no good I say nothing. But know +this—no one who has knowledge of the matters of my house,” and he +looked at her keenly, “shall mix with any Spaniard. If you are found +alone with this señor any more, that hour I have done with you, and you +never pass my door again. Nay, no words. Take your food and eat it +elsewhere.” +</p> + +<p> +So she departed half weeping, but very angry, for Betty was strong and +obstinate by nature. When she had gone, Margaret, who was fond of her cousin, +tried to say some words on her behalf; but her father stopped her. +</p> + +<p> +“Pshaw!” he said, “I know the girl; she is vain as a peacock, +and, remembering her gentle birth and good looks, seeks to marry above her +station; while for some purpose of his own—an ill one, I’ll +warrant— that Spaniard plays upon her weakness, which, if it be not +curbed, may bring trouble on us all. Now, enough of Betty Dene; I must to my +work.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said Peter, speaking for the first time, “we would +have a private word with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“A private word,” he said, looking up anxiously. “Well, speak +on. No, this place is not private; I think its walls have ears. Follow +me,” and he led the way into the old chapel, whereof, when they had all +passed it, he bolted the door. “Now,” he said, “what is +it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” answered Peter, standing before him, “having your +leave at last, I asked your daughter in marriage this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“At least you lose no time, friend Peter; unless you had called her from +her bed and made your offer through the door you could not have done it +quicker. Well, well, you ever were a man of deeds, not words, and what says my +Margaret?” +</p> + +<p> +“An hour ago she said she was content,” answered Peter. +</p> + +<p> +“A cautious man also,” went on Castell with a twinkle in his eye, +“who remembers that women have been known to change their minds within an +hour. After such long thought, what say you now, Margaret?” +</p> + +<p> +“That I am angry with Peter,” she answered, stamping her small +foot, “for if he does not trust me for an hour, how can he trust me for +his life and mine?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, Margaret, you do not understand me,” said Peter. “I +wished not to bind you, that is all, in case——” +</p> + +<p> +“Now you are saying it again,” she broke in vexed, and yet amused. +“Do so a third time, and I will take you at your word.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems best that I should remain silent. Speak you,” said Peter +humbly. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, for truly you are a master of silence, as I should know, if any +do,” replied Margaret, bethinking her of the weary months and years of +waiting. “Well, I will answer for you.—Father, Peter was right; I +am content to marry him, though to do so will be to enter the Order of the +Silent Brothers. Yes, I am content; not for himself, indeed, who has so many +faults, but for myself, who chance to love him,” and she smiled sweetly +enough. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not jest on such matters, Margaret.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not, father? Peter is solemn enough for both of us—look at +him. Let us laugh while we may, for who knows when tears may come?” +</p> + +<p> +“A good saying,” answered Castell with a sigh. “So you two +have plighted your troth, and, my children, I am glad of it, for who knows when +those tears of which Margaret spoke may come, and then you can wipe away each +other’s? Take now her hand, Peter, and swear by the Rood, that symbol +which you worship”—here Peter glanced at him, but he went +on—“swear, both of you that come what may, together or separate, +through good report or evil report, through poverty or wealth, through peace or +persecutions, through temptation or through blood, through every good or ill +that can befall you in this world of bittersweet, you will remain faithful to +your troth until you be wed, and after you are wed, faithful to each other till +death do part you.” +</p> + +<p> +These words he spoke to them in a voice that was earnest almost to passion, +searching their faces the while with his quick eyes as though he would read +their very hearts. His mood crept from him to them; once again they felt +something of that fear which had fallen on them in the garden when they passed +into the shadow of the Spaniard. Very solemnly then, and with little of true +lovers’ joy, did they take each other’s hands and swear by the +Cross and Him Who hung on it, that through these things, and all others they +could not foretell, they would, if need were, be faithful to the death. +</p> + +<p> +“And beyond it also,” added Peter; while Margaret bowed her stately +head in sweet assent. +</p> + +<p> +“Children,” said Castell, “you will be rich—few richer +in this land—though mayhap it would be wise that you should not show all +your wealth at once, or ape the place of a great house, lest envy should fall +upon your heads and crush you. Be content to wait, and rank will find you in +its season, or if not you, your children. Peter, I tell you now, lest I should +forget it, that the list of all my moneys and other possessions in chattels or +lands or ships or merchandise is buried beneath the floor of my office, just +under where my chair stands. Lift the boards and dig away a foot of rubbish, +and you will find a stone trap, and below an iron box with the deeds, +inventories, and some very precious jewels. Also, if by any mischance that box +should be lost, duplicates of nearly all these papers are in the hands of my +good friend and partner in our inland British trade, Simon Levett, whom you +know. Remember my words, both of you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Father,” broke in Margaret in an anxious voice, “why do you +speak of the future thus?—I mean, as though you had no share in it? Do +you fear aught?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, daughter, much, or rather I expect, I do not fear, who am prepared +and desire to meet all things as they come. You have sworn that oath, have you +not? And you will keep it, will you not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye!” they answered with one breath. +</p> + +<p> +“Then prepare you to feel the weight of the first of those trials whereof +it speaks, for I will no longer hold back the truth from you. Children, I, whom +for all these years you have thought of your own faith, am a Jew as my +forefathers were before me, back to the days of Abraham.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus02"></a> +<br /> +<img src="images/fig02.jpg" width="387" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">Castell declares himself a Jew +</p> +</div> + +<p> +The effect of this declaration upon its hearers was remarkable. Peter’s +jaw dropped, and for the second time that day his face went white; while +Margaret sank down into a chair that stood near by, and stared at him +helplessly. In those times it was a very terrible thing to be a Jew. Castell +looked from one to the other, and, feeling the insult of their silence, grew +angry. +</p> + +<p> +“What!” he exclaimed in a bitter voice, “are you like all the +others? Do you scorn me also because I am of a race more ancient and honourable +than those of any of your mushroom lords and kings? You know my life: say, what +have I done wrong? Have I caught Christian children and crucified them to +death? Have I defrauded my neighbour or oppressed the poor? Have I mocked your +symbol of the Host? Have I conspired against the rulers of this land? Have I +been a false friend or a cruel father? You shake your heads; then why do you +stare at me as though I were a thing accursed and unclean? Have I not a right +to the faith of my fathers? May I not worship God in my own fashion?” And +he looked at Peter, a challenge in his eyes. “Sir,” answered Peter, +“without a doubt you may, or so it seems to me. But then, why for all +these years have you appeared to worship Him in ours?” +</p> + +<p> +At this blunt question, so characteristic of the speaker, Castell seemed to +shrink like a pin-pricked bladder, or some bold fighter who has suddenly +received a sword-thrust in his vitals. All courage went out of the man, his +fiery eyes grew tame, he appeared to become visibly smaller, and to put on +something of the air of those mendicants of his own race, who whine out their +woes and beg alms of the passer-by. When next he spoke, it was as a suppliant +for merciful judgment at the hands of his own child and her lover. +</p> + +<p> +“Judge me not harshly,” he said. “Think what it is to be a +Jew—an outcast, a thing that the lowest may spurn and spit at, one beyond +the law, one who can be hunted from land to land like a mad wolf, and tortured +to death, when caught, for the sport of gentle Christians, who first have +stripped him of his gains and very garments. And then think what it means to +escape all these woes and terrors, and, by the doffing of a bonnet, and the +mumbling of certain prayers with the lips in public, to find sanctuary, peace, +and protection within the walls of Mother Church, and thus fostered, to grow +rich and great.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused as though for a reply, but as they did not speak, went on: +</p> + +<p> +“Moreover, as a child, I was baptized into your Church; but my heart, +like that of my father, remained with the Jews, and where the heart goes the +feet follow.” +</p> + +<p> +“That makes it worse,” said Peter, as though speaking to himself. +</p> + +<p> +“My father taught me thus,” Castell went on, as though pleading his +case before a court of law. +</p> + +<p> +“We must answer for our own sins,” said Peter again. +</p> + +<p> +Then at length Castell took fire. +</p> + +<p> +“You young folk, who as yet know little of the terrors of the world, +reproach me with cold looks and colder words,” he said; “but I +wonder, should you ever come to such a pass as mine, whether you will find the +heart to meet it half as bravely? Why do you think that I have told you this +secret, that I might have kept from you as I kept it from your mother, +Margaret? I say because it is a part of my penance for the sin which I have +sinned. Aye, I know well that my God is a jealous God, and that this sin will +fall back on my head, and that I shall pay its price to the last groat, though +when and how the blow will strike me I know not. Go you, Peter, or you, +Margaret, and denounce me if you will. Your priests will speak well of you for +the deed, and open to you a shorter road to Heaven, and I shall not blame you, +nor lessen your wealth by a single golden noble.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not speak so madly, Sir,” said Peter; “these matters are +between you and God. What have we to do with them, and who made us judges over +you? We only pray that your fears may come to nothing, and that you may reach +your grave in peace and honour.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you for your generous words, which are such as befit your +nature,” said Castell gently; “but what says Margaret?” +</p> + +<p> +“I, father?” she answered, wildly. “Oh! I have nothing to +say. He is right. It is between you and God; but it is hard that I must lose my +love so soon.” Peter looked up, and Castell answered: +</p> + +<p> +“Lose him! Why, what did he swear but now?” +</p> + +<p> +“I care not what he swore; but how can I ask him, who is of noble, +Christian birth, to marry the daughter of a Jew who all his life has passed +himself off as a worshipper of that Jesus Whom he denies?” +</p> + +<p> +Now Peter held up his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Have done with such talk,” he said. “Were your father Judas +himself, what is that to you and me? You are mine and I am yours till death +part us, nor shall the faith of another man stand between us for an hour. Sir, +we thank you for your confidence, and of this be sure, that although it makes +us sorrowful, we do not love or honour you the less because now we know the +truth.” +</p> + +<p> +Margaret rose from her chair, looked a while at her father, then with a sob +threw herself suddenly upon his breast. +</p> + +<p> +“Forgive me if I spoke bitterly,” she said, “who, not knowing +that I was half a Jewess, have been taught to hate their race. What is it to me +of what faith you are, who think of you only as my dearest father?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why weep then?” asked Castell, stroking her hair tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +“Because you are in danger, or so you say, and if anything happened to +you—oh! what shall I do then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Accept it as the will of God, and bear the blow bravely, as I hope to +do, should it fall,” he answered, and, kissing her, left the chapel. +</p> + +<p> +“It seems that joy and trouble go hand in hand,” said Margaret, +looking up presently. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Sweet, they were ever twins; but provided we have our share of the +first, do not let us quarrel with the second. A pest on the priests and all +their bigotry, say I! Christ sought to convert the Jews, not to kill them; and +for my part I can honour the man who clings to his own faith, aye, and forgive +him because they forced him to feign to belong to ours. Pray then that neither +of us may live to commit a greater sin, and that we may soon be wed and dwell +in peace away from London, where we can shelter him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do—I do,” she answered, drawing close to Peter, and soon +they forgot their fears and doubts in each other’s arms. +</p> + +<p> +On the following morning, that of Sunday, Peter, Margaret, and Betty went +together to Mass at St. Paul’s church; but Castell said that he was ill, +and did not come. Indeed, now that his conscience was stirred as to the double +life he had led so long, he purposed, if he could avoid it, to worship in a +Christian church no more. Therefore he said that he was sick; and they, knowing +that this sickness was of the heart, answered nothing. But privately they +wondered what he would do who could not always remain sick, since not to go to +church and partake of its Sacraments was to be published as a heretic. +</p> + +<p> +But if he did not accompany them himself, Castell, without their knowledge, +sent two of his stoutest servants, bidding these keep near to them and see that +they came home safe. +</p> + +<p> +Now, when they left the church, Peter saw two Spaniards, whose faces he thought +he knew, who seemed to be watching them, but, as he lost sight of them +presently in the throng, said nothing. Their shortest way home ran across some +fields and gardens where there were few houses. This lane, then, they followed, +talking earnestly to each other, and noting nothing till Betty behind called +out to them to beware. Then Peter looked up and saw the two Spaniards +scrambling through a gap in the fence not six paces ahead of them, saw also +that they laid their hands upon their sword-hilts. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us pass them boldly,” he muttered to Margaret; +“I’ll not turn my back on a brace of Spaniards,” but he also +laid his hand upon the hilt of the sword he wore beneath his cloak, and bade +her get behind him. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, then, they came face to face. Now, the Spaniards, who were evil-looking +fellows, bowed courteously enough, and asked if he were not Master Peter Brome. +They spoke in Spanish; but, like Margaret Peter knew this tongue, if not too +well, having been taught it as a child, and practised it much since he came +into the service of John Castell, who used it largely in his trade. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he answered. “What is your business with me?” +</p> + +<p> +“We have a message for you, Señor, from a certain comrade of ours, +one Andrew, a Scotchman, whom you met a few nights ago,” replied the +spokesman of the pair. “He is dead, but still he sends his message, and +it is that we should ask you to join him at once. Now, all of us brothers have +sworn to deliver that message, and to see that you keep the tryst. If some of +us should chance to fail, then others will meet you with the message until you +keep that tryst.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean that you wish to murder me,” said Peter, setting his +mouth and drawing the sword from beneath his cloak. “Well, come on, +cowards, and we will see whom Andrew gets for company in hell to-day. Run back, +Margaret and Betty—run.” And he tore off his cloak and threw it +over his left arm. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus03"></a> +<br /> +<img src="images/fig03.jpg" width="398" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“You mean that you wish to murder me” +</p> +</div> + +<p> +So for a moment they stood, for he looked fierce and ill to deal with. Then, +just as they began to feint in front of him, there came a rush of feet, and on +either side of Peter appeared the two stout serving-men, also sword in hand. +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad of your company,” he said, catching sight of them out of +the corners of his eyes. “Now, Señors Cut-throats, do you still +wish to deliver that message?” +</p> + +<p> +The answer of the Spaniards, who saw themselves thus unexpectedly out-matched, +was to turn and run, whereon one of the serving-men, picking up a big stone +that lay in the path, hurled it after them with all his force. It struck the +hindmost Spaniard full in the back, and so heavy was the blow that he fell on +to his face in the mud, whence he rose and limped away, cursing them with +strange, Spanish oaths, and vowing vengeance. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said Peter, “I think that we may go home in safety, +for no more messengers will come from Andrew to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” gasped Margaret, “not to-day, but to-morrow or the next +day they will come, and oh! how will it end?” +</p> + +<p> +“That God knows alone,” answered Peter gravely as he sheathed his +sword. +</p> + +<p> +When the story of this attempt was told to Castell he seemed much disturbed. +</p> + +<p> +“It is clear that they have a blood-feud against you on account of that +Scotchman whom you killed in self-defence,” he said anxiously. +“Also these Spaniards are very revengeful, nor have they forgiven you for +calling the English to your aid against them. Peter, I fear that if you go +abroad they will murder you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I cannot stay indoors always, like a rat in a drain,” said +Peter crossly, “so what is to be done? Appeal to the law?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; for you have just broken the law by killing a man. I think you had +best go away for a while till this storm blows over.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go away! Peter go away?” broke in Margaret, dismayed. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered her father. “Listen, daughter. You cannot be +married at once. It is not seemly; moreover, notice must be given and +arrangement made. A month hence will be soon enough, and that is not long for +you to wait who only became affianced yesterday. Also, until you are wed, no +word must be said to any one of this betrothal of yours, lest those Spaniards +should lay their feud at your door also, and work you some mischief. Let none +know of it, I charge you, and in company be distant to each other, as though +there were nothing between you.” +</p> + +<p> +“As you will, Sir,” replied Peter; “but for my part I do not +like all these hidings of the truth, which ever lead to future trouble. I say, +let me bide here and take my chance, and let us be wed as soon as may be.” +</p> + +<p> +“That your wife may be made a widow before the week is out, or the house +burnt about our ears by these rascals and their following? No, no, Peter; walk +softly that you may walk safely. We will hear the report of the Spaniard +d’Aguilar, and afterwards take counsel.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br /> +FAREWELL.</h2> + +<p> +D’Aguilar came to supper that night as he had promised, and this time not +on foot and unattended, but with pomp and circumstance as befitted a great +lord. First appeared two running footmen to clear the way; then followed +D’Aguilar, mounted on a fine white horse, and splendidly apparelled in a +velvet cloak and a hat with nodding ostrich plumes, while after him rode four +men-at-arms in his livery. +</p> + +<p> +“We asked one guest, or rather he asked himself, and we have got seven, +to say nothing of their horses,” grumbled Castell, watching their +approach from an upper window. “Well, we must make the best of it. Peter, +go, see that man and beast are fed, and fully, that they may not grumble at our +hospitality. The guard can eat in the little hall with our own folk. Margaret, +put on your richest robe and your jewels, those which you wore when I took you +to that city feast last summer. We will show these fine, foreign birds that we +London merchants have brave feathers also.” +</p> + +<p> +Peter hesitated, misdoubting him of the wisdom of this display, who, if he +could have his will, would have sent the Spaniard’s following to the +tavern, and received him in sober garments to a simple meal. +</p> + +<p> +But Castell, who seemed somewhat disturbed that night, who loved, moreover, to +show his wealth at times after the fashion of a Jew, began to fume and ask if +he must go himself. So the end of it was that Peter went, shaking his head, +while, urged to it by her father, Margaret departed also to array herself. +</p> + +<p> +A few minutes later Castell, in his costliest feast-day robe, greeted +d’Aguilar in the ante-hall, and, the two of them being alone, asked him +how matters went as regarded de Ayala and the man who had been killed. +</p> + +<p> +“Well and ill,” answered d’Aguilar. “Doctor de Puebla, +with whom I hoped to deal, has left London in a huff, for he says that there is +not room for two Spanish ambassadors at Court, so I had to fall back upon de +Ayala after all. Indeed, twice have I seen that exalted priest upon the subject +of the well-deserved death of his villainous servant, and, after much +difficulty, for having lost several men in such brawls, he thought his honour +touched, he took the fifty gold angels—to be transmitted to the +fellow’s family, of course, or so he said—and gave a receipt. Here +it is,” and he handed a paper to Castell, who read it carefully. +</p> + +<p> +It was to the effect that Peter Brome, having paid a sum of fifty angels to the +relatives of Andrew Pherson, a servant of the Spanish ambassador, which Andrew +the said Peter had killed in a brawl, the said ambassador undertook not to +prosecute or otherwise molest the said Peter on account of the manslaughter +which he had committed. +</p> + +<p> +“But no money has been paid,” said Castell. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed yes, I paid it. De Ayala gives no receipts against +promises.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you for your courtesy, Señor. You shall have the gold +before you leave this house. Few would have trusted a stranger thus far.” +</p> + +<p> +d’Aguilar waved his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Make no mention of such a trifle. I would ask you to accept it as a +token of my regard for your family, only that would be to affront so wealthy a +man. But listen, I have more to say. You are, or rather your kinsman Peter, is +still in the wood. De Ayala has pardoned him; but there remains the King of +England, whose law he has broken. Well, this day I have seen the King, who, by +the way, talked of you as a worthy man, saying that he had always thought only +a Jew could be so wealthy, and that he knew you were not, since you had been +reported to him as a good son of the Church,” and he paused, looking at +Castell. +</p> + +<p> +“I fear his Grace magnifies my wealth, which is but small,” +answered Castell coolly, leaving the rest of his speech unnoticed. “But +what said his Grace?” +</p> + +<p> +“I showed him de Ayala’s receipt, and he answered that if his +Excellency was satisfied, he was satisfied, and for his part would not order +any process to issue; but he bade me tell you and Peter Brome that if he caused +more tumult in his streets, whatever the provocation, and especially if that +tumult were between English and Spaniards, he would hang him at once with trial +or without it. All of which he said very angrily, for the last thing which his +Highness desires just now is any noise between Spain and England.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is bad,” answered Castell, “for this very morning there +was near to being such a tumult,” and he told the story of how the two +Spaniards had waylaid Peter, and one of them been knocked down by the +serving-man with a stone. At this news d’Aguilar shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Then that is just where the trouble lies,” he exclaimed. “I +know it from my people, who keep me well informed, that all those servants of +de Ayala, and there are more than twenty of them, have sworn an oath by the +Virgin of Seville that before they leave this land they will have your +kinsman’s blood in payment for that of Andrew Pherson, who, although a +Scotchman, was their officer, and a brave man whom they loved much. Now, if +they attack him, as they will, there must be a brawl, for Peter fights well, +and if there is a brawl, though Peter and the English get the best of it, as +very likely they may, Peter will certainly be hanged, for so the King has +promised.” +</p> + +<p> +“Before they leave the land? When do they leave it?” +</p> + +<p> +“De Ayala sails within a month, and his folk with him, for his +co-ambassador, the Doctor de Puebla, will bear with him no more, and has +written from the country house where he is sulking that one of them must +go.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I think it is best, Señor, that Peter should travel for a +month.” +</p> + +<p> +“Friend Castell, you are wise; I think so too, and, I counsel you, +arrange it at once. Hush! here comes the lady, your daughter.” +</p> + +<p> +As he spoke, Margaret appeared descending the broad oak stairs which led into +the ante-room. Holding a lamp in her hand, she was in full light, whereas the +two men stood in the shadow. She wore a low-cut dress of crimson velvet, +embroidered about the bodice with dead gold, which enhanced the dazzling +whiteness of her shapely neck and bosom. Round her throat hung a string of +great pearls, and on her head was a net of gold, studded with smaller pearls, +from beneath which her glorious, chestnut-black hair flowed down in rippling +waves almost to her knees. Having her father’s bidding so to do, she had +adorned herself thus that she might look her fairest, not in the eyes of their +guest, but in those of her new-affianced husband. So fair was she seen thus +that d’Aguilar, the artist, the adorer of loveliness, caught his breath +and shivered at the sight of her. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus04"></a> +<br /> +<img src="images/fig04.jpg" width="392" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">Margaret appeared descending the broad oak stairs +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“By the eleven thousand virgins!” he said, “your daughter is +more beautiful than all of them put together. She should be crowned a queen, +and bewitch the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, nay, Señor,” answered Castell hurriedly; “let +her remain humble and honest, and bewitch her husband.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I should say if I were the husband,” he muttered, then stepped +forward, bowing, to meet her. +</p> + +<p> +Now the light of the silver lamp she held on high flowed over the two of them, +d’Aguilar and Margaret, and certainly they seemed a well-matched pair. +Both were tall and cast by Nature in a rich and splendid mould; both had that +high air of breeding which comes with ancient blood—for what bloods are +more ancient than those of the Jew and the Eastern?—both were slow and +stately of movement, low-voiced, and dignified of speech. Castell noted it and +was afraid, he knew not of what. +</p> + +<p> +Peter, entering the room by another door, clad only in his grey clothes, for he +would not put on gay garments for the Spaniard, noted it also, and with the +quick instinct of love knew this magnificent foreigner for a rival and an +enemy. But he was not afraid, only jealous and angry. Indeed, nothing would +have pleased him better then than that the Spaniard should have struck him in +the face, so that within five minutes it might be shown which of them was the +better man. It must come to this, he felt, and very glad would he have been if +it could come at the beginning and not at the end, so that one or the other of +them might be saved much trouble. Then he remembered that he had promised to +say or show nothing of how things stood between him and Margaret, and, coming +forward, he greeted d’Aguilar quietly but coldly, telling him that his +horses had been stabled, and his retinue accommodated. +</p> + +<p> +The Spaniard thanked him very heartily, and they passed in to supper. It was a +strange meal for all four of them, yet outwardly pleasant enough. Forgetting +his cares, Castell drank gaily, and began to talk of the many changes which he +had seen in his life, and of the rise and fall of kings. d’Aguilar talked +also, of the Spanish wars and policy, for in the first he had seen much +service, and of the other he knew every turn. It was easy to see that he was +one of those who mixed with courts, and had the ear of ministers and majesty. +Margaret also, being keen-witted and anxious to learn of the great world that +lay beyond Holborn and London town, asked questions, seeking to know, amongst +other things, what were the true characters of Ferdinand, King of Aragon, and +Isabella his wife, the famous queen. +</p> + +<p> +“I will tell you in few words, Señora. Ferdinand is the most +ambitious man in Europe, false also if it serves his purpose. He lives for self +and gain—that is, money and power. These are his gods, for he has no true +religion. He is not clever but, being very cunning, he will succeed and leave a +famous name behind him.” +</p> + +<p> +“An ugly picture,” said Margaret. “And what of his +queen?” +</p> + +<p> +“She,” answered d’Aguilar, “is a great woman, who knows +how to use the temper of her time and so attain her ends. To the world she +shows a tender heart, but beneath it lies hid an iron resolution.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are those ends?” asked Margaret again. +</p> + +<p> +“To bring all Spain under her rule; utterly to crush the Moors and take +their territories; to make the Church of Christ triumphant upon earth; to stamp +out heresy; to convert or destroy the Jews,” he added slowly, and as he +spoke the words, Peter, watching, saw his eyes open and glitter like a +snake’s—“to bring their bodies to the purifying flames, and +their vast wealth into her treasury, and thus earn the praise of the faithful +upon earth, and for herself a throne in heaven.” +</p> + +<p> +For a while there was silence after this speech, then Margaret said boldly: +</p> + +<p> +“If heavenly thrones are built of human blood and tears, what stone and +mortar do they use in hell, I wonder?” Then, without pausing for an +answer, she rose, saying that she was weary, curtseyed to d’Aguilar, her +father and Peter, each in turn, and left the hall. +</p> + +<p> +When she had gone the talk flagged, and presently d’Aguilar asked for his +men and horses and departed also, saying as he went: +</p> + +<p> +“Friend Castell, you will repeat my news to your good kinsman here. I +pray for all your sakes that he may bow his head to what cannot be helped, and +thus keep it safe upon his shoulders.” +</p> + +<p> +“What meant the man?” asked Peter, when the sound of the +horses’ hoofs had died away. +</p> + +<p> +Castell told him of what had passed between him and d’Aguilar before +supper, and showed him de Ayala’s receipt, adding in a vexed voice: +</p> + +<p> +“I have forgotten to repay him the gold; it shall be sent +to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have no fear; he will come for it,” answered Peter coldly. +“Now, if I have my way, I will take the risk of these Spaniards’ +swords and King Henry’s rope, and bide here.” +</p> + +<p> +“That you must not do,” said Castell earnestly, “for my sake +and Margaret’s, if not for yours. Would you make her a widow before she +is a wife? Listen: it is my wish that you travel down to Essex to take delivery +of your father’s land in the Vale of Dedham and see to the repairing of +the mansion house, which, I am told, needs it much. Then, when these Spaniards +are gone, you can return and at once be married, say one short month +hence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will not you and Margaret come with me to Dedham?” +</p> + +<p> +Castell shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“It is not possible. I must wind up my affairs, and Margaret cannot go +with you alone. Moreover, there is no place for her to lodge. I will keep her +here till you return.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Sir; but will you keep her safe? The cozening words of Spaniards +are sometimes more deadly than their swords.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think that Margaret has a medicine against all such arts,” +answered her father with a little smile, and left him. +</p> + +<p> +On the morrow when Castell told Margaret that her lover must leave her for a +while that night—for this Peter would not do himself—she prayed him +even with tears that he would not send him so far from her, or that they might +all go together. But he reasoned with her kindly, showing her that the latter +was impossible, and that if Peter did not go at once it was probable that Peter +would soon be dead, whereas, if he went, there would be but one short month of +waiting till the Spaniards had sailed, after which they might be married and +live in peace and safety. +</p> + +<p> +So she came to see that this was best and wisest, and gave way; but oh! heavy +were those hours, and sore was their parting. Essex was no far journey, and to +enter into lands which only two days before Peter believed he had lost for +ever, no sad errand, while the promise that at the end of a single month he +should return to claim his bride hung before them like a star. Yet they were +sad-hearted, both of them, and that star seemed very far away. +</p> + +<p> +Margaret was afraid lest Peter might be waylaid upon the road, but he laughed +at her, saying that her father was sending six stout men with him as an escort, +and thus companioned he feared no Spaniards. Peter, for his part, was afraid +lest d’Aguilar might make love to her while he was away. But now she +laughed at him, saying that all her heart was his, and that she had none to +give to d’Aguilar or any other man. Moreover, that England was a free +land in which women, who were no king’s wards, could not be led whither +they did not wish to go. So it seemed that they had naught to fear, save the +daily chance of life and death. And yet they were afraid. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear love,” said Margaret to him after she had thought a while, +“our road looks straight and easy, and yet there may be pitfalls in it +that we cannot guess. Therefore you must swear one thing to me: That whatever +you shall hear or whatever may happen, you will never doubt me as I shall never +doubt you. If, for instance, you should be told that I have discarded you, and +given myself to some other husband; if even you should believe that you see it +signed by my hand, or if you think that you hear it told to you by my +voice—still, I say, believe it not.” +</p> + +<p> +“How could such a thing be?” asked Peter anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not suppose that it could be; I only paint the worst that might +happen as a lesson for us both. Heretofore my life has been calm as a +summer’s day; but who knows when winter storms may rise, and often I have +thought that I was born to know wind and rain and lightning as well as peace +and sunshine. Remember that my father is a Jew, and that to the Jews and their +children terrible things chance at times. Why, all this wealth might vanish in +an hour, and you might find me in a prison, or clad in rags begging my bread. +Now do you swear?” and she held towards him the gold crucifix that hung +upon her bosom. +</p> + +<p> +“Aye,” he said, “I swear it by this holy token and by your +lips,” and he kissed first the cross and then her mouth, adding, +“Shall I ask the same oath of you?” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“If you will; but it is not needful. Peter, I think that I know you too +well; I think that your heart will never stir even if I be dead and you married +to another. And yet men are men, and women have wiles, so I will swear this: +That should you slip, perchance, and I live to learn it, I will try not to +judge you harshly.” And again she laughed, she who was so certain of her +empire over this man’s heart and body. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said Peter; “but for my part I will try to stand +straight upon my feet, so should any tales be brought to you of me, sift them +well, I pray you.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, forgetting their doubts and dreads, they talked of their marriage, which +they fixed for that day month, and of how they would dwell happily in Dedham +Vale. Also Margaret, who well knew the house, named the Old Hall, where they +should live, for she had stayed there as a child, gave him many commands as to +the new arrangement of its chambers and its furnishing, which, as there was +money and to spare, could be as costly as they willed, saying that she would +send him down all things by wain so soon as he was ready for them. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, then, the hours wore away, until at length night came and they took their +last meal together, the three of them, for it was arranged that Peter should +start at moonrise, when none were about to see him go. It was not a very happy +meal, and, though they made a brave show of eating, but little food passed +their lips. Now the horses were ready, and Margaret buckled on Peter’s +sword and threw his cloak about his shoulders, and he, having shaken Castell by +the hand and bade him guard their jewel safely, without more words kissed her +in farewell, and went. +</p> + +<p> +Taking the silver lamp in her hand, she followed him to the ante-room. At the +door he turned and saw her standing there gazing after him with wide eyes and a +strained, white face. At the sight of her silent pain almost his heart failed +him, almost he refused to go. Then he remembered, and went. +</p> + +<p> +For a while Margaret still stood thus, until the sound of the horses’ +hoofs had died away indeed. Then she turned and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Father, I know not how it is, but it seems to me that when Peter and I +meet again it will be far off, yes, far off upon the stormy sea—but what +sea I know not.” And without waiting for an answer she climbed the stairs +to her chamber, and there wept herself to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +Castell watched her depart, then muttered to himself: +</p> + +<p> +“Pray God she is not foresighted like so many of our race; and yet why is +my own heart so heavy? Well, according to my judgment, I have done my best for +him and her, and for myself I care nothing.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap07"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br /> +NEWS FROM SPAIN.</h2> + +<p> +Peter Brome was a very quiet man, whose voice was not often heard about the +place, and yet it was strange how dull and different the big, old house in +Holborn seemed without him. Even the handsome Betty, with whom he was never on +the best of terms, since there was much about her of which he disapproved, +missed him, and said so to her cousin, who only answered with a sigh. For in +the bottom of her heart Betty both feared and respected Peter. The fear was of +his observant eyes and caustic words, which she knew were always words of +truth, and the respect for the general uprightness of his character, especially +where her own sex was concerned. +</p> + +<p> +In fact, as has been hinted, some little time before, when Peter had first come +to live with the Castells, Betty, thinking him a proper man of gentle birth, +such a one indeed as she would wish to marry, had made advances to him, which, +as he did not seem to notice them, became by degrees more and more marked. What +happened at last they two knew alone, but it was something that caused Betty to +become very angry, and to speak of Peter to her friends as a cold-blooded lout +who thought only of work and gain. The episode was passing, and soon forgotten +by the lady in the press of other affairs; but the respect remained. Moreover, +on one or two occasions, when the love of admiration had led her into griefs, +Peter had proved a good friend, and what was better, a friend who did not talk. +Therefore she wished him back again, especially now, when something that was +more than mere vanity and desire for excitement had taken hold of her, and +Betty found herself being swept off her feet into very deep and doubtful waters. +</p> + +<p> +The shopmen and the servants missed him also, for to him all disputes were +brought for settlement, nor, provided it had not come about through lack of +honesty, were any pains too great for him to take to help them in a trouble. +Most of all Castell missed him, since until Peter had gone he did not know how +much he had learned to rely upon him, both in his business and as a friend. As +for Margaret, her life without him was one long, empty night. +</p> + +<p> +Thus it chanced that in such a house any change was welcome, and, though she +liked him little enough, Margaret was not even displeased when one morning +Betty told her that the lord d’Aguilar was coming to call on her that +day, and purposed to bring her a present. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not seek his presents,” said Margaret indifferently; then +added, “But how do you know that, Betty?” +</p> + +<p> +The young woman coloured, and tossed her head as she answered: +</p> + +<p> +“I know it, Cousin, because, as I was going to visit my old aunt +yesterday, who lives on the wharf at Westminster, I met him riding, and he +called out to me, saying that he had a gift for you and one for me also.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be careful you do not meet him too often, Betty, when you chance to be +visiting your aunt. These Spaniards are not always over-honest, as you may +learn to your sorrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you for your good counsel,” said Betty, shortly, +“but I, who am older than you, know enough of men to be able to guard +myself, and can keep them at a distance.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad of it, Betty, only sometimes I have thought that the distance +was scarcely wide enough,” answered Margaret, and left the subject, for +she was thinking of other things. +</p> + +<p> +That afternoon, when Margaret was walking in the garden, Betty, whose face +seemed somewhat flushed, ran up to her and said that the lord d’Aguilar +was waiting in the hall. +</p> + +<p> +“Very good,” answered Margaret, “I will come. Go, tell my +father, that he may join us. But why are you so disturbed and hurried?” +she added wonderingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” answered Betty, “he has brought me a present, so fine a +present—a mantle of the most wonderful lace that ever I saw, and a comb +of mottled shell mounted in gold to keep it off the hair. He made me wait while +he showed me how to put it on, and that was why I ran.” +</p> + +<p> +Margaret did not quite see the connection; but she answered slowly: +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps it would have been wiser if you had run first. I do not +understand why this fine lord brings you presents.” +</p> + +<p> +“But he has brought one for you also, Cousin, although he would not say +what it was.” +</p> + +<p> +“That I understand still less. Go, tell my father that the Señor +d’Aguilar awaits him.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she went into the hall, and found d’Aguilar looking at an +illuminated Book of Hours in which she had been reading, that was written in +Spanish in one column and in Latin in that opposite. He greeted her in his +usual graceful way, that, where Margaret was concerned, was easy and well-bred +without being bold, and said at once: +</p> + +<p> +“So you read Spanish, Señora?” +</p> + +<p> +“A little. Not very well, I fear.” +</p> + +<p> +“And Latin also?” +</p> + +<p> +“A little again. I have been taught that tongue. By studying them thus I +try to improve myself in both.” +</p> + +<p> +“I perceive that you are learned as you are beautiful,” and he +bowed courteously. +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you, Señor; but I lay claim to neither grace.” +</p> + +<p> +“What need is there to claim that which is evident?” replied +d’Aguilar; then added, “But I forgot, I have brought you a present, +if you will be pleased to accept it. Or, rather, I bring you what is your own, +or at the least your father’s. I bargained with his Excellency Don de +Ayala, pointing out that fifty gold angels were too much to pay for that dead +rogue of his; but he would give me nothing back in money, since with gold he +never parts. Yet I won some change from him, and it stands without your door. +It is a Spanish jennet of the true Moorish blood, which, hundreds of years ago, +that people brought with them from the East. He needs it no longer, as he +returns to Spain, and it is trained to bear a lady.” Margaret did not +know what to answer, but, fortunately, at that moment her father appeared, and +to him d’Aguilar repeated his tale, adding that he had heard his daughter +say that the horse she rode had fallen with her, so that she could use it no +more. +</p> + +<p> +Now, Castell did not wish to accept this gift, for such he felt it to be; but +d’Aguilar assured him that if he did not he must sell it and return him +the price in money, as it did not belong to him. So, there being no help for +it, he thanked him in his daughter’s name and his own, and they went into +the stable-yard, whither it had been taken, to look at this horse. +</p> + +<p> +The moment that Castell saw it he knew that it was a creature of great value, +pure white in colour, with a long, low body, small head, gentle eyes, round +hoofs, and flowing mane and tail, such a horse, indeed, as a queen might have +ridden. Now again he was confused, being sure that this beast had never been +given back as a luck-penny, since it would have fetched more than the fifty +angels on the market; moreover, it was harnessed with a woman’s saddle +and bridle of the most beautifully worked red Cordova leather, to which were +attached a silver bit and stirrup. But d’Aguilar smiled, and vowed that +things were as he had told them, so there was nothing more to be said. +Margaret, too, was so pleased with the mare, which she longed to ride, that she +forgot her scruples, and tried to believe that this was so. Noting her delight, +which she could not conceal as she patted the beautiful beast, d’Aguilar +said: +</p> + +<p> +“Now I will ask one thing in return for the bargain that I have +made—that I may see you mount this horse for the first time. You told me +that you and your father were wont to go out together in the morning. Have I +your leave, Sir,” and he turned to Castell, “to ride with you +before breakfast, say, at seven of the clock, for I would show the lady, your +daughter, how she should manage a horse of this blood, which is something of a +trick?” +</p> + +<p> +“If you will,” answered Castell—“that is, if the +weather is fine,” for the offer was made so courteously that it could +scarcely be refused. +</p> + +<p> +d’Aguilar bowed, and they re-entered the house, talking of other matters. +When they were in the hall again, he asked whether their kinsman Peter had +reached his destination safely, adding: +</p> + +<p> +“I pray you, do not tell me where it is, for I wish to be able to put my +hand upon my heart and swear to all concerned, and especially to certain +fellows who are still seeking for him, that I know nothing of his +hiding-place.” +</p> + +<p> +Castell answered that he had, since but a few minutes before a letter had come +from him announcing his safe arrival, tidings at which Margaret looked up, +then, remembering her promise, said that she was glad to hear of it, as the +roads were none too safe, and spoke indifferently of something else. +d’Aguilar added that he also was glad, then, rising, took his leave +“till seven on the morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +When he had gone, Castell gave Margaret a letter, addressed to her in +Peter’s stiff, upright hand, which she read eagerly. It began and ended +with sweet words, but, like his speech, was brief and to the point, saying only +that he had accomplished his journey without adventure, and was very glad to +find himself again in the old house where he was born, and amongst familiar +fields and faces. On the morrow he was to see the tradesmen as to alterations +and repairs which were much needed, even the moat being choked with mud and +weeds. His last sentence was: “I much mistrust me of that fine Spaniard, +and I am jealous to think that he should be near to you while I am far away. +Beware of him, I say—beware of him. May the Mother of God and all the +saints have you in their keeping! Your most true affianced lover.” +</p> + +<p> +This letter Margaret answered before she slept, for the messenger was to return +at dawn, telling Peter, amongst other things, of the gift which d’Aguilar +had brought her, and how she and her father were forced to accept it, but +bidding him not be jealous, since, although the gift was welcome, she liked the +giver little, who did but count the hours till her true lover should come back +again and take her to himself. +</p> + +<p> +Next morning she was up early, clothed in her riding-dress, for the day was +very fine, and by seven o’clock d’Aguilar appeared, mounted on a +great horse. Then the Spanish jennet was brought out, and deftly he lifted her +to the saddle, showing her how she must pull but lightly on the reins, and urge +or check her steed with her voice alone, using no whip or spur. +</p> + +<p> +A perfect beast it proved to be, indeed, gentle as a lamb, and easy, yet very +spirited and swift. +</p> + +<p> +d’Aguilar was a pleasant cavalier also, talking of many things grave and +gay, until at length even Castell forgot his thoughts, and grew cheerful as +they cantered forward through the fresh spring morning by heath and hill and +woodland, listening to the singing of the birds, and watching the husbandmen at +their labour. This ride was but the first of several that they took, since +d’Aguilar knew their hours of exercise, even when they changed them, and +whether they asked him or not, joined or met them in such a natural fashion +that they could not refuse his company. Indeed, they were much puzzled to know +how he came to be so well acquainted with their movements, and even with the +direction in which they proposed to ride, but supposed that he must have it +from the grooms, although these were commanded to say nothing, and always +denied having spoken with him. That Betty should speak of such matters, or even +find opportunity of doing so, never chanced to cross their minds, who did not +guess that if they rode with d’Aguilar in the morning, Betty often walked +with him in the evening when she was supposed to be at church, or sewing, or +visiting her aunt upon the wharf at Westminster. But of these walks the foolish +girl said nothing, for her own reasons. +</p> + +<p> +Now, as they rode together, although he remained very courteous and respectful, +the manner of d’Aguilar towards Margaret grew ever more close and +intimate. Thus he began to tell her stories, true or false, of his past life, +which seemed to have been strange and eventful enough; to hint, too, of a +certain hidden greatness that pertained to him which he did not dare to show, +and of high ambitions which he had. He spoke also of his loneliness, and his +desire to lose it in the companionship of a kindred heart, if he could find one +to share his wealth, his station, and his hopes; while all the time his dark +eyes, fixed on Margaret, seemed to say, “The heart I seek is such a one +as yours.” At length, at some murmured word or touch, she took affright, +and, since she could not avoid him abroad, determined to stay at home, and, +much as she loved the sport, to ride no more till Peter should return. So she +gave out that she had hurt her knee, which made the saddle painful to her, and +the beautiful Spanish mare was left idle in the stable, or mounted only by the +groom. +</p> + +<p> +Thus for some days she was rid of d’Aguilar, and employed herself in +reading and working, or in writing long letters to Peter, who was busy enough +at Dedham, and sent her thence many commissions to fulfil. +</p> + +<p> +One afternoon Castell was seated in his office deciphering letters which had +just reached him. The night before his best ship, of over two hundred tons +burden, which was named the <i>Margaret</i>, after his daughter, had come +safely into the mouth of the Thames from Spain. That evening she was to reach +her berth at Gravesend with the tide, when Castell proposed to go aboard of her +to see to the unloading of her cargo. This was the last of his ships which +remained unsold, and it was his plan to re-load and victual her at once with +goods that were waiting, and send her back to the port of Seville, where his +Spanish partners, in whose name she was already registered, had agreed to take +her over at a fixed price. This done, it was only left for him to hand over his +business to the merchants who had purchased it in London, after which he would +be free to depart, a very wealthy man, and spend the evening of his days at +peace in Essex, with his daughter and her husband, as now he so greatly longed +to do. So soon as they were within the river banks the captain of this ship, +Smith by name, had landed the cargo-master with letters and a manifest of +cargo, bidding him hire a horse and bring them to Master Castell’s house +in Holborn. This the man had done safely, and it was these letters that Castell +read. +</p> + +<p> +One of them was from his partner Bernaldez in Seville; not in answer to that +which he had written on the night of the opening of this history—for this +there had been no time—yet dealing with matters whereof it treated. In it +was this passage: +</p> + +<p> +“You will remember what I wrote to you of a certain envoy who has been +sent to the Court of London, who is called d’Aguilar, for as our cipher +is so secret, and it is important that you should be warned, I take the risk of +writing his name. Since that letter I have learned more concerning this +grandee, for such he is. Although he calls himself plain Don d’Aguilar, +in truth he is the Marquis of Morella, and on one side, it is said, of royal +blood, if not on both, since he is reported to be the son born out of wedlock +of Prince Carlos of Viana, the half-brother of the king. The tale runs that +Carlos, the learned and gentle, fell in love with a Moorish lady of Aguilar of +high birth and great wealth, for she had rich estates at Granada and elsewhere, +and, as he might not marry her because of the difference of their rank and +faiths, lived with her without marriage, of which union one son was born. +Before Prince Carlos died, or was poisoned, and while he was still a prisoner +at Morella, he gave to, or procured for this boy the title of marquis, choosing +from some fancy the name of Morella, that place where he had suffered so much. +Also he settled some private lands upon him. After the prince died, the Moorish +lady, his lover, who had secretly become a Christian, took her son to live at +her palace in Granada, where she died also some ten years ago, leaving all her +great wealth to him, for she never married. At this time it is said that his +life was in danger, for the reason that, although he was half a Moor, too much +of the blood-royal ran in his veins. But the Marquis was clever, and persuaded +the king and queen that he had no ambition beyond his pleasures. Also the +Church interceded for him, since to it he proved himself a faithful son, +persecuting all heretics, especially the Jews, and even Moors, although they +are of his own blood. So in the end he was confirmed in his possessions and +left alone, although he refused to become a priest. +</p> + +<p> +“Since then he has been made an agent of the Crown at Granada, and +employed upon various embassies to London, Rome, and elsewhere, on matters +connected with the faith and the establishment of the Holy Inquisition. That is +why he is again in England at this moment, being charged to obtain the names +and particulars concerning all Maranos settled there, especially if they trade +with Spain. I have seen the names of those of whom he must inquire most +closely, and that is why I write to you so fully, since yours is first upon the +list. I think, therefore, that you do wisely to wind up your business with this +country, and especially to sell your ships to us outright and quickly, since +otherwise they might be seized—like yourself, if you came here. My +counsel to you is—hide your wealth, which will be great when we have paid +you all we owe, and go to some place where you will be forgotten for a while, +since that bloodhound d’Aguilar, for so he calls himself, after his +mother’s birthplace, has not tracked you to London for nothing. As yet, +thanks be to God, no suspicion has fallen on any of us; perhaps because we have +many in our pay.” +</p> + +<p> +When Castell had finished transcribing all this passage he read it through +carefully. Then he went into the hall, where a fire burned, for the day was +cold, and threw the translation on to it, watching until it was consumed, after +which he returned to his office, and hid away the letter in a secret cupboard +behind the panelling of the wall. This done, he sat himself in his chair to +think. +</p> + +<p> +“My good friend Juan Bernaldez is right,” he said to himself; +“d’Aguilar, or the Marquis Morella, does not nose me and the others +out for nothing. Well, I shall not trust myself in Spain, and the money, most +of it, except what is still to come from Spain, is put out where it will never +be found by him, at good interest too. All seems safe enough—and yet I +would to God that Peter and Margaret were fast married, and that we three sat +together, out of sight and mind, in the Old Hall at Dedham. I have carried on +this game too long. I should have closed my books a year ago; but the trade was +so good that I could not. I was wise also, who in this one lucky year have +nearly doubled my fortune. And yet it would have been safer, before they +guessed that I was so rich. Greed—mere greed—for I do not need this +money which may destroy us all! Greed! The ancient pitfall of my race.” +</p> + +<p> +As he thought thus there came a knock upon his door. Snatching up a pen he +dipped it in the ink-horn and, calling “Enter,” began to add a +column of figures on a paper before him. +</p> + +<p> +The door opened; but he seemed to take no heed, so diligently did he count his +figures. Yet, although his eyes were fixed upon the paper, in some way that he +could not understand he was well aware that d’Aguilar and no other stood +in the room behind him, the truth being, no doubt, that unconsciously he had +recognised his footstep. For a moment the knowledge turned him cold—he +who had just been reading of the mission of this man—and feared what was +to come. Yet he acted well. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you disturb me, Daughter?” he said testily, and without +looking round. “Have not things gone ill enough with half the cargo +destroyed by sea-water, and the rest, that you must trouble me while I sum up +my losses?” And, casting the pen down, he turned his stool round +impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +Yes! there sure enough stood d’Aguilar, very handsomely arrayed, and +smiling and bowing as was his custom. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap08"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br /> +D’AGUILAR SPEAKS.</h2> + +<p> +“Losses?” said d’Aguilar. “Do I hear the wealthy John +Castell, who holds half the trade with Spain in the hollow of his hand, talk of +losses?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Señor, you do. Things have gone ill with this ship of mine +that has barely lived through the spring gales. But be seated.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, is that so?” said d’Aguilar as he sat down. +“What a lying jade is rumour! For I was told that they had gone very +well. Doubtless, however, what is loss to you would be priceless gain to one +like me.” +</p> + +<p> +Castell made no answer, but waited, feeling that his visitor had not come to +speak with him of his trading ventures. +</p> + +<p> +“Señor Castell,” said d’Aguilar, with a note of +nervousness in his voice, “I am here to ask you for something.” +</p> + +<p> +“If it be a loan, Señor, I fear that the time is not +opportune.” And he nodded towards the sheet of figures. +</p> + +<p> +“It is not a loan; it is a gift.” +</p> + +<p> +“Anything in my poor house is yours,” answered Castell courteously, +and in Oriental form. +</p> + +<p> +“I rejoice to hear it, Señor, for I seek something from your +house.” +</p> + +<p> +Castell looked a question at him with his quick black eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I seek your daughter, the Señora Margaret, in marriage.” +</p> + +<p> +Castell stared at him, then a single word broke from his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why impossible?” asked d’Aguilar slowly, yet as one who +expected some such answer. “In age we are not unsuited, nor perhaps in +fortune, while of rank I have enough, more than you guess perhaps. I vaunt not +myself, yet women have thought me not uncomely. I should be a good friend to +the house whence I took a wife, where perchance a day may come when friends +will be needed; and lastly, I desire her not for what she may bring with her, +though wealth is always welcome, but—I pray you to believe +it—because I love her.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have heard that the Señor d’Aguilar loves many women, +yonder in Granada.” +</p> + +<p> +“As I have heard that the <i>Margaret</i> had a prosperous voyage, +Señor Castell. Rumour, as I said but now, is a lying jade. Yet I will +not copy her. I have been no saint. Now I would become one, for +Margaret’s sake. I will be true to your daughter, Señor. What say +you now?” +</p> + +<p> +Castell only shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” went on d’Aguilar. “I am more than I seem to +be; she who weds me will not lack for rank and titles.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you are the Marquis de Morella, the reputed son of Prince Carlos of +Viana by a Moorish mother, and therefore nephew to his Majesty of Spain.” +</p> + +<p> +d’Aguilar looked at him, then bowed and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Your information is good—as good as mine, almost. Doubtless you do +not like that bar in the blood. Well, if it were not there, I should be where +Ferdinand is, should I not? So I do not like it either, though it is good blood +and ancient—that of those high-bred Moors. Now, may not the nephew of a +king and the son of a princess of Granada be fit to mate with the daughter +of—a Jew, yes, a Marano, and of a Christian English lady, of good family, +but no more?” +</p> + +<p> +Castell lifted his hand as though to speak; but d’Aguilar went on: +</p> + +<p> +“Deny it not, friend; it is not worth while here in private. Was there +not a certain Isaac of Toledo who, hard on fifty years ago, left Spain, for his +own reasons, with a little son, and in London became known as Joseph Castell, +having, with his son, been baptized into the Holy Church? Ah! you see you are +not the only one who studies genealogies.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Señor, if so, what of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“What of it? Nothing at all, friend Castell. It is an old story, is it +not, and, as that Isaac is long dead and his son has been a good Christian for +nearly fifty years and had a Christian wife and child, who will trouble himself +about such a matter? If he were openly a Hebrew now, or worse still, if +pretending to be a Christian, he in secret practised the rites of the accursed +Jews, why then——” +</p> + +<p> +“Then what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, of course, he would be expelled this land, where no Jew may live, +his wealth would be forfeit to its king, whose ward his daughter would become, +to be given in marriage where he willed, while he himself, being Spanish born, +might perhaps be handed over to the power of Spain, there to make answer to +these charges. But we wander to strange matters. Is that alliance still +impossible, Señor?” +</p> + +<p> +Castell looked him straight in the eyes and answered: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +There was something so bold and direct in his utterance of the word that for a +moment d’Aguilar seemed to be taken aback. He had not expected this sharp +denial. +</p> + +<p> +“It would be courteous to give a reason,” he said presently. +</p> + +<p> +“The reason is simple, Marquis. My daughter is already betrothed, and +will ere long be wedded.” +</p> + +<p> +d’Aguilar did not seem surprised at this intelligence. +</p> + +<p> +“To that brawler, your kinsman, Peter Brome, I suppose?” he said +interrogatively. “I guessed as much, and by the saints I am sorry for +her, for he must be a dull lover to one so fair and bright; while as a +husband—” And he shrugged his shoulders. “Friend Castell, for +her sake you will break off this match.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if I will not, Marquis?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I must break it off for you in the interest of all of us, +including, of course, myself, who love her, and wish to lift her to a great +place, and of yourself, whom I desire should pass your old age in peace and +wealth, and not be hunted to your death like a mad dog.” +</p> + +<p> +“How will you break it, Marquis? by—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, Señor!” answered d’Aguilar, “not by +other men’s swords—if that is what you mean. The worthy Peter is +safe from them so far as I am concerned, though if he should come face to face +with mine, then let the best man win. Have no fear, friend, I do not practise +murder, who value my own soul too much to soak it in blood, nor would I marry a +woman except of her own free will. Still, Peter may die, and the fair Margaret +may still place her hand in mine and say, ‘I choose you as my +husband.’” +</p> + +<p> +“All these things, and many others, may happen, Marquis; but I do not +think it likely that they will happen, and for my part, whilst thanking you for +it, I decline your honourable offer, believing that my daughter will be more +happy in her present humble state with the man she has chosen. Have I your +leave to return to my accounts?” And he rose. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Señor,” answered d’Aguilar, rising also; +“but add an item to those losses of which you spoke, that of the +friendship of Carlos, Marquis de Morella, and on the other side enter again +that of his hate. Man!” he added, and his dark, handsome face turned very +evil as he spoke, “are you mad? Think of the little tabernacle behind the +altar in your chapel, and what it contains.” +</p> + +<p> +Castell stared at him, then said: +</p> + +<p> +“Come, let us see. Nay, fear no trick; like you I remember my soul, and +do not stain my hands with blood. Follow me, so you will be safe.” +</p> + +<p> +Curiosity, or some other reason, prompted d’Aguilar to obey, and +presently they stood behind the altar. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said Castell, as he drew the tapestry and opened the secret +door, “look!” d’Aguilar peered into the place; but where +should have been the table, the ark, the candlesticks, and the roll of the law +of which Betty had told him, were only old dusty boxes filled with parchments +and some broken furniture. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you see?” asked Castell. +</p> + +<p> +“I see, friend, that you are even a cleverer Jew than I thought. But this +is a matter that you must explain to others in due season. Believe me, I am no +inquisitor.” Then without more words he turned and left him. +</p> + +<p> +When Castell, having shut the secret door and drawn the tapestry, hurried from +the chapel, it was to find that the marquis had departed. +</p> + +<p> +He went back to his office much disturbed, and sat himself down there to think. +Truly Fate, that had so long been his friend, was turning its face against him. +Things could not have gone worse. d’Aguilar had discovered the secret of +his faith through his spies, and, having by some accursed mischance fallen in +love with his daughter’s beauty, was become his bitter enemy because he +must refuse her to him. Why must he refuse her? The man was of great position +and noble blood; she would become the wife of one of the first grandees of +Spain, one who stood nearest to the throne. Perhaps—such a thing was +possible—she might live herself to be queen, or the mother of kings. +Moreover, that marriage meant safety for himself; it meant a quiet age, a +peaceable death in his own bed—for, were he fifty times a Marano, who +would touch the father-in-law of the Marquis de Morella? Why? Just because he +had promised her in marriage to Peter Brome, and through all his life as a +merchant he had never yet broken with a bargain because it went against +himself. That was the answer. Yet almost he could find it in his heart to wish +that he had never made that bargain; that he had kept Peter, who had waited so +long, waiting for another month. Well, it was too late now. He had passed his +word, and he would keep it, whatever the cost might be. +</p> + +<p> +Rising, he called one of the servants, and bade her summon Margaret. Presently +she returned, saying that her mistress had gone out walking with Betty, adding +also that his horse was at the door for him to ride to the river, where he was +to pass the night on board his ship. +</p> + +<p> +Taking paper, he bethought him that he would write to Margaret, warning her +against the Spaniard. Then, remembering that she had nothing to fear from him, +at any rate at present, and that it was not wise to set down such matters, he +told her only to take good care of herself, and that he would be back in the +morning. +</p> + +<p> +That evening, when Margaret was in her own little sitting-chamber which +adjoined the great hall, the door opened, and she looked up from the work upon +which she was engaged, to see d’Aguilar standing before her. +</p> + +<p> +“Señor!” she said, amazed, “how came you here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Señora,” he answered, closing the door and bowing, +“my feet brought me. Had I any other means of coming I think that I +should not often be absent from your side.” +</p> + +<p> +“Spare me your fine words, I pray you, Señor,” answered +Margaret, frowning. “It is not fitting that I should receive you thus +alone at night, my father being absent from the house.” And she made as +though she would pass him and reach the door. +</p> + +<p> +d’Aguilar, who stood in front of it, did not move, so perforce she +stopped half way. +</p> + +<p> +“I found that he was absent,” he said courteously, “and that +is why I venture to address you upon a matter of some importance. Give me a few +minutes of your time, therefore, I beseech you.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, at once the thought entered Margaret’s mind that he had some news of +Peter to communicate to her—bad news perhaps. +</p> + +<p> +“Be seated, and speak on, Señor,” she said, sinking into a +chair, while he too sat down, but still in front of the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Señora,” he said, “my business in this country is +finished, and in a few days I sail hence for Spain.” And he hesitated a +moment. +</p> + +<p> +“I trust that your voyage will be pleasant,” said Margaret, not +knowing what else to answer. +</p> + +<p> +“I trust so also, Señora, since I have come to ask you if you will +share it. Listen, before you refuse. To-day I saw your father, and begged your +hand of him. He would give me no answer, neither yea nor nay, saying that you +were your own mistress, and that I must seek it from your lips.” +</p> + +<p> +“My father said that?” gasped Margaret, astonished, then bethought +her that he might have had reasons for speaking so, and went on rapidly, +“Well, it is short and simple. I thank you, Señor; but I stay in +England.” +</p> + +<p> +“Even that I would be willing to do for your sake Señora, though, +in truth, I find it a cold and barbarous country.” +</p> + +<p> +“If so, Señor d’Aguilar, I think that I should go to Spain. +I pray you let me pass.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not till you have heard me out, Señora, when I trust that your +words will be more gentle. See now I am a great man in my own country. Although +it suits me to pass here incognito as plain Señor d’Aguilar I am +the Marquis of Morella, the nephew of Ferdinand the King, with some wealth and +station, official and private. If you disbelieve me, I can prove it to +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not disbelieve,” answered Margaret indifferently, “it +may well be so; but what is that to me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then is it not something, Lady, that I, who have blood-royal in my +veins, should seek the daughter of a merchant to be my wife?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing at all—to me, who am satisfied with my humble lot.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it nothing to you that I should love as I do, with all my heart and +soul? Marry me, and I tell you that I will lift you high, yes, perhaps even to +the throne.” +</p> + +<p> +She thought a moment, then asked: +</p> + +<p> +“The bribe is great, but how would you do that? Many a maid has been +deceived with false jewels, Señor.” +</p> + +<p> +“How has it been done before? Not every one loves Ferdinand. I have many +friends who remember that my father was poisoned by his father and +Ferdinand’s, he being the elder son. Also, my mother was a princess of +the Moors, and if I, who dwell among them as the envoy of their Majesties, +threw in my sword with theirs—or there are other ways. But I am speaking +things that have never passed my lips before, which, were they known, would +cost me my head—let it serve to show how much I trust you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you, Señor, for your trust; but this crown seems to me +set upon a peak that it is dangerous to climb, and I had sooner sit in safety +on the plain.” +</p> + +<p> +“You reject the pomp,” went on d’Aguilar in his passionate, +pleading voice, “then will not the love move you? Oh! you shall be +worshipped as never woman was. I swear to you that in your eyes there is a +light which has set my heart on fire, so that it burns night and day, and will +not be quenched. Your voice is my sweetest music, your hair is a cord that +binds me to you faster than the prisoner’s chain, and, when you pass, for +me Venus walks the earth. More, your mind is pure and noble as your beauty, and +by the aid of it I shall be lifted up through the high places of the earth to +some white throne in heaven. I love you, my lady, my fair Margaret; because of +you, all other women are become coarse and hateful in my sight. See how much I +love you, that I, one of the first grandees of Spain, do this for your sweet +sake,” and suddenly he cast himself upon his knees before her, and +lifting the hem of her dress pressed it to his lips. +</p> + +<p> +Margaret looked down at him, and the anger that was rising in her breast +melted, while with it went her fear. This man was much in earnest; she could +not doubt it. The hand that held her robe trembled like shaken water, his face +was ashen, and in his dark eyes swam tears. What cause had she to be afraid of +one who was so much her slave? +</p> + +<p> +“Señor,” she said very gently, “rise, I pray you. Do +not waste all this love upon one who chances to have caught your fancy, but who +is quite unworthy of it, and far beneath you; one, moreover, by whom it may not +be returned. Señor, I am already affianced. Therefore, put me out of +your mind and find some other love.” +</p> + +<p> +He rose and stood in front of her. +</p> + +<p> +“Affianced,” he said, “I knew it. Nay, I will say no ill of +the man; to revile one more fortunate is poor argument. But what is it to me if +you are affianced? What to me if you were wed? I should seek you all the same, +who have no choice. Beneath me? You are as far above me as a star, and it would +seem as hard to reach. Seek some other love? I tell you, lady, that I have +sought many, for not all are so hard to win, and I hate them every one. You I +desire alone, and shall desire till I be dead, aye, and you I will win or die. +No, I will not die till you are my own. Have no fear, I will not kill your +lover, save perhaps in fair fight; I will not force you to give yourself to me, +should I find the chance, but with your own lips I will yet listen to you +asking me to be your husband. I swear it by Him Who died for us. I swear that, +laying aside all other ends, to that sole purpose I will devote my days. Yes, +and should you chance to pass from earth before me, then I will follow you to +the very gates of death and clasp you there.” +</p> + +<p> +Now again Margaret’s fear returned to her. This man’s passion was +terrible, yet there was a grandeur in it; Peter had never spoken to her in so +high a fashion. +</p> + +<p> +“Señor,” she said almost pleadingly, “corpses are poor +brides; have done with such sick fancies, which surely must be born of your +Eastern blood.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is your blood also, who are half a Jew, and, therefore, at least you +should understand them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mayhap I do understand, mayhap I think them great in their own fashion, +yes, noble even, and admire, if it can be noble to seek to win away another +man’s betrothed. But, Señor, I am that man’s betrothed, and +all of me, my body and my soul, is his, nor would I go back upon my word, and +so break his heart, to win the empire of the earth. Señor, once more I +implore you to leave this poor maid to the humble life that she has chosen, and +to forget her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lady,” answered d’Aguilar, “your words are wise and +gentle, and I thank you for them. But I cannot forget you, and that oath I +swore just now I swear again, thus.” And before she could prevent him, or +even guess what he was about to do, he lifted the gold crucifix that hung by a +chain about her neck, kissed it, and let it fall gently back upon her breast, +saying, “See, I might have kissed your lips before you could have stayed +me, but that I will never do until you give me leave, so in place of them I +kiss the cross, which till then we both must carry. Lady, my lady Margaret, +within a day or two I sail for Spain, but your image shall sail with me, and I +believe that ere long our paths must cross again. How can it be otherwise since +the threads of your life and mine were intertwined on that night outside the +Palace of Westminster —intertwined never to be separated till one of us +has ceased to be, and then only for a little while. Lady, for the present, +farewell.” +</p> + +<p> +Then swiftly and silently as he had come, d’Aguilar went. +</p> + +<p> +It was Betty who let him out at the side door, as she had let him in. More, +glancing round to see that she was not observed—for it chanced now that +Peter was away with some of the best men, and the master was out with others, +no one was on watch this night—leaving the door ajar that she might +re-enter, she followed him a little way, till they came to an old arch, which +in some bygone time had led to a house now pulled down. Into this dark place +Betty slipped, touching d’Aguilar on the arm as she did so. For a moment +he hesitated, then, muttering some Spanish oath between his teeth, followed her. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, most fair Betty,” he said, “what word have you for me +now?” +</p> + +<p> +“The question is, Señor Carlos,” answered Betty with +scarcely suppressed indignation, “what word you have for me, who dared so +much for you to-night? That you have plenty for my cousin, I know, since +standing in the cold garden I could hear you talk, talk, talk, through the +shutters, as though for your very life.” +</p> + +<p> +“I pray that those shutters had no hole in them,” reflected +d’Aguilar to himself. “No, there was a curtain also; she can have +seen nothing.” But aloud he answered: “Mistress Betty, you should +not stand about in this bitter wind; you might fall ill, and then what should I +suffer?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know, nothing perhaps; that would be left to me. What I +want to understand is, why you plan to come to see me, and then spend an hour +with Margaret?” +</p> + +<p> +“To avert suspicion, most dear Betty. Also I had to talk to her of this +Peter, in whom she seems so greatly interested. You are very shrewd, +Betty—tell me, is that to be a match?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think so; I have been told nothing, but I have noticed many things, +and almost every day she is writing to him, though why she should care for that +owl of a man I cannot guess.” +</p> + +<p> +“Doubtless because she appreciates solid worth, Betty, as I do in you. +Who can account for the impulses of the heart, which come, say some of the +learned, from heaven, and others, from hell? At least it is no affair of ours, +so let us wish them happiness, and, after they are married, a large and healthy +family. Meanwhile, dear Betty, are you making ready for your voyage to +Spain?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” answered Betty gloomily. “I am not sure +that I trust you and your fine words. If you want to marry me, as you swear, +and be sure I look for nothing less, why cannot it be before we start, and how +am I to know that you will do so when we get there?” +</p> + +<p> +“You ask many questions, Betty, all of which I have answered before. I +have told you that I cannot marry you here because of that permission which is +necessary on account of the difference in our ranks. Here, where your place is +known, it is not to be had; there, where you will pass as a great English +lady—as of course you are by birth—I can obtain it in an hour. But +if you have any doubts, although it cuts me to the heart to say it, it would be +best that we should part at once. I will take no wife who does not trust me +fully and alone. Say then, cruel Betty, do you wish to leave me?” +</p> + +<p> +“You know I don’t; you know it would kill me,” she answered +in a voice that was thick with passion, “you know I worship the ground +you tread on, and hate every woman you go near, yes, even my cousin who has +been so good to me, and whom I love. I will take the risk and come with you, +believing you to be an honest gentleman, who would not deceive a girl who +trusts him; and if you do, may God deal with you as I shall, for I am no toy to +be broken and thrown away, as you would find out. Yes, I will take the risk +because you have made me love you so that I cannot live without you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Betty, your words fill me with rapture, showing me that I have not +misread your noble mind; but speak a little lower—there are echoes in +this hole. Now for the plans, for time is short, and you may be missed. When I +am about to sail I will invite Mistress Margaret and yourself to come aboard my +ship.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not invite me without my cousin Margaret?” asked Betty. +</p> + +<p> +“Because it would excite suspicion which we must avoid—do not +interrupt me. I will invite you both or get you there upon some other pretext, +and then I will arrange that she shall be brought ashore again and you taken +on. Leave it all to me, only swear that you will obey any instructions I may +send you for if you do not, I tell you that we have enemies in high places who +may part us for ever. Betty, I will be frank, there is a great lady who is +jealous, and watches you very closely. Do you swear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, I swear. But about the great lady?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a word about her—on your life—and mine. You shall hear +from me shortly. And now, sweetheart—good-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good-night,” said Betty, but still she did not stir. +</p> + +<p> +Then, understanding that she expected something more, d’Aguilar nerved +himself to the task, and touched her hair with his lips. +</p> + +<p> +Next moment he regretted it, for even that tempered salute fanned her passion +into flame. +</p> + +<p> +Throwing her arms about his neck Betty drew his face to hers and kissed him +many times, till at length he broke, half choking, from her embrace, and +escaped into the street. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother of Heaven!” he muttered to himself, “the woman is a +volcano in eruption. I shall feel her kisses for a week,” and he rubbed +his face ruefully with his hand. “I wish I had made some other plan; but +it is too late to change it now—she would betray everything. Well, I will +be rid of her somehow, if I have to drown her. A hard fate to love the mistress +and be loved of the maid!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap09"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br /> +THE SNARE.</h2> + +<p> +On the following morning, when Castell returned, Margaret told him of the visit +of d’Aguilar, and of all that had passed between them, told him also that +he was acquainted with their secret, since he had spoken of her as half a Jew. +</p> + +<p> +“I know it, I know it,” answered her father, who was much disturbed +and very angry, “for yesterday he threatened me also. But let that go, I +can take my chance; now I would learn who brought this man into my house when I +was absent, and without my leave.” +</p> + +<p> +“I fear that it was Betty,” said Margaret, “who swears that +she thought she did no wrong.” +</p> + +<p> +“Send for her,” said Castell. Presently Betty came, and, being +questioned, told a long story. +</p> + +<p> +She said she was standing by the side door, taking the air, when Señor +d’Aguilar appeared, and, having greeted her, without more words walked +into the house, saying that he had an appointment with the master. +</p> + +<p> +“With me?” broke in Castell. “I was absent.” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not know that you were absent, for I was out when you rode away in +the afternoon, and no one had spoken of it to me, so, thinking that he was your +friend, I let him in, and let him out again afterwards. That is all I have to +say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I have to say that you are a hussy and a liar, and that, in one way +or the other, this Spaniard has bribed you,” answered Castell fiercely. +“Now, girl, although you are my wife’s cousin, and therefore my +daughter’s kin, I am minded to turn you out on to the street to +starve.” +</p> + +<p> +At this Betty first grew angry, then began to weep; while Margaret pleaded with +her father, saying that it would mean the girl’s ruin, and that he must +not take such a sin upon him. So the end of it was, that, being a kind-hearted +man, remembering also that Betty Dene was of his wife’s blood, and that +she had favoured her as her daughter did, he relented, taking measures to see +that she went abroad no more save in the company of Margaret, and that the +doors were opened only by men-servants. +</p> + +<p> +So this matter ended. +</p> + +<p> +That day Margaret wrote to Peter, telling him of all that had happened, and how +the Spaniard had asked her in marriage, though the words that he used she did +not tell. At the end of her letter, also, she bade him have no fear of the +Señor d’Aguilar or of any other man, as he knew where her heart +was. +</p> + +<p> +When Peter received this writing he was much vexed to learn that both Master +Castell and Margaret had incurred the enmity of d’Aguilar, for so he +guessed it must be, also that Margaret should have been troubled with his +love-making; but for the rest he thought little of the matter, who trusted her +as he trusted heaven. Still it made him anxious to return to London as soon as +might he, even though he must take the risk of the Spaniards’ daggers. +Within three days, however, he received other letters both from Castell and +from Margaret, which set his fears at rest. +</p> + +<p> +These told him that d’Aguilar had sailed for Spain indeed, Castell said +that he had seen him standing on the poop of the Ambassador de Ayala’s +vessel as it dropped down the Thames towards the sea. Moreover, Margaret had a +note of farewell from his hand, which ran: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> + “Adieu, sweet lady, till that predestined hour when we meet again. I go, +as I must, but, as I told you, your image goes with me.<br /> +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“Your worshipper till death,     <br /> +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“MORELLA.” +</p> + +<p> +“He may take her image so long as I keep herself and if he comes back +with his worship, I promise him that death and he shall not be far +apart,” was Peter’s grim comment as he laid the paper down. Then he +went on with his letters, which told that now, when the Spaniards had gone, and +there was nothing more to fear, he was awaited in London. Indeed, Castell fixed +a day when he should arrive—May 31st—that was within a week, adding +that on its morrow—namely, June 1st, for Margaret would not be wed in +May, the Virgin Mary’s month, since she held it to be unlucky—their +marriage might take place as quietly as they would. +</p> + +<p> +Margaret wrote the same news, and in such sweet words that he kissed her +letter, then hastened to answer it, shortly, after his custom, for Peter was no +great scribe, saying, that if the saints willed it he would be with them by +nightfall on the last day of May, and that in all England there was no happier +man than he. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Now all that week Margaret was very busy preparing her marriage robe, and other +garments also, for it was settled that on the next day they should ride +together down to Dedham, in Essex, whither her father would follow them +shortly. The Old Hall was not ready, indeed, nor would it be for some time; but +Peter had furnished certain rooms in it which might serve them for the summer +season, and by winter time the house would be finished and open. +</p> + +<p> +Castell was busy also, for now, having worked very hard at the task, his ship +the <i>Margaret</i> was almost refitted and laden, so that he hoped to get her +to sea on this same May 31st, and thus be clear of the last of his business, +except the handing over of his warehouses and stock to those who had bought +them. These great affairs kept him much at Gravesend, where the ship lay, but, +as he had no dread of further trouble now that d’Aguilar and the other +Spaniards, among them that band of de Ayala’s servants who had vowed to +take Peter’s life, were gone, this did not disturb him. +</p> + +<p> +Oh! happy, happy was Margaret during those sweet spring days, when her heart +was bright and clear as the skies from which all winter storms had passed. So +happy was she indeed, and so full of a hundred joyful cares, that she found no +time to take note of her cousin Betty, who worked with her at her wedding +broideries, and helped to make preparations for the journey which should follow +after. Had she done so, she might have seen that Betty was anxious and +distressed, like one who waited for some tidings that did not come, and from +hour to hour fought against anguish and despair But she took no note, whose +heart was too full of her own matters, and who did but count the hours till she +should see her lover back and pass to his arms, a wife. +</p> + +<p> +Thus the time went on until the appointed day of Peter’s return, the +morrow of her marriage, for which all things were now prepared, down to +Peter’s wedding garments, that were finer than any she had yet seen him +wear, and the decking of the neighbouring church with flowers. In the early +morning her father rode away to Gravesend with the most of his men-servants for +the ship <i>Margaret</i> was to sail at the following dawn and there was yet +much to be done before she could lift anchor. Still, he had promised to be back +by nightfall in time to meet Peter who, leaving Dedham that morning, could not +reach them before then. +</p> + +<p> +At length it was past four of the afternoon, and everything being finished, +Margaret went to her room to dress herself anew, that she might look fine in +Peter’s eyes when he should come. Betty she did not take with her, for +there were things to which her cousin must attend; moreover, her heart was so +full that she wished to be alone a while. +</p> + +<p> +Betty’s heart was full also, but not with joy. She had been deceived. The +fine Spanish Don, who had made her love him so desperately, had sailed away and +left her without a word. She could not doubt it, he had been seen standing on +the ship—and not one word. It was cruel, cruel, and now she must help +another woman to be made a happy wife, she who was beggared of hope and love. +Moodily, full of bitterness, she went about her tasks, biting her lips and +wiping her fine eyes with the sleeve of her robe, when suddenly the door +opened, and a servant, not one of their own, but a strange man who had been +brought in to help at the morrow’s feast, called out that a sailor wished +to speak with her. +</p> + +<p> +“Then let him enter here; I have no time to go out to listen to his +talk,” snapped Betty. +</p> + +<p> +Presently the sailor was shown in, the man who brought him leaving the room at +once. He was a dark fellow, with sly black eyes, who, had he not spoken English +so well, might have been taken for a Spaniard. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you, and what is your business?” asked Betty sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“I am the carpenter of the ship <i>Margaret</i>,” he answered, +“and I am here to say that our master Castell has met with an accident +there, and desires that Mistress Margaret, his daughter, should come to him at +once.” +</p> + +<p> +“What accident?” asked Betty. +</p> + +<p> +“In seeing to the stowage of cargo he slipped and fell down the hold, +hurting his back and breaking his right arm, and that is why he cannot write. +He is in great pain; but the physician whom we summoned bade me tell Mistress +Margaret that at present he has no fear for his life. Are you Mistress +Margaret?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” answered Betty; “but I will go to her at once; do you +bide here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then are you her cousin, Mistress Betty Dene, for if so I have something +for you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am. What is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“This,” said the man, drawing out a letter which he handed to her. +</p> + +<p> +“Who gave you this?” asked Betty suspiciously. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know his name, but he was a noble-looking Spanish Don, and a +liberal one too. He had heard of the accident on the <i>Margaret</i>, and, +knowing my errand, asked me if I would deliver this letter to you, for the fee +of a gold ducat, and promise to say nothing of it to any one else.” +</p> + +<p> +“Some rude gallant, doubtless,” said Betty, tossing her head; +“they are ever writing to me. Bide here; I go to Mistress Margaret.” +</p> + +<p> +Once she was outside the door Betty broke the seal of the letter eagerly +enough, for she had been taught with Margaret, and could read well. It ran:<br +/> +</p> + +<p class="letter"> + “BELOVED,<br /> + + “You thought me faithless and gone, but +it is not so. I was silent only because I knew you +could not come alone who are watched; but now +the God of Love gives us our chance. Doubtless +your cousin will bring you with her to visit her father, +who lies on his ship sadly hurt. While she is with +him I have made a plan to rescue you, and then we +can be wed and sail at once—yes, to-night or to-morrow, +for with much trouble, knowing that you +wished it, I have even succeeded in bringing that +about, and a priest will be waiting to marry us. Be +silent, and show no doubt or fear, whatever happens, +lest we should be parted for always. Be sure then +that your cousin comes that you may accompany her. +Remember that your true love waits you. +</p> +<p class="right"> +“C. d’A.”<br /> +</p> + +<p> +When Betty had mastered the contents of this amorous effusion she went pale +with joy, and turned so faint that she was like to fall. Then a doubt struck +her that it might be some trick. No, she knew the writing—it was +d’Aguilar’s, and he was true to her, and would marry her as he had +promised, and take her to be a great lady in Spain. If she hesitated now she +might lose him for ever—him whom she would follow to the end of the +world. In an instant her mind was made up, for Betty had plenty of courage. She +would go, even though she must desert the cousin whom she loved. +</p> + +<p> +Thrusting the letter into her bosom she ran to Margaret’s room, and, +bursting into it, told her of the man and his sad message. But of that letter +she said nothing. Margaret turned white at the news, then, recovering herself, +said: +</p> + +<p> +“I will come and speak with him at once.” And together they went +down the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +To Margaret the sailor repeated his story, nor could all her questions shake +it. He told her how the mischance had happened, for he had seen it, so he said, +and where her father’s hurts were, adding, that although the physician +held that as yet he was in no danger of his life, Master Castell thought +otherwise, and did nothing but cry that his daughter should be brought to him +at once. +</p> + +<p> +Still Margaret doubted and hesitated, for she feared she knew not what. +</p> + +<p> +“Peter should be here within two hours at most,” she said to Betty. +“Would it not be best to wait for him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Margaret, and what if your father should die in the meanwhile? +Perhaps he knows better how deep his hurts are than does this leech. If so, you +would have a sore heart for all your life. Sure you had better go, or at the +least I will.” +</p> + +<p> +Still Margaret wavered, till the sailor said: +</p> + +<p> +“Lady, if it is your will to come, I can guide you to where a boat waits +to take you across the river. If not, I must be gone, for the ship sails with +the moonrise, and they only wait your coming to carry the master, your father, +to the warehouse on shore thinking it best that you should be present. If you +do not come, this will be done as gently as possible, and there you must seek +him to-morrow, alive or dead.” And the man took up his cap as though to +leave. +</p> + +<p> +“I will come with you,” said Margaret. “Betty, you are right; +order the two horses to be saddled, mine and the groom’s, with a pillion +on which you can ride, for I will not send you or go alone, understand that +this sailor has his own horse.” +</p> + +<p> +The man nodded, and accompanied Betty to the stable. Then Margaret took pen and +wrote hastily to Peter, telling him of their evil chance, and bidding him +follow her at once to the ship, or, if it had sailed to the warehouse. “I +am loth to go,” she added “alone with a girl and a strange man, yet +I must since my heart is torn with fear for my beloved father. Sweetheart, +follow me quickly.” +</p> + +<p> +This done, she gave the letter to that servant who had shown in the sailor, +bidding him hand it, without fail, to Master Peter Brome when he came, which +the man promised to do. +</p> + +<p> +Then she fetched plain dark cloaks for herself and Betty, with hoods to them, +that their faces might not be seen, and presently they were mounted. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay!” said Margaret to the sailor as they were about to start. +“How comes it that my father did not send one of his own men instead of +you, and why did none write to me?” +</p> + +<p> +The man looked surprised; he was a very good actor. +</p> + +<p> +“His people were tending him,” he said, “and he bade me to go +because I knew the way, and had a good, hired horse ashore which I have used +when riding with messages to London about new timbers and other matters. As for +writing, the physician began a letter, but he was so slow and long that Master +Castell ordered me to be off without it. It seems,” the man added, +addressing Betty with some irritation, “that Mistress Margaret misdoubts +me. If so, let her find some other guide, or bide at home. It is naught to me, +who have only done as I was bidden.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus did this cunning fellow persuade Margaret that her fears were nothing, +though, remembering the letter from d’Aguilar, Betty was somewhat +troubled. The thing had a strange look, but, poor, vain fool, she thought to +herself that, even if there were some trick, it was certainly arranged only +that she might seem to be taken, who could not come alone. In truth she was +blind and mad, and cared not what she did, though, let this be said for her, +she never dreamed that any harm was meant towards her cousin Margaret, or that +a lie had been told as to Master Castell and his hurts. +</p> + +<p> +Soon they were out of London, and riding swiftly by the road that followed the +north bank of the river, for their guide did not take them over the bridge, as +he said the ship was lying in mid-stream and that the boat would be waiting on +the Tilbury shore. But there was more than twenty miles to travel, and, push on +as they would, night had fallen ere ever they came there. At length, when they +were weary of the dark and the rough road, the sailor pulled up at a spot upon +the river’s brink—where there was a little wharf, but no houses +that they could see—saying that this was the place. Dismounting, he gave +his horse to the groom to hold, and, going to the wharf, asked in a loud voice +if the boat from the <i>Margaret</i> was there, to which a voice answered, +“Aye.” Then he talked for a minute to those in the boat, though +what he said they could not hear, and ran back again, bidding them dismount, +and adding that they had done well to come, as Master Castell was much worse, +and did nothing but cry for his daughter. +</p> + +<p> +The groom he told to lead the horses a little way along the bank till he found +an inn that stood there, where he must await their return or further orders, +and to Betty he suggested that she should go with him, as there was but little +place left in the boat. This she was willing enough to do, thinking it all part +of the plan for her carrying off; but Margaret would have none of it, saying +that unless her cousin came with her she would not stir another step. So +grumbling a little the sailor gave way, and hurried them both to some wooden +steps and down these into a boat, of which they could but dimly see the outline. +</p> + +<p> +So soon as ever they were seated side by side in the stern it was pushed off, +and rowed away rapidly into the darkness, while one of the sailors lit a +lantern which he fastened to the bow, and far out on the river, as though in +answer to the signal, another star of light appeared, towards which they +headed. Now Margaret, speaking through the gloom, asked the rowers of her +father’s state; but the sailor, their guide, prayed her not to trouble +them, as the tide ran very swiftly and they must give all their mind to their +business lest they should overset. So she was silent, and, racked with doubts +and fears, watched that star of light growing ever nearer, till at length it +hung above them. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that the ship <i>Margaret</i>?” cried their guide, and again a +voice answered “Aye.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then tell Master Castell that his daughter has come at last,” he +shouted again, and in another minute a rope had been thrown to them, and they +were fast alongside a ladder on to which Betty, who was nearest to it, was +pushed the first, except for their guide, who had run up the wooden steps very +swiftly. +</p> + +<p> +Betty, who was active and strong, followed him, Margaret coming next. As she +reached the deck Betty thought she heard a voice say in Spanish, of which she +understood something, “Fool! Why have you brought both?” but the +answer she could not catch. Then she turned and gave her hand to Margaret, and +together they walked forward to the foot of the mast. +</p> + +<p> +“Lead me to my father,” said Margaret. +</p> + +<p> +Whereon the guide answered: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, this way, Mistress, but come alone, for the sight of two of you at +once may disturb him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” she answered, “my cousin comes with me.” And she +took Betty’s hand and clung to it. +</p> + +<p> +Shrugging his shoulders the sailor led them forwards, and as they went she +noted that men were hauling on a sail, while other men, who sang a strange, +wild song, worked on what seemed to be a windlass. Now they reached a cabin, +and entered it, the door being shut behind them. In the cabin a man sat at a +table with a lamp hanging over his head. He rose and turned towards them, +bowing, and Margaret saw that it was—<i>d’Aguilar</i>! +</p> + +<p> +Betty stood silent; she had expected to meet him, though not here and thus. Her +foolish heart bounded so at the sight of him that she seemed to choke, and +could only wonder dimly what mistake had been made, and how he would explain to +Margaret and get her away, leaving herself and him together to be married. +Indeed, she searched the cabin with her eyes to see where the priest was +waiting, then noting a door beyond, thought that doubtless he must be hidden +there. As for Margaret, she uttered a little stifled cry, then, being a brave +woman, one of that high nature which grows strong in the face of trouble, +straightened herself to her full height and said in a low, fierce voice: +</p> + +<p> +“What do you here? Where is my father?” +</p> + +<p> +“Señora,” he answered humbly, “I am on board my ship, +the <i>San Antonio</i>, and as for your father, he is either on his ship, the +<i>Margaret</i>, or more likely, by now, at his house in Holborn.” +</p> + +<p> +At these words Margaret reeled back till the wall of the cabin stayed her, and +there she rested. +</p> + +<p> +“Spare me your reproaches,” went on d’Aguilar hurriedly. +“I will tell you all the truth. First, be not anxious as to your father; +no accident has happened to him; he is sound and well. Forgive me if you have +suffered pain and doubt; but there was no other way. That tale was only one of +love’s snares and tricks——” He paused, overcome, +fascinated by Margaret’s face, which of a sudden had grown +awful—that of a goddess of vengeance, of a Medusa, which seemed to chill +his blood to ice. +</p> + +<p> +“A snare! A trick!” she muttered hoarsely, while her eyes flamed on +him like burning stars. “Thus then I pay you for your tricks.” And +in an instant he became aware that she had snatched a dagger from her bosom and +was springing on him. +</p> + +<p> +He could not move; those fearful eyes held him fast. In another moment that +steel would have pierced his heart. But Betty had seen also, and, thrusting her +strong arms about Margaret, held her back, crying: +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, you do not understand. It is I he wants—not you; I whom he +loves, and who love him, and am about to marry him. You he will send back +home.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus05"></a> +<br /> +<img src="images/fig05.jpg" width="393" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">In another moment that steel would have pierced his heart +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“Loose me,” said Margaret, in such a voice that Betty’s arms +fell from her, and she stood there, the dagger still in her hand. +“Now,” she said to d’Aguilar, “the truth, and be swift +with it. What means this woman?” +</p> + +<p> +“She knows best,” answered d’Aguilar uneasily. “It has +pleased her to wrap herself in this web of conceits.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which it has pleased you to spin, perchance. Speak, girl!” +</p> + +<p> +“He made love to me,” gasped Betty; “and I love him. He +promised to marry me. He sent me a letter but to-day—here it is,” +and she drew it out. +</p> + +<p> +“Read,” said Margaret; and Betty read. +</p> + +<p> +“So <i>you</i> have betrayed me,” said Margaret, “you, my +cousin, whom I have sheltered and cherished.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” cried Betty. “I never thought to betray you; sooner +would I have died. I believed that your father was hurt, and that while you +were visiting him that man would take me.” +</p> + +<p> +“What have you to say?” asked Margaret of d’Aguilar in the +same dreadful voice. “You offered your accursed love to me—and to +her, and you have snared us both. Man, what have you to say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only this”, he answered, trying to look brave, “that woman +is a fool, whose vanity I played on that I might make use of her to keep near +to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you hear, Betty? do you hear?” cried Margaret with a terrible +little laugh; but Betty only groaned as though she were dying. +</p> + +<p> +“I love you, and you only,” went on d’Aguilar. “As for +your cousin, I will send her ashore. I have committed this sin because I could +not help myself. The thought that you were to be married to another man +to-morrow drove me mad, and I dared all to take you from his arms, even though +you should never come to mine. Did I not swear to you,” he said with an +attempt at his old gallantry, “that your image should accompany me to +Spain, whither we are sailing now?” And as he spoke the words the ship +lurched a little in the wind. +</p> + +<p> +Margaret made no answer, only toyed with the dagger blade, and watched him with +eyes that glittered more coldly than its steel. +</p> + +<p> +“Kill me, if you will, and have done,” he went on in a voice that +was desperate with love and shame. “So shall I be rid of all this +torment.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Margaret seemed to awake, for she spoke to him in a new voice—a +measured, frozen voice. “No,” she answered, “I will not stain +my hands even with your blood, for why should I rob God of His own vengeance? +If you attempt to touch me, or even to separate me from this poor woman whom +you have fooled, then I will kill—not you, but myself, and I swear to you +that my ghost shall accompany you to Spain, and from Spain down to the hell +that awaits you. Listen, Carlos d’Aguilar, Marquis of Morella, this I +know about you, that you believe in God and hear His anger. Well, I call down +upon you the vengeance of Almighty God. I see it hang above your head. I say +that it shall fall upon you, waking and sleeping, loving and hating, in life +and in death to all eternity. Do your worst, for you shall do it all in vain. +Whether I die or whether I live, every pang that you cause me to suffer, every +misery that you have brought, or shall bring, upon the head of my betrothed, my +father, and this woman, shall be repaid to you a millionfold in this world and +the next. Now do you still wish that I should accompany you to Spain, or will +you let me go?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot,” he answered hoarsely; “it is too late.” +</p> + +<p> +“So be it, I will accompany you to Spain, I and Betty Dene, and the +vengeance of Almighty God that hovers over you. Of this at least be +sure—I hate you, I despise you, but I fear you not at all. Go.” +Then d’Aguilar stumbled from that cabin, and the two women heard the door +bolted behind him. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap10"></a>CHAPTER X.<br /> +THE CHASE.</h2> + +<p> +About the time that Margaret and Betty were being rowed aboard the <i>San +Antonio</i>, Peter Brome and his servants, who had been delayed an hour or more +by the muddy state of the roads, pulled rein at the door of the house in +Holborn. For over a month he had been dreaming of this moment of return, as a +man does who expects such a welcome as he knew awaited him, and who on the +morrow was to be wed to a lovely and beloved bride. He had thought how Margaret +would be watching at the window, how, spying him advancing down the street, she +would speed to the door, how he would leap from his horse and take her to his +arms in front of every one if need be—for why should they be ashamed who +were to be wed upon the morrow? +</p> + +<p> +But there was no Margaret at the window, or at any rate he could not see her, +for it was dark. There was not even a light; indeed the whole face of the old +house seemed to frown at him through the gloom. Still, Peter played his part +according to the plan; that is, he leapt from his horse, ran to the door and +tried to enter, but could not for it was locked, so he hammered on it with the +handle of his sword, till at length some one came and unbolted. It was the +hired man with whom Margaret had left the letter, and he held a lantern in his +hand. +</p> + +<p> +The sight of him frightened Peter, striking a chill to his heart. +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you?” he asked; then, without waiting for an answer, went +on, “Where are Master Castell and Mistress Margaret?” +</p> + +<p> +The man answered that the master was not yet back from his ship, and that the +Lady Margaret had gone out nearly three hours before with her cousin Betty and +a sailor—all of them on horseback. +</p> + +<p> +“She must have ridden to meet me, and missed us in the dark,” said +Peter aloud, whereon the man asked whether he spoke to Master Brome, since, if +so, he had a letter for him. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered Peter, and snatched it from his hand, bidding him +close the door and hold up the lantern while he read, for he could see that the +writing was that of Margaret. +</p> + +<p> +“A strange story,” he muttered, as he finished it. “Well, I +must away,” and he turned to the door again. +</p> + +<p> +As he stretched out his hand to the key, it opened, and through it came +Castell, as sound as ever he had been. +</p> + +<p> +“Welcome, Peter!” he cried in a jolly voice. “I knew you were +here, for I saw the horses; but why are you not with Margaret?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because Margaret has gone to be with you, who should be hurt almost to +death, or so says this letter.” +</p> + +<p> +“To be with me—hurt to the death! Give it me—nay, read it, I +cannot see.” +</p> + +<p> +So Peter read. +</p> + +<p> +“I scent a plot,” said Castell in a strained voice as he finished, +“and I think that hound of a Spaniard is at the bottom of it, or Betty, +or both. Here, you fellow, tell us what you know, and be swift if you would +keep a sound skin.” +</p> + +<p> +“That would I, why not?” answered the man, and told all the tale of +the coming of the sailor. +</p> + +<p> +“Go, bid the men bring back the horses, all of them,” said Castell +almost before he had done; “and, Peter, look not so dazed, but come, +drink a cup of wine. We shall need it, both of us, before this night is over. +What! is there never a fellow of all my servants in the house?” So he +shouted till his folk, who had returned with him from the ship, came running +from the kitchen. +</p> + +<p> +He bade them bring food and liquor, and while they gulped down the wine, for +they could not eat, Castell told how their Mistress Margaret had been tricked +away, and must be followed. Then, hearing the horses being led back from the +stables, they ran to the door and mounted, and, followed by their men, a dozen +or more of them, in all, galloped off into the darkness, taking another road +for Tilbury, that by which Margaret went, not because they were sure of this, +but because it was the shortest. +</p> + +<p> +But the horses were tired, and the night was dark and rainy, so it came about +that the clock of some church struck three of the morning before ever they drew +near to Tilbury. Now they were passing the little quay where Margaret and Betty +had entered the boat, Castell and Peter riding side by side ahead of the others +in stern silence, for they had nothing to say, when a familiar voice hailed +them—that of Thomas the groom. +</p> + +<p> +“I saw your horses’ heads against the sky,” he explained, +“and knew them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is your mistress?” they asked both in a breath. +</p> + +<p> +“Gone, gone with Betty Dene in a boat, from this quay, to be rowed to the +<i>Margaret</i>, or so I thought. Having stabled the horses as I was bidden, I +came back here to await them. But that was hours ago, and I have seen no soul, +and heard nothing except the wind and the water, till I heard the galloping of +your horses.” +</p> + +<p> +“On to Tilbury, and get boats,” said Castell. “We must catch +the <i>Margaret</i> ere she sails at dawn. Perhaps the women are aboard of +her.” +</p> + +<p> +“If so, I think Spaniards took them there, for I am sure they were not +English in that craft,” said Thomas, as he ran by the side of +Castell’s horse, holding to the stirrup leather. +</p> + +<p> +His master made no answer, only Peter groaned aloud, for he too was sure that +they were Spaniards. +</p> + +<p> +An hour later, just as the dawn broke, they with their men climbed to the deck +of the <i>Margaret</i> while she was hauling up her anchor. A few words with +her captain, Jacob Smith, told them the worst. No boat had left the ship, no +Margaret had come aboard her. But some six hours before they had watched the +Spanish vessel, <i>San Antonio</i>, that had been berthed above them, pass down +the river. Moreover, two watermen in a skiff, who brought them fresh meat, had +told them that while they were delivering three sheep and some fowls to the +<i>San Antonio</i>, just before she sailed, they had seen two tall women helped +up her ladder, and heard one of them say in English, “Lead me to my +father.” +</p> + +<p> +Now they knew all the awful truth, and stared at each other like dumb men. +</p> + +<p> +It was Peter who found his tongue the first, and said slowly: +</p> + +<p> +“I must away to Spain to find my bride, if she still lives, and to kill +that fox. Get you home, Master Castell.” +</p> + +<p> +“My home is where my daughter is,” answered Castell fiercely. +“I go a-sailing also.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is danger for you in that land of Spaniards, if ever we get +yonder,” said Peter meaningly. +</p> + +<p> +“If it were the mouth of hell, still I would go,” replied Castell. +“Why should I not who seek a devil?” +</p> + +<p> +“That we do both,” said Peter, and stretching out his hand he took +that of Castell. It was the pledge of the father and the lover to follow her +who was all to them, till death stayed their quest. +</p> + +<p> +Castell thought a little while, then gave orders that all the crew should be +called together on deck in the waist of the ship, which was a carack of about +two hundred tons burden, round fashioned, and sitting deep in the water, but +very strongly built of oak, and a swift sailer. When they were gathered, and +with them the officers and their own servants, accompanied by Peter, he went +and addressed them just as the sun was rising. In few and earnest words he told +them of the great outrage that had been done, and how it was his purpose and +that of Peter Brome who had been wickedly robbed of the maid who this day +should have become his wife, to follow the thieves across the sea to Spain, in +the hope that by the help of God, they might rescue Margaret and Betty. He +added that he knew well this was a service of danger, since it might chance +that there would be fighting, and he was loth to ask any man to risk life or +limb against his will, especially as they came out to trade and not to fight. +Still, to those who chose to accompany them, should they win through safely, he +promised double wage, and a present charged upon his estate, and would give +them writings to that effect. As for those who did not, they could leave the +ship now before she sailed. +</p> + +<p> +When he had finished, the sailormen, of whom there were about thirty, with the +stout-hearted captain, Jacob Smith, a sturdy-built man of fifty years of age, +at the head of them, conferred together, and at last, with one +exception—that of a young new-married man, whose heart failed +him—they accepted the offer, swearing that they would see the thing +through to the end, were it good or ill, for they were all Englishmen, and no +lovers of the Spaniards. Moreover, so bitter a wrong stirred their blood. +Indeed, although for the most part they were not sailors, six of the twelve men +who had ridden with them from London prayed that they might come too, for the +love they had to Margaret, their master, and Peter; and they took them. The +other six they sent ashore again, bearing letters to Castell’s friends, +agents, and reeves, as to the transfer of his business and the care of his +lands, houses, and other properties during his absence. Also, they took a short +will duly signed by Castell and witnessed, wherein he left all his goods of +whatever sort that remained unsettled or undevised, to Margaret and Peter, or +the survivor of them, or their heirs, or failing these, for the purpose of +founding a hospital for the poor. Then these men bade them farewell and +departed, very heavy at heart, just as the anchor was hauled home, and the +sails began to draw in the stiff morning breeze. +</p> + +<p> +About ten o’clock they rounded the Nore bank safely, and here spoke a +fishing-boat, who told them that more than six hours before they had seen the +<i>San Antonio</i> sail past them down Channel, and noted two women standing on +her deck, holding each other’s hands and gazing shorewards. Then, knowing +that there was no mistake, there being nothing more that they could do, worn +out with grief and journeying, they ate some food and went to their cabin to +sleep. +</p> + +<p> +As he laid him down Peter remembered that at this very hour he should have been +in church taking Margaret as his bride—Margaret, who was now in the power +of the Spaniard—and swore a great and bitter oath that d’Aguilar +should pay him back for all this shame and agony. Indeed, could his enemy have +seen the look on Peter’s face he might well have been afraid, for this +Peter was an ill man to cross, and had no forgiving heart; also, his wrong was +deep. +</p> + +<p> +For four days the wind held, and they ran down Channel before it, hoping to +catch sight of the Spaniard; but the <i>San Antonio</i> was a swift caravel of +250 tons with much canvas, for she carried four masts, and although the +<i>Margaret</i> was also a good sailer, she had but two masts, and could not +come up with her. Or, for anything they knew, they might have missed her on the +seas. On the afternoon of the fourth day, when they were off the Lizard, and +creeping along very slowly under a light breeze, the look-out man reported a +ship lying becalmed ahead. Peter, who had the eyes of a hawk, climbed up the +mast to look at her, and presently called down that he believed from her shape +and rig she must be the caravel, though of this he could not be sure as he had +never seen her. Then the captain, Smith, went up also, and a few minutes later +returned saying that without doubt it was the <i>San Antonio.</i> +</p> + +<p> +Now there was a great and joyful stir on board the <i>Margaret</i>, every man +seeing to his sword and their long or cross bows, of which there were plenty, +although they had no bombards or cannon, that as yet were rare on merchant +ships. Their plan was to run alongside the <i>San Antonio</i> and board her, +for thus they hoped to recover Margaret. As for the anger of the king, which +might well fall on them for this deed, since he would think little of the +stealing of a pair of Englishwomen, of that they must take their chance. +</p> + +<p> +Within half an hour everything was ready, and Peter, pacing to and fro, looked +happier than he had done since he rode away to Dedham. The light breeze still +held, although, if it reached the <i>San Antonio</i>, it did not seem to move +her, and, with the help of it, by degrees they came to within half a mile of +the caravel. Then the wind dropped altogether, and there the two ships lay. +Still the set of the tide, or some current, seemed to be drawing them towards +each other, so that when the night closed in they were not more than four +hundred paces apart, and the Englishmen had great hopes that before morning +they would close, and be able to board by the light of the moon. +</p> + +<p> +But this was not to be, since about nine o’clock thick clouds rose up +which covered the heavens, while with the clouds came strong winds blowing off +the land, and, when at length the dawn broke, all they could see of the <i>San +Antonio</i> was her topmasts as she rose upon the seas, flying southwards +swiftly. This, indeed, was the last sight they had of her for two long weeks. +</p> + +<p> +From Ushant all across the Bay the airs were very light and variable, but when +at length they came off Finisterre a gale sprang up from the north-east which +drove them forward very fast. It was on the second night of this gale, as the +sun set, that, running out of some mist and rain, suddenly they saw the <i>San +Antonio</i> not a mile away, and rejoiced, for now they knew that she had not +made for any port in the north of Spain, as, although she was bound for Cadiz, +they feared she might have done to trick them. Then the rain came on again, and +they saw her no more. +</p> + +<p> +All down the coast of Portugal the weather grew more heavy day by day, and when +they reached St. Vincent’s Cape and bore round for Cadiz, it blew a great +gale. Now it was that for the third time they viewed the <i>San Antonio</i> +labouring ahead of them, nor, except at night, did they lose sight of her any +more until the end of that voyage. Indeed, on the next day they nearly came up +with her, for she tried to beat in to Cadiz, but, losing one of her masts in a +fierce squall, and seeing that the <i>Margaret</i>, which sailed better in this +tempest, would soon be aboard of her, abandoned her plan, and ran for the +Straits of Gibraltar. +</p> + +<p> +Past Tarifa Point they went, having the coast of Africa on their right; past +the bay of Algeçiras, where the <i>San Antonio</i> did not try to +harbour; past Gibraltar’s grey old rock, where the signal fires were +burning, and so at nightfall, with not a mile between them, out into the +Mediterranean Sea. +</p> + +<p> +Here the gale was furious, so that they could scarcely carry a rag of canvas, +and before morning lost one of their topmasts. It was an anxious night, for +they knew not if they would live through it; moreover, the hearts of Castell +and of Peter were torn with fear lest the Spaniard should founder and take +Margaret with her to the bottom of the sea. When at length the wild, stormy +dawn broke, however, they saw her, apparently in an evil case, labouring away +upon their starboard bow, and by noon came to within a furlong of her, so that +they could see the sailors crawling about on her high poop and stern. Yes, and +they saw more than this, for presently two women ran from some cabin waving a +white cloth to them; then were hustled back, whereby they learned that Margaret +and Betty still lived and knew that they followed, and thanked God. Presently, +also, there was a flash, and, before ever they heard the report, a great iron +bullet fell upon their decks and, rebounding, struck a sailor, who stood by +Peter, on the breast, and dashed him away into the sea. The <i>San Antonio</i> +had fired the bombard which she carried, but as no more shots came they judged +that the cannon had broke its lashings or burst. +</p> + +<p> +A while after the <i>San Antonio</i>, two of whose masts were gone, tried to +put about and run for Malaga, which they could see far away beneath the +snow-capped mountains of the Sierra. But this the Spaniard could not do, for +while she hung in the wind the <i>Margaret</i> came right atop of her, and as +her men laboured at the sails, every one of the Englishmen who could be spared, +under the command of Peter, let loose on them with their long shafts and +crossbows, and, though the heaving deck of the <i>Margaret</i> was no good +platform, and the wind bent the arrows from their line, they killed and wounded +eight or ten of them, causing them to loose the ropes so that the <i>San +Antonio</i> swung round into the gale again. On the high tower of the caravel, +his arm round the sternmost mast, stood d’Aguilar, shouting commands to +his crew. Peter fitted an arrow to his string and, waiting until the +<i>Margaret</i> was poised for a moment on the crest of a great sea, aimed and +loosed, making allowance for the wind. +</p> + +<p> +True to line sped that shaft of his, yet, alas! a span too high, for when a +moment later d’Aguilar leapt from the mast, the arrow quivered in its +wood, and pinned to it was the velvet cap he wore. Peter ground his teeth in +rage and disappointment; almost he could have wept, for the vessels swung apart +again, and his chance was gone. +</p> + +<p> +“Five times out of seven,” he said bitterly, “can I send a +shaft through a bull’s ring at fifty paces to win a village badge, and +now I cannot hit a man to save my love from shame. Surely God has forsaken +me!” +</p> + +<p> +Through all that afternoon they held on, shooting with their bows whenever a +Spaniard showed himself, and being shot at in return, though little damage was +done to either side. But this they noted—that the <i>San Antonio</i> had +sprung a leak in the gale, for she was sinking deeper in the water. The +Spaniards knew it also, and, being aware that they must either run ashore or +founder, for the second time put about, and, under the rain of English arrows, +came right across the bows of the <i>Margaret</i>, heading for the little bay +of Calahonda, that is the port of Motril, for here the shore was not much more +than a league away. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said Jacob Smith, the captain of the <i>Margaret</i>, who +stood under the shelter of the bulwarks with Castell and Peter, “up that +bay lies a Spanish town. I know it, for I have anchored there, and if once the +<i>San Antonio</i> reaches it, good-bye to our lady, for they will take her to +Granada, not thirty miles away across the mountains, where this Marquis of +Morella is a mighty man, for there is his palace. Say then, master, what shall +we do? In five more minutes the Spaniard will be across our bows again. Shall +we run her down, which will be easy, and take our chance of picking up the +women, or shall we let them be taken captive to Granada and give up the +chase?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never,” said Peter. “There is another thing that we can +do—follow them into the bay, and attack them there on shore.” +</p> + +<p> +“To find ourselves among hundreds of the Spaniards, and have our throats +cut,” answered Smith, the captain, coolly. +</p> + +<p> +“If we ran them down,” asked Castell, who had been thinking deeply +all this while, “should we not sink also?” +</p> + +<p> +“It might be so,” answered Smith; “but we are built of +English oak, and very stout forward, and I think not. But she would sink at +once, being near to it already, and the odds are that the women are locked in +the cabin or between decks out of reach of the arrows, and must go with +her.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is another plan,” said Peter sternly, “and that is to +grapple with her and board her, and this I will do.” +</p> + +<p> +The captain, a stout man with a flat face that never changed, lifted his +eyebrows, which was his only way of showing surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“What!” he said. “In this sea? I have fought in some wars, +but never have I known such a thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, friend, you shall know it now, if I can but find a dozen men to +follow me,” answered Peter with a savage laugh. “What? Shall I see +my mistress carried off before my eyes and strike no blow to save her? Rather +will I trust in God and do it, and if I die, then die I must, as a man should. +There is no other way.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he turned and called in a loud voice to those who stood around or loosed +arrows at the Spaniard: +</p> + +<p> +“Who will come with me aboard yonder ship? Those who live shall spend +their days in ease thereafter, that I promise, and those who fall will win +great fame and Heaven’s glory.” +</p> + +<p> +The crew looked at the waves running hill high, and the water-logged Spaniard +labouring in the trough of them as she came round slowly in a wide circle, very +doubtfully, as well they might, and made no answer. Then Peter spoke again. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no choice,” he said. “If we give that ship our stem +we can sink her, but then how will the women be saved? If we leave her alone, +mayhap she will founder, and then how will the women be saved? Or she may win +ashore, and they will be carried away to Granada, and how can we snatch them +out of the hand of the Moors or of the power of Spain? But if we can take the +ship, we may rescue them before they go down or reach land. Will none back me +at this inch?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, son,” said old Castell, “I will.” +</p> + +<p> +Peter stared at him in surprise. “You—at your years!” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, at my years. Why not? I have the fewer to risk.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, as though he were ashamed of his doubts, one brawny sailorman stepped +forward and said that he was ready for a cut at the Spanish thieves in foul +weather as in fair. Next all Castell’s household servants came out in a +body for love of him and Peter and their lady, and after them more sailors, +till nearly half of those aboard, something over twenty in all, declared that +they were ready for the venture, wherein Peter cried, “Enough.” +Smith would have come also; but Castell said No, he must stop with the ship. +</p> + +<p> +Then, while the carack’s head was laid so as to cut the path of the +<i>San Antonio</i> circling round them slowly like a wounded swan, and the +boarders made ready their swords and knives, for here archery would not avail +them, Castell gave some orders to the captain. He bade him, if they were cut +down or taken, to put about and run for Seville, and there deliver over the +ship and her cargo to his partners and correspondents, praying them in his name +to do their best by means of gold, for which the sale value of the vessel and +her goods should be chargeable, or otherwise, to procure the release of +Margaret and Betty, if they still lived, and to bring d’Aguilar, the +Marquis of Morella, to account for his crime. This done, he called to one of +his servants to buckle on him a light steel breastplate from the ship’s +stores. But Peter would wear no iron because it was too heavy, only an +archer’s jerkin of bull-hide, stout enough to turn a sword-cut, such as +the other boarders put on also with steel caps, of both of which they had a +plenty in the cabin. +</p> + +<p> +Now the <i>San Antonio</i>, having come round, was steering for the mouth of +the bay in such fashion that she would pass them within fifty yards. Hoisting a +small sail to give his ship way, the captain, Smith, took the helm of the +<i>Margaret</i> and steered straight at her so as to cut her path, while the +boarders, headed by Peter and Castell, gathered near the bowsprit, lay down +there under shelter of the bulwarks, and waited. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap11"></a>CHAPTER XI.<br /> +THE MEETING ON THE SEA.</h2> + +<p> +For another minute or more the <i>San Antonio</i> held on until she divined the +desperate purpose of her foe. Then, seeing that soon the carack’s prow +must crash into her frail side, she shifted her helm and came round several +points, so that in the end the <i>Margaret</i> ran, not into her, but alongside +of her, grinding against her planking, and shearing away a great length of her +bulwark. For a few seconds they hung together thus, and, before the seas bore +them apart, grapnels were thrown from the <i>Margaret</i> whereof one forward +got hold and brought them bow to bow. Thus the end of the bowsprit of the +<i>Margaret</i> projected over the high deck of the <i>San Antonio</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“Now for it,” said Peter. “Follow me, all.” And +springing up, he ran to the bowsprit and began to swarm along it. +</p> + +<p> +It was a fearful task. One moment the great seas lifted him high into the air, +and the next down he came again till the massive spar crashed on to the deck of +the <i>San Antonio</i> with such a shock that he nearly flew from it like a +stone from a sling. Yet he hung on, and, biding his chance, seized a broken +stay-rope that dangled from the end of the bowsprit like a lash from a whip, +and began to slide down it. The gale caught him and blew him to and fro; the +vessel, pitching wildly, jerked him into the air; the deck of the <i>San +Antonio</i> rose up and receded like a thing alive. It was near—not a +dozen feet beneath him—and loosing his hold he fell upon the forward +tower without being hurt then, gaining his feet, ran to the broken mast and +flinging his left arm about it, with the other drew his sword. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus06"></a> +<br /> +<img src="images/fig06.jpg" width="398" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">The gale caught him and blew him to and fro +</p> +</div> + +<p> +Next instant—how, he never knew—Castell was at his side, and after +him came two more men, but one of these rolled from the deck into the sea and +was lost. As he vanished, the chain of the grappling iron parted, and the +<i>Margaret</i> swung away from them, leaving those three alone in the power of +their foes, nor, do what she would, could she make fast again. As yet, however, +there were no Spaniards to be seen, for the reason that none had dared to stand +upon this high tower whereof the bulwarks were all gone, while the bowsprit of +the <i>Margaret</i> crashed down upon it like a giant’s club, and, as she +rolled, swept it with its point. +</p> + +<p> +So there they stood, clinging to the mast and waiting for the end, for now +their friends were a hundred yards away, and they knew that their case was +desperate. A shower of arrows came, loosed from other parts of the ship, and +one of these struck the man with them through the throat, so that he fell to +the deck clasping at it, and presently rolled into the sea also. Another +pierced Castell through his right forearm, causing his sword to drop and slide +away from him. Peter seized the arrow, snapped it in two, and drew it out; but +Castell’s right arm was now helpless, and with his left he could do no +more than cling to the broken mast. +</p> + +<p> +“We have done our best, son,” he said, “and failed. Margaret +will learn that we would have saved her if we could, but we shall not meet her +here.” +</p> + +<p> +Peter ground his teeth, and looked about him desperately, for he had no words +to say. What should he do? Leave Castell and rush for the waist of the ship and +so perish, or stay and die there? Nay, he would not be butchered like a bird on +a bough, he would fall fighting. +</p> + +<p> +“Farewell,” he called through the gale. “God rest our +souls!” Then, waiting till the ship steadied herself, he ran aft, and +reaching the ladder that led to her tower, staggered down it to the waist of +the vessel, and at its foot halted, holding to the rail. +</p> + +<p> +The scene before him was strange enough, for there, ranged round the bulwarks, +were the Spanish men, who watched him curiously, whilst a few paces away, +resting against the mast, stood d’Aguilar, who lifted his hand, in which +there was no weapon, and addressed him. +</p> + +<p> +“Señor Brome,” he shouted, “do not move another step +or you are a dead man. Listen to me first, and then do what you will. Am I safe +from your sword while I speak?” +</p> + +<p> +Peter nodded his head in assent, and d’Aguilar drew nearer, for even in +that more sheltered place it was hard to hear because of the howling of the +tempest. +</p> + +<p> +“Señor,” he said to Peter, “you are a very brave man, +and have done a deed such as none of us have seen before; therefore, I wish to +spare you if I may. Also, I have worked you bitter wrong, driven to it by the +might of love and jealousy, for which reason also I wish to spare you. To set +upon you now would be but murder, and, whatever else I do, I will not murder. +First, let me ease your mind. Your lady and mine is aboard here; but fear not, +she has come and will come to no harm from me, or from any man while I live. If +for no other reason, I do not desire to affront one who, I hope, will be my +wife by her own free will, and whom I have brought to Spain that she might not +make this impossible by becoming yours. Señor, believe me, I would no +more force a woman’s will than I would do murder on her lover.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did you, then, when you snatched her from her home by some foul +trick?” asked Peter fiercely. +</p> + +<p> +“Señor, I did wrong to her and all of you, for which I would make +amends.” +</p> + +<p> +“What amends? Will you give her back to me?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, that I cannot do, even if she should wish it, of which I am not +sure; no—never while I live.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bring her forth, and let us hear whether she wishes it or no,” +shouted Peter, hoping that his words would reach Margaret. +</p> + +<p> +But d’Aguilar only smiled and shook his head, then went on: +</p> + +<p> +“That I cannot either, for it would give her pain. Still, Señor, I +will repay the heavy debt that I owe to you, and to you also, +Señor.” And he bowed towards Castell who, unseen by Peter, had +crept down the ladder, and now stood behind him staring at d’Aguilar with +cold rage and indignation. “You have wrought us much damage, have you +not? hunting us across the seas, and killing sundry of us with your arrows, and +now you have striven to board our ship and put us to the sword, a design in +which God has frustrated you. Therefore your lives are justly forfeit, and none +would blame us if we slew you. Yet I spare you both. If it is possible I will +put you back aboard the <i>Margaret</i>, and if it is not possible you shall be +set free ashore to go unmolested whither you will. Thus I will wipe out my debt +and be free of all reproach.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you take me for such a man as yourself?” asked Peter, with a +bitter laugh. “I do not leave this ship alive unless my affianced wife, +Mistress Margaret, goes with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, Señor Brome, I fear that you will leave it dead, as indeed +we may all of us, unless we make land soon, for the vessel is filling fast with +water. Still, knowing your metal, I looked for some such words from you, and am +prepared with another offer which I am sure you will not refuse. Señor, +our swords are much of the same length, shall we measure them against each +other? I am a grandee of Spain, the Marquis of Morella, and it will, therefore, +be no dishonour for you to fight with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not so sure,” said Peter, “for I am more than +that—an honest man of England, who never practised woman-stealing. Still, +I will fight you gladly, at sea or on shore, wherever and whenever we meet, +till one or both are dead. But what is the stake, and how do I know that some +of these,” and he pointed to the crew, who were listening intently, +“will not stab me from behind?” +</p> + +<p> +“Señor, I have told you that I do not murder, and that would be +the foulest murder. As for the stake, it is Margaret to the victor. If you kill +me, on behalf of all my company, I swear by our Saviour’s Blood that you +shall depart with her and her father unharmed, and if I kill you, then you both +shall swear that she shall be left with me, and no suit or question raised but +to her woman I give liberty, who have seen more than enough of her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” broke in Castell, speaking for the first time, “I +demand the right to fight with you also when my arm is healed.” +</p> + +<p> +“I refuse it,” answered d’Aguilar haughtily. “I cannot +lift my sword against an old man who is the father of the maid who shall be my +wife, and, moreover, a merchant and a Jew. Nay, answer me not, lest all these +should remember your ill words. I will be generous, and leave you out of the +oath. Do your worst against me, Master Castell, and then leave me to do my +worst against you. Señor Brome, the light grows bad, and the water gains +upon us. Say, are you ready?” +</p> + +<p> +Peter nodded his head, and they stepped forward. +</p> + +<p> +“One more word,” said d’Aguilar, dropping his sword-point. +“My friends, you have heard our compact. Do you swear to abide by it, +and, if I fall, to set these two men and the two ladies free on their own ship +or on the land, for the honour of chivalry and of Spain?” +</p> + +<p> +The captain of the <i>San Antonio</i> and his lieutenants answered that they +swore on behalf of all the crew. +</p> + +<p> +“You hear, Señor Brome. Now these are the conditions—that we +fight to the death, but, if both of us should be hurt or wounded, so that we +cannot despatch each other, then no further harm shall be done to either of us, +who shall be tended till we recover or die by the will of God.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean that we must die on each other’s swords or not at all, +and if any foul chance should overtake either, other than by his +adversary’s hand, that adversary shall not dispatch him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Señor, for in our case such things may happen,” and he +pointed to the huge seas that towered over them, threatening to engulf the +water-logged caravel. “We will take no advantage of each other, who wish +to fight this quarrel out with our own right arms.” +</p> + +<p> +“So be it,” said Peter, “and Master Castell here is the +witness to our bargain.” +</p> + +<p> +d’Aguilar nodded, kissed the cross-hilt of his sword in confirmation of +the pact, bowed courteously, and put himself on his defence. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment they stood facing each other, a well-matched pair—Peter, +lean, fierce-faced, long-armed, a terrible man to see in the fiery light that +broke upon him from beneath the edge of a black cloud; the Spaniard tall also, +and agile, but to all appearance as unconcerned as though this were but a +pleasure bout, and not a duel to the death with a woman’s fate hanging on +the hazard. d’Aguilar wore a breastplate of gold-inlaid black steel and a +helmet, while Peter had but his tunic of bull’s hide and iron-lined cap, +though his straight cut-and-thrust sword was heavier and mayhap half an inch +longer than that of his foe. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, then, they stood while Castell and all the ship’s company, save the +helmsman who steered her to the harbour’s mouth, clung to the bulwarks +and the cordage of the mainmast, and, forgetful of their own peril, watched in +utter silence. +</p> + +<p> +It was Peter who thrust the first, straight at the throat, but d’Aguilar +parried deftly, so that the sword point went past his neck, and before it could +be drawn back again, struck at Peter. The blow fell upon the side of his steel +cap, and glanced thence to his left shoulder, but, being light, did him no +harm. Swiftly came the answer, which was not light, for it fell so heavily upon +d’Aguilar’s breastplate, that he staggered back. After him sprang +Peter, thinking that the game was his, but at that moment the ship, which had +entered the breakers of the harbour bar, rolled terribly, and sent them both +reeling to the bulwarks. Nor did she cease her rolling, so that, smiting and +thrusting wildly, they staggered backwards and forwards across the deck, +gripping with their left hands at anything they could find to steady them, till +at length, bruised and breathless, they fell apart unwounded, and rested awhile. +</p> + +<p> +“An ill field this to fight on, Señor,” gasped +d’Aguilar. +</p> + +<p> +“I think that it will serve our turn,” said Peter grimly, and +rushed at him like a bull. It was just then that a great sea came aboard the +ship, a mass of green water which struck them both and washed them like straws +into the scuppers, where they rolled half drowned. Peter rose the first, +coughing out salt water, and rubbing it from his eyes, to see d’Aguilar +still upon the deck, his sword lying beside him, and holding his right wrist +with his left hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Who gave you the hurt?” he asked, “I or your fall?” +</p> + +<p> +“The fall, Señor,” answered d’Aguilar; “I think +that it has broken my wrist. But I have still my left hand. Suffer me to arise, +and we will finish this fray.” +</p> + +<p> +As the words passed his lips a gust of wind, more furious than any that had +gone before, concentrated as it was through a gorge in the mountains, struck +the caravel at the very mouth of the harbour, and laid her over on her beam +ends. For a while it seemed as though she must capsize and sink, till suddenly +her mainmast snapped like a stick and went overboard, when, relieved of its +weight, by slow degrees she righted herself. Down upon the deck came the cross +yard, one end of it crashing through the roof of the cabin in which Margaret +and Betty were confined, splitting it in two, while a block attached to the +other fell upon the side of Peter’s head and, glancing from the steel +cap, struck him on the neck and shoulder, hurling him senseless to the deck, +where, still grasping his sword, he lay with arms outstretched. +</p> + +<p> +Out of the ruin of the cabin appeared Margaret and Betty, the former very pale +and frightened, and the latter muttering prayers, but, as it chanced, both +uninjured. Clinging to the tangled ropes they crept forward, seeking refuge in +the waist of the ship, for the heavy spar still worked and rolled above them, +resting on the wreck of the cabin and the bulwarks, whence presently it slid +into the sea. By the stump of the broken mainmast they halted, their long locks +streaming in the gale, and here it was that Margaret caught sight of Peter +lying upon his back, his face red with blood, and sliding to and fro as the +vessel rolled. +</p> + +<p> +She could not speak, but in mute appeal pointed first to him and then to +d’Aguilar, who stood near, remembering as she did so her vision in the +house at Holborn, which was thus terribly fulfilled. Holding to a rope, +d’Aguilar drew near to her and spoke into her ear. “Lady,” he +said, “this is no deed of mine. We were fighting a fair fight, for he had +boarded the ship when the mast fell and killed him. Blame me not for his death, +but seek comfort from God.” +</p> + +<p> +She heard, and, looking round her wildly, perceived her father struggling +towards her; then, with a bitter cry, fell senseless on his breast. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus07"></a> +<br /> +<img src="images/fig07.jpg" width="390" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“Lady,” he said, “this is no deed of mine” +</p> +</div> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap12"></a>CHAPTER XII.<br /> +FATHER HENRIQUES.</h2> + +<p> +The night came down swiftly, for a great stormcloud, in which jagged lightning +played, blotted out the last rays of the sunk sun. Then, with rolling thunder +and torrents of rain, the tempest burst over the sinking ship. The mariners +could no longer see to steer, they knew not whither they were going, only the +lessened seas told them that they had entered the harbour mouth. Presently the +<i>San Antonio</i> struck upon a rock, and the shock of it threw Castell, who +was bending over the senseless shape of Margaret, against the bulwarks and +dazed him. +</p> + +<p> +There arose a great cry of “The vessel founders!” and water seemed +to be pouring on the deck, though whether this were from the sea or from the +deluge of the falling rain he did not know. Then came another cry of “Get +out the boat, or we perish!” and a sound of men working in the darkness. +The ship swung round and round and settled down. There was a flash of +lightning, and by it Castell saw Betty holding the unconscious Margaret in her +strong arms. She saw him also, and screamed to him to come to the boat. He +started to obey, then remembered Peter. Peter might not be dead; what should he +say to Margaret if he left him there to drown? He crept to where he lay upon +the deck, and called to a sailor who rushed by to help him. The man answered +with a curse, and vanished into the deep gloom. So, unaided, Castell essayed +the task of lifting this heavy body, but his right arm being almost useless, +could do no more than drag it into a sitting posture, and thus, by slow +degrees, across the deck to where he imagined the boat to be. +</p> + +<p> +But here there was no boat, and now the sound of voices came from the other +side of the ship, so he must drag it back again. By the time he reached the +starboard bulwarks all was silent, and another flash of lightning showed him +the boat, crowded with people, upon the crest of a wave, fifty yards or more +from him, whilst others, who had not been able to enter, clung to its stern and +gunwale. He shouted aloud, but no answer came, either because none were left +living on the ship, or because in all that turmoil they could not hear him. +</p> + +<p> +Then Castell, knowing that he had done everything that he could, dragged Peter +under the overhanging deck of the forward tower, which gave some little shelter +from the rain, and, laying his bleeding head upon his knees so that it might be +lifted above the wash of the waters, sat himself down and began to say prayers +after the Jewish fashion whilst awaiting his end. +</p> + +<p> +That he was about to die he had no doubt, for the waist of the ship, as he +could perceive by the lightning, was almost level with the sea, which, however, +here in the harbour was now much calmer than it had been. This he knew, for +although the rain still fell steadily and the wind howled above, no spray broke +over them. Deeper and deeper sank the caravel as she drifted onwards, till at +length the water washed over her deck from side to side, so that Castell was +obliged to seat himself on the second step of the ladder down which Peter had +charged up on the Spaniards. A while passed, and he became aware that the +<i>San Antonio</i> had ceased to move, and wondered what this might mean. The +storm had rolled away now, and he could see the stars; also with it went the +wind. The night grew warmer, too, which was well for him, for otherwise, wet as +he was, he must have perished. Still it was a long night, the longest that ever +he had spent, nor did any sleep come to relieve his misery or make his end +easier, for the pain from the arrow wound in his arm kept him awake. +</p> + +<p> +So there he sat, wondering if Margaret was dead, as Peter seemed to be dead, +and if so, whether their spirits were watching him now, watching and waiting +till he joined them. He thought, too, of the days of his prosperity until he +had seen the accursed face of d’Aguilar, and of all the worthless wealth +that was his, and what would become of it. He hoped even that Margaret was +gone; better that she should be dead than live on in shame and misery. If there +were a God, how came it that He could allow such things to happen in the world? +Then he remembered how, when Job sat in just such an evil case, his wife had +invited him to curse God and die, and how the patriarch had answered to her, +“What! shall we receive good at the hand of God, and shall we not receive +evil?” Remembered, too, after all his troubles, what had been the end of +that just man, and therefrom took some little comfort. After this a stupor +crept over him, and his last thought was that the vessel had sunk and he was +departing into the deeps of death. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Listen! A voice called, and Castell awoke to see that it was growing light, and +that before him supporting himself on the rail of the ladder, stood the tall +form of Peter—Peter with a ghastly, blood-stained countenance, chattering +teeth, and glazed, unnatural eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you live, John Castell?” said that hollow voice, “or are +we both dead and in hell?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” he answered, “I live yet; we are still this side of +doom.” +</p> + +<p> +“What has chanced?” asked Peter. “I have been lost in a great +blackness.” +</p> + +<p> +Castell told him briefly. +</p> + +<p> +Peter listened till he had done, then staggered to the bulwark rail and looked +about him, making no comment. +</p> + +<p> +“I can see nothing,” he said presently—“the mist is too +deep; but I think we must lie near the shore. Come, help me. Let us try to find +victuals; I am faint.” +</p> + +<p> +Castell rose, stretched his cramped limbs, and going to him, placed his +uninjured arm round Peter’s middle, and thus supported him towards the +stern of the ship, where he guessed that the main cabin would be. They found +and entered it, a small place, but richly furnished, with a carved crucifix +screwed to its sternmost wall. A piece of pickled meat and some of the hard +wheaten cakes such as sailors use, lay upon the floor where they had been cast +from the table, while in a swinging rack above stood flagons of wine and of +water. Castell found a horn mug, and filling it with wine gave it to Peter, who +drank greedily, then handed it back to him, who also drank. Afterwards they cut +off portions of the meat with their knives, and swallowed them, though Peter +did this with great difficulty because of the hurt to his head and neck. Then +they drank more wine, and, somewhat refreshed, left the place. +</p> + +<p> +The mist was still so thick that they could see nothing, and therefore they +went into the wreck of that cabin which had been occupied by Margaret and +Betty, sat themselves down upon the bed wherein they had slept, and waited. +Resting thus, Peter noted that this cabin had been fitted sumptuously as though +for the occupation of a great lady, for even the vessels were of silver, and in +a wardrobe, whereof the doors were open, hung beautiful gowns. Also, there were +a few written books, on the outer leaves of one of which Margaret had set down +some notes and a prayer of her own making, petitioning that Heaven would +protect her; that Peter and her father might be living and learn the truth of +what had befallen, and that it would please the saints to deliver her, and to +bring them together again. This book Peter thrust away within his jerkin to +study at his leisure. +</p> + +<p> +Now the sun rose suddenly above the eastern range of the mountains wherewith +they were surrounded. Leaving the cabin, they climbed to the forecastle tower +and gazed about them, to find that they were in a land-locked harbour, and +stranded not more than a hundred yards from the shore. By tying a piece of iron +to a rope and letting it down into the sea, they discovered that they lay upon +a ridge, and that there were but four feet of water beneath their bow, and, +having learned this, determined to wade to the beach. First, however, they went +back to the cabin and filled a leather bag they found with food and wine. Then, +by an afterthought, they searched for the place where d’Aguilar slept, +and discovered it between decks; also a strong-box which they made shift to +break open with an iron bar. +</p> + +<p> +In it was a great store of gold, placed there, no doubt, for the payment of the +crew, and with it some jewels. The jewels they left, but the money they divided +and stowed it about them to serve their needs should they come safe ashore. +Then they washed each other’s wounds and bound them up, and descending +the ladder which had been thrown over the ship’s side when the Spaniards +escaped in the boat, let themselves down into the sea and bade farewell to the +<i>San Antonio</i>. +</p> + +<p> +By now the wind had fallen and the sun shone brightly, warming their chilled +blood; also the water, which was quite calm, did not rise much above their +middles, so that they were able—the bottom being smooth and +sandy—to wade without trouble to the shore. As they drew near to it they +saw people gathering there, and guessed that they came from the little town of +Motril, which lay up the river that here ran into the bay. Also they saw other +things—namely, the boat of the <i>San Antonio</i> upon the shore, and +rejoiced to know that it had come safe to land, for it rested upon its keel +with but little water in its bottom. Lying here and there also were the corpses +of drowned men, five or six of them: no doubt those sailors who had swum after +the boat or clung to its gunwale, but among these bodies none were those of +women. +</p> + +<p> +When at length they reached the shore, very few people were left there, for of +the rest some had begun to wade out towards the ship to plunder her, whilst +others had gone to fetch boats for the same purpose. Therefore, the company who +awaited them consisted only of women, children, three old men, and a priest. +The last, a hungry-eyed, smooth-faced, sly-looking man, advanced to greet them +courteously, bidding them thank God for their escape. +</p> + +<p> +“That we do indeed,” said Castell; “but tell us, Father, +where are our companions?” +</p> + +<p> +“There are some of them,” answered the priest, pointing to the dead +bodies; “the rest, with the two señoras, started two hours ago for +Granada. The Marquis of Morella, from whom I hold this cure, told us that his +ship had sunk, and that no one else was left alive, and, as the mist hid +everything, we believed him. That is why we were not here before, for,” +he added significantly, “we are poor folk, to whom the saints send few +wrecks.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did they go to Granada, Father?” asked Castell. “On +foot?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, Señor, they took all the horses and mules in the village by +force, though the marquis promised that he would return them and pay for their +hire later, and we trusted him because we must. The ladies wept much, and +prayed us to take them in and keep them; but this the marquis would not allow, +although they seemed so sad and weary. God send that we see our good beasts +back again,” he added piously. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you any left for us? We have a little money, and can pay for them +if they be not too dear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not one, Señor—not one; the place has been cleared even +down to the mares in foal. But, indeed you seem scarcely fit to ride at +present, who have undergone so much,” and he pointed to Peter’s +wounded head and Castell’s bandaged arm. “Why do you not stay and +rest awhile?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I am the father of one of the señoras, and doubtless she +thinks me drowned, and this señor is her affianced husband,” +answered Castell briefly. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” said the priest, looking at them with interest, “then +what relation to her is the marquis? Well, perhaps I had better not ask, for +this is no confessional, is it? I understand that you are anxious, for that +great grandee has the reputation of being gay—an excellent son of the +Church, but without doubt very gay,” and he shook his shaven head and +smiled. “But come up to the village, Señors, where you can rest +and have your hurts attended to; afterwards we will talk.” +</p> + +<p> +“We had best go,” said Castell in English to Peter. “There +are no horses on this beach, and we cannot walk to Granada in our state.” +</p> + +<p> +Peter nodded, and, led by the priest, whose name they discovered to be +Henriques, they started. +</p> + +<p> +On the crest of the hill a few hundred paces away they turned and looked back, +to see that every able-bodied inhabitant of the village seemed by now to be +engaged in plundering the stranded vessel. +</p> + +<p> +“They are paying themselves for the mules and horses,” said Fray +Henriques with a shrug. “So I see,” answered Castell, “but +you——” and he stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do not be afraid for me,” replied the priest with a cunning +little smile. “The Church does not loot; but in the end the Church gets +her share. These are a pious folk. Only when he learns that the caravel did not +sink after all, I fear the marquis will demand an account of us.” +</p> + +<p> +Then they limped on over the hill, and presently saw the white-walled and +red-roofed village beneath them on the banks of the river. +</p> + +<p> +Five minutes later their guide stopped at a door in a roughly paved street, +which he opened with a key. +</p> + +<p> +“My humble dwelling, when I am in residence here, and not at +Granada,” he said, “in which I shall be honoured to receive you. +Look, near by is the church.” +</p> + +<p> +Then they entered a patio, or courtyard, where some orange-trees grew round a +fountain of water, and a life-sized crucifix stood against the wall. As he +passed this sacred emblem Peter bowed and crossed himself, an example that +Castell did not follow. The priest looked at him sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“Surely, Señor,” he said, “you should do reverence to +the symbol of our Saviour, who, by His mercy, have just been saved from the +death which the marquis told me had overtaken both of you.” +</p> + +<p> +“My right arm is hurt,” answered Castell readily, “so I must +do that reverence in my heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“I understand, Señor; but if you are a stranger to this country, +which you do not seem to be, who speak its tongue so well, with your permission +I will warn you that here it is wise not to confine your reverences to the +heart. Of late the directors of the Inquisition have become somewhat strict, +and expect that the outward forms should be observed as well. Indeed, when I +was a familiar of the Holy Office at Seville, I have seen men burned for the +neglect of them. You have two arms and a head, Señor, also a knee that +can be bent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me,” answered Castell to this lecture. “I was +thinking of other matters. The carrying off of my daughter at the hands of your +patron, the Marquis of Morella, for instance.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, making no reply, the priest led them through his sitting-room to a +bed-chamber with high barred windows, that, although it was large and lofty, +reminded them somehow of a prison cell. Here he left them, saying that he would +go to find the local surgeon, who, it seemed, was a barber also, if, indeed, he +were not engaged in “lightening the ship,” recommending them +meanwhile to take off their wet clothes and lie down to rest. +</p> + +<p> +A woman having brought hot water and some loose garments in which to wrap +themselves while their own were drying, they undressed and washed and +afterwards, utterly worn out, threw themselves down and fell asleep upon the +beds, having first hidden away their gold in the food bag, which Peter placed +beneath his pillow. Two hours later or more they were awakened by the arrival +of Father Henriques and the barber-surgeon, accompanied by the woman-servant, +and who brought them back their clothes cleaned and dried. +</p> + +<p> +When the surgeon saw Peter’s hurt to the left side of his neck and +shoulder, which now were black, swollen, and very stiff, he shook his head, and +said that time and rest alone could cure it, and that he must have been born +under a fortunate star to have escaped with his life, which, save for his steel +cap and leather jerkin, he would never have done. As no bones were broken, +however, all that he could do was to dress the parts with some soothing +ointment and cover them with clean cloths. This finished, he turned to +Castell’s wound, that was through the fleshy part of the right forearm, +and, having syringed it out with warm water and oil, bound it up, saying that +he would be well in a week. He added drily that the gale must have been fiercer +even than he thought, since it could blow an arrow through a man’s +arm—a saying at which the priest pricked up his ears. +</p> + +<p> +To this Castell made no answer, but producing a piece of Morella’s gold, +offered it to him for his services, asking him at the same time to procure them +mules or horses, if he could. The barber promised to try to do so, and being +well pleased with his fee, which was a great one for Motril, said that he would +see them again in the evening, and if he could hear of any beasts would tell +them of it then. Also he promised to bring them some clothes and cloaks of +Spanish make, since those they had were not fit to travel in through that +country, being soiled and blood-stained. +</p> + +<p> +After he had gone, and the priest with him, who was busy seeing to the division +of the spoils from the ship and making sure of his own share, the servant, a +good soul, brought them soup, which they drank. Then they lay down again upon +the beds and talked together as to what they should do. +</p> + +<p> +Castell was downhearted, pointing out that they were still as far from Margaret +as ever, who was now once more lost to them, and in the hand of Morella, whence +they could scarcely hope to snatch her. It would seem also that she was being +taken to the Moorish city of Granada, if she were not already there, where +Christian law and justice had no power. +</p> + +<p> +When he had heard him out, Peter, whose heart was always stout, answered: +</p> + +<p> +“God has as much power in Granada as in London, or on the seas whence He +has saved us. I think, Sir, that we have great reason to be thankful to God, +seeing that we are both alive to-day, who might so well have been dead, and +that Margaret is alive also, and, as we believe, unharmed. Further, this +Spanish thief of women is, it would seem, a strange man, that is, if there be +any truth in his words, for although he could steal her, it appears that he +cannot find it in his heart to do her violence, but is determined to win her +only with her own consent, which I think will not be had readily. Also, he +shrinks from murder, who, when he could have butchered us, did not do so.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have known such men before,” said Castell, “who hold some +sins venial, but others deadly to their souls. It is a fruit of +superstition.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, Sir, let us pray that Morella’s superstitions may remain +strong, and get us to Granada as quickly as we can, for there, remember, you +have friends, both among the Jews and Moors, who have traded with the place for +many years, and these may give us shelter. Therefore, though things are bad, +still they might be worse.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is so,” answered Castell more cheerfully, “if, indeed, +she has been taken to Granada; and as to this, we will try to learn something +from the barber or the Father Henriques.” +</p> + +<p> +“I put no faith in that priest, a sly fellow who is in the pay of +Morella,” answered Peter. +</p> + +<p> +Then they were silent, being still very weary, and having nothing more to say, +but much to think about. +</p> + +<p> +About sundown the doctor came back and dressed their wounds. He brought with +him a stock of clothes of Spanish make, hats and two heavy cloaks fit to travel +in, which they bought from him at a good price. Also, he said that he had two +fine mules in the courtyard, and Castell went out to look at them. They were +sorry beasts enough, being poor and wayworn, but as no others were to be had +they returned to the room to talk as to the price of them and their saddles. +The chaffering was long, for he asked twice their value, which Castell said +poor shipwrecked men could not pay; but in the end they struck a bargain, under +which the barber was to keep and feed the mules for the night, and bring them +round next morning with a guide who would show them the road to Granada. +Meanwhile, they paid him for the clothes, but not for the beasts. +</p> + +<p> +Also they tried to learn something from him about the Marquis of Morella, but, +like the Fray Henriques, the man was cunning, and kept his mouth shut, saying +that it was ill for poor men like himself to chatter of the great, and that at +Granada they could hear everything. So he went away, leaving some medicine for +them to drink, and shortly afterwards the priest appeared. +</p> + +<p> +He was in high good-humour, having secured those jewels which they had left +behind in the iron coffer as his share of the spoil of the ship. Taking note of +him as he showed and fondled them, Castell added up the man, and concluded that +he was very avaricious; one who hated the poverty in which he had been reared, +and would do much for money. Indeed, when he spoke bitterly of the thieves who +had been at the ship’s strong-box and taken nearly all the gold, Castell +determined that he must never know who those thieves were, lest they should +meet with some accident on their journey. +</p> + +<p> +At length the trinkets were put away, and the priest said that they must sup +with him, but lamented that he had no wine to give them, who was forced to +drink water; whereon Castell prayed him to procure a few flasks of the best at +their charges, which, nothing loth, he sent his servant out to do. +</p> + +<p> +So, dressed in their new Spanish clothes, and having all the gold hidden about +them in two money-belts that they had bought from the barber at the same time, +they went in to supper, which consisted of a Spanish dish called <i>olla +podrida</i>—a kind of rich stew—bread, cheese, and fruit. Also the +wine that they had bought was there, very good and strong, and, whilst taking +but little of it themselves for fear they should fever their wounds, they +persuaded Father Henriques to drink heartily, so that in the end he forgot his +cunning, and spoke with freedom. Then, seeing that he was in a ripe humour, +Castell asked him about the Marquis of Morella, and how it happened that he had +a house in the Moorish capital of Granada. +</p> + +<p> +“Because he is half a Moor,” answered the priest. “His +father, it is said, was the Prince of Viana, and his mother a lady of royal +Moorish blood, from whom he inherited great wealth, and his lands and palace in +Granada. There, too, he loves to dwell, who, although he is so good a Christian +by faith, has many heathen tastes, and, like the Moors, surrounds himself with +a seraglio of beautiful women, as I know, for often I act as his chaplain, as +in Granada there are no priests. Moreover, there is a purpose in all this, for, +being partly of their blood, he is accredited to the court of their sultan, +Boabdil, by Ferdinand and Isabella in whose interests he works in secret. For, +strangers, you should know, if you do not know it already, that their Majesties +have for long been at war against the Moor, and purpose to take what remains of +his kingdom from him, and make it Christian, as they have already taken Malaga, +and purified it by blood and fire from the accursed stain of infidelity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Castell, “we heard that in England, for I am a +merchant who have dealings with Granada, whither I am going on my +affairs.” +</p> + +<p> +“On what affairs then goes the señora, who you say is your +daughter, and what is that story that the sailors told of, about a fight +between the <i>San Antonio</i> and an English ship, which indeed we saw in the +offing yesterday? And why did the wind blow an arrow through your arm, friend +Merchant? And how came it that you two were left aboard the caravel when the +marquis and his people escaped?” +</p> + +<p> +“You ask many questions, holy Father. Peter, fill the glass of his +reverence; he drinks nothing who thinks that it is always Lent. Your health, +Father. Ah! well emptied. Fill it again, Peter, and pass me the flask. Now I +will begin to answer you with the story of the shipwreck.” And he +commenced an endless tale of the winds and sails and rocks and masts carried +away, and of the English ship that tried to help the Spanish ship, and so +forth, till at length the priest, whose glass Peter filled whenever his head +was turned, fell back in his chair asleep. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” whispered Peter in English across the table to +Castell—“now I think that we had best go to bed, for we have +learned much from this holy spy—as I take him to be—and told +little.” +</p> + +<p> +So they crept away quietly to their chamber, and, having swallowed the draught +that the doctor had given them, said their prayers each in his own fashion, +locked the door, and lay down to rest as well as their wounds and sore +anxieties would allow them. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap13"></a>CHAPTER XIII.<br /> +THE ADVENTURE OF THE INN.</h2> + +<p> +Peter did not sleep well, for, notwithstanding all the barber’s dressing, +his hurt pained him much. Moreover, he was troubled by the thought that +Margaret must be sure that both he and her father were dead, and of the +sufferings of her sore heart. Whenever he dozed off he seemed to see her awake +and weeping, yes, and to hear her sobs and murmurings of his name. When the +first light of dawn crept through the high-barred windows, he arose and called +Castell, for they could not dress without each other’s help. Then they +waited until they heard the sound of men talking and of beasts stamping in the +courtyard without. Guessing that this was the barber with the mules, they +unlocked their door and, finding the servant yawning in the passage, persuaded +her to let them out of the house. +</p> + +<p> +The barber it was, sure enough, and with him a one-eyed youth mounted on a +pony, who, he said, would guide them to Granada. So they returned with him into +the house, where he looked at their wounds, shaking his head over that of +Peter, who, he said, ought not to travel so soon. After this came more haggling +as to the price of the mules, saddlery, saddle-bags in which they packed their +few spare clothes, hire of the guide and his horse, and so forth, since, +anxious as they were to get away, they did not dare to seem to have money to +spare. +</p> + +<p> +At length everything was settled, and as their host, Father Henriques, had not +yet appeared, they determined to depart without bidding him farewell, leaving +some money in acknowledgment of his hospitality and as a gift to his church. +Whilst they were handing it over to the servant, however, together with a fee +for herself, the priest joined them, unshaven, and holding his hand to his +tonsured head whilst he explained, what was not true, that he had been +celebrating some early Mass in the church; then asked whither they were going. +</p> + +<p> +They told him, and pressed their gift upon him, which he accepted, nothing +loth, though its liberality seemed to make him more urgent to delay their +departure. They were not fit to travel; the roads were most unsafe; they would +be taken captive by the Moors, and thrown into a dungeon with the Christian +prisoners; no one could enter Granada without a passport, he declared, and so +forth, to all of which they answered that they must go. +</p> + +<p> +Now he appeared to be much disturbed, and said finally that they would bring +him into trouble with the Marquis of Morella—how or why, he would not +explain, though Peter guessed that it might be lest the marquis should learn +from them that this priest, his chaplain, had been plundering the ship which he +thought sunk, and possessing himself of his jewels. At length, seeing that the +man meant mischief and would stop them in some fashion if they delayed, they +bade him farewell hastily, and, pushing past him, mounted the mules that stood +outside and rode away with their guide. +</p> + +<p> +As they went they heard the priest, who now was in a rage, abusing the barber +who had sold them the beasts, and caught the words “Spies,” +“English señoras,” and “Commands of the +Marquis,” so that they were glad when at length they found themselves +outside the town, where as yet few were stirring, and riding unmolested on the +road to Granada. +</p> + +<p> +This road proved to be no good one, and very hilly; moreover, the mules were +even worse than they had thought, that which Peter rode stumbling continually. +Now they asked the youth, their guide, how long it would take them to reach +Granada; but all he answered them was: +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Quien sabe</i>?” (Who knows?) “It depends upon the will +of God.” +</p> + +<p> +An hour later they asked him again, whereon he replied: +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps to-night, perhaps to-morrow, perhaps never, as there were many thieves +about, and if they escaped the thieves they would probably be captured by the +Moors. +</p> + +<p> +“I think there is one thief very near to us,” said Peter in +English, looking at this ill-favoured young man, then added in his broken +Spanish, “Friend, if we fall in with robbers or Moors, the first one who +dies will be yourself,” and he tapped the hilt of his sword. +</p> + +<p> +The lad uttered a Spanish curse, and turned the head of his pony round as +though he would ride back to Motril, then changed his mind and pushed on a long +way in front of them, nor could they come near him again for hours. So hard was +the road and so feeble were the mules that, notwithstanding a midday halt to +rest them, it was nightfall before they reached the top of the Sierra, and in +the last sunset glow, separated from them by the rich <i>vega</i> or plain, saw +the minarets and palaces of Granada. Now they wished to push on, but their +guide swore that it was impossible, as in the dark they would fall over +precipices while descending to the plain. There was a <i>venta</i> or inn near +by, he said, where they could sleep, starting again at dawn. +</p> + +<p> +When Castell said that they did not wish to go to an inn, he answered that they +must, since they had eaten what food they had, and here on the road there was +no fodder for the beasts. So, reluctantly enough, they consented, knowing that +unless they were fed the mules would never carry them to Granada, whereon the +guide, pointing out the house to them, a lonely place in a valley about a +hundred yards from the road, said that he would go on to make arrangements, and +galloped off. +</p> + +<p> +As they approached this hostelry, which was surrounded by a rough wall for +purposes of defence, they saw the one-eyed youth engaged in earnest +conversation with a fat, ill-favoured man who had a great knife stuck in his +girdle. Advancing to them, bowing, this man said that he was the host, and, in +reply to their request for food and a room, told them that they could have both. +</p> + +<p> +They rode into the courtyard, whereon the inn-keeper locked the door in the +wall behind them, explaining that it was to keep out robbers, and adding that +they were fortunate to be where they could sleep quite safely. Then a Moor came +and led away their mule to the stable, and they accompanied the landlord into +the sitting-room, a long, low apartment furnished with tables and benches, on +which sat several rough-looking fellows, drinking wine. Here the host suddenly +demanded payment in advance, saying that he did not trust strangers. Peter +would have argued with him; but Castell, thinking it best to comply, unbuttoned +his garments to get at his money, for he had no loose coin in his pocket, +having paid away the last at Motril. +</p> + +<p> +His right hand being still helpless, this he did with his left, and so +awkwardly that the small doubloon he took hold of slipped from his fingers and +fell on to the floor. Forgetting that he had not re-fastened the belt, he bent +down to pick it up, whereon a number of gold pieces of various sorts, perhaps +twenty of them, fell out and rolled hither and thither on the ground. Peter, +watching, saw the landlord and the other men in the room exchange a quick and +significant glance. They rose, however, and assisted to find the money, which +the host returned to Castell, remarking with an unpleasant smile, that if he +had known that his guests were so rich he would have charged them more for +their accommodation. +</p> + +<p> +“Of your good heart I pray you not,” answered Castell, “for +that is all our worldly goods,” and even as he spoke another gold piece, +this time a large doubloon, which had remained in his clothing, slipped to the +floor. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, Señor,” the host replied as he picked this up +also and handed it back politely, “but shake yourself, there may still be +a coin or two in your doublet.” Castell did so, whereon the gold in his +belt, loosened by what had fallen out, rattled audibly, and the audience smiled +again, while the host congratulated him on the fact that he was in an honest +house, and not wandering on the mountains, which were the home of so many bad +men. +</p> + +<p> +Having pocketed his money with the best grace he could, and buckled his belt +beneath his robe, Castell and Peter sat down at a table a little apart, and +asked if they could have some supper. The host assented, and called to the +Moorish servant to bring food, then sat down also, and began to put questions +to them, of a sort which showed that their guide had already told all their +story. +</p> + +<p> +“How did you learn of our shipwreck?” asked Castell by way of +answer. +</p> + +<p> +“How? Why, from the people of the marquis, who stopped here to drink a +cup of wine when he passed to Granada yesterday with his company and two +señoras. He said that the <i>San Antonio</i> had sunk, but told us +nothing of your being left aboard of her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then forgive us, friend, if we, whose business is of no interest to you, +copy his discretion, as we are weary and would rest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, Señors—certainly,” replied the man; +“I go to hasten your supper, and to fetch you a flask of the wine of +Granada worthy of your degree,” and he left them. +</p> + +<p> +A while later their food came—good meat enough of its sort—and with +it the wine in an earthenware jug, which, as he filled their horn mugs, the +host said he had poured out of the flask himself that the crust of it might not +slip. Castell thanked him, and asked him to drink a cup to their good journey; +but he declined, answering that it was a fast day with him, on which he was +sworn to touch only water. Now Peter, who had said nothing all this time, but +noted much, just touched the wine with his lips, and smacked them as though in +approbation while he whispered in English to Castell: +</p> + +<p> +“Drink it not; it is drugged!” +</p> + +<p> +“What says your son?” asked the host. +</p> + +<p> +“He says that it is delicious, but suddenly he has remembered what I too +forgot, that the doctor at Motril forbade us to touch wine for fear lest we +should worsen the hurts that we had in the shipwreck. Well, let it not be +wasted. Give it to your friends. We must be content with thinner stuff.” +And taking up a jug of water that stood upon the table, he filled an empty cup +with it and drank, then passed it to Peter, while the host looked at them +sourly. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as though by an afterthought, Castell rose and politely presented the jug +of wine and the two filled mugs to the men who were sitting at a table close +by, saying that it was a pity that they should not have the benefit of such +fine liquor. One of these fellows, as it chanced, was their own guide, who had +come in from tending the mules. They took the mugs readily enough, and two of +them tossed off their contents, whereon, with a smothered oath, the landlord +snatched away the jug and vanished with it. +</p> + +<p> +Castell and Peter went on with their meal, for they saw their neighbours eating +of the same dish, as did the landlord also, who had returned, and, it seemed to +Peter, was watching the two men who had drunk the wine with an anxious eye. +Presently one of these rose from the table and, going to a bench on the other +side of the room, flung himself down upon it and became quite silent, while +their one-eyed guide stretched out his arms and fell face forward so that his +head rested on an empty plate, where he remained apparently insensible. The +host sprang up and stood irresolute, and Castell, rising, said that evidently +the poor lad was sleepy after his long ride, and as they were the same, would +he be so courteous as to show them to their room? +</p> + +<p> +He assented readily, indeed it was clear that he wished to be rid of them, for +the other men were staring at the guide and their companion, and muttering +amongst themselves. +</p> + +<p> +“This way, Señors,” he said, and led them to the end of the +place where a broad step-ladder stood. Going up it, a lamp in his hand, he +opened a trap-door and called to them to follow him, which Castell did. Peter, +however, first turned and said good-night to the company who were watching +them; at the same moment, as though by accident or thoughtlessly, half drawing +his sword from its scabbard. Then he too went up the ladder, and found himself +with the others in an attic. +</p> + +<p> +It was a bare place, the only furniture in it being two chairs and two rough +wooden bedsteads without heads to them, mere trestles indeed, that stood about +three feet apart against a boarded partition which appeared to divide this room +from some other attic beyond. Also, there was a hole in the wall immediately +beneath the eaves of the house that served the purpose of a window, over which +a sack was nailed. “We are poor folk,” said the landlord as they +glanced round this comfortless garret, “but many great people have slept +well here, as doubtless you will also,” and he turned to descend the +ladder. +</p> + +<p> +“It will serve,” answered Castell; “but, friend, tell your +men to leave the stable open, as we start at dawn, and be so good as to give me +that lamp.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot spare the lamp,” he grunted sulkily, with his foot +already on the first step. +</p> + +<p> +Peter strode to him and grasped his arm with one hand, while with the other he +seized the lamp. The man cursed, and began to fumble at his belt, as though for +a knife, whereon Peter, putting out his strength, twisted his arm so fiercely +that in his pain he loosed the lamp, which remained in Peter’s hand. The +inn-keeper made a grab at it, missed his footing and rolled down the ladder, +falling heavily on the floor below. +</p> + +<p> +Watching from above, to their relief they saw him pick himself up, and heard +him begin to revile them, shaking his fist and vowing vengeance. Then Peter +shut down the trap-door. It was ill fitted, so that the edge of it stood up +above the flooring, also the bolt that fastened it had been removed, although +the staples in which it used to work remained. Peter looked round for some +stick or piece of wood to pass through these staples, but could find nothing. +Then he bethought him of a short length of cord that he had in his pocket, +which served to tie one of the saddle-bags in its place on his mule. This he +fastened from one staple to the other, so that the trap-door could not be +lifted more than an inch or two. +</p> + +<p> +Reflecting that this might be done, and the cord cut with a knife passed +through the opening, he took one of the chairs and stood it so that two of its +legs rested on the edge of the trap-door and the other two upon the boarding of +the floor. Then he said to Castell: +</p> + +<p> +“We are snared birds; but they must get into the cage before they wring +our necks. That wine was poisoned, and, if they can, they will murder us for +our money—or because they have been told to do so by the guide. We had +best keep awake to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think so,” answered Castell anxiously. “Listen, they are +talking down below.” +</p> + +<p> +Talking they were, as though they debated something, but after a while the +sound of voices died away. When all was silent they hunted round the attic, but +could find nothing that was unusual to such places. Peter looked at the +window-hole, and, as it was large enough for a man to pass through, tried to +drag one of the beds beneath it, thinking that if any such attempt were made, +he who lay thereon would have the thief at his mercy, only to find, however, +that these were screwed to the floor and immovable. As there was nothing more +that they could do, they went and sat upon these beds, their bare swords in +their hands, and waited a long while, but nothing happened. +</p> + +<p> +At length the lamp, which had been flickering feebly for some time, went out, +lacking oil, and except for the light which crept through the window-place, for +now they had torn away the sacking that hung over it, they were in darkness. +</p> + +<p> +A little while later they heard the sound of a horse’s hoofs, and the +door of the house open and shut, after which there was more talking below, and +mingling with it a new voice which Peter seemed to remember. +</p> + +<p> +“I have it,” he whispered to Castell. “Here is our late host, +Father Henriques, come to see how his guests are faring.” +</p> + +<p> +Another half-hour and the waning moon rose, throwing a beam of light into their +chamber; also they heard horse’s hoofs again. Going to the window, Peter +looked out of it and saw the horse, a fine beast, being held by the landlord, +then a man came and mounted it and, at some remark of his, turned his face +upwards towards their window. It was that of Father Henriques. +</p> + +<p> +The two whispered together for a while till the priest blessed the landlord in +Latin words and rode away, and again they heard the door of the house close. +</p> + +<p> +“He is off to Granada, to warn Morella his master of our coming,” +said Castell, as they reseated themselves upon the beds. +</p> + +<p> +“To warn Morella that we shall never come, perhaps; but we will beat him +yet,” replied Peter. +</p> + +<p> +The night wore on, and Castell, who was very weary, sank back upon the bolster +and began to doze, when suddenly the chair that was set upon the trap-door fell +over with a great clatter, and he sprang up, asking what that noise might be. +</p> + +<p> +“Only a rat,” answered Peter, who saw no good in telling him the +truth—namely, that thieves or murderers had tried to open the trap-door. +</p> + +<p> +Then he crept down the room, felt the cord, to find that it was still uncut, +and replaced the chair where it had been. This done, Peter came back to the bed +and threw himself down upon it as though he would slumber, though never was he +more wide awake. The weariness of Castell had overcome him again, however, for +he snored at his side. +</p> + +<p> +For a long while nothing further happened, although once the ray of moonlight +was cut off, and for an instant Peter thought that he saw a face at the window. +If so, it vanished and returned no more. Now from behind their heads came faint +sounds, like those of stifled breathing, like those of naked feet; then a +slight creaking and scratching in the wall—a mouse’s tooth might +have caused it—and suddenly, right in that ray of moonlight, a +cruel-looking knife and a naked arm projected through the panelling. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus08"></a> +<br /> +<img src="images/fig08.jpg" width="394" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">A cruel-looking knife and a naked arm projected through the +panelling +</p> +</div> + +<p> +The knife flickered for a second over the breast of the sleeping Castell as +though it were a living thing that chose the spot where it would strike. One +second—only one—for the next Peter had drawn himself up, and with a +sweep of the sword which lay unscabbarded at his side, had shorn that arm off +above the elbow, just where it projected from the panelling. +</p> + +<p> +“What was that?” asked Castell again, as something fell upon him. +</p> + +<p> +“A snake,” answered Peter, “a poisonous snake. Wake up now, +and look.” +</p> + +<p> +Castell obeyed, staring in silence at the horrible arm which still clasped the +great knife, while from beyond the panelling there came a stifled groan, then a +sound as of a heavy body stumbling away. +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” said Peter, “let us be going, unless we would stop +here for ever. That fellow will soon be back to seek his arm.” +</p> + +<p> +“Going! How?” asked Castell. +</p> + +<p> +“There seems to be but one road, and that a rough one, through the window +and over the wall,” answered Peter. “Ah! there they come; I thought +so.” And as he spoke they heard the sound of men scrambling up the ladder. +</p> + +<p> +They ran to the window-place and looked out, but there seemed to be no one +below, and it was not more than twelve feet from the ground. Peter helped +Castell through it, then, holding his sound arm with both his own, lowered him +as far as he could, and let go. He dropped on to his feet, fell to the ground, +then rose again, unhurt. Peter was about to follow him when he heard the chair +tumble over again, and, looking round, saw the trap-door open, to fall back +with a crash. They had cut the cord! +</p> + +<p> +The figure of a man holding a knife appeared in the faint light, followed by +the head of another man. Now it was too late for him to get through the +window-place safely; if he attempted it he would be stabbed in the back. So, +grasping his sword with both hands, Peter leapt at that man, aiming a great +stroke at his shadowy mass. It fell upon him somewhere, for down he went and +lay quite still. By now the second man had his knee upon the edge of flooring. +Peter thrust him through, and he sank backwards on to the heads of others who +were following him, sweeping the ladder with his weight, so that all of them +tumbled in a heap at its foot, save one who hung to the edge of the trap frame +by his hands. Peter slammed its door to, crushing them so that he loosed his +grip, with a howl. Then, as he had nothing else, he dragged the body of the +dead man on to it and left him there. +</p> + +<p> +Next he rushed to the window, sheathing his sword as he ran, scrambled through +it, and, hanging by his arms, let himself drop, coming to the ground safely, +for he was very agile, and in the excitement of the fray forgot the hurt to his +head and shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Where now?” asked Castell, as he stood by him panting. +</p> + +<p> +“To the stable for the mules. No, it is useless; we have no time to +saddle them, and the outer gate is locked. The wall—the wall—we +must climb it! They will be after us in a minute.” +</p> + +<p> +They ran thither and found that, though ten feet high, fortunately this wall +was built of rough stone, which gave an easy foothold. Peter scrambled up +first, then, lying across its top, stretched down his hand to Castell, and with +difficulty—for the man was heavy and crippled—dragged him to his +side. Just then they heard a voice from their garret shout: +</p> + +<p> +“The English devils have gone! Get to the door and cut them off.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come on,” said Peter. So together they climbed, or rather fell, +down the wall on to a mass of prickly-pear bush, which broke the shock but tore +them so sorely in a score of places that they could have shrieked with the +pain. Somehow they freed themselves, and, bleeding all over, broke from that +accursed bush, struggling up the bank of the ditch in which it grew, ran for +the road, and along it towards Granada. +</p> + +<p> +Before they had gone a hundred yards they heard shoutings, and guessed that +they were being followed. Just here the road crossed a ravine full of boulders +and rough scrubby growth, whereas beyond it was bare and open. Peter seized +Castell and dragged him up this ravine till they came to a place where, behind +a great stone, there was a kind of hole, filled with bushes and tall, dead +grass, into which they plunged and hid themselves. +</p> + +<p> +“Draw your sword,” he said to Castell. “If they find us, we +will die as well as we can.” +</p> + +<p> +He obeyed, holding it in his left hand. +</p> + +<p> +They heard the robbers run along the road; then, seeing that they had missed +their victims, these returned again, five or six of them, and fell to searching +the ravine. But the light was very bad, for here the rays of the moon did not +penetrate, and they could find nothing. Presently two of them halted within +five paces of them and began to talk, saying that the swine must still be +hidden in the yard, or perhaps had doubled back for Motril. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know where they are hidden,” answered the other man; +“but this is a poor business. Fat Pedro’s arm is cut clean off, and +I expect he will bleed to death, while two of the other fellows are dead or +dying, for that long-legged Englishman hits hard, to say nothing of those who +drank the drugged wine, and look as though they would never wake. Yes, a poor +business to get a few doubloons and please a priest, but oh! if I had the hogs +here I——” And he hissed out a horrible threat. +“Meanwhile we had best lie up at the mouth of this place in case they +should still be hidden here.” +</p> + +<p> +Peter heard him and listened. All the other men had gone, running back along +the road. His blood was up, and the thorn pricks stung him sorely. Saying no +word, out of his lair he came with that terrible sword of his aloft. +</p> + +<p> +The men caught sight of him, and gave a gasp of fear. It was the last sound +that one of them ever made. Then the other turned and ran like a hare. This was +he who had uttered the threat. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop!” whispered Peter, as he overtook him—“stop, and +do what you promised.” +</p> + +<p> +The brute turned, and asked for mercy, but got none. +</p> + +<p> +“It was needful,” said Peter to Castell presently; “you +heard—they were going to wait for us.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not think that they will try to murder any more Englishmen at that +inn,” panted Castell, as he ran along beside him. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap14"></a>CHAPTER XIV.<br /> +INEZ AND HER GARDEN.</h2> + + +<p> +For two hours or more John Castell and Peter travelled on the Granada road, +running when it was smooth, walking when it was rough, and stopping from time +to time to get their breath and listen. But the night was quite silent, no one +seemed to be pursuing them. Evidently the remaining cut-throats had either +taken another way or, having their fill of this adventure, wanted to see no +more of Peter and his sword. +</p> + +<p> +At length the dawn broke over the great misty plain, for now they were crossing +the <i>vega</i>. Then the sun rose and dispelled the vapours, and a dozen miles +or more away they saw Granada on its hill. They saw each other also, and a +sorry sight they were, torn by the sharp thorns, and stained with blood from +their scratches. Peter was bare-headed too, for he had lost his cap, and almost +beside himself now that the excitement had left him, from lack of sleep, pain, +and weariness. Moreover, as the sun rose, it grew fearfully hot upon that +plain, and its fierce rays, striking full upon his head, seemed to stupefy him, +so that at last they were obliged to halt and weave a kind of hat out of corn +and grasses, which gave him so strange an appearance that some Moors, whom they +met going to their toil, thought that he must be a madman, and ran away. +</p> + +<p> +Still they crawled forward, refreshing themselves with water whenever they +could find any in the irrigation ditches that these people used for their +crops, but covering little more than a mile an hour. Towards noon the heat grew +so dreadful that they were obliged to lie down to rest under the shade of some +palm-like trees, and here, absolutely outworn, they sank into a kind of sleep. +</p> + +<p> +They were awakened by a sound of voices, and staggered to their feet, drawing +their swords, for they thought that the thieves from the inn had overtaken +them. Instead of these ruffianly murderers, however, they saw before them a +body of eight Moors, beautifully mounted upon white horses, and clad in turbans +and flowing robes, the like of which Peter had never yet beheld, who sat there +regarding them gravely with their quiet eyes, and, as it seemed, not without +pity. +</p> + +<p> +“Put up your swords, Señors,” said the leader of these Moors +in excellent Spanish—indeed, he seemed to be a Spaniard dressed in +Eastern garments—“for we are many and fresh; and you are but two +and wounded.” +</p> + +<p> +They obeyed, who could do nothing else. +</p> + +<p> +“Now tell us, though there is little need to ask,” went on the +captain, “you are those men of England who boarded the <i>San Antonio</i> +and escaped when she was sinking, are you not?” +</p> + +<p> +Castell nodded, then answered: +</p> + +<p> +“We boarded her to seek——” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind what you sought,” the captain answered; “the +names of exalted ladies should not be mentioned before strange men. But you +have been in trouble again since then, at the inn yonder, where this tall +señor bore himself very bravely. Oh! we have heard all the story, and +give him honour who can wield a sword so well in the dark.” +</p> + +<p> +“We thank you,” said Castell, “but what is your business with +us?” +</p> + +<p> +“Señor, we are sent by our master, his Excellency, the high Lord +and Marquis of Morella, to find you and bring you to be his guests at +Granada.” +</p> + +<p> +“So the priest has told. I thought as much,” muttered Peter. +</p> + +<p> +“We pray you to come without trouble, as we do not wish to do any +violence to such gallant men,” went on the captain. “Be pleased to +mount two of these horses, and ride with us.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am a merchant, with friends of my own at Granada,” answered +Castell. “Cannot we go to them, who do not seek the hospitality of the +marquis?” +</p> + +<p> +“Señor, our orders are otherwise, and here the word of our master, +the marquis, is a law that may not be broken.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought that Boabdil was king of Granada,” said Castell. +</p> + +<p> +“Without doubt he is king, Señor, and by the grace of Allah will +remain so, but the marquis is allied to him in blood; also, while the truce +lasts, he is a representative of their Majesties of Spain in our city,” +and, at a sign, two of the Moors dismounted and led forward their horses, +holding the stirrups, and offering to help them to the saddle. +</p> + +<p> +“There is nothing for it,” said Peter; “we must go.” +So, awkwardly enough, for they were very stiff, they climbed on to the beasts +and rode away with their captors. +</p> + +<p> +The sun was sinking now, for they had slept long, and by the time they reached +the gates of Granada the muezzins were calling to the sunset prayer from the +minarets of the mosques. +</p> + +<p> +It was but a very dim and confused idea that Peter gathered of the great city +of the Moors, as, surrounded by their white-robed escort, he rode he knew not +whither. Narrow winding streets, white houses, shuttered windows, crowds of +courteous, somewhat silent people, all men, and all clad in those same strange, +flowing dresses, who looked at them curiously, and murmured words which +afterwards he came to learn meant “Christian prisoners,” or +sometimes “Christian dogs”; fretted and pointed arches, and a vast +fairy-like building set upon a hill. He was dazed with pain and fatigue as, a +long-legged, blood-stained figure, crowned with his quaint hat of grasses, he +rode through that wondrous and imperial place. +</p> + +<p> +Yet no man laughed at him, absurd as he must have seemed; but perhaps this was +because under the grotesqueness of his appearance they recognised something of +his quality. Or they might have heard rumours of his sword-play at the inn and +on the ship. At any rate, their attitude was that of courteous dislike of the +Christian, mingled with respect for the brave man in misfortune. +</p> + +<p> +At length, after mounting a long rise, they came to a palace on a mount, facing +the vast, red-walled fortress which seemed to dominate the place, which he +afterwards knew as the Alhambra, but separated from it by a valley. This palace +was a very great building, set on three sides of a square, and surrounded by +gardens, wherein tall cypress-trees pointed to the tender sky. They rode +through the gardens and sundry gateways till they came to a courtyard where +servants, with torches in their hands, ran out to meet them. Somebody helped +him off his horse, somebody supported him up a flight of marble steps, beneath +which a fountain splashed, into a great, cool room with an ornamented roof. +Then Peter remembered no more. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +A time went by, a long, long time—in fact it was nearly a +month—before Peter really opened his eyes to the world again. Not that he +had been insensible for all this while—that is, quite—for at +intervals he had become aware of that large, cool room, and of people talking +about him—especially of a dark-eyed, light-footed, and pretty woman with +a white wimple round her face, who appeared to be in charge of him. +Occasionally he thought that this must be Margaret, and yet knew that it could +not, for she was different. Also, he remembered that once or twice he had +seemed to see the haughty, handsome face of Morella bending over him, as though +he watched curiously to learn whether he would live or not, and then had +striven to rise to fight him, and been pressed back by the soft, white hands of +the woman that yet were so terribly strong. +</p> + +<p> +Now, when he awoke at last, it was to see her sitting there with a ray of +sunlight from some upper window falling on her face, sitting with her chin +resting on her hand and her elbow on her knee, and contemplating him with a +pretty, puzzled look. She made a sweet picture thus, he thought. Then he spoke +to her in his slow Spanish, for somehow he knew that she would not understand +his own tongue. +</p> + +<p> +“You are not Margaret,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +At once the dream went out of the woman’s soft eyes; she became intensely +interested, and, rising, advanced towards him, a very gracious figure, who +seemed to sway as she walked. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” she said, bending over him and touching his forehead with +her taper fingers; “my name is Inez. You wander still, +Señor.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus09"></a> +<br /> +<img src="images/fig09.jpg" width="404" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“My name is Inez. You wander still, Señor” +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“Inez what?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Inez only,” she answered, “Inez, a woman of Granada, the +rest is lost. Inez, the nurse of sick men, Señor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where then is Margaret—the English Margaret?” +</p> + +<p> +A veil of secrecy seemed to fall over the woman’s face, and her voice +changed as she answered, no longer ringing true, or so it struck his senses +made quick and subtle by the fires of fever: +</p> + +<p> +“I know no English Margaret. Do you then love her—this English +Margaret?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye,” he answered, “she was stolen from me; I have followed +her from far, and suffered much. Is she dead or living?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have told you, Señor, I know nothing, although”—and +again the voice became natural—“it is true that I thought you loved +somebody from your talk in your illness.” +</p> + +<p> +Peter pondered a while, then he began to remember, and asked again: +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Castell?” +</p> + +<p> +“Castell? Was he your companion, the man with a hurt arm who looked like +a Jew? I do not know where he is. In another part of the city, perhaps. I think +that he was sent to his friends. Question me not of such matters, who am but +your sick-nurse. You have been very ill, Señor. Look!” And she +handed him a little mirror made of polished silver, then, seeing that he was +too weak to take it, held it before him. +</p> + +<p> +Peter saw his face, and groaned, for, except the red scar upon his cheek, it +was ivory white and wasted to nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad Margaret did not see me like this,” he said, with an +attempt at a smile, “bearded too, and what a beard! Lady, how could you +have nursed one so hideous?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have not found you hideous,” she answered softly; +“besides, that is my trade. But you must not talk, you must rest. Drink +this, and rest,” and she gave him soup in a silver bowl, which he +swallowed readily enough, and went to sleep again. +</p> + +<p> +Some days afterwards, when Peter was well on the road to convalescence, his +beautiful nurse came and sat by him, a look of pity in her tender, Eastern eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it now, Inez?” he asked, noting her changed face. +</p> + +<p> +“Señor Pedro, you spoke to me a while ago, when you woke up from +your long sleep, of a certain Margaret, did you not? Well, I have been +inquiring of this Dona Margaret, and have no good news to tell of her.” +</p> + +<p> +Peter set his teeth, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Go on, tell me the worst.” +</p> + +<p> +“This Margaret was travelling with the Marquis of Morella, was she +not?” +</p> + +<p> +“She had been stolen by him,” answered Peter. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! it may be so; but here in Spain, and especially here in Granada, +that will scarcely screen the name of one who has been known to travel with the +Marquis of Morella.” +</p> + +<p> +“So much the worse for the Marquis of Morella when I meet him +again,” answered Peter sternly. “What is your story, Nurse +Inez?” +</p> + +<p> +She looked with interest at his grim, thin face, but, as it seemed to him, with +no displeasure. +</p> + +<p> +“A sad one. As I have told you, a sad one. It seems that the other day +this señora was found dead at the foot of the tallest tower of the +marquis’s palace, though whether she fell from it, or was thrown from it, +none know.” +</p> + +<p> +Peter gasped, and was silent for a while; then asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Did you see her dead?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Señor; others saw her.” +</p> + +<p> +“And told you to tell me? Nurse Inez, I do not believe your tale. If the +Dona Margaret, my betrothed, were dead I should know it; but my heart tells me +that she is alive.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have great faith, Señor,” said the woman, with a note +of admiration in her voice which she could not suppress, but, as he observed, +without contradicting him. +</p> + +<p> +“I have faith,” he answered. “Nothing else is left; but so +far it has been a good crutch.” +</p> + +<p> +Peter made no further allusion to the subject, only presently he asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, where am I?” +</p> + +<p> +“In a prison, Señor.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! a prison, with a beautiful woman for jailer, and other beautiful +women”—and he pointed to a fair creature who had brought something +into the room—“as servants. A very fine prison also,” and he +looked about him at the marbles and arches and lovely carving. +</p> + +<p> +“There are men without the gate, not women,” she replied, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“I daresay; captives can be tied with ropes of silk, can they not? Well, +whose is this prison?” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know, Señor. The Moorish king’s perhaps—you +yourself have said that I am only the jailer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then who pays you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps I am not paid, Señor; perhaps I work for love,” and +she glanced at him swiftly, “or hate,” and her face changed. +</p> + +<p> +“Not hate of me, I think,” said Peter. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Señor, not hate of you. Why should I hate you who have been +so helpless and so courteous to me?” and she bent the knee to him a +little. +</p> + +<p> +“Why indeed? especially as I am also grateful to you who have nursed me +back to life. But then, why hide the truth from a helpless man?” +</p> + +<p> +Inez glanced about her; the room was empty now. She bent over him and whispered: +</p> + +<p> +“Have you never been forced to hide the truth? No, I read it in your +face, and you are not a woman—an erring woman.” +</p> + +<p> +They looked into each other’s eyes a while, then Peter asked: “Is +the Dona Margaret really dead?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know,” she answered; “I was told so.” And as +though she feared lest she should betray herself, Inez turned and left him +quickly. +</p> + +<p> +The days went by, and through the slow degrees of convalescence Peter grew +strong again. But they brought him no added knowledge. He did not know where he +dwelt or why he was there. All he knew was that he lived a prisoner in a +sumptuous palace, or as he suspected, for of this he could not be sure, since +the arched windows of one side of the building were walled up, in the wing of a +palace. Nobody came near to him except the fair Inez, and a Moor who either was +deaf or could understand nothing that he said to him in Spanish. There were +other women about, it is true, very pretty women all of them, who acted as +servants, but none of these were allowed to approach him; he only saw them at a +distance. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore Inez was his sole companion, and with her he grew very intimate, to a +certain extent, but no further. On the occasion that has been described she had +lifted a corner of her veil which hid her true self, but a long while passed +before she enlarged her confidence. The veil was kept down very close indeed. +Day by day he questioned her, and day by day, without the slightest show of +irritation, or even annoyance, she parried his questions. They knew perfectly +well that they were matching their wits against each other; but as yet Inez had +the best of the game, which, indeed, she seemed to enjoy. He would talk to her +also of all sorts of things—the state of Spain, the Moorish court, the +danger that threatened Granada, whereof the great siege now drew near, and so +forth—and of these matters she would discourse most intelligently, with +the result that he learned much of the state of politics in Castile and +Granada, and greatly improved his knowledge of the Spanish tongue. +</p> + +<p> +But when of a sudden, as he did again and again, he sprang some question on her +about Morella, or Margaret, or John Castell, that same subtle change would come +over her face, and the same silence would seal her lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Señor,” she said to him one day with a laugh, “you +ask me of secrets which I might reveal to you—perhaps—if you were +my husband or my love, but which you cannot expect a nurse, whose life hangs on +it, to answer. Not that I wish you to become my husband or my lover,” she +added, with a little nervous laugh. +</p> + +<p> +Peter looked at her with his grave eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I know that you do not wish that,” he said, “for how could I +attract one so gay and beautiful as you are?” +</p> + +<p> +“You seem to attract the English Margaret,” she replied quickly in +a nettled voice. +</p> + +<p> +“To have attracted, you mean, as you tell me that she is dead,” he +answered; and, seeing her mistake, Inez bit her lip. “But,” he went +on, “I was going to add, though it may have no value for you, that you +have attracted me as your true friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Friend!” she said, opening her large eyes, “what talk is +this? Can the woman Inez find a friend in a man who is under sixty?” +</p> + +<p> +“It would appear so,” he answered. And again with that graceful +little curtsey of hers she went away, leaving him very puzzled. Two days later +she appeared in his room, evidently much disturbed. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought that you had left me altogether, and I am glad to see you, for +I tire of that deaf Moor and of this fine room. I want fresh air.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it,” she answered; “so I have come to take you to +walk in a garden.” +</p> + +<p> +He leapt for joy at her words, and snatching at his sword, which had been left +to him, buckled it on. +</p> + +<p> +“You will not need that,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought that I should not need it in yonder inn, but I did,” he +answered. Whereat she laughed, then turned, put her hand upon his shoulder and +spoke to him earnestly. +</p> + +<p> +“See, friend,” she whispered, “you want to walk in the fresh +air—do you not?—and to learn certain things—and I wish to +tell you them. But I dare not do it here, where we may at any moment be +surrounded by spies, for these walls have ears indeed. Well, when we walk in +that garden, would it be too great a penance for you to put your arm about my +waist—you who still need support?” +</p> + +<p> +“No penance at all, I assure you,” answered Peter with something +like a smile. For after all he was a man, and young; while the waist of Inez +was as pretty as all the rest of her. “But,” he added, “it +might be misunderstood.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite so, I wish it to be misunderstood: not by me, who know that you +care nothing for me and would as soon place your arm round that marble +column.” +</p> + +<p> +Peter opened his lips to speak, but she stopped him at once. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! do not waste falsehoods on me, in which of a truth you have no +art,” she said with evident irritation. “Why, if you had the money, +you would offer to pay me for my nursing, and who knows, I might take it! +Understand, you must either do this, seeming to play the lover to me, or we +cannot walk together in that garden.” +</p> + +<p> +Peter hesitated a little, guessing a plot, while she bent forward till her lips +almost touched his ear and said in a still lower voice: +</p> + +<p> +“And I cannot tell you how, perhaps—I say perhaps—you may +come to see the remains of the Dona Margaret, and certain other matters. +Ah!” she added after a pause, with a little bitter laugh, “now you +will kiss me from one end of the garden to the other, will you not? Foolish +man! Doubt no more; take your chance, it may be the last.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of what? Kissing you? Or the other things?” +</p> + +<p> +“That you will find out,” she said, with a shrug of her shoulders. +“Come!” +</p> + +<p> +Then, while he followed dubiously, she led him down the length of the great +room to a door with a spy-hole in the top of it, that was set in a Moorish +archway at the corner. +</p> + +<p> +This door she opened, and there beyond it, a drawn scimitar in his hand, stood +a tall Moor on guard. Inez spoke a word to him, whereon he saluted with his +scimitar and let them pass across the landing to a turret stair that lay +beyond, which they descended. At its foot was another door, whereon she knocked +four times. Bolts shot back, keys turned, and it was opened by a black porter, +beyond whom stood a second Moor, also with drawn sword. They passed him as they +had passed the first, turned down a little passage to the right, ending in some +steps, and came to a third door, in front of which she halted. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” she said, “nerve yourself for the trial.” +</p> + +<p> +“What trial?” he asked, supporting himself against the wall, for he +found his legs still weak. +</p> + +<p> +“This,” she answered, pointing to her waist, “and +these,” and she touched her rich, red lips with her taper finger-points. +“Would you like to practise a little, my innocent English knight, before +we go out? You look as though you might seem awkward and unconvincing.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” answered Peter drily, for the humour of the situation +moved him, “that such practice is somewhat dangerous for me. It might +annoy you before I had done. I will postpone my happiness until we are in the +garden.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought so,” she answered; “but look now, you must play +the part, or I shall suffer, who am bearing much for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think that I may suffer also,” he murmured, but not so low that +she did not catch his words. +</p> + +<p> +“No, friend Pedro,” she said, turning on him, “it is the +woman who suffers in this kind of farce. She pays; the man rides away to play +another,” and without more ado she opened the door, which proved to be +unlocked and unguarded. +</p> + +<p> +Beyond the foot of some steps lay a most lovely garden. Great, tapering +cypresses grew about it, with many orange-trees and flowering shrubs that +filled the soft, southern air with odours. Also there were marble fountains +into which water splashed from the mouths of carven lions, and here and there +arbours with stone seats, whereon were laid soft cushions of many colours. It +was a veritable place of Eastern delight and dreams, such as Peter had never +known before he looked upon it on that languorous eve—he who had not seen +the sky or flowers for so many weary weeks of sickness. It was secluded also, +being surrounded by a high wall, but at one place the tall, windowless tower of +some other building of red stone soared up between and beyond two lofty +cypress-trees. +</p> + +<p> +“This is the harem garden,” Inez whispered, “where many a +painted favourite has flitted for a few happy, summer hours, till winter came +and the butterfly was broken,” and, as she spoke, she dropped her veil +over her face and began to descend the stairs. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap15"></a>CHAPTER XV.<br /> +PETER PLAYS A PART.</h2> + +<p> +“Stop,” said Peter from the shadow of the doorway, “I fear +this business, Inez, and I do not understand why it is needful. Why cannot you +say what you have to say here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you mad?” she answered almost fiercely through her veil. +“Do you think that it can be any pleasure for me to seem to make love to +a stone shaped like a man, for whom I care nothing at all—except as a +friend?” she added quickly. “I tell you, Señor Peter, that +if you do not do as I tell you, you will never hear what I have to say, for I +shall be held to have failed in my business, and within a few minutes shall +vanish from you for ever—to my death perhaps; but what does that matter +to you? Choose now, and quickly, for I cannot stand thus for long.” +</p> + +<p> +“I obey you, God forgive me!” said the distraught Peter from the +darkness of the doorway; “but must I really——?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you must,” she answered with energy, “and some would +not think that so great a penance.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she lifted the corner of her veil coyly and, peeping out beneath it, +called in a soft, clear voice, “Oh! forgive me, dear friend, if I have +run too fast for you, forgetting that you are still so very weak. Here, lean +upon me; I am frail, but it may serve.” And she passed up the steps +again, to reappear in another moment with Peter’s hand resting on her +shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Be careful of these steps,” she said, “they are so +slippery”—a statement to which Peter, whose pale face had grown +suddenly red, murmured a hearty assent. “Do not be afraid,” she +went on in her flute-like voice; “this is the secret garden, where none +can hear words, however sweet, and none can see even a caress, no, not the most +jealous woman. That is why in old days it was called the Sultana’s +Chamber, for there at the end of it was where she bathed in the summer season. +What say you of spies? Oh! yes, in the palace there are many, but to look +towards this place, even for the Guardian of the Women, was always death. Here +there are no witnesses, save the flowers and the birds.” +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke thus they reached the central path, and passed up it slowly, +Peter’s hand still upon the shoulder of Inez, and her white arm about +him, while she looked up into his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Bend closer over me,” she whispered, “for truly your face is +like that of a wooden saint,” and he bent. “Now,” she went +on, “listen. Your lady lives, and is well—kiss me on the lips, +please, that news is worth it. If you shut your eyes you can imagine that I am +she.” +</p> + +<p> +Again Peter obeyed, and with a better grace than might have been expected. +</p> + +<p> +“She is a prisoner in this same palace,” she went on, “and +the marquis, who is mad for love of her, seeks by all means, fair or foul, to +make her his wife!” +</p> + +<p> +“Curse him!” exclaimed Peter with another embrace. +</p> + +<p> +“Till a few days ago she thought you dead; but now she knows that you are +alive and recovering. Her father, Castell, escaped from the place where he was +put, and is in hiding among his friends, the Jews, where even Morella cannot +find him; indeed, he believes him fled from the city. But he is not fled, and, +having much gold, has opened a door between himself and his daughter.” +</p> + +<p> +Here she stopped to return the embrace with much warmth. Then they passed under +some trees, and came to the marble baths where the sultanas were supposed to +have bathed in summer, for this place had been one of the palaces of the Kings +of Granada before they lived in the Alhambra. Here Inez sat down upon a seat +and loosened some garment about her throat, for the evening was very hot. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you doing?” Peter asked doubtfully, for he was filled +with many fears. +</p> + +<p> +“Cooling myself,” she answered; “your arm was warm, and we +may sit here for a few minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, go on with your tale,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“I have little more to say, friend, except that if you wish to send any +message, I might perhaps be able to take it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are an angel,” he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +“That is another word for messenger, is it not? Continue.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell her—that if she hears anything of all this business, it +isn’t true.” +</p> + +<p> +“On that point she may form her own opinion,” replied Inez +demurely. “If I were in her place I know what mine would be. Don’t +waste time; we must soon begin to walk again.” +</p> + +<p> +Peter stared at her, for he could understand nothing of all this play. +Apparently she read his look, for she answered it in a quiet, serious voice: +</p> + +<p> +“You are wondering what everything means, and why I am doing what I do. I +will tell you, Señor, and you can believe me or not as you like. Perhaps +you think that I am in love with you. It would not be wonderful, would it? +Besides, in the old tales, that always happens—the lady who nurses the +Christian knight and worships him and so forth.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think anything of the sort; I am not so vain.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know it, Señor, you are too good a man to be vain. Well, I do +all these things, not for love of you, or any one, but for hate—for hate. +Yes, for hate of Morella,” and she clenched her little hand, hissing the +words out between her teeth. +</p> + +<p> +“I understand the feeling,” said Peter. “But—but what +has he done to <i>you</i>?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not ask me, Señor. Enough that once I loved him—that +accursed priest Henriques sold me into his power—oh! a long while ago, +and he ruined me, making me what I am, and—I bore his child, +and—and it is dead. Oh! Mother of God, my boy is dead, and since then I +have been an outcast and his slave—they have slaves here in Granada, +Señor— dependent on him for my bread, forced to do his bidding, +forced to wait upon his other loves; I, who once was the sultana; I, of whom he +has wearied. Only to-day—but why should I tell you of it? Well, he has +driven me even to this, that I must kiss an unwilling stranger in a +garden,” and she sobbed aloud. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor girl!—poor girl!” said Peter, patting her hand kindly +with his thin fingers. “Henceforth I have another score against Morella, +and I will pay it too.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you?” she asked quickly. “Ah! if so, I would die for +you, who now live only to be revenged upon him. And it shall be my first +vengeance to rob him of that noble-looking mistress of yours, whom he has +stolen away and has set his heart upon wholly, because she is the first woman +who ever resisted him—him, who thinks that he is invincible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you any plan?” asked Peter. +</p> + +<p> +“As yet, none. The thing is very difficult. I go in danger of my life, +for if he thought that I betrayed him he would kill me like a rat, and think no +harm of it. Such things can be done in Granada without sin, Señor, and +no questions asked—at least if the victim be a woman of the +murderer’s household. I have told you already that if I had refused to do +what I have done this evening I should certainly have been got rid of in this +way or that, and another set on at the work. No, I have no plan yet, only it is +I through whom the Señor Castell communicates with his daughter, and I +will see him again, and see her, and we will make some plan. No, do not thank +me. He pays me for my services, and I am glad to take his money, who hope to +escape from this hell and live on it elsewhere. Yet, not for all the money in +the world would I risk what I am risking, though in truth it matters not to me +whether I live or die. Señor, I will not disguise it from you, all this +scene will come to the Dona Margaret’s ears, but I will explain it to +her.” +</p> + +<p> +“I pray you, do,” said Peter earnestly—“explain it +fully.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will—I will. I will work for you and her and her father, and if +I cease to work, know that I am dead or in a dungeon, and fend for yourselves +as best you may. One thing I can tell you for your comfort—no harm has +been done to this lady of yours. Morella loves her too well for that. He wishes +to make her his wife. Or perhaps he has sworn some oath, as I know that he has +sworn that he will not murder you—which he might have done a score of +times while you have lain a prisoner in his power. Why, once when you were +senseless he came and stood over you, a dagger in his hand, and reasoned out +the case with me. I said, ‘Why do you not kill him?’ knowing that +thus I could best help to save your life. He answered, ‘Because I will +not take my wife with her lover’s blood upon my hands, unless I slay him +in fair fight. I swore it yonder in London. It was the offering which I made to +God and to my patron saint that so I might win her fairly, and if I break that +oath, God will be avenged upon me here and hereafter. Do my bidding, Inez. +Nurse him well, so that if he dies, he dies without sin of mine,’ No, he +will not murder you or harm her. Friend Pedro, he dare not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you think of nothing?” asked Peter. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing—as yet nothing. These walls are high, guards watch them +day and night, and outside is the great city of Granada where Morella has much +power, and whence no Christian may escape. But he would marry her. And there is +that handsome fool-woman, her servant, who is in love with him—oh! she +told me all about it in the worst Spanish I ever heard, but the story is too +long to repeat; and the priest, Father Henriques—he who wished that you +might be killed at the inn, and who loves money so much. Ah! now I think I see +some light. But we have no more time to talk, and I must have time to think. +Friend Pedro, make ready your kisses, we must go on with our game, and, in +truth, you play but badly. Come now, your arm. There is a seat prepared for us +yonder. Smile and look loving. I have not art enough for both. +Come!—come!” And together they walked out of the dense shadow of +the trees and past the marble bath of the sultanas to a certain seat beneath a +bower on which were cushions, and lying among them a lute. +</p> + +<p> +“Seat yourself at my feet,” she said, as she sank on to the bench. +“Can you sing?” +</p> + +<p> +“No more than a crow,” he answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Then I must sing to you. Well, it will be better than the +love-making.” Then in a very sweet voice she began to warble amorous +Moorish ditties that she accompanied upon the lute, whilst Peter, who was weary +in body and disturbed in mind, played a lover’s part to the best of his +ability, and by degrees the darkness gathered. +</p> + +<p> +At length, when they could no longer see across the garden, Inez ceased singing +and rose with a sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“The play is finished and the curtain down,” she said; “also +it is time that you went in out of this damp. Señor Pedro, you are a +very bad actor; but let us pray that the audience was compassionate, and took +the will for the deed.” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not see any audience,” answered Peter. +</p> + +<p> +“But it saw you, as I dare say you will find out by-and-by. Follow me now +back to your room, for I must be going about your business—and my own. +Have you any message for the Señor Castell?” +</p> + +<p> +“None, save my love and duty. Tell him that, thanks to you, although +still somewhat feeble, I am recovered of my hurt upon the ship and the fever +which I took from the sun, and that if he can make any plan to get us all out +of this accursed city and the grip of Morella I will bless his name and +yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good, I will not forget. Now be silent. Tomorrow we will walk here +again; but be not afraid, then there will be no more need for +love-making.” +</p> + +<p> +Margaret sat by the open window-place of her beautiful chamber in +Morella’s palace. She was splendidly arrayed in a rich, Spanish dress, +whereof the collar was stiff with pearls, she who must wear what it pleased her +captor to give her. Her long tresses, fastened with a jewelled band, flowed +down about her shoulders, and, her hand resting on her knee, from her high +tower prison she gazed out across the valley at the dim and mighty mass of the +Alhambra and the ten thousand lights of Granada which sparkled far below. Near +to her, seated beneath a silver hanging-lamp, and also clad in rich array, was +Betty. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, Cousin?” asked the girl, looking at her anxiously. +“At least you should be happier than you were, for now you know that +Peter is not dead, but almost recovered from his sickness and in this very +palace; also, that your father is well and hidden away, plotting for our +escape. Why, then, are you so sad, who should be more joyful than you +were?” +</p> + +<p> +“Would you learn, Betty? Then I will tell you. I am betrayed. Peter +Brome, the man whom I looked upon almost as my husband, is false to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Master Peter false!” exclaimed Betty, staring at her open-mouthed. +“No, it is not possible. I know him; he could not be, who will not even +look at another woman, if that is what you mean.” +</p> + +<p> +“You say so. Then, Betty, listen and judge. You remember this afternoon, +when the marquis took us to see the wonders of this palace, and I went thinking +that perhaps I might find some path by which afterwards we could escape?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I remember, Margaret. We do not leave this cage so often that +I am likely to forget.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you will remember also that high-walled garden in which we walked, +where the great tower is, and how the marquis and that hateful priest Father +Henriques and I went up the tower to study the prospect from its roof, I +thinking that you were following me.” +</p> + +<p> +“The waiting-women would not let me,” said Betty. “So soon as +you had passed in they shut the door and told me to bide where I was till you +returned. I went near to pulling the hair out of the head of one of them over +it, since I was afraid for you alone with those two men. But she drew her +knife, the cat, and I had none.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must be careful, Betty,” said Margaret, “lest some of +these heathen folk should do you a mischief.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not they,” she answered; “they are afraid of me. Why, the +other day I bundled one of them, whom I found listening at the door, head first +down the stairs. She complained to the marquis, but he only laughed at her, and +now she lies abed with a plaster on her nose. But tell me your tale.” +</p> + +<p> +“We climbed the tower,” said Margaret, “and from its topmost +room looked out through the windows that face south at all the mountains and +the plain over which they dragged us from Motril. Presently the priest, who had +gone to the north wall, in which there are no windows, and entered some recess +there, came out with an evil smile upon his face, and whispered something to +the marquis, who turned to me and said: +</p> + +<p> +“‘The father tells me of an even prettier scene which we can view +yonder. Come, Señora, and look.’ +</p> + +<p> +“So I went, who wished to learn all that I could of the building. They +led me into a little chamber cut in the thickness of the stone-work, in the +wall of which are slits like loop-holes for the shooting of arrows, wide +within, but very narrow without, so that I think they cannot be seen from +below, hidden as they are between the rough stones of the tower. +</p> + +<p> +“‘This is the place,’ said the marquis, ‘where in the +old days the kings of Granada, who were always jealous, used to sit to watch +their women in the secret garden. It is told that thus one of them discovered +his sultana making love to an astrologer, and drowned them both in the marble +bath at the end of the garden. Look now, beneath us walk a couple who do not +guess that we are the witnesses of their vows.’ +</p> + +<p> +“So I looked idly enough to pass the time, and there I saw a tall man in +a Moorish dress, and with him, for their arms were about each other, a woman. +As I was turning my head away who did not wish to spy upon them thus, the woman +lifted her face to kiss the man, and I knew her for that beautiful Inez who has +visited us here at times, as a spy I think. Presently, too, the man, after +paying her back her embrace, glanced about him guiltily, and I saw his face +also, and knew it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who was it?” asked Betty, for this gossip of lovers interested her. +</p> + +<p> +“Peter Brome, no other,” Margaret answered calmly, but with a note +of despair in her voice. “Peter Brome, pale with recent sickness, but no +other man.” +</p> + +<p> +“The saints save us! I did not think he had it in him!” gasped +Betty with astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“They would not let me go,” went on Margaret; “they forced me +to see it all. The pair tarried for a while beneath some trees by the bath and +were hidden there. Then they came out again and sat them down upon a marble +seat, while the woman sang songs and the man leaned against her lovingly. So it +went on until the darkness fell, and we went, leaving them there. Now,” +she added, with a little sob, “what say you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I say,” answered Betty, “that it was not Master Peter, who +has no liking for strange ladies and secret gardens.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was he, and no other man, Betty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, Cousin, he was drugged or drunk or bewitched, not the Peter whom +we know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bewitched, perchance, by that bad woman, which is no excuse for +him.” +</p> + +<p> +Betty thought a while. She could not doubt the evidence, but from her face it +was clear that she took no severe view of the offence. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, at the worst,” she said, “men, as I have known them, +are men. He has been shut up for a long while with that minx, who is very fair +and witching, and it was scarcely right to watch him through a slit in a tower. +If he were my lover, I should say nothing about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will say nothing to him about that or any other matter,” replied +Margaret sternly. “I have done with Peter Brome.” +</p> + +<p> +Again Betty thought, and spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“I seem to see a trick. Cousin Margaret, they told you he was dead, did +they not? And then that news came to us that he was not dead, only sick, and +here. So the lie failed. Now they tell you, and seem to show you, that he is +faithless. May not all this have been some part played for a purpose by the +woman?” +</p> + +<p> +“It takes two to play such parts, Betty. If you had +seen——” +</p> + +<p> +“If I had seen, <i>I</i> should have known whether it was but a part or +love made in good earnest; but you are too innocent to judge. What said the +marquis all this while, and the priest?” +</p> + +<p> +“Little or nothing, only smiled at each other, and at length, when it +grew dark and we could see no more, asked me if I did not think that it was +time to go—me! whom they had kept there all that while to be the witness +of my own shame.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, they kept you there—did they not?—and brought you there +just at the right time—did they not?—and shut me out of the tower +so that I might not be with you—oh! and all the rest. Now, if you have +any justice in you, Cousin, you will hear Peter’s side of this story +before you judge him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have judged him,” answered Margaret coldly, “and, oh! I +wish that I were dead.” +</p> + +<p> +Margaret rose from her seat and, stepping to the window-place in the tower +which was built upon the edge of a hill, searched the giddy depth beneath with +her eyes, where, two hundred feet below, the white line of a roadway showed +faintly in the moonlight. +</p> + +<p> +“It would be easy, would it not,” she said, with a strained laugh, +“just to lean out a little too far upon this stone, and then one swift +rush and darkness—or light—for ever—which, I wonder?” +</p> + +<p> +“Light, I think,” said Betty, jerking her back from the +window—“the light of hell fire, and plenty of it, for that would be +self-murder, nothing else, and besides, what would one look like on that road? +Cousin, don’t be a fool. If you are right, it isn’t you who ought +to go out of that window; and if you are wrong, then you would only make a bad +business worse. Time enough to die when one must, say I—which, perhaps, +will be soon enough. Meanwhile, if I were you, I would try to speak to Master +Peter first, if only to let him know what I thought of him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mayhap,” answered Margaret, sinking back into a chair, “but +I suffer—how can you know what I suffer?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should I not know?” asked Betty. “Are you the only woman +in the world who has been fool enough to fall in love? Can I not be as much in +love as you are? You smile, and think to yourself that the poor relation, +Betty, cannot feel like her rich cousin. But I do—I do. I know that he is +a villain, but I love this marquis as much as you hate him, or as much as you +love Peter, because I can’t help myself; it is my luck, that’s all. +But I am not going to throw myself out of a window; I would rather throw him +out and square our reckoning, and that I swear I’ll do, in this way or +the other, even if it should cost me what I don’t want to lose—my +life.” And Betty drew herself up beneath the silver lamp with a look upon +her handsome, determined face, which was so like Margaret’s and yet so +different, that, could he have seen it, might well have made Morella regret +that he had chosen this woman for a tool. +</p> + +<p> +While Margaret studied her wonderingly she heard a sound, and glanced up to +see, standing before them, none other than the beautiful Spaniard, or Moor, for +she knew not which she was, Inez, that same woman whom, from her hiding-place +in the tower, she had watched with Peter in the garden. +</p> + +<p> +“How did you come here?” she asked coldly. +</p> + +<p> +“Through the door, Señora, that was left unlocked, which is not +wise of those who wish to talk privately in such a place as this,” she +answered with a humble curtsey. +</p> + +<p> +“The door is still unlocked,” said Margaret, pointing towards it. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, Señora, you are mistaken; here is its key in my hand. I pray +you do not tell your lady to put me out, which, being so strong, she well can +do, for I have words to say to you, and if you are wise you will listen to +them.” +</p> + +<p> +Margaret thought a moment, then answered: +</p> + +<p> +“Say on, and be brief.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap16"></a>CHAPTER XVI.<br /> +BETTY SHOWS HER TEETH.</h2> + +<p> +“Señora,” said Inez, “you think that you have +something against me.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” answered Margaret, “you are—what you are; why +should I blame you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, against the Señor Brome then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps, but that is between me and him. I will not discuss it with +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Señora,” went on Inez, with a slow smile, “we are +both innocent of what you thought you saw.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed; then who is guilty?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Marquis of Morella.” +</p> + +<p> +Margaret made no answer, but her eyes said much. +</p> + +<p> +“Señora, you do not believe me, nor is it wonderful. Yet I speak +the truth. What you saw from the tower was a play in which the Señor +Brome took his part badly enough, as you may have noticed, because I told him +that my life hung on it. I have nursed him through a sore sickness, +Señora, and he is not ungrateful.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I judged; but I do not understand you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Señora, I am a slave in this house, a discarded slave. Perhaps +you can guess the rest, it is a common story here. I was offered my freedom at +a price, that I should weave myself into this man’s heart, I who am held +fair, and make him my lover. If I failed, then perhaps I should be sold as a +slave—perhaps worse. I accepted—why should I not? It was a small +thing to me. On the one hand, life, freedom, and wealth, an hidalgo of good +blood and a gallant friend for a little while, and, on the other, the last +shame or blackness which doubtless await me now—if I am found out. +Señora, I failed, who in truth did not try hard to succeed. The man +looked on me as his nurse, no more, and to me he was one very sick, no more. +Also, we grew to be true friends, and in this way or in that I learned all his +story, learned also why the trap was baited thus—that you might be +deceived and fall into a deeper trap. Señora, I could not explain it all +to him, indeed, in that chamber where we were spied on, I had but little +chance. Still, it was necessary that he should seem to be what he is not, so I +took him into the garden and, knowing well who watched us, made him act his +part, well enough to deceive you it would seem.” +</p> + +<p> +“Still I do not understand,” said Margaret more softly. “You +say that your life or welfare hung on this shameful business. Then why do you +reveal it to me now?” +</p> + +<p> +“To save you from yourself, Señora, to save my friend the +Señor Brome, and to pay back Morella in his own coin.” +</p> + +<p> +“How will you do these things?” +</p> + +<p> +“The first two are done, I think, but the third is difficult. It is of +that I come to speak with you, at great risk. Indeed, had not my master been +summoned to the court of the Moorish king I could not have come, and he may +return at any time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you some plan?” asked Margaret, leaning towards her eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“No plan as yet, only an idea.” She turned and looked at Betty, +adding, +</p> + +<p> +“This lady is your cousin, is she not, though of a different station, and +somewhat far away?” +</p> + +<p> +Margaret nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“You are not unlike,” went on Inez, “of much the same height +and shape, although the Señora Betty is stronger built, and her eyes are +blue and her hair golden, whereas your eyes are black and your hair chestnut. +Beneath a veil, or at night, it would not be easy to tell you apart if your +hands were gloved and neither of you spoke above a whisper.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Margaret, “what then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Now the Señora Betty comes into the play,” replied Inez. +“Señora Betty, have you understood our talk?” +</p> + +<p> +“Something, not quite all,” answered Betty. +</p> + +<p> +“Then what you do not understand your lady must interpret, and be not +angry with me, I pray you, if I seem to know more of you and your affairs than +you have ever told me. Render my words now, Dona Margaret.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, after this was done, and she had thought awhile, Inez continued slowly, +Margaret translating from Spanish into English whenever Betty could not +understand: +</p> + +<p> +“Morella made love to you in England, Señora Betty—did he +not?—and won your heart as he has won that of many another woman, so that +you came to believe that he was carrying you off to marry you, and not your +cousin?” +</p> + +<p> +“What affair is that of yours, woman?” asked Betty, flushing +angrily. +</p> + +<p> +“None at all, save that I could tell much such another story, if you +cared to listen. But hear me out, and then answer me a question, or rather, +answer the question first. Would you like to be avenged upon this high-born +knave?” +</p> + +<p> +“Avenged?” answered Betty, clenching her hands and hissing the +words through her firm, white teeth. “I would risk my life for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“As I do. It seems that we are of one mind there. Then I think that +perhaps I can show you a way. Look now, your cousin has seen certain things +which women placed as she is do not like to see. She is jealous, she is +angry—or was until I told her the truth. Well, to-night or to-morrow, +Morella will come to her and say, ‘Are you satisfied? Do you still refuse +me in favour of a man who yields his heart to the first light-of-love who +tempts him? Will you not be my wife?’ What if she answer, ‘Yes, I +will.’ Nay, be silent both of you, and hear me out. What if then there +should be a secret marriage, <i>and the Señora Betty should chance to +wear the bride’s veil</i>, while the Dona Margaret, in the robe of Betty, +was let go with the Señor Brome and her father?” +</p> + +<p> +Inez paused, watching them both, and playing with the fan she held, while, the +rendering of her words finished, Margaret and Betty stared at her and at each +other, for the audacity and fearfulness of this plot took their breath away. It +was Margaret who spoke the first. +</p> + +<p> +“You must not do it, Betty,” she said. “Why, when the man +found you out, he would kill you.” But Betty took no heed of her, and +thought on. At length she looked up and answered: +</p> + +<p> +“Cousin, it was my vain folly that brought you all into this trouble, +therefore I owe something to you, do I not? I am not afraid of the man—he +is afraid of me; and if it came to killing—why, let Inez lend me that +knife of hers, and I think that perhaps I should give the first blow. +And—well, I think I love him, rascal though he is, and, afterwards, +perhaps we might make it up, who can say?—while, if not—— But +tell me, you, Inez, should I be his legal wife according to the law of this +land?” +</p> + +<p> +“Assuredly,” answered Inez, “if a priest married you and he +placed the ring upon your hand and named you wife. Then, when once the words of +blessing have been said, the Pope alone can loose that knot, which may be +risked, for there would be much to explain, and is this a tale that Morella, a +good servant of the Church, would care to take to Rome?” +</p> + +<p> +“It would be a trick,” broke in Margaret—“a very ugly +trick.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what was it he played on me and you?” asked Betty. “Nay, +I’ll chance it, and his rage, if only I can be sure that you and Peter +will go free, and your father with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what of this Inez?” asked Margaret, bewildered. +</p> + +<p> +“She will look after herself,” answered Inez. “Perchance, if +all goes well, you will let me ride with you. And now I dare stop no longer, I +go to see your father, the Señor Castell, and if anything can be +arranged, we will talk again. Meanwhile, Dona Margaret, your affianced is +nearly well again at last and sends his heart’s love to you, and, I +counsel you, when Morella speaks turn a gentle ear to him.” +</p> + +<p> +Then with another deep curtsey she glided to the door, unlocked it, and left +the room. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +An hour later Inez was being led by an old Jew, dressed in a Moslem robe and +turban, through one of the most tortuous and crowded parts of Granada. It would +seem that this Jew was known there, for his appearance, accompanied by a veiled +woman, apparently caused no surprise to those followers of the Prophet that he +met, some of whom, indeed, saluted him with humility. +</p> + +<p> +“These children of Mahomet seem to love you, Father Israel,” said +Inez. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, my dear,” answered the old fellow with a chuckle; +“they owe me money, that is why, and I am getting it in before the great +war comes with the Spaniards, so they would sweep the streets for me with their +beards—all of which is very good for the plans of our friend yonder. Ah! +he who has crowns in his pocket can put a crown upon his head; there is nothing +that money will not do in Granada. Give me enough of it, and I will buy his +sultana from the king.” +</p> + +<p> +“This Castell has plenty?” asked Inez shortly. +</p> + +<p> +“Plenty, and more credit. He is one of the richest men in England. But +why do you ask? He would not think of you, who is too troubled about other +things.” +</p> + +<p> +Inez only laughed bitterly, but did not resent the words. Why should she? It +was not worth while. +</p> + +<p> +“I know,” she answered, “but I mean to earn some of it all +the same, and I want to be sure that there is enough for all of us.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is enough, I have told you there is enough and to spare,” +answered the Hebrew Israel as he tapped on a door in a dirty-looking wall. +</p> + +<p> +It opened as though by magic, and they crossed a paved patio, or courtyard, to +a house beyond, a tumble-down place of Moorish architecture. +</p> + +<p> +“Our friend Castell, being in seclusion just now, has hired the cellar +floor,” said Israel with a chuckle to Inez, “so be pleased to +follow me, and take care of the rats and beetles.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he led her down a rickety stair which opened out of the courtyard into +vaults filled with vats of wine, and, having lit a taper, through these, +shutting and locking sundry doors behind him, to what appeared to be a very +damp wall covered with cobwebs, and situated in a dark corner of a wine-cave. +Here he stopped and tapped again in his peculiar fashion, whereon a portion of +the wall turned outwards on a pivot, leaving an opening through which they +could pass. +</p> + +<p> +“Well managed, isn’t it?” chuckled Israel. “Who would +think of looking for an entrance here, especially if he owed the old Jew money? +Come in, my pretty, come in.” +</p> + +<p> +Inez followed him into this darksome hole, and the wall closed behind them. +Then, taking her by the arm, he turned first to the right, next to the left, +opened a door with a key which he carried, and, behold, they stood in a +beautifully furnished room well lighted with lamps, for it seemed to have no +windows. “Wait here,” he said to Inez, pointing to a couch on which +she sat herself down, “while I fetch my lodger,” and he vanished +through some curtains at the end of the room. +</p> + +<p> +Presently these opened again, and Israel reappeared through them with Castell, +dressed now in Moorish robes, and looking somewhat pale from his confinement +underground, but otherwise well enough. Inez rose and stood before him, +throwing back her veil that he might see her face. Castell searched her for a +while with his keen eyes that noted everything, then said: +</p> + +<p> +“You are the lady with whom I have been in communication through our +friend here, are you not? Prove it to me now by repeating my messages.” +</p> + +<p> +Inez obeyed, telling him everything. +</p> + +<p> +“That is right,” he said, “but how do I know that I can trust +you? I understand you are, or have been, the lover of this man Morella, and +such an one he might well employ as a spy to bring us all to ruin.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it not too late to ask such questions, Señor? If I am not to +be trusted, already you and your people are in the hollow of my hand?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all, not at all, my dear,” said Israel. “If we see +the slightest cause to doubt you, why, there are many great vats in this place, +one of which, at a pinch, would serve you as a coffin, though it would be a +pity to spoil the good wine.” +</p> + +<p> +Inez laughed as she answered: +</p> + +<p> +“Save your wine, and your time too. Morella has cast me off, and I hate +him, and wish to escape from him and rob him of his prize. Also, I desire money +to live on afterwards, and this you must give to me or I do not stir, or rather +the promise of it, for you Jews keep your word, and I do not ask a maravedi +from you until I have played my part.” +</p> + +<p> +“And then how many maravedis do you ask, young woman?” +</p> + +<p> +Inez named a sum, at the mention of which both of them opened their eyes, and +old Israel exclaimed drily: +</p> + +<p> +“Surely—surely you must be one of us.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she answered, “but I try to follow your example, and, +if I am to live at all, it shall be in comfort.” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite so,” said Castell, “we understand. But now tell us, +what do you propose to do for this money?” +</p> + +<p> +“I propose to set you, your daughter, the Dona Margaret, and her lover, +the Señor Brome, safe and free outside the walls of Granada, and to +leave the Marquis of Morella married to another woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“What other woman? Yourself?” asked Castell, fixing on this last +point in the programme. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Señor, not for all the wealth of both of you. To your +dependent and your daughter’s relative, the handsome Betty.” +</p> + +<p> +“How will you manage that?” exclaimed Castell, amazed. +</p> + +<p> +“These cousins are not unlike, Señor, although the link of blood +between them is so thin. Listen now, I will tell you.” And she explained +the outlines of her plan. +</p> + +<p> +“A bold scheme enough,” said Castell, when she had finished, +“but even if it can be done, would that marriage hold?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think so,” answered Inez, “if the priest knew—and he +could be bribed—and the bride knows. But if not, what would it matter, +since Rome alone can decide the question, and long before that is done the +fates of all of us will be settled.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rome—or death,” said Castell; and Inez read what he was +afraid of in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Your Betty takes her chance,” she replied slowly, “as many a +one has done before her with less cause. She is a woman with a mind as strong +as her body. Morella made her love him and promised to marry her. Then he used +her to steal your daughter, and she learned that she had been no more than a +stalking-heifer, from behind which he would net the white swan. Do you not +think, therefore, that she has something to pay him back, she through whom her +beloved mistress and cousin has been brought into all this trouble? If she +wins, she becomes the wife of a grandee of Spain, a marchioness; and if she +loses, well, she has had her fling for a high stake, and perhaps her revenge. +At least she is willing to take her chance, and, meanwhile, all of you can be +gone.” +</p> + +<p> +Castell looked doubtfully at the Jew Israel, who stroked his white beard and +said: +</p> + +<p> +“Let the woman set out her scheme. At any rate she is no fool, and it is +worth our hearing, though I fear that at the best it must be costly.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can pay,” said Castell, and motioned to Inez to proceed. +</p> + +<p> +As yet, however, she had not much more to say, save that they must have good +horses at hand, and send a messenger to Seville, whither the <i>Margaret</i> +had been ordered to proceed, bidding her captain hold his ship ready to sail at +any hour, should they succeed in reaching him. +</p> + +<p> +These things, then, they arranged, and a while later Inez and Israel departed, +the former carrying with her a bag of gold. +</p> + +<p> +That same night Inez sought the priest, Henriques of Motril, in that hall of +Morella’s palace which was used as a private chapel, saying that she +desired to speak with him under pretence of making confession, for they were +old friends—or rather enemies. +</p> + +<p> +As it chanced she found the holy father in a very ill humour. It appeared that +Morella also was in a bad humour with Henriques, having heard that it was he +who had possessed himself of the jewels in his strong-box on the <i>San +Antonio</i>. Now he insisted upon his surrendering everything, and swore, +moreover, that he would hold him responsible for all that his people had stolen +from the ship, and this because he said that it was his fault that Peter Brome +had escaped the sea and come on to Granada. +</p> + +<p> +“So, Father,” said Inez, “you, who thought yourself rich, are +poor again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my daughter, and that is what chances to those who put their faith +in princes. I have served this marquis well for many years—to my +soul’s hurt, I fear me—hoping that he who stands so high in the +favour of the Church would advance me to some great preferment. But instead, +what does he do? He robs me of a few trinkets that, had I not found them, the +sea would have swallowed or some thief would have taken, and declares me his +debtor for the rest, of which I know nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“What preferment did you want, Father? I see that you have one in your +mind.” +</p> + +<p> +“Daughter, a friend had written to me from Seville that if I have a +hundred gold doubloons to pay for it, he can secure me the place of a secretary +in the Holy Office where I served before as a familiar until the marquis made +me his chaplain, and gave the benefice of Motril, which proved worth nothing, +and many promises that are worth less. Now those trinkets would fetch thirty, +and I have saved twenty, and came here to borrow the other fifty from the +marquis, to whom I have done so many good turns—as <i>you</i> know well, +Inez. You see the end of that quest,” and he groaned angrily. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a pity,” said Inez thoughtfully, “since those who +serve the Inquisition save many souls, do they not, including their own? For +instance,” she added, and the priest winced at the words, “I +remember that they saved the soul of my own sister and would have saved mine, +had I been—what shall I say?—more—more prejudiced. Also, they +get a percentage of the goods of wicked heretics, and so become rich and able +to advance themselves.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is so, Inez. It was the chance of a lifetime, especially to one +who, like myself, hates heretics. But why speak of it now when that cursed, +dissolute marquis——” and he checked himself. +</p> + +<p> +Inez looked at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Father,” she asked, “if I happen to be able to find you +those hundred gold doubloons, would you do something for me?” +</p> + +<p> +The priest’s foxy face lit up. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder what there is that I would not do, my daughter!” +</p> + +<p> +“Even if it brought you into a quarrel with the marquis? +</p> + +<p> +“Once I was a secretary to the Inquisition of Seville, he would have more +reason to fear me than I him. Aye, and fear me he should, who bear him no +love,” answered the priest with a snarl. +</p> + +<p> +“Then listen, Father. I have not made my confession yet; I have not told +you, for instance, that I also hate this marquis, and with good +cause—though perhaps you know that already. But remember that if you +betray me, you will never see those hundred gold doubloons, and some other holy +priest will be appointed secretary at Seville. Also worse things may happen to +you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Proceed, my daughter,” he said unctuously; “are we not in +the confessional—or near it?” +</p> + +<p> +So she told him all the plot, trusting to the man’s avarice and other +matters to protect her, for Inez hated Fray Henriques bitterly, and knew him +from the crown of his shaven head to the soles of his erring feet, as she had +good cause to do. Only she did not tell him whence the money was to come. +</p> + +<p> +“That does not seem a very difficult matter,” he said, when she had +finished. “If a man and a woman, unwed and outside the prohibited +degrees, appear before me to be married, I marry them, and once the ring has +passed and the office is said, married they are till death or the Pope part +them.” +</p> + +<p> +“And suppose that the man thinks he is marrying another woman, +Father?” +</p> + +<p> +The priest shrugged his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“He should know whom he is marrying; that is his affair, not the +Church’s or mine. The names need not be spoken too loudly, my +daughter.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you would give me a writing of the marriage with them set out +plain?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly. To you or to anybody else; why should I not?—that is, +if I were sure of this wedding fee.” +</p> + +<p> +Inez lifted her hand, and showed beneath it a little pile of ten doubloons. +</p> + +<p> +“Take them, Father,” she said; “they will not be counted in +the contract. There are others where they came from, whereof twenty will be +paid before the marriage, and eighty when I have that writing at Seville.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus10"></a> +<br /> +<img src="images/fig10.jpg" width="397" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“There are others where they came from” +</p> +</div> + +<p> +He swept up the coins and pocketed them, saying: +</p> + +<p> +“I will trust you, Inez.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she answered as she left him, “we must trust each +other now—must we not?—seeing that you have the money, and both our +necks are in the same noose. Be here, Father, to-morrow at the same time, in +case I have more confessions to make, for, alas! this is a sinful world, as you +should know very well.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap17"></a>CHAPTER XVII.<br /> +THE PLOT.</h2> + +<p> +On the morning following these conversations, just after Margaret and Betty had +breakfasted, Inez appeared, and, as before, locked the door behind her. +</p> + +<p> +“Señoras,” she said calmly, “I have arranged that +little business of which I spoke to you yesterday, or at least the first act of +the play, since it remains for you to write the rest. Now I am sent to say that +the noble Marquis of Morella craves leave to see you, Dona Margaret, and within +an hour. So there is no time to lose.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell us what you have done, Inez?” said Margaret. +</p> + +<p> +“I have seen your worshipful father, Dona Margaret; here is the token of +it, which you will do well to destroy when you have read.” And she handed +her a slip of paper, whereon was written in her father’s writing, and in +English: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“BELOVED DAUGHTER, +</p> + +<p class="letter"> + “This messenger, who I think may be trusted by you, has made +arrangements with me which she will explain. I approve, though the risk is great. +Your cousin is a brave girl, but, understand, I do not force her to this dangerous +enterprise. She must choose her own road, only I promise that if she escapes +and we live I will not forget her deed. The messenger will bring me your +answer. God be with us all, and farewell. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“J.C.” +</p> + +<p> +Margaret read this letter first to herself and then aloud to Betty, and, having +read, tore it into tiny fragments and threw them from the turret window. +</p> + +<p> +“Speak now,” she said; and Inez told her everything. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you trust the priest?” asked Margaret, when she had finished. +</p> + +<p> +“He is a great villain, as I have reason to know; still, I think I +can,” she answered, “while the cabbage is in front of the +donkey’s nose—I mean until he has got all the money. Also, he has +committed himself by taking some on account. But before we go further, the +question is—does this lady play?” and she pointed to Betty. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I play,” said Betty, when she understood everything. “I +won’t go back upon my word; there is too much at stake. It is an ugly +business for me, I know well enough, but,” she added slowly, setting her +firm mouth, “I have debts to pay all round, and I am no Spanish putty to +be squeezed flat—like some people,” and she glanced at the +humble-looking Inez. “So, before all is done, it may be uglier for +him.” +</p> + +<p> +When she had mastered the meaning of this speech the soft-voiced Inez lifted +her gentle eyes in admiration, and murmured a Spanish proverb as to what is +supposed to occur when Satan encounters Beelzebub in a high-walled lane. Then, +being a lady of resource and experience, the plot having been finally decided +upon, not altogether with Margaret’s approval, who feared for +Betty’s fate when it should be discovered, Inez began to instruct them +both in various practical expedients, by means of which the undoubted general +resemblance of these cousins might be heightened and their differences toned +down. To this end she promised to furnish them with certain hair-washes, +pigments, and articles of apparel. +</p> + +<p> +“It is of small use,” said Betty, glancing first at herself and +then at the lovely Margaret, “for even if they change skins, who can make +the calf look like the fawn, though they chance to feed in the same meadow? +Still, bring your stuffs and I will do my best; but I think that a thick veil +and a shut mouth will help me more than any of them, also a long gown to hide +my feet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely they are charming feet,” said Inez politely, adding to +herself, “to carry you whither you wish to go.” Then she turned to +Margaret and reminded her that the marquis desired to see her, and waited for +her answer. +</p> + +<p> +“I will not meet him alone,” said Margaret decidedly. +</p> + +<p> +“That is awkward,” answered Inez, “as I think he has words to +say to you which he does not wish others to hear, especially the señora +yonder,” and she nodded towards Betty. +</p> + +<p> +“I will not meet him alone,” repeated Margaret. +</p> + +<p> +“Yet, if things are to go forward as we have arranged, you must meet him, +Dona Margaret, and give him that answer which he desires. Well, I think it can +be arranged. The court below is large. Now, while you and the marquis talk at +one end of it, the Señora Betty and I might walk out of earshot at the +other. She needs more instruction in our Spanish tongue; it would be a good +opportunity to begin our lessons.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what am I to say to him?” asked Margaret nervously. +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” answered Inez, “that you must copy the example of +that wonderful actor, the Señor Peter, and play a part as well as you +saw him do, or even better, if possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“It must be a very different part then,” replied Margaret, +stiffening visibly at certain recollections. +</p> + +<p> +The gentle Inez smiled as she said: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but surely you can seem jealous, for that is natural to us all, and +you can yield by degrees, and you can make a bargain as the price of yourself +in marriage.” +</p> + +<p> +“What exact bargain should I make?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think that you shall be securely wed by a priest of your own Church, +and that letters, signed by that priest and announcing the marriage, shall be +delivered to the Archbishop of Seville, and to their Majesties King Ferdinand +and Queen Isabella. Also, of course, you must arrange that the Señor +Brome and your father, the Señor Castell, and your cousin Betty here +shall be escorted safe out of Granada before your marriage, and that you shall +see them pass through the gate beneath your turret window, swearing that +thereafter, at nightfall of the same day, you will suffer the priest to do his +office and make you Morella’s wife. By that time they should be well upon +their road, and, after the rite is celebrated, I will receive the signed papers +from the priest and follow them, leaving the false bride to play her part as +best she can.” +</p> + +<p> +Again Margaret hesitated; the thing seemed too complicated and full of danger. +But while she thought, a knock came on the door. +</p> + +<p> +“That is to tell me that Morella awaits your answer in the court,” +said Inez. “Now, which is it to be? Remember that there is no other +chance of escape for you, or the others, from this guarded town—at least +I can see none.” +</p> + +<p> +“I accept,” said Margaret hurriedly, “and God help us all, +for we shall need Him.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you, Señora Betty?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I made up my mind long ago,” answered Betty coolly. “We +can only fail, when we shall be no worse off than before.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good. Then play your parts well, both of you. After all, they should not +be so difficult, for the priest is safe, and the marquis will never scent such +a trick as this. Fix the marriage for this day week, as I have much to think of +and make ready,” and she went. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Half an hour later Margaret sat under the cool arcade of the marble court, and +with her, Morella, while upon the further side of its splashing fountain and +out of earshot, Betty and Inez walked to and fro in the shadow. +</p> + +<p> +“You sent for me, Marquis,” said Margaret presently, “and, +being your prisoner, I have come because I must. What is your pleasure with +me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Dona Margaret,” he answered gravely, “can you not guess? +Well, I will tell you, lest you should guess wrong. First, it is to ask your +forgiveness as I have done before, for the many crimes to which my love, my +true love, for you has driven me. This time yesterday I knew well that I could +expect none. To-day I dare to hope that it may be otherwise.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus11"></a> +<br /> +<img src="images/fig11.jpg" width="395" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“To-day I dare to hope that it may be otherwise” +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“Why so, Marquis?” +</p> + +<p> +“Last evening you looked into a certain garden and saw two people walking +there—yonder is one of them,” and he nodded towards Inez. +“Shall I go on?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she answered in a low voice, and passing her hands before her +face. “Only tell me who and what is that woman?” and in her turn +she looked towards Inez. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it necessary?” he asked. “Well, if you wish to know, she +is a Spaniard of good blood who with her sister was taken captive by the Moors. +A certain priest, who took an interest in the sister, brought her to my notice +and I bought her from them; so, as her parents were dead and she had nowhere +else to go, she elected to stay in my house. You must not judge such things too +harshly; they are common here. Also, she has been very useful to me, being +clever, for through her I have intelligence of many things. Of late, however, +she has grown tired of this life, and wishes to earn her freedom, which I have +promised her in return for certain services, and to leave Granada.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was the nursing of my betrothed one of those services, Marquis?” +</p> + +<p> +He shrugged his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“As you will, Señora. Certainly I forgive her this indiscretion, +if at last she has shown you the truth about that man for whose sake you have +endured so much. Margaret, now that you know him for what he is, say, do you +still cling to him?” +</p> + +<p> +She rose and walked a few steps down the arcade, then came back and asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Are you any better than this fallen man?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think so, Margaret, for since I knew you I am a risen man; all my old +self is left behind me, I am a new creature, and my sins have been for you, not +against you. Hear me, I beseech you. I stole you away, it is true, but I have +done you no harm, and will do you none. For your sake also I have spared your +father when I had but to make a sign to remove him from my path. I suffered him +to escape from the prison where he was confined, and I know the place where he +thinks himself hidden to-day among the Jews of Granada. Also, I nursed Peter +Brome back to life, when at any hour I could have let him die, lest afterwards +I might have it on my conscience that, but for my love for you, he might +perhaps still be living. Well, you have seen him as he is, and what say you +now? Will you still reject me? Look on me,” and he drew up his tall and +stately shape, “and tell me, am I such a man as a woman should be ashamed +to own as husband? Remember, too, that I have much to give you in this land of +Spain, whereof you shall become one of the greatest ladies, or perhaps in the +future,” he added significantly, “even more. War draws near, +Margaret; this city and all its rich territories will fall into the hands of +Spain, and afterwards I shall be their governor, almost their king.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if I refuse?” asked Margaret. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” he answered sternly, “you bide here, and that false +lover of yours bides here, and your father bides here to take the chance of war +as Christian captives with a thousand others who languish in the dungeons of +the Alhambra, while, my mission ended, I go hence to play my part in battle +amongst my peers, as one of the first captains of their Most Catholic +Majesties. Yet it is not to your fears that I would appeal, but to your heart, +for I seek your love and your dear companionship through life, and, if I can +help it, desire to work you and yours no harm.” +</p> + +<p> +“You desire to work them no harm. Then, if I were to fall in with your +humour, would you let them go in safety?—I mean my father and the +Señor Brome and my cousin Betty, whom, if you were as honest as you +pretend to be, you should ask to bide with you as your wife, and not +myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“The last I cannot do,” he answered, flushing. “God knows I +meant her no hurt, and only used her to keep near to and win news of you, +thinking her, to tell truth, somewhat other than she is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are no women honest here in Spain, then, my lord Marquis?” +</p> + +<p> +“A few, a very few, Dona Margaret. But I erred about Betty, whom I took +for a simple serving-girl, and to whom, if need be, I am ready to make all +amends.” +</p> + +<p> +“Except that which is due to a woman you have asked to be your wife, and +who in our country could claim the fulfilment of your promise, or declare you +shamed. But you have not answered. Would they go free?” +</p> + +<p> +“As free as air—especially the Señora Betty,” he added +with a little smile, “for to speak truth, there is something in that +woman’s eyes which frightens me at times. I think that she has a long +memory. Within an hour of our marriage you shall look down from your window and +see them depart under escort, every one, to go whither they will.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nay,” answered Margaret, “it is not enough. I should need to +see them go before, and then, if I consented, not till the sun had set would I +pay the price of their ransom.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then do you consent? he asked eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“My lord Marquis, it would seem that I must. My betrothed has played me +false. For a month or more I have been prisoner in your palace, which I +understand has no good name, and, if I refuse, you tell me that all of us will +be cast into yonder dungeons to be sold as slaves or die prisoners of the +Moors. My lord Marquis, fate and you leave me but little choice. On this day +week I will marry you, but blame me not if you find me other than you think, as +you have found my cousin whom you befooled. Till then, also, I pray you that +you will leave me quite untroubled. If you have arrangements to make or +commands to send, the woman Inez yonder will serve as messenger, for of her I +know the worst.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will obey you in all things, Dona Margaret,” he answered humbly. +“Do you desire to see your father or—” and he paused. +</p> + +<p> +“Neither of them,” she answered. “I will write to them and +send my letters by this Inez. Why should I see them,” she added +passionately, “who have done with the old days when I was free and happy, +and am about to become the wife of the most noble Marquis of Morella, that +honourable grandee of Spain, who tricked a poor girl by a false promise of +marriage, and used her blind and loving folly to trap and steal me from my +home? My lord, till this day week I bid you farewell,” and, walking from +the arcade to the fountain, she called aloud to Betty to accompany her to their +rooms. +</p> + +<p> +The week for which Margaret had bargained had gone by. All was prepared. Inez +had shown to Morella the letters that his bride to be wrote to her father and +to Peter Brome; also the answers, imploring and passionate, to the same. But +there were other letters and other answers which she had not shown. It was +afternoon, swift horses were ready in the courtyard, and with them an escort, +while, disguised as Moors, Castell and Peter waited under guard in a chamber +close at hand. Betty, dressed in the robes of a Moorish woman, and thickly +veiled, stood before Morella, to whom Inez had led her. +</p> + +<p> +“I come to tell you,” she said, “that at sundown, three hours +after we have passed beneath her window, my cousin and mistress will wait to be +made your wife, but if you try to disturb her before then she will be no wife +of yours, or any man’s.” +</p> + +<p> +“I obey,” answered Morella; “and, Señora Betty, I pray +your pardon, and that you will accept this gift from me in token of your +forgiveness.” And with a low bow he handed to her a beautiful necklace of +pearls. +</p> + +<p> +“I take them,” said Betty, with a bitter laugh, “as they may +serve to buy me a passage back to England. But forgive you I do not, Marquis of +Morella, and I warn you that there is a score between us which I may yet live +to settle. You seem to have won, but God in Heaven takes note of the wickedness +of men, and in this way or in that He always pays His debts. Now I go to bid +farewell to my cousin Margaret, but to you I do not bid farewell, for I think +that we shall meet again,” and with a sob she let fall the veil which she +had lifted above her lips to speak and departed with Inez, to whom she +whispered as they went, “He will not linger for any more good-byes with +Betty Dene.” +</p> + +<p> +They entered Margaret’s room and locked the door behind them. She was +seated on a low divan wrapped in a loose robe, and by her side, glittering with +silver and with gems, lay her bridal veil and garments. +</p> + +<p> +“Be swift,” said Inez to Betty, who stripped off her Moorish dress +and the long, flowing veil that was wrapped about her head, whereon it was seen +that her hair had changed greatly in colour, from yellow to dark chestnut +indeed, while her eyes, ringed about with pigments, and made lustrous by drugs +dropped into them, looked no longer blue, but black like Margaret’s. Yes, +and wonder of wonders, on the right side of the chin and on the back of the +neck were moles, or beauty-spots, just such as Margaret had borne there from +her birth! In short, their stature being much the same, though Betty was more +thickly built, except in the strongest light it would not have been easy to +distinguish them apart, even unveiled, for at all such arts of the altering of +the looks of women, Inez was an adept, and she had done her best. +</p> + +<p> +Now Margaret clothed herself in the white robes and the thick head-dress that +hid her face, all except a little crack left for the eyes to peep through, +whilst Betty, with the help of Inez, arrayed herself in the wondrous wedding +robe beset with jewels that was Morella’s bridal gift, and hid her dyed +tresses beneath the pearl-sewn veil. Within ten minutes all was finished, even +to the dagger that Betty had tied about her beneath her robe, and the two +transformed women stood staring at each other. +</p> + +<p> +“It is time to go,” said Inez. +</p> + +<p> +Then Margaret broke out: +</p> + +<p> +“I do not like this business; I never did. When he discovers all, that +man’s rage will be terrible, and he will kill her. I repent that I have +consented to the plot.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is too late to repent now, Señora,” said Inez. +</p> + +<p> +“Cannot Betty be got away also?” asked Margaret desperately. +</p> + +<p> +“It is just possible,” answered Inez; “thus, before the +marriage, according to the old custom here, I hand the cups of wine to the +bridegroom and the bride. That for the marquis will be drugged, since he must +not see too clear to-night. Well, I might brew it stronger so that within half +an hour he would not know whether he were married or single, and then, perhaps, +she might escape with me and come to join you. But it is very risky, and, of +course, if we were discovered—the stitch would be out of the wineskin, +and the cellar floor might be stained!” +</p> + +<p> +Now Betty interrupted: +</p> + +<p> +“Keep your stitches whole, Cousin; if any skins are to be pricked it +can’t be helped, and at least you won’t have to wipe up the mess. I +am not going to run away from the man, more likely he will run away from me. I +look well in this fine dress of yours, and I mean to wear it out. Now +begone—begone, before some of them come to seek me. Don’t you +grieve for me; I’ll lie in the bed that I have made, and if the worst +comes to the worst, I have money in my pocket—or its worth—and we +will meet again in England. Come, give my love and duty to Master Peter and +your father, and if I should see them no more, bid them think kindly of Betty +Dene, who was such a plague to them.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, taking Margaret in her strong arms, she kissed her again and again, and +fairly thrust her from the room. +</p> + +<p> +But when they were gone, poor Betty sat down and cried a little, till she +remembered that hot tears might melt the paint upon her face, and, drying them, +went to the window and watched. +</p> + +<p> +A while later, from her lofty niche, she saw six Moorish horsemen riding along +the white road to the embattled gate. After them came two men and a woman, all +splendidly mounted, also dressed as Moors, and then six other horsemen. They +passed the gate which was opened for them and began to mount the slope beyond. +At the crest of it the woman halted and, turning, waved a handkerchief. Betty +answered the signal, and in another minute they had vanished, and she was alone. +</p> + +<p> +Never did she spend a more weary afternoon. Two hours later, still watching at +her window, she saw the Moorish escort return, and knew that all was well, and +that by now, Margaret, her lover, and her father were safely started on their +journey. So she had not risked her life in vain. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap18"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.<br /> +THE HOLY HERMANDAD.</h2> + +<p> +Down the long passages, through the great, fretted halls, across the cool +marble courts, flitted Inez and Margaret. It was like a dream. They went +through a room where women, idling or working at tapestries, looked at them +curiously. Margaret heard one of them say to another: +</p> + +<p> +“Why does the Dona Margaret’s cousin leave her?” And the +answer, “Because she is in love with the marquis herself, and cannot bear +to stay.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a fool!” said the first woman. “She is good looking, +and would only have had to wait a few weeks.” +</p> + +<p> +They passed an open door, that of Morella’s own chambers. Within it he +stood and watched them go by. When they were opposite to him some doubt or idea +seemed to strike his mind, for he looked at them keenly, stepped forward, then, +thinking better of it, or perhaps remembering Betty’s bitter tongue, +halted and turned aside. That danger had gone by! +</p> + +<p> +At length, none hindering them, they reached the yard where the escort and the +horses waited. Here, standing under an archway, were Castell and Peter. Castell +greeted Margaret in English and kissed her through her veil, while Peter, who +had not seen her close since months before he rode away to Dedham, stared at +her with all his eyes, and began to draw near to her, designing to find out, as +he was sure he could do if once he touched her, whether indeed this were +Margaret, or only Betty after all. Guessing what was in his mind, and that he +might reveal everything, Inez, who held a long pin in her hand with which she +was fastening her veil that had come loose, pretended to knock against him, and +ran the point deep into his arm, muttering, “Fool!” as she did so. +He sprang back with an oath, the guard smiled, and she began to pray his pardon. +</p> + +<p> +Castell helped Margaret on to her horse, then mounted his own, as did Peter, +still rubbing his arm, but not daring to look towards Margaret, whose hand Inez +shook familiarly in farewell as though she were her equal, addressing her the +while in terms of endearment such as Spanish women use to each other. An +officer of Morella’s household came and counted them, saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Two men and a woman. That is right, though I cannot see the +woman’s face.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment he seemed to be about to order her to unveil, but Inez called to +him that it was not decent before all these Moors, whereon he nodded and +ordered the captain to proceed. +</p> + +<p> +They rode through the arch of the castle along the roadway, through the great +gate of the wall also, where the guard questioned their escort, stared at them, +and, after receiving a present from Castell, let them go, telling them they +were lucky Christians to get alive out of Granada, as indeed they were. +</p> + +<p> +At the brow of the rise Margaret turned and waved her handkerchief towards that +high window which she knew so well. Another handkerchief was waved in answer, +and, thinking of the lonely Betty watching them there while she awaited the +issue of her desperate venture, Margaret went on, weeping beneath her veil. For +an hour they rode forward, speaking few words to each other, till at length +they came to the cross-roads, one of which ran to Malaga, and the other towards +Seville. +</p> + +<p> +Here the escort halted, saying that their orders were to leave them at this +point, and asking which road they intended to take. Castell answered that to +Malaga, whereon the captain replied that they were wise, as they were less +likely to meet bands of marauding thieves who called themselves Christian +soldiers, and murdered or robbed all travellers who fell into their hands. Then +Castell offered him a present, which he accepted gravely, as though he did him +a great favour, and, after bows and salutations, they departed. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as the Moors were gone the three rode a little way towards Malaga. +Then, when there was nobody in sight, they turned across country and gained the +Seville road. At last they were alone and, halting beneath the walls of a house +that had been burnt in some Christian raid, they spoke together freely for the +first time, and oh! what a moment was that for all of them! +</p> + +<p> +Peter pushed his horse alongside that of Margaret, crying: +</p> + +<p> +“Speak, beloved. Is it truly you?” +</p> + +<p> +But Margaret, taking no heed of him, leant over and, throwing her arm around +her father’s neck, kissed him again and again through her veil, blessing +God that they had lived to meet in safety. Peter tried to kiss her also; but +she caused her horse to move so that he nearly fell from his saddle. +</p> + +<p> +“Have a care, Peter,” she said to him, “or your love of +kissing will lead you into more trouble.” Whereon, guessing of what she +spoke, he coloured furiously, and began to explain at length. +</p> + +<p> +“Cease,” she said—“cease. I know all that story, for I +saw you,” then, relenting, with some brief, sweet words of greeting and +gratitude, gave him her hand, which he kissed often enough. +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” said Castell, “we must push on, who have twenty miles +to cover before we reach that inn where Israel has arranged that we should +sleep to-night. We will talk as we go.” And talk they did, as well as the +roughness of the road and the speed at which they must travel would allow. +</p> + +<p> +Riding as hard as they were able, at length they came to the <i>venta</i>, or +rough hostelry, just as the darkness closed in. At the sight of it they thanked +God aloud, for this place was across the Moorish border, and now they had +little to fear from Granada. The host, a half-bred Spaniard and a Christian, +expected them, having received a message from Israel, with whom he had had +dealings, and gave them two rooms, rude enough, but sufficient, and good food +and wine, also stabling and barley for their horses, bidding them sleep well +and have no fear, as he and his people would watch and warn them of any danger. +</p> + +<p> +Yet it was late before they slept, who had so much to say to each +other—especially Peter and Margaret—and were so happy at their +escape, if only for a little while. Yet across their joy, like the sound of a +funeral bell at a merry feast, came the thought of Betty and that fateful +marriage in which ere now she must have played her part. Indeed, at last +Margaret knelt down and offered up prayers to Heaven that the saints might +protect her cousin in the great peril which she had incurred for them, nor was +Peter ashamed to join her in that prayer. Then they embraced—especially +Peter and Margaret—and laid them down, Castell and his daughter in one +room, and Peter in the other, and slept as best they could. +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour before dawn Peter was up seeing to the horses while the others +breakfasted and packed the food that the landlord had made ready for their +journey. Then he also swallowed some meat and wine, and at the first break of +day, having discharged their reckoning and taken a letter from their host to +those of other inns upon the road, they pressed on towards Seville, very +thankful to find that as yet there were no signs of their being pursued. +</p> + +<p> +All that day, with short pauses to rest themselves and their horses, they rode +on without accident, for the most part over a fertile plain watered by several +rivers which they crossed at fords or over bridges. As night fell they reached +the old town of Oxuna, which for many hours they had seen set upon its hill +before them, and, notwithstanding their Moorish dress, made their way almost +unobserved in the darkness to that inn to which they had been recommended. +Here, although he stared at their garments, on finding that they had plenty of +money, the landlord received them well enough, and again they were fortunate in +securing rooms to themselves. It had been their purpose to buy Spanish clothes +in this town, but, as it happened, it was a feast day, and at night every shop +in the place was closed, so they could get none. Now, as they greatly desired +to reach Seville by the following nightfall, hoping under cover of the darkness +to find and come aboard of their ship, the <i>Margaret</i>, which they knew lay +safely in the river, and had been advised by messenger of their intended +journey, it was necessary for them to leave Oxuna before the dawn. So, +unfortunately enough as it proved, it was impossible for them to put off their +Moorish robes and clothe themselves as Christians. +</p> + +<p> +They had hoped, too, that here at Oxuna Inez might overtake them, as she had +promised to do if she could, and give them tidings of what had happened since +they left Granada. But no Inez came. So, comforting themselves with the thought +that however hard she rode it would be difficult for her to reach them, who had +some hours’ start, they left Oxuna in the darkness before any one was +astir. +</p> + +<p> +Having crossed some miles of plain, they passed up through olive groves into +hills where cork-trees grew, and here stopped to eat and let the horses feed. +Just as they were starting on again, Peter, looking round, saw mounted +men—a dozen or more of them of very wild aspect—cantering through +the trees evidently with the object of cutting them off. +</p> + +<p> +“Thieves!” he said shortly. “Ride for it.” +</p> + +<p> +So they began to gallop, and their horses, although somewhat jaded, being very +swift, passed in front of these men before they could regain the road. The band +shouted to them to surrender, and, as they did not stop, loosed a few arrows +and pursued them, while they galloped down the hillside on to a plain which +separated them from more hills also clothed with cork-trees. This plain was +about three miles wide and boggy in places. Still they kept well ahead of the +brigands, as they took them to be, hoping that they would give up the pursuit +or lose sight of them amongst the trees. As they entered these, however, to +their dismay they saw, drawn up in front of them and right across the road, +another band of rough-looking men, perhaps twelve in all. +</p> + +<p> +“Trap!” said Peter. “We must ride through them—it is +our only chance,” at the same time spurring his horse to the front and +drawing his sword. +</p> + +<p> +Choosing the spot where their line was weakest he dashed through it easily +enough but next second heard a cry from Margaret, and pulled his horse round to +see that her mare had fallen, and that she and Castell were in the hands of the +thieves. Indeed, already rough men had hold of her, and one of them was trying +to tear the veil from her face. With a shout of rage Peter charged them, and +struck so fierce a blow that his sword cut through the fellow’s helmet +into his skull, so that he fell down, dying or dead, Margaret’s veil +still in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +Then they rushed at him, five or six of them, and, although he wounded another +man, dragged him from his horse, and, as he lay upon his back, sprang at him to +finish him before he could rise. Already their knives and swords were over him, +and he was making his farewells to life, when he heard a voice command them to +desist and bind his arms. This was quickly done, and he was suffered to rise +from the ground to see before him, not Morella, as he half expected, but a man +clad in fine armour beneath his rough cloak, evidently an officer of rank. +“What kind of a Moor are you,” he asked, “who dare to kill +the soldiers of the Holy Hermandad in the heart of the King’s +country?” and he pointed to the dead man. +</p> + +<p> +“I am not a Moor,” answered Peter in his rough Spanish. “I am +a Christian escaped from Granada, and I cut down that man because he was trying +to insult my betrothed, as you would have done, Señor. I did not know +that he was a soldier of the Hermandad; I thought him a common thief of the +hills.” +</p> + +<p> +This speech, or as much as he could understand of it, seemed to please the +officer, but before he could answer, Castell said: +</p> + +<p> +“Sir Officer, the señor is an Englishman, and does not speak your +language well—” +</p> + +<p> +“He uses his sword well, anyhow,” interrupted the captain, glancing +at the dead soldier’s cloven helm and head. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Sir, he is of your trade and, as the scar upon his face shows, has +fought in many wars. Sir, what he tells you is true. We are Christian captives +escaped from Granada and flying to Seville with my daughter, to whom I pray you +to do no harm, to ask for the protection of their gracious Majesties, and to +find a passage back to England.” +</p> + +<p> +“You do not look like an Englishman,” answered the captain; +“you look like a Marano.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, I cannot help my looks. I am a merchant of London, Castell by name. +It is one well known in Seville and throughout this land, where I have large +dealings, as, if I can but see him, your king himself will acknowledge. Be not +deceived by our dress, which we had to put on in order to escape from Granada, +but, I beseech you, let us go on to Seville.” +</p> + +<p> +“Señor Castell,” answered the officer, “I am the +Captain Arrano of Puebla, and, since you would not stop when we called to you, +and have killed one of my best soldiers, to Seville you must certainly go, but +with me, not by yourselves. You are my prisoners, but have no fear. No violence +shall be done to you or the lady, who must take your trials for your deeds +before the King’s court, and there tell your story, true or false.” +</p> + +<p> +So, having been disarmed of their swords, they were allowed to remount their +horses and taken on towards Seville as prisoners. +</p> + +<p> +“At least,” said Margaret to Peter, “we have nothing more to +fear from highwaymen, and have escaped these soldiers’ swords +unhurt.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered Peter with a groan, “but I hoped that +to-night we should have slept upon the <i>Margaret</i> while she slipped down +the river towards the open sea, and not in a Spanish jail. Now, as fate will +have it, for the second time I have killed a man on your behalf, and all the +business will begin again. Truly our luck is bad!” +</p> + +<p> +“I think it might be worse, and I cannot blame you for that deed,” +answered Margaret, remembering the rough hands of the dead soldier, whom some +of his comrades had stopped behind to bury. +</p> + +<p> +During all the remainder of that long day they rode on through the burning +heat, across the rich, cultivated plain, towards the great city of Seville, +whereof the Giralda, which once had been the minaret of a Moorish mosque, +towered hundreds of feet into the air before them. At length, towards evening, +they entered the eastern suburbs of the vast city and, passing through them and +a great gate beyond, began to thread its tortuous streets. +</p> + +<p> +“Whither go we, Captain Arrano?” asked Castell presently. +</p> + +<p> +“To the prison of the Holy Hermandad to await your trial for the slaying +of one of its soldiers,” answered the officer. +</p> + +<p> +“I pray that we may get there soon then,” said Peter, looking at +Margaret, who, overcome with fatigue, swayed upon her saddle like a flower in +the wind. +</p> + +<p> +“So do I,” muttered Castell, glancing round at the dark faces of +the people, who, having discovered that they had killed a Spanish soldier, and +taking them to be Moors, were marching alongside of them in great numbers, +staring sullenly, or cursing them for infidels. Indeed, once when they passed a +square, a priest in the mob cried out, “Kill them!” whereon a +number of rough fellows made a rush to pull them off their horses, and were +with difficulty beaten back by the soldiers. +</p> + +<p> +Foiled in this attempt they began to pelt them with garbage, so that soon their +white robes were stained and filthy. One fellow, too, threw a stone which +struck Margaret on the wrist, causing her to cry out and drop her rein. This +was too much for the hot-blooded Peter, who, spurring his horse alongside of +him, before the soldiers could interfere, hit him such a buffet in the face +that the man rolled upon the ground. Now Castell thought that they would +certainly be killed, but to his surprise the mob only laughed and shouted such +things as “Well hit, Moor!” “That infidel has a strong +arm,” and so forth. +</p> + +<p> +Nor was the officer angry, for when the man rose, a knife in his hand, he drew +his sword and struck him down again with the flat of it, saying to Peter: +</p> + +<p> +“Do not sully your hand with such street swine, Señor.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he turned and commanded his men to charge the crowd ahead of them. +</p> + +<p> +So they got through these people and, after many twists and turns down side +streets to avoid the main avenues, came to a great and gloomy building and into +a courtyard through barred gates that were opened at their approach and shut +after them. Here they were ordered to dismount and their horses led away, while +the officer, Arrano, entered into conversation with the governor of the prison, +a man with a stern but not unkindly face, who surveyed them with much +curiosity. Presently he approached and asked them if they could pay for good +rooms, as if not he must put them in the common cells. +</p> + +<p> +Castell answered, “Yes,” and, by way of earnest of it, produced +five pieces of gold, and giving them to the Captain Arrano, begged him to +distribute them among his soldiers as a thankoffering for their protection of +them through the streets. Also, he said loudly enough for every one to hear, +that he would be willing to compensate the relatives of the man whom Peter had +killed by accident—an announcement that evidently impressed his comrades +very favourably. Indeed one of them said he would bear the message to his +widow, and, on behalf of the rest, thanked him for his gift. Then having bade +farewell to the officer, who told them that they would meet again before the +judges, they were led through the various passages of the prison to two rooms, +one small and one of a fair size with heavily barred windows, given water to +wash in, and told that food would be brought to them. +</p> + +<p> +In due course it came, carried by jailers—meat, eggs, and wine, and glad +enough were they to see it. While they ate, also the governor appeared with a +notary, and, having waited till their meal was finished, began to question them. +</p> + +<p> +“Our story is long,” said Castell, “but with your leave I +will tell it you, only, I pray you, suffer my daughter, the Dona Margaret, to +go to rest, for she is quite outworn, and if you will you can question her +to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +The governor assenting, Margaret threw off her veil to embrace her father, thus +showing her beauty for the first time, whereat the governor and the notary +stared amazed. Then having given Peter her hand to kiss, and curtseyed to the +governor and the notary, she went to her bed in the next room, which opened out +of that in which they were. +</p> + +<p> +When she had gone, Castell told his story of how his daughter had been +kidnapped by the Marquis of Morella, a name that caused the governor to open +his eyes very wide, and brought from London to Granada, whither they, her +father and her betrothed, had followed her and escaped. But of Betty and all +the business of the changed bride he said nothing. Also, knowing that these +must come out in any case, he told them his name and business, and those of his +partners and correspondents in Seville, the firm of Bernaldez, which was one +that the governor knew well enough, and prayed that the head of that firm, the +Señor Juan Bernaldez, might be communicated with and allowed to visit +them on the next morning. Lastly, he explained that they were no thieves or +adventurers, but English subjects in misfortune, and again hinted that they +were both able and willing to pay for any kindness or consideration that was +shown to them, of all of which sayings the governor took note. +</p> + +<p> +Also this officer said that he would communicate with his superiors, and, if no +objection were made, send a messenger to ask the Señor Bernaldez to +attend at the prison on the following day. Then at length he and the notary +departed, and, the jailers having cleared away the food and locked the door, +Castell and Peter lay down on the beds that they had made ready for them, +thankful enough to find themselves at Seville, even though in a prison, where +indeed they slept very well that night. +</p> + +<p> +On the following morning they woke much refreshed, and, after they had +breakfasted, the governor appeared, and with him none other than the +Señor Juan Bernaldez, Castell’s secret correspondent and Spanish +partner, whom he had last seen some years before in England, a stout man with a +quiet, clever face, not over given to words. +</p> + +<p> +Greeting them with a deference that was not lost upon the governor, he asked +whether he had leave to speak with them alone. The governor assented and went, +saying he would return within an hour. As soon as the door was closed behind +him, Bernaldez said: +</p> + +<p> +“This is a strange place to meet you in, John Castell, yet I am not +altogether surprised, since some of your messages reached me through our +friends the Jews; also your ship, the <i>Margaret</i>, lies refitted in the +river, and to avoid suspicion I have been lading her slowly with a cargo for +England, though how you will come aboard that ship is more than I can say. But +we have no time to waste. Tell me all your story, keeping nothing back.” +</p> + +<p> +So they told him everything as quickly as they could, while he listened +silently. When they had done, he said, addressing Peter: +</p> + +<p> +“It is a thousand pities, young sir, that you could not keep your hands +off that soldier, for now the trouble that was nearly done with has begun anew, +and in a worse shape. The Marquis of Morella is a very powerful man in this +kingdom, as you may know from the fact that he was sent to London by their +Majesties to negotiate a treaty with your English King Henry as to the Jews and +their treatment, should any of them escape thither after they have been +expelled from Spain. For nothing less is in the wind, and I would have you know +that their Majesties hate the Jews, and especially the Maranos, whom already +they burn by dozens here in Seville,” and he glanced meaningly at Castell. +</p> + +<p> +“I am very sorry,” said Peter, “but the fellow handled her +roughly, and I was maddened at the sight and could not help myself. This is the +second time that I have come into trouble from the same cause. Also, I thought +that he was but a bandit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Love is a bad diplomatist,” replied Bernaldez, with a little +smile, “and who can count last year’s clouds? What is done, is +done. Now I will try to arrange that the three of you shall be brought straight +before their Majesties when they sit to hear cases on the day after to-morrow. +With the Queen you will have a better chance than at the hands of any alcalde. +She has a heart, if only one can get at it—that is, except where Jews and +Maranos are concerned,” and again he glanced at Castell. +“Meanwhile, there is money in plenty, and in Spain we ride to heaven on +gold angels,” he added, alluding to that coin and the national corruption. +</p> + +<p> +Before they could say more the governor returned, saying that the Señor +Bernaldez’ time was up, and asking if they had finished their talk. +</p> + +<p> +“Not altogether,” said Margaret. “Noble Governor, is it +permitted that the Señor Bernaldez should send me some Christian clothes +to wear, for I would not appear before your judges in this soiled heathen garb, +nor, I think, would my father or the Señor Brome?” +</p> + +<p> +The governor laughed, and said he thought that might be arranged, and even +allowed them another five minutes, while they talked of what these clothes +should be. Then he departed with Bernaldez, leaving them alone. +</p> + +<p> +It was not until the latter had gone, however, that they remembered that they +had forgotten to ask him whether he had heard anything of the woman Inez, who +had been furnished with his address, but, as he had said nothing of her, they +felt sure that she could not have arrived in Seville, and once more were much +afraid as to what might have happened after they had left Granada. +</p> + +<p> +That night, to their grief and alarm, a new trouble fell on them. Just as they +finished their supper the governor appeared and said that, by order of the +Court before which they must be tried, the Señor Brome, who was accused +of murder, must be separated from them. So, in spite of all they could say or +do, Peter was led away to a separate cell, leaving Margaret weeping. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap19"></a>CHAPTER XIX.<br /> +BETTY PAYS HER DEBTS.</h2> + +<p> +Betty Dene was not a woman afflicted with fears or apprehensions. Born of good +parents, but in poverty, for six-and-twenty years she had fought her own way in +a rough world and made the best of circumstances. Healthy, full-blooded, tough, +affectionate, romantic, but honest in her way, she was well fitted to meet the +ups and downs of life, to keep her head above the waters of a turbulent age, +and to pay back as much as she received from man or woman. +</p> + +<p> +Yet those long hours which she passed alone in the high turret chamber, waiting +till they summoned her to play the part of a false bride, were the worst that +she had ever spent. She knew that her position was, in a sense, shameful, and +like to end in tragedy, and, now that she faced it in cold blood, began to +wonder why she had chosen so to do. She had fallen in love with the Spaniard +almost at first sight, though it is true that something like this had happened +to her before with other men. Then he had played his part with her, till, quite +deceived, she gave all her heart to him in good earnest, believing in her +infatuation that, notwithstanding the difference of their place and rank, he +desired to make her his wife for her own sake. +</p> + +<p> +Afterwards came that bitter day of disillusion when she learned, as Inez had +said to Castell, that she was but a stalking heifer used for the taking of the +white swan, her cousin and mistress—that day when she had been beguiled +by the letter which was still hid in her garments, and for her pains heard +herself called a fool to her face. In her heart she had sworn to be avenged +upon Morella then, and now the hour had come in which to fulfil her oath and +play him back trick for cruel trick. +</p> + +<p> +Did she still love the man? She could not say. He was pleasing to her as he had +always been, and when that is so women forgive much. This was certain, +however—love was not her guide to-night. Was it vengeance then that led +her on? Perhaps; at least she longed to be able to say to him, “See what +craft lies hid even in the bosom of an outwitted fool.” +</p> + +<p> +Yet she would not have done it for vengeance’ sake alone, or rather she +would have paid herself in some other fashion. No, her real reason was that she +must discharge the debt due to Margaret and Peter, and to Castell who had +sheltered her for years. She it was who had brought them into all this woe, and +it seemed but just that she should bring them out again, even at the cost of +her own life and womanly dignity. Or, perchance, all three of these powers +drove her on,—love for the man if it still lingered, the desire to be +avenged upon him, and the desire to snatch his prey from out his maw. At least +she had set the game, and she would play it out to its end, however awful that +might be. +</p> + +<p> +The sun sank, the darkness closed about her, and she wondered whether ever +again she would see the dawn. Her brave heart quailed a little, and she gripped +the dagger hilt beneath her splendid, borrowed robe, thinking to herself that +perhaps it might be wisest to drive it into her own breast, and not wait until +a balked madman did that office for her. Yet not so, for it is always time to +die when one must. +</p> + +<p> +A knock came at the door, and her courage, which had sunk so low, burned up +again within her. Oh! she would teach this Spaniard that the Englishwoman, whom +he had made believe was his desired mistress, could be his master. At any rate, +he should hear the truth before the end. +</p> + +<p> +She unlocked the door, and Inez entered bearing a lamp, by the light of which +she scanned her with her quiet eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“The bridegroom is ready,” she said slowly that Betty might +understand, “and sends me to lead you to him. Are you afraid?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not I,” answered Betty. “But tell me, how will the thing be +done?” +</p> + +<p> +“The marquis meets us in the ante-room to that hall which is used as a +chapel, and there on behalf of the household I, as the first of the women, give +you both the cups of wine. Be sure that you drink of that which I hold in my +left hand, passing the cup up beneath your veil so as not to show your face, +and speak no word, lest he should recognise your voice. Then we shall go into +the chapel, where the priest Henriques waits, also all the household. But that +hall is great, and the lamps are feeble, so none will know you there. By this +time also the drugged wine will have begun to work upon Morella’s brain, +wherefore, provided that you use a low voice, you may safely say, ‘I, +Betty, wed thee, Carlos,’ not ‘I, Margaret, wed thee.’ Then, +when it is over, he will lead you away to the chambers prepared for you, where, +if there is any virtue in my wine, he will sleep sound to-night, that is, as +soon as the priest has given me the marriage-lines, whereof I will hand you one +copy and keep the others. Afterwards——” and she shrugged her +shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“What becomes of you?” asked Betty, when she had fully mastered +these instructions. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I and the priest start to-night for a ride together to Seville, +where his money awaits him; ill company for a woman who means henceforth to be +honest and rich, but better than none. Perhaps we shall meet again there, or +perhaps we shall not; at least, you know where to seek me and the others, at +the house of the Señor Bernaldez. Now it is time. Are you ready to be +made a marchioness of Spain?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course,” answered Betty coolly, and they started. +</p> + +<p> +Through the empty halls and corridors they went, and oh! surely no Eastern plot +that had been conceived in them was quite so bold and desperate as theirs. They +reached the ante-chamber to the chapel, and took their stand outside of the +circle of light that fell from its hanging lamps. Presently a door opened, and +through it came Morella, attended by two of his secretaries. He was splendidly +arrayed in his usual garb of black velvet, and about his neck hung chains of +gold and jewels, and to his breast were fastened the glittering stars and +orders pertaining to his rank. Never, or so thought Betty, had Morella seemed +more magnificent and handsome. He was happy also, who was about to drink of +that cup of joy which he so earnestly desired. Yes, his face showed that he was +happy, and Betty, noting it, felt remorse stirring in her breast. Low he bowed +before her, while she curtseyed to him, bending her tall and graceful form till +her knee almost touched the ground. Then he came to her and whispered in her +ear: +</p> + +<p> +“Most sweet, most beloved,” he said, “I thank heaven that has +led me to this joyous hour by many a rough and dangerous path. Most dear, again +I beseech you to forgive all the sorrow and the ill that I have brought upon +you, remembering that it was done for your adored sake, that I love you as +woman has been seldom loved, you and you only, and that to you, and you only, +will I cling until my death’s day. Oh! do not tremble and shrink, for I +swear that no woman in Spain shall have a better or a more loyal lord. You I +will cherish alone, for you I will strive by night and day to lift you to great +honour and satisfy your every wish. Many and pleasant may the years be that we +shall spend side by side, and peaceful our ends when at last we lay us down +side by side to sleep awhile and wake again in heaven, whereof the shadow lies +on me to-night. Remembering the past, I do not ask much of you—as yet; +still, if you are minded to give me a bridal gift that I shall prize above +crowns or empires, say that you forgive me all that I have done amiss, and in +token, lift that veil of yours and kiss me on the lips.” +</p> + +<p> +Betty heard this speech, whereof she only fully understood the end, and +trembled. This was a trial that she had not foreseen. Yet it must be faced, for +speak she dared not. Therefore, gathering up her courage, and remembering that +the light was at her back, after a little pause, as though of modesty and +reluctance, she raised the pearl-embroidered veil, and, bending forward beneath +its shadow, suffered Morella to kiss her on the lips. +</p> + +<p> +It was over, the veil had fallen again, and the man suspected nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“I am a good artist,” thought Inez to herself, “and that +woman acts better than the wooden Peter. Scarcely could I have done it so well +myself.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, the jealousy and hate that she could not control glittering in her soft +eyes, for she too had loved this man, and well, Inez lifted the golden cups +that had been prepared, and, gliding forward, beautiful in her broidered, +Eastern robe, fell upon her knee and held them to the bridegroom and the bride. +Morella took that from her right hand, and Betty that from her left, nor, +intoxicated as he was already with that first kiss of love, did he pause to +note the evil purpose which was written on the face of his discarded slave. +Betty, passing the cup beneath her veil, touched it with her lips and returned +it to Inez; but Morella, exclaiming, “I drink to you, sweet bride, most +fair and adored of women,” drained his to the dregs, and cast it back to +Inez as a gift in such fashion that the red wine which clung to its rim stained +her white robes like a splash of blood. +</p> + +<p> +Humbly she bowed, humbly she gathered the precious vessel from the floor; but +when she rose again there was triumph in her eyes—not hate. +</p> + +<p> +Now Morella took his bride’s hand and, followed by his gentlemen and +Inez, walked to the curtains that were drawn as they came into the great hall +beyond, where had mustered all his household, perhaps a hundred of them. +Between their bowing ranks they passed, a stately pair, and, whilst sweet +voices sang behind some hidden screen, walked onward to the altar, where stood +the waiting priest. They kneeled down upon the gold-embroidered cushions while +the office of the Church was read over them. The ring was set upon +Betty’s hand—scarce, it would seem, could he find her +finger—the man took the woman to wife, the woman took the man for +husband. His voice was thick, and hers was very low; of all that listening +crowd none could hear the names they spoke. +</p> + +<p> +It was over. The priest bowed and blessed them. They signed some papers, there +by the light of the altar candles. Father Henriques filled in certain names and +signed them also, then, casting sand upon them, placed them in the outstretched +hand of Inez, who, although Morella never seemed to notice, gave one to the +bride, and thrust the other two into the bosom of her robe. Then both she and +the priest kissed the hands of the marquis and his wife, and asked his leave to +be gone. He bowed his head vaguely, and—if any had been there to +listen—within ten short minutes they might have heard two horses +galloping hard towards the Seville gate. +</p> + +<p> +Now, escorted by pages and torch-bearers, the new-wed pair repassed those dim +and stately halls, the bride, veiled, mysterious, fateful; the bridegroom, +empty-eyed, like one who wanders in his sleep. Thus they reached their chamber, +and its carved doors shut behind them. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +It was early morning, and the serving-women who waited without that room were +summoned to it by the sound of a silver gong. Two of them entered and were met +by Betty, no longer veiled, but wrapped in a loose robe, who said to them: +</p> + +<p> +“My lord the marquis still sleeps. Come, help me dress and make ready his +bath and food.” +</p> + +<p> +The women stared at her, for now that she had washed the paint from her face +they knew well that this was the Señora Betty and not the Dona Margaret, +whom, they had understood, the marquis was to marry. But she chid them sharply +in her bad Spanish, bidding them be swift, as she would be robed before her +husband should awake. So they obeyed her, and when she was ready she went with +them into the great hall where many of the household were gathered, waiting to +do homage to the new-wed pair, and greeted them all, blushing and smiling, +saying that doubtless the marquis would be among them soon, and commanding them +meanwhile to go about their several tasks. +</p> + +<p> +So well did Betty play her part indeed, that, although they also were +bewildered, none questioned her place or authority, who remembered that after +all they had not been told by their lord himself which of these two English +ladies he meant to marry. Also, she distributed among the meaner of them a +present of money on her husband’s behalf and her own, and then ate food +and drank some wine before them all, pledging them, and receiving their +salutations and good wishes. +</p> + +<p> +When all this was done, still smiling, Betty returned to the marriage-chamber, +closing its door behind her, sat her down on a chair near the bed, and waited +for the worst struggle of all—that struggle on which hung her life. See! +Morella stirred. He sat up, gazing about him and rubbing his brow. Presently +his eyes lit upon Betty, seated stern and upright in her high chair. She rose +and, coming to him, kissed him and called him “Husband,” and, still +half-asleep, he kissed her back. Then she sat down again in her chair and +watched his face. +</p> + +<p> +It changed, and changed again. Wonder, fear, amaze, bewilderment, flitted over +it, till at last he said in English: +</p> + +<p> +“Betty, where is my wife?” +</p> + +<p> +“Here,” answered Betty. +</p> + +<p> +He stared at her. “Nay, I mean the Dona Margaret, your cousin and my +lady, whom I wed last night. And how come you here? I thought that you had left +Granada.” +</p> + +<p> +Betty looked astonished. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not understand you,” she answered. “It was my cousin +Margaret who left Granada. I stayed here to be married to you, as you arranged +with me through Inez.” +</p> + +<p> +His jaw dropped. +</p> + +<p> +“Arranged with you through Inez! Mother of Heaven! what do you +mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mean?” she answered—“I mean what I say. +Surely”—and she rose in indignation—“you have never +dared to try to play some new trick upon me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Trick!” muttered Morella. “What says the woman? Is all this +a dream, or am I mad?” +</p> + +<p> +“A dream, I think. Yes, it must be a dream, since certainly it was to no +madman that I was wed last night. Look,” and she held before him that +writing of marriage signed by the priest, by him, and by herself, which stated +that Carlos, Marquis of Morella, was on such a date, at Granada, duly married +to the Señora Elizabeth Dene of London in England. +</p> + +<p> +He read it twice, then sank back gasping; while Betty hid away the parchment in +her bosom. +</p> + +<p> +Then presently he seemed to go mad indeed. He raved, he cursed, he ground his +teeth, he looked round for a sword to kill her or himself, but could find none. +And all the while Betty sat still and gazed at him like some living fate. +</p> + +<p> +At length he was weary, and her turn came. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” she said. “Yonder in London you promised to marry +me; I have it hidden away, and in your own writing. By agreement I fled with +you to Spain. By the mouth of your messenger and former love this marriage was +arranged between us, I receiving your messages to me, and sending back mine to +you, since you explained that for reasons of your own you did not wish to speak +of these matters before my cousin Margaret, and could not wed me until she and +her father and her lover were gone from Granada. So I bade them farewell, and +stayed here alone for love of you, as I fled from London for love of you, and +last night we were united, as all your household know, for but now I have eaten +with them and received their good wishes. And now you dare—you dare to +tell me, that I, your wife—I, who have sacrificed everything for you, I, +the Marchioness of Morella, am <i>not</i> your wife. Well, go, say it outside +this chamber, and hear your very slaves cry ‘Shame’ upon you. Go, +say it to your king and your bishops, aye, and to his Holiness the Pope +himself, and listen to their answer. Why, great as you are, and rich as you +are, they will hale you to a mad-house or a prison.” +</p> + +<p> +Morella listened, rocking himself to and fro upon the bed, then with an oath +sprang towards her, to be met by a dagger-point glinting in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Hear me again,” she said as he shrank back from that cold steel. +“I am no slave and no weakling; you shall not murder me or thrust me +away. I am your wife and your equal, aye, and stronger than you in body and in +mind, and I will have my rights in the face of God and man.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly,” he said with a kind of unwilling +admiration—“certainly you are no weakling. Certainly, also, you +have paid back all you owe me with a Jew’s interest. Or, mayhap, you are +not so clever as I think, but just a strong-minded fool, and it is that +accursed Inez who has settled her debts. Oh! to think of it,” and he +shook his fist in the air, “to think that I believed myself married to +the Dona Margaret, and find you in her place—<i>you</i>!” +</p> + +<p> +“Be silent,” she said, “you man without shame, who first fly +at the throat of your new-wedded wife and then insult her by saying that you +wish you were wedded to another woman. Be silent, or I will unlock the door and +call your own people and repeat your monstrous talk to them.” And she +drew herself to her full height and stood over him on the bed. +</p> + +<p> +Morella, his first rage spent, looked at her reflectively, and not without a +certain measure of homage. +</p> + +<p> +“I think,” he remarked, “that if he did not happen to be in +love with another woman and to believe that he had married her, you, my good +Betty, would make a useful wife to any man who wished to get on in the world. I +understood you to say that the door is locked, and if I might hazard a guess, +you have the key, as also you happen to have a dagger. Well, I find the air in +this place close, and I want to go <i>out</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where to?” asked Betty. +</p> + +<p> +“Let us say, to join Inez.” +</p> + +<p> +“What,” she asked, “would you already be running after that +woman again? Do you already forget that you are married?” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems that I am not to be allowed to forget it. Now, let us bargain. +I wish to leave Granada for a while, and without scandal. What are your terms? +Remember that there are two to which I will not consent. I will not stop here +with you, and you shall not accompany me. Remember also, that, although you +hold the dagger at present, it is not wise of you to try to push this jest too +far.” +</p> + +<p> +“As you did when you decoyed me on board the <i>San Antonio</i>,” +said Betty. “Well, our honeymoon has not begun too sweetly, and I do not +mind if you go away for a while—to look for Inez. Swear now that you mean +me no harm, and that you will not plot my death or disgrace, or in any way +interfere with my liberty or position here in Granada. Swear it on the +Rood.” And she took down a silver crucifix that hung upon the wall over +the bed and handed it to him. For she knew Morella’s superstitions, and +that if once he swore upon this symbol he dare not break his oath. +</p> + +<p> +“And if I will not swear?” he asked sullenly. +</p> + +<p> +“Then,” she answered, “you stop here until you do, you who +are anxious to be gone. I have eaten food this morning, you have not; I have a +dagger, you have none; and, being as we are, I am sure that no one will venture +to disturb us until Inez and your friend the priest have gone further than you +can follow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, I will swear,” he said, and he kissed the crucifix and +threw it down, “You can stop here and rule my house in Granada, and I +will do you no mischief, nor trouble you in any way. But if you come out of +Granada, then we cross swords.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean that you intend to leave this city? Then, here is paper and +ink. Be so good as to sign an order to the stewards of your estates, within the +territories of the Moorish king, to pay all their revenue to me during your +absence, and to your servants to obey me in everything.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is easy to see that you were brought up in the house of a Jew +merchant,” said Morella, biting the pen and considering this woman who, +whether she were hawk or pigeon, knew so well how to feather her nest. +“Well, if I grant you this position and these revenues, will you leave me +alone and cease to press other claims upon me?” +</p> + +<p> +Now Betty, bethinking her of those papers that Inez had carried away with her, +and that Castell and Margaret would know well how to use them if there were +need, bethinking her also that if she pushed him too far at the beginning she +might die suddenly as folk sometimes did in Granada, answered: +</p> + +<p> +“It is much to ask of a deluded woman, but I still have some pride, and +will not thrust myself in where it seems I am not wanted. Therefore, so be it. +Till you seek me or send for me, I will not seek you so long as you keep your +bargain. Now write the paper, sign it, and call in your secretaries to witness +the signature.” +</p> + +<p> +“In whose favour must I word it?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“In that of the Marquessa of Morella,” she answered, and he, seeing +a loophole in the words, obeyed her, since if she were not his wife this +writing would have no value. +</p> + +<p> +Somehow he must be rid of this woman. Of course he might cause her to be +killed; but even in Granada people could not kill one to whom they had seemed +to be just married without questions being asked. Moreover, Betty had friends, +and he had enemies who would certainly ask them if she vanished away. No, he +would sign the paper and fight the case afterwards, for he had no time to lose. +Margaret had slipped away from him, and if once she escaped from Spain he knew +that he would never see her more. For aught he knew, she might already have +escaped or be married to Peter Brome. The very thought of it filled him with +madness. There had been a conspiracy against him; he was outwitted, robbed, +befooled. Well, hope still remained—and vengeance. He could still fight +Peter, and perhaps kill him. He could hand over Castell, the Jew, to the +Inquisition. He could find a way to deal with the priest Henriques and the +woman Inez, and, perhaps, if fortune favoured him he could get Margaret back +into his power. +</p> + +<p> +Oh! yes, he would sign anything if only thereby he was set at liberty and freed +for a while from this servant who called herself his wife, this strong-minded, +strong-bodied, clever Englishwoman, of whom he had thought to make a tool, and +who had made a tool of him. +</p> + +<p> +So Betty dictated and he wrote: yes, it had come to this—she dictated and +he wrote, and signed too. The order was comprehensive. It gave power to the +most honourable Marquessa of Morella to act for him, her husband, in all things +during his absence from Granada. It commanded that all rents and profits due to +him should be paid to her, and that all his servants and dependants should obey +her as though she were himself, and that her receipt should be as good as his +receipt. +</p> + +<p> +When the paper was written, and Betty had spelt it over carefully to see that +there was no omission or mistake, she unlocked the door, struck upon the gong, +and summoned the secretaries to witness their lord’s signature to a +settlement. Presently they came, bowing, and offering many felicitations, which +to himself Morella vowed he would remember against them. +</p> + +<p> +“I have to go a journey,” he said. “Witness my signature to +this document, which provides for the carrying on of my household and the +disposal of my property during my absence.” +</p> + +<p> +They stared and bowed. +</p> + +<p> +“Read it aloud first,” said Betty, “so that my lord and +husband may be sure that there is no mistake.” +</p> + +<p> +One of them obeyed, but before ever he had finished the furious Morella shouted +to them from the bed: +</p> + +<p> +“Have done and witness, then go, order me horses and an escort, for I +ride at once.” +</p> + +<p> +So they witnessed in a great hurry, and left the room. Betty left with them, +holding the paper in her hand, and when she reached the large hall where the +household were gathered waiting to greet their lord, she commanded one of the +secretaries to read it out to all of them, also to translate it into the +Moorish tongue that every one might understand. Then she hid it away with the +marriage lines, and, seating herself in the midst of the household, ordered +them to prepare to receive the most noble marquis. +</p> + +<p> +They had not long to wait, for presently he came out of the room like a bull +into the arena, whereon Betty rose and curtseyed to him, and at her word all +his servants bowed themselves down in the Eastern fashion. For a moment he +paused, again like the bull when he sees the picadors and is about to charge. +Then he thought better of it, and, with a muttered curse, strode past them. +</p> + +<p> +Ten minutes later, for the third time within twenty-four hours, horses galloped +from the palace and through the Seville gate. +</p> + +<p> +“Friends,” said Betty in her awkward Spanish, when she knew that he +had gone, “a sad thing has happened to my husband, the marquis. The woman +Inez, whom it seems he trusted very much, has departed, stealing a treasure +that he valued above everything on earth, and so I, his new-made wife, am left +desolate while he tries to find her.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap20"></a>CHAPTER XX.<br /> +ISABELLA OF SPAIN.</h2> + +<p> +On the afternoon following his first visit, Castell’s agent, Bernaldez, +arrived again at the prison of the Hermandad at Seville accompanied by a +tailor, a woman, and a chest full of clothes. The governor ordered these two +persons to wait while the garments were searched under his own eye, but +Bernaldez he permitted to be led at once to the prisoners. As soon as he was +with them he said: +</p> + +<p> +“Your marquis has been married fast enough.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know that?” asked Castell. +</p> + +<p> +“From the woman Inez, who arrived with the priest last night, and gave me +the certificates of his union with Betty Dene signed by himself. I have not +brought them with me lest I should be searched, when they might have been taken +away; but Inez has come disguised as a sempstress, so show no surprise when you +see her, if she is admitted. Perhaps she will be able to tell the Dona Margaret +something of what passed if she is allowed to fit her robes alone. After that +she must lie hidden for fear of the vengeance of Morella; but I shall know +where to put my hand upon her if she is wanted. You will all of you be brought +before the queen to-morrow, and then I, who shall be there, will produce the +writings.” Scarcely were the words out of his mouth when the governor +appeared, and with him the tailor and Inez, who curtseyed and glanced at +Margaret out of the corners of her soft eyes, looking at them all as though +with curiosity, like one who had never seen or heard of them before. +</p> + +<p> +When the dresses had been produced, Margaret asked whether she might be allowed +to try them on with the woman in her own chamber, as she had not been measured +for them. +</p> + +<p> +The governor answered that as both the sempstress and the robes had been +searched, there was no objection, so the two of them retired—Inez, with +her arms full of garments. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me all about it,” whispered Margaret as soon as the door was +closed. “I die to hear your story.” +</p> + +<p> +So, while she fitted the clothes, since in that place they could never be sure +but that they were watched through some secret loophole, Inez, with her mouth +full of aloe thorns, which those of the trade used as pins, told her everything +down to the time of her escape from Granada. When she came to that part of the +tale where the false bride had lifted her veil and kissed the bridegroom, +Margaret gasped in her amaze. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! how could she do it?” she said, “I should have fainted +first.” +</p> + +<p> +“She has a good courage, that Betty—turn to the light, please, +Señora—I could not have acted better myself—I think it is a +little high on the left shoulder. He never guessed a thing, the besotted fool, +and that was before I gave him the wine, for he wasn’t likely to guess +much afterwards. Did the señora say it was tight under the arm? Well, +perhaps a little, but this stuff stretches. What I want to know is, what +happened afterwards? Your cousin is the bull that I put my money on: I believe +she will clear the ring. A woman with a nerve of steel; had I as much I should +have been the Marchioness of Morella long ago, or there would be another +marquis by now. There, the sit of the skirt is perfect; the +señora’s beautiful figure looks more beautiful in it than ever. +Well, whoever lives will learn all about it, and it is no use worrying. +Meanwhile, Bernaldez has paid me the money—and a handsome sum +too—so you needn’t thank me. I only worked for hire—and hate. +Now I am going to lie low, as I don’t want to get my throat cut, but he +can find me if I am really needed. +</p> + +<p> +“The priest? Oh, he is safe enough. We made him sign a receipt for his +cash. Also, I believe that he has got his post as a secretary to the +Inquisition, and began his duties at once as they were short-handed, torturing +Jews and heretics, you know, and stealing their goods, both of which +occupations will exactly suit him. I rode with him all the way to Seville, and +he tried to make love to me, the slimy knave, but I paid him out,” and +Inez smiled at some pleasant recollection. “Still, I did not quarrel with +him outright, as he may come in useful. Who knows? There’s the governor +calling me. One moment, Excellency, only one moment! +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Señora, with those few alterations the dress will be +perfect. You shall have it back tonight without fail, and I can cut the others +that you have been pleased to order from the same pattern. Oh! I thank you, +Señora, you are too good to a poor girl, and,” in a whisper, +“the Mother of God have you in her guard, and send that Peter has +improved in his love making!” and, half hidden in garments, Inez bowed +herself out of the room through the door which the governor had already opened. +</p> + +<p> +About nine o’clock on the following morning one of the jailers came to +summon Margaret and her father to be led before the court. Margaret asked +anxiously if the Señor Brome was coming too, but the man replied that he +knew nothing of the Señor Brome, as he was in one of the cells for +dangerous criminals, which he did not serve. +</p> + +<p> +So forth they went, dressed in their new clothes, which were as fine as money +could buy, and in the latest Seville fashion, and were conducted to the +courtyard. Here, to her joy, Margaret saw Peter waiting for them under guard, +and dressed also in the Christian garments which they had begged might be +supplied to him at their cost. She sprang to his side, none hindering her, and, +forgetting her bashfulness, suffered him to embrace her before them all, asking +him how he had fared since they were parted. +</p> + +<p> +“None too well,” answered Peter gloomily, “who did not know +if we should ever meet again; also, my prison is underground, where but little +light comes through a grating, and there are rats in it which will not let a +man sleep, so I must lie awake the most of the night thinking of you. But where +go we now?” +</p> + +<p> +“To be put upon our trial before the queen, I think. Hold my hand and +walk close beside me, but do not stare at me so hard. Is aught wrong with my +dress?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” answered Peter. “I stare because you look so +beautiful in it. Could you not have worn a veil? Doubtless there are more +marquises about this court.” +</p> + +<p> +“Only the Moors wear veils, Peter, and now we are Christians again. +Listen—I think that none of them understand English. I have seen Inez, +who asked after you very tenderly—nay, do not blush, it is unseemly in a +man. Have you seen her also? No—well, she escaped from Granada as she +planned, and Betty is married to the marquis.” +</p> + +<p> +“It will never hold good,” answered Peter shaking his head, +“being but a trick, and I fear that she will pay for it, poor woman! +Still, she gave us a start, though, so far as prisons go, I was better off in +Granada than in that rat-trap.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered Margaret innocently, “you had a garden to +walk in there, had you not? No, don’t be angry with me. Do you know what +Betty did?” And she told him of how she had lifted her veil and kissed +Morella without being discovered. +</p> + +<p> +“That isn’t so wonderful,” said Peter, “since if they +are painted up young women look very much alike in a half-lit +room——” +</p> + +<p> +“Or garden?” suggested Margaret. +</p> + +<p> +“What is wonderful,” went on Peter, scorning to take note of this +interruption, “is that she could consent to kiss the man at all. The +double-dealing scoundrel! Has Inez told you how he treated her? The very +thought of it makes me ill.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Peter, he didn’t ask you to kiss him, did he? And as for the +wrongs of Inez, though doubtless you know more about them than I do, I think +she has given him an orange for his pomegranate. But look, there is the Alcazar +in front of us. Is it not a splendid castle? You know, it was built by the +Moors.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t care who it was built by,” said Peter, “and it +looks to me like any other castle, only larger. All I know about it is that I +am to be tried there for knocking that ruffian on the head—and that +perhaps this is the last we shall see of each other, as probably they will send +me to the galleys, if they don’t do worse.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! say no such thing. I never thought of it; it is not possible!” +answered Margaret, her dark eyes filling with tears. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait till your marquis appears, pleading the case against us, and you +will see what is or is not possible,” replied Peter with conviction. +“Still, we have come through some storms, so let us hope for the +best.” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment they reached the gate of the Alcazar, which they had approached +from their prison through gardens of orange-trees, and soldiers came up and +separated them. Next they were led across a court, where many people hurried to +and fro, into a great marble-columned room glittering with gold, which was +called the Hall of Justice. At the far end of this place, seated on a throne +set upon a richly carpeted dais and surrounded by lords and counsellors, sat a +magnificently attired lady of middle age. She was blue-eyed and red-haired, +with a fair-skinned, open countenance, but very reserved and quiet in her +demeanour. +</p> +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus12"></a> +<br /> +<img src="images/fig12.jpg" width="402" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">A magnificently attired lady of middle age +</p> +</div> + +<p> +“The Queen,” muttered the guard, saluting, as did Castell and +Peter, while Margaret curtseyed. +</p> + +<p> +A case had just been tried, and the queen Isabella, after consultation with her +assessors, was delivering judgment in few words and a gentle voice. As she +spoke, her mild blue eyes fell upon Margaret, and, held it would seem by her +beauty, rested on her till they wandered off to the tall form of Peter and the +dark, Jewish-looking Castell by him, at the sight of whom she frowned a little. +</p> + +<p> +That case was finished, and other suitors stood up in their turn, but the +queen, waving her hand and still looking at Margaret, bent down and asked a +question of one of the officers of the court, then gave an order, whereon the +officer rising, summoned “John Castell, Margaret Castell, and Peter +Brome, all of England,” to appear at the bar and answer to the charge of +murder of one Luiz of Basa, a soldier of the Holy Hermandad. +</p> + +<p> +At once they were brought forward, and stood in a line in front of the dais, +while the officer began to read the charge against them. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay, friend,” interposed the queen, “these accused are the +subjects of our good brother, Henry of England, and may not understand our +language, though one of them, I think”—and she glanced at +Castell—“was not born in England, or at any rate of English blood. +Ask them if they need an interpreter.” +</p> + +<p> +The question was put, and all of them answered that they could speak Spanish, +though Peter added that he did so but indifferently. +</p> + +<p> +“You are the knight, I think, who is charged with the commission of this +crime,” said Isabella, looking at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Your Majesty, I am not a knight, only a plain esquire, Peter Brome of +Dedham in England. My father was a knight, Sir Peter Brome, but he fell at my +side, fighting for Richard, on Bosworth Field, where I had this wound,” +and he pointed to the scar upon his face, “but was not knighted for my +pains.” +</p> + +<p> +Isabella smiled a little, then asked: +</p> + +<p> +“And how came you to Spain, Señor Peter Brome?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Majesty,” answered Peter, Margaret helping from time to time +when he did not know the Spanish words, “this lady at my side, the +daughter of the merchant John Castell who stands by her, is my +affianced——” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you have won the love of a very beautiful maiden, +Señor,” interrupted the queen; “but proceed.” +</p> + +<p> +“She and her cousin, the Señora Dene, were kidnapped in London by +one who I understand is the nephew of the King Ferdinand, and an envoy to the +English court, who passed there as the Señor d’Aguilar, but who in +Spain is the Marquis of Morella.” +</p> + +<p> +“Kidnapped! and by Morella!” exclaimed the queen. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, your Majesty, cozened on board his ship and kidnapped. The +Señor Castell and I followed them, and, boarding their vessel, tried to +rescue them, but were shipwrecked at Motril. The marquis carried them away to +Granada, whither we followed also, I being sorely hurt in the shipwreck. There, +in the palace of the marquis, we have lain prisoners many weeks, but at length +escaped, purposing to come to Seville and seek the protection of your +Majesties. On the road, while we were dressed as Moors, in which garb we +compassed our escape, we were attacked by men that we thought were bandits, for +we had been warned against such evil people. One of them rudely molested the +Dona Margaret, and I cut him down, and by misfortune killed him, for which +manslaughter I am here before you to-day. Your Majesty, I did not know that he +was a soldier of the Holy Hermandad, and I pray you pardon my offence, which +was done in ignorance, fear, and anger, for we are willing to pay compensation +for this unhappy death.” +</p> + +<p> +Now some in the court exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“Well spoken, Englishman!” +</p> + +<p> +Then the queen said: +</p> + +<p> +“If all this tale be true, I am not sure that we should blame you over +much, Señor Brome; but how know we that it is true? For instance, you +said that the noble marquis stole two ladies, a deed of which I can scarcely +think him capable. Where then is the other?” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe,” answered Peter, “that she is now the wife of the +Marquis of Morella.” +</p> + +<p> +“The wife! Who bears witness that she is the wife? He has not advised us +that he was about to marry, as is usual.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Bernaldez stood forward, stating his name and occupation, and that he was +a correspondent of the English merchant, John Castell, and producing the +certificate of marriage signed by Morella, Betty, and the priest Henriques, +handed it up to the queen saying that he had received them in duplicate by a +messenger from Granada, and had delivered the other to the Archbishop of +Seville. +</p> + +<p> +The queen, having looked at the paper, passed it to her assessors, who examined +it very carefully, one of them saying that the form was not usual, and that it +might be forged. +</p> + +<p> +The queen thought a little while, then said: +</p> + +<p> +“That is so, and in one way only can we know the truth. Let our warrant +issue summoning before us our cousin, the noble Marquis of Morella, the +Señora Dene, who is said to be his wife, and the priest Henriques of +Motril, who is said to have married them. When they have arrived, all of them, +the king my husband and I will examine into the matter, and, until then, we +will not suffer our minds to be prejudiced by hearing any more of this +cause.” +</p> + +<p> +Now the governor of the prison stood forward, and asked what was to be done +with the captives until the witnesses could be brought from Granada. The queen +answered that they must remain in his charge, and be well treated, whereon +Peter prayed that he might be given a better cell with fewer rats and more +light. The queen smiled, and said that it should be so, but added that it would +be proper that he should still be kept apart from the lady to whom he was +affianced, who could dwell with her father. Then, noting the sadness on their +faces, she added: +</p> + +<p> +“Yet I think they may meet daily in the garden of the prison.” +</p> + +<p> +Margaret curtseyed and thanked her, whereon she said very graciously: +</p> + +<p> +“Come here, Señora, and sit by me a little,” and she pointed +to a footstool at her side. “When I have done this business I desire a +few words with you.” +</p> + +<p> +So Margaret was brought up upon the dais, and sat down at her Majesty’s +left hand upon the broidered footstool, and very fair indeed she looked placed +thus above the crowd, she whose beauty and whose bearing were so royal; but +Castell and Peter were led away back to the prison, though, seeing so many gay +lords about, the latter went unwillingly enough. A while later, when the cases +were finished, the queen dismissed the court save for certain officers, who +stood at a distance, and, turning to Margaret, said: +</p> + +<p> +“Now, fair maiden, tell me your story, as one woman to another, and do +not fear that anything you say will be made use of at the trial of your lover, +since against you, at any rate at present, no charge is laid. Say, first, are +you really the affianced of that tall gentleman, and has he really your +heart?” +</p> + +<p> +“All of it, your Majesty,” answered Margaret, “and we have +suffered much for each other’s sake.” Then in as few words as she +could she told their tale, while the queen listened earnestly. +</p> + +<p> +“A strange story indeed, and if it be all true, a shameful,” she +said when Margaret had finished. “But how comes it that if Morella +desired to force you into marriage, he is now wed to your companion and cousin? +What are you keeping back from me?” and she glanced at her shrewdly. +</p> + +<p> +“Your Majesty,” answered Margaret, “I was ashamed to speak +the rest, yet I will trust you and do so, praying your royal forgiveness if you +hold that we, who were in desperate straits, have done what is wrong. My +cousin, Betty Dene, has paid back Morella in his own false gold. He won her +heart and promised to marry her, and at the risk of her own life she took my +place at the altar, thereby securing our escape.” +</p> + +<p> +“A brave deed, if a doubtful,” said the queen, “though I +question whether such a marriage will be upheld. But that is a matter for the +Church to judge of, and I must speak of it no more. Certainly it is hard to be +angry with any of you. What did you say that Morella promised you when he asked +you to marry him in London?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Majesty, he promised that he would lift me high, perhaps +even”—and she hesitated—“to that seat in which you +sit.” +</p> + +<p> +Isabella frowned, then laughed, and said, as she looked her up and down: +</p> + +<p> +“You would fit it well, better than I do in truth. But what else did he +say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Majesty, he said that not every one loves the king, his uncle; that +he had many friends who remembered that his father was poisoned by the father +of the king, who was Morella’s grandfather; also, that his mother was a +princess of the Moors, and that he might throw in his lot with theirs, or that +there were other ways in which he could gain his end.” +</p> + +<p> +“So, so,” said the queen. “Well, though he is such a good son +of the Church, and my lord is so fond of him, I never loved Morella, and I +thank you for your warning. But I must not speak to you of such high matters, +though it seems that some have thought otherwise. Fair Margaret, have you aught +to ask of me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, your Majesty—that you will deal gently with my true love when +he comes before you for trial, remembering that he is hot of head and strong of +arm, and that such knights as he—for knightly is his blood— cannot +brook to see their ladies mishandled by rough men, and the wrappings that +shield them torn from off their bosoms. Also, I pray that I may be protected +from Morella, that he may not be allowed to touch or even to speak to me, who, +for all his rank and splendour, hate him as though he were some poisoned +snake.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have said that I must not prejudge your case, you beautiful English +Margaret,” the queen answered with a smile, “yet I think that +neither of those things you ask will cause justice to slip the bandage that is +about her eyes. Go, and be at peace. If you have spoken truth to me, as I am +sure you have, and Isabella of Spain can prevent it, the Señor +Brome’s punishment shall not be heavy, nor shall the shadow of the +Marquis of Morella, the base-born son of a prince and of some royal +infidel”—these words she spoke with much bitterness—“so +much as fall upon you, though I warn you that my lord the king loves the man, +as is but natural, and will not condemn him lightly. Tell me one thing. This +lover of yours is brave, is he not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very brave,” answered Margaret, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“And he can ride a horse and hold a lance, can he not, at any rate in +your quarrel?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, your Majesty, and wield a sword too, as well as most knights, +though he has been but lately sick. Some learned that on Bosworth Field.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good. Now farewell,” and she gave Margaret her hand to kiss. Then, +calling two of her officers, she bade them conduct her back to the prison, and +say that she should have liberty to send messages or to write to her, the +queen, if she should so desire. +</p> + +<p> +On the night of that same day Morella galloped into Seville. Indeed he should +have been there long before, but misled by the story of the Moors who had +escorted Peter, Margaret, and her father out of Granada and seen them take the +Malaga road, he travelled thither first, only to find no trace of them in that +city. Then he returned and tracked them to Seville, where he was soon made +acquainted with all that had happened. Amongst other things, he discovered that +ten hours before swift messengers had been despatched to Granada, commanding +his attendance and that of Betty, with whom he had gone through the form of +marriage. +</p> + +<p> +On the following morning he asked an audience with the queen, but it was +refused to him, and the king, his uncle, was away. Next he tried to win +admission into the prison and see Margaret, only to find that neither his high +rank and authority nor any bribe would suffice to unlock its doors. The queen +had commanded otherwise, he was informed, and knew therefrom that in this +matter he must reckon with Isabella as an enemy. Then he bethought him of +revenge, and began a search for Inez and the priest Henriques of Motril, only +to find that the former had vanished, none knew whither, and the holy father +was safe within the walls of the Inquisition, whence he was careful not to +emerge, and where no layman, however highly placed, could enter to lay a hand +upon one of its officers. So, full of rage and disappointment, he took counsel +of lawyers and friends, and prepared to defend the suit which he saw would be +brought against him, hoping that chance might yet deliver Margaret into his +hands. One good card he held, which now he determined to play. Castell, as he +knew, was a Jew who for years had posed as a Christian, and for such there was +no mercy in Seville. Perhaps for her father’s sake he might yet be able +to work upon Margaret, whom now he desired to win more fiercely than ever +before. +</p> + +<p> +At least it was certain that he would try this, or any other means, however +base, rather than see her married to his rival, Peter Brome. Also there was the +chance that this Peter might be condemned to imprisonment, or even to death, +for the killing of a soldier of the Hermandad. +</p> + +<p> +So Morella made him ready for the great struggle as best he could, and, since +he could not stop her coming, awaited the arrival of Betty in Seville. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap21"></a>CHAPTER XXI.<br /> +BETTY STATES HER CASE.</h2> + +<p> +Seven days had passed, during which time Margaret and her father had rested +quietly in the prison, where, indeed, they dwelt more as guests than as +captives. Thus they were allowed to receive what visitors they would, and among +them Juan Bernaldez, Castell’s connection and agent, who told them of all +that passed without. Through him they sent messengers to meet Betty on her road +and apprise her of how things stood, and of the trial in which her cause would +be judged. +</p> + +<p> +Soon the messengers returned, stating that the “Marchioness of +Morella” was travelling in state, accompanied by a great retinue, that +she thanked them for their tidings, and hoped to be able to defend herself at +all points. +</p> + +<p> +At this news Castell stared and Margaret laughed, for, although she did not +know all the story, she was sure that in some way Betty had the mastery of +Morella, and would not be easily defeated, though how she came to be travelling +with a great retinue she could not imagine. Still, fearing lest she should be +attacked or otherwise injured, she wrote a humble letter to the queen, praying +that her cousin might be defended from all danger at the hands of any one +whomsoever until she had an opportunity of giving evidence before their +Majesties. +</p> + +<p> +Within an hour came the answer that the lady was under the royal protection, +and that a guard had been sent to escort her and her party and to keep her safe +from interference of any sort; also, that for her greater comfort, quarters had +been prepared for her in a fortress outside of Seville, which would be watched +night and day, and whence she would be brought to the court. +</p> + +<p> +Peter was still kept apart from them, but each day at noon they were allowed to +meet him in the walled garden of the prison, where they talked together to +their heart’s content. Here, too, he exercised himself daily at all manly +games, and especially at sword-play with some of the other prisoners, using +sticks for swords. Further, he was allowed the use of his horse that he had +ridden from Granada, on which he jousted in the yard of the castle with the +governor and certain other gentlemen, proving himself better at that play than +any of them. These things he did vigorously and with ardour, for Margaret had +told him of the hint which the queen gave her, and he desired to get back his +full strength, and to perfect himself in the handling of every arm which was +used in Spain. +</p> + +<p> +So the time went by, until one afternoon the governor informed them that +Peter’s trial was fixed for the morrow, and that they must accompany him +to the court to be examined also upon all these matters. A little later came +Bernaldez, who said that the king had returned and would sit with the queen, +and that already this affair had made much stir in Seville, where there was +much curiosity as to the story of Morella’s marriage, of which many +different tales were told. That Margaret and her father would be discharged he +had little doubt, in which case their ship was ready for them; but of +Peter’s chances he could say nothing, for they depended upon what view +the king took of his offence, and, though unacknowledged, Morella was the +king’s nephew and had his ear. +</p> + +<p> +Afterwards they went down into the garden, and there found Peter, who had just +returned from his jousting, flushed with exercise, and looking very manly and +handsome. Margaret took his hand and, walking aside, told him the news. +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad,” he answered, “for the sooner this business is +begun the sooner it will be done. But, Sweet,” and here his face grew +very earnest, “Morella has much power in this land, and I have broken its +law, so none know what the end will be. I may be condemned to death or +imprisoned, or perhaps, if I am given the chance, with better luck I may fall +fighting, in any of which cases we shall be separated for a while, or +altogether. Should this be so, I pray that you will not stay here, either in +the hope of rescuing me, or for other reasons; since, while you are in Spain, +Morella will not cease from his attempts to get hold of you, whereas in England +you will be safe from him.” +</p> + +<p> +When Margaret heard these words she sobbed aloud, for the thought that harm +might come to Peter seemed to choke her. +</p> + +<p> +“In all things I will do your bidding,” she said, “yet how +can I leave you, dear, while you are alive, and if, perchance, you should die, +which may God prevent, how can I live on without you? Rather shall I seek to +follow you very swiftly.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not desire that,” said Peter. “I desire that you should +endure your days till the end, and come to meet me where I am in due season, +and not before. I will add this, that if in after-years you should meet any +worthy man, and have a mind to marry him, you should do so, for I know well +that you will never forget me, your first love, and that beyond this world lie +others where there are no marryings or giving in marriage. Let not my dead hand +lie heavy upon you, Margaret.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet,” she replied in gentle indignation, “heavy must it +always lie, since it is about my heart. Be sure of this, Peter, that if such +dreadful ill should fall upon us, as you left me so shall you find me, here or +hereafter.” +</p> + +<p> +“So be it,” he said with a sigh of relief, for he could not bear to +think of Margaret as the wife of some other man, even after he was gone, +although his honest, simple nature, and fear lest her life might be made empty +of all joy, caused him to say what he had said. +</p> + +<p> +Then behind the shelter of a flowering bush they embraced each other as do +those who know not whether they will ever kiss again, and, the hour of sunset +having come, parted as they must. +</p> + +<p> +On the following morning once more Castell and Margaret were led to the Hall of +Justice in the Alcazar; but this time Peter did not go with them. The great +court was already full of counsellors, officers, gentlemen, and ladies who had +come from curiosity, and other folk connected with or interested in the case. +As yet, however, Margaret could not see Morella or Betty, nor had the king and +queen taken their seats upon the throne. Peter was already there, standing +before the bar with guards on either side of him, and greeted them with a smile +and a nod as they were ushered to their chairs near by. Just as they reached +them also trumpets were blown, and from the back of the hall, walking hand in +hand, appeared their Majesties of Spain, Ferdinand and Isabella, whereat all +the audience rose and bowed, remaining standing till they were seated on the +thrones. +</p> + +<p> +The king, whom they now saw for the first time, was a thickset, active man with +pleasant eyes, a fair skin, and a broad forehead, but, as Margaret thought, +somewhat sly-faced—the face of a man who never forgot his own interests +in those of another. Like the queen, he was magnificently attired in garments +broidered with gold and the arms of Aragon, while in his hand he held a golden +sceptre surmounted by a jewel, and about his waist, to show that he was a +warlike king, he wore his long, cross-handled sword. Smilingly he acknowledged +the homage of his subjects by lifting his hand to his cap and bowing. Then his +eye fell upon the beautiful Margaret, and, turning, he put a question to the +queen in a light, sharp voice, asking if that were the lady whom Morella had +married, and, if so, why in the name of heaven he wished to be rid of her. +</p> + +<p> +Isabella answered that she understood that this was the señora whom he +had desired to marry when he married some one else, as he alleged by mistake, +but who was in fact affianced to the prisoner before them; a reply at which all +who heard it laughed. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment the Marquis of Morella, accompanied by his gentlemen and some +long-gowned lawyers, appeared walking up the court, dressed in the black velvet +that he always wore, and glittering with orders. Upon his head was a cap, also +of black velvet, from which hung a great pearl, and this cap he did not remove +even when he bowed to the king and queen, for he was one of the few grandees of +Spain who had the right to remain covered before their Majesties. They +acknowledged his salutation, Ferdinand with a friendly nod and Isabella with a +cold bow, and he, too, took the seat that had been prepared for him. Just then +there was a disturbance at the far end of the court, where one of its officers +could be heard calling: +</p> + +<p> +“Way! Make way for the Marchioness of Morella!” +</p> + +<p> +At the sound of this name the marquis, whose eyes were fixed on Margaret, +frowned fiercely, rising from his seat as though to protest, then, at some +whispered word from a lawyer behind him, sat down again. +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus13"></a> +<br /> +<img src="images/fig13.jpg" width="397" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“Way! Make way for the Marchioness of Morella!” +</p> +</div> + +<p> +Now the crowd of spectators separated, and Margaret, turning to look down the +long hall, saw a procession advancing up the lane between them, some clad in +armour and some in white Moorish robes blazoned with the scarlet eagle, the +cognisance of Morella. In the midst of them, her train supported by two Moorish +women, walked a tall and beautiful lady, a coronet upon her brow, her fair hair +outspread, a purple cloak hanging from her shoulders, half hiding that same +splendid robe sewn with pearls which had been Morella’s gift to Margaret, +and about her white bosom the chain of pearls which he had presented to Betty +in compensation for her injuries. +</p> + +<p> +Margaret stared and stared again, and her father at her side murmured: +</p> + +<p> +“It is our Betty! Truly fine feathers make fine birds.” Yes, Betty +it was without a doubt, though, remembering her in her humble woollen dress at +the old house in Holborn, it was hard to recognise the poor companion in this +proud and magnificent lady, who looked as though all her life she had trodden +the marble floors of courts, and consorted with nobles and with queens. Up the +great hall she came, stately, imperturbable, looking neither to the right nor +to the left, taking no note of the whisperings about her, no, nor even of +Morella or of Margaret, till she reached the open space in front of the bar +where Peter and his guards, gazing with all their eyes, hastened to make place +for her. There she curtseyed thrice, twice to the queen, and once to the king, +her consort; then, turning, bowed to the marquis, who fixed his eyes upon the +ground and took no note, bowed to Castell and Peter, and lastly, advancing to +Margaret, gave her her cheek to kiss. This Margaret did with becoming humility, +whispering in her ear: +</p> + +<p> +“How fares your Grace?” +</p> + +<p> +“Better than you would in my shoes,” whispered Betty back with ever +so slight a trembling of her left eyelid; while Margaret heard the king mutter +to the queen: +</p> + +<p> +“A fine peacock of a woman. Look at her figure and those big eyes. +Morella must be hard to please.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps he prefers swans to peacocks,” answered the queen in the +same voice with a glance at Margaret, whose quieter and more refined beauty +seemed to gain by contrast with that of her nobly built and dazzling-skinned +cousin. Then she motioned to Betty to take the seat prepared for her, which she +did, with her suite standing behind her and an interpreter at her side. +</p> + +<p> +“I am somewhat bewildered,” said the king, glancing from Morella to +Betty and from Margaret to Peter, for evidently the humour of the situation did +not escape him. “What is the exact case that we have to try?” +</p> + +<p> +Then one of the legal assessors, or alcaldes, rose and said that the matter +before their Majesties was a charge against the Englishman at the bar of +killing a certain soldier of the Holy Hermandad, but that there seemed to be +other matters mixed up with it. +</p> + +<p> +“So I gather,” answered the king; “for instance, an +accusation of the carrying off of subjects of a friendly Power out of the +territory of that Power; a suit for nullity of a marriage, and a cross-suit for +the declaration of the validity of the said marriage—and the holy saints +know what besides. Well, one thing at a time. Let us try this tall +Englishman.” +</p> + +<p> +So the case was opened against Peter by a public prosecutor, who restated it as +it had been laid before the queen. The Captain Arrano gave his evidence as to +the killing of the soldier, but, in cross-examination by Peter’s +advocate, admitted, for evidently he bore no malice against the prisoner, that +the said soldier had roughly handled the Dona Margaret, and that the said +Peter, being a stranger to the country, might very well have taken them for a +troop of bandits or even Moors. Also, he added, that he could not say that the +Englishman had intended to kill the soldier. +</p> + +<p> +Then Castell and Margaret gave their evidence, the latter with much modest +sweetness. Indeed, when she explained that Peter was her affianced husband, to +whom she was to have been wed on the day after she had been stolen away from +England, and that she had cried out to him for help when the dead soldier +caught hold of her and rent away her veil, there was a murmur of sympathy, and +the king and queen began to talk with each other without paying much heed to +her further words. +</p> + +<p> +Next they spoke to two of the judges who sat with them, after which the king +held up his hand and announced that they had come to a decision on the case. It +was, that, under the circumstances, the Englishman was justified in cutting +down the soldier, especially as there was nothing to show that he meant to kill +him, or that he knew that he belonged to the Holy Hermandad. He would, +therefore, be discharged on the condition that he paid a sum of money, which, +indeed, it appeared had already been paid to the man’s widow, in +compensation for the man’s death, and a further small sum for Masses to +be said for the welfare of his soul. +</p> + +<p> +Peter began to give thanks for this judgment; but while he was still speaking +the king asked if any of those present wished to proceed in further suits. +Instantly Betty rose and said that she did. Then, through her interpreter, she +stated that she had received the royal commands to attend before their +Majesties, and was now prepared to answer any questions or charges that might +be laid against her. +</p> + +<p> +“What is your name, Señora?” asked the king. +</p> + +<p> +“Elizabeth, Marchioness of Morella, born Elizabeth Dene, of the ancient +and gentle family of Dene, a native of England,” answered Betty in a +clear and decided voice. +</p> + +<p> +The king bowed, then asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Does any one dispute this title and description?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do,” answered the Marquis of Morella, speaking for the first +time. +</p> + +<p> +“On what grounds, Marquis?” +</p> + +<p> +“On every ground,” he answered. “She is not the Marchioness +of Morella, inasmuch as I went through the ceremony of marriage with her +believing her to be another woman. She is not of ancient and gentle family, +since she was a servant in the house of the merchant Castell yonder, in +London.” +</p> + +<p> +“That proves nothing, Marquis,” interrupted the king. “My +family may, I think, be called ancient and gentle, which you will be the last +to deny, yet I have played the part of a servant on an occasion which I think +the queen here will remember”—an allusion at which the audience, +who knew well enough to what it referred, laughed audibly, as did her Majesty +<a href="#fn1" name="fnref1" id="fnref1"><sup>[1]</sup></a>. “The +marriage and rank are matters for proof,” went on the king, “if +they are questioned; but is it alleged that this lady has committed any crime +which prevents her from pleading?” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +<a name="fn1" id="fn1"></a> <a href="#fnref1">[1]</a>When travelling from +Saragossa to Valladolid to be married to Isabella, Ferdinand was obliged +to pass himself off as a valet. Prescott says: “The greatest circumspection, therefore, +was necessary. The party journeyed chiefly in the night; Ferdinand assumed +the disguise of a servant and, when they halted on the road, took care of the +mules and served his companions at table.” +</p> + +<p> +“None,” answered Betty quickly, “except that of being poor, +and the crime, if it is one, as it may be, of having married that man, the +Marquis of Morella,” whereat the audience laughed again. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Madam, you do not seem to be poor now,” remarked the king, +looking at her gorgeous and bejewelled apparel; “and here we are more apt +to think marriage a folly than a crime,” a light saying at which the +queen frowned a little. “But,” he added quickly, “set out +your case, Madam, and forgive me if, until you have done so, I do not call you +Marchioness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here is my case, Sire,” said Betty, producing the certificate of +marriage and handing it up for inspection. +</p> + +<p> +The judges and their Majesties inspected it, the queen remarking that a +duplicate of this document had already been submitted to her and passed on to +the proper authorities. +</p> + +<p> +“Is the priest who solemnised the marriage present?” asked the +king; whereon Bernaldez, Castell’s agent, rose and said that he was, +though he neglected to add that his presence had been secured for no mean sum. +</p> + +<p> +One of the judges ordered that he should be called, and presently the +foxy-faced Father Henriques, at whom the marquis glared angrily, appeared +bowing, and was sworn in the usual form, and, on being questioned, stated that +he had been priest at Motril, and chaplain to the Marquis of Morella, but was +now a secretary of the Holy Office at Seville. In answer to further questions +he said that, apparently by the bridegroom’s own wish, and with his full +consent, on a certain date at Granada, he had married the marquis to the lady +who stood before them, and whom he knew to be named Betty Dene; also, that at +her request, since she was anxious that proper record should be kept of her +marriage, he had written the certificates which the court had seen, which +certificates the marquis and others had signed immediately after the ceremony +in his private chapel at Granada. Subsequently he had left Granada to take up +his appointment as a secretary to the Inquisition at Seville, which had been +conferred on him by the ecclesiastical authorities in reward of a treatise +which he had written upon heresy. That was all he knew about the affair. +</p> + +<p> +Now Morella’s advocate rose to cross-examine, asking him who had made the +arrangements for the marriage. He answered that the marquis had never spoken to +him directly on the subject—at least he had never mentioned to him the +name of the lady; the Señora Inez arranged everything. +</p> + +<p> +Now the queen broke in, asking where was the Señora Inez, and who she +was. The priest replied that the Señora Inez was a Spanish woman, one of +the marquis’s household at Granada, whom he made use of in all +confidential affairs. She was young and beautiful, but he could say no more +about her. As to where she was now he did not know, although they had ridden +together to Seville. Perhaps the marquis knew. +</p> + +<p> +Now the priest was ordered to stand down, and Betty tendered herself as a +witness, and through her interpreter told the court the story of her connection +with Morella. She said that she had met him in London when she was a member of +the household of the Señor Castell, and that at once he began to make +love to her and won her heart. Subsequently he suggested that she should elope +with him to Spain, promising to marry her at once, in proof of which she +produced the letter he had written, which was translated and handed up for the +inspection of the court—a very awkward letter, as they evidently thought, +although it was not signed with the writer’s real name. Next Betty +explained the trick by which she and her cousin Margaret were brought on board +his ship, and that when they arrived there the marquis refused to marry her, +alleging that he was in love with her cousin and not with her—a statement +which she took to be an excuse to avoid the fulfilment of his promise. She +could not say why he had carried off her cousin Margaret also, but supposed +that it was because, having once brought her upon the ship, he did not know how +to be rid of her. +</p> + +<p> +Then she described the voyage to Spain, saying that during that voyage she kept +the marquis at a distance, since there was no priest to marry them; also, she +was sick and much ashamed, who had involved her cousin and mistress in this +trouble. She told how the Señors Castell and Brome had followed in +another vessel, and boarded the caravel in a storm; also of the shipwreck and +their journey to Granada as prisoners, and of their subsequent life there. +Finally she described how Inez came to her with proposals of marriage, and how +she bargained that if she consented, her cousin, the Señor Castell, and +the Señor Brome should go free. They went accordingly, and the marriage +took place as arranged, the marquis first embracing her publicly in the +presence of various people—namely, Inez and his two secretaries, who, +except Inez, were present, and could bear witness to the truth of what she said. +</p> + +<p> +After the marriage and the signing of the certificates she had accompanied him +to his own apartments, which she had never entered before, and there, to her +astonishment, in the morning, he announced that he must go a journey upon their +Majesties’ business. Before he went, however, he gave her a written +authority, which she produced, to receive his rents and manage his matters in +Granada during his absence, which authority she read to the gathered household +before he left. She had obeyed him accordingly until she had received the royal +command, receiving moneys, giving her receipt for the same, and generally +occupying the unquestioned position of mistress of his house. +</p> + +<p> +“We can well believe it,” said the king drily. “And now, +Marquis, what have you to answer to all this?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will answer presently,” replied Morella, who trembled with rage. +“First suffer that my advocate cross-examine this woman.” +</p> + +<p> +So the advocate cross-examined, though it cannot be said that he had the better +of Betty. First he questioned her as to her statement that she was of ancient +and gentle family, whereon Betty overwhelmed the court with a list of her +ancestors, the first of whom, a certain Sieur Dene de Dene, had come to England +with the Norman Duke, William the Conqueror. After him, so she still swore, the +said Denes de Dene had risen to great rank and power, having been the +favourites of the kings of England, and fought for them generation after +generation. +</p> + +<p> +By slow degrees she came down to the Wars of the Roses, in which she said her +grandfather had been attainted for his loyalty, and lost his land and titles, +so that her father, whose only child she was—being now the representative +of the noble family, Dene de Dene—fell into poverty and a humble place in +life. However, he married a lady of even more distinguished race than his own, +a direct descendant of a noble Saxon family, far more ancient in blood than the +upstart Normans. At this point, while Peter and Margaret listened amazed, at a +hint from the queen, the bewildered court interfered through the head alcalde, +praying her to cease from the history of her descent, which they took for +granted was as noble as any in England. +</p> + +<p> +Next she was examined as to her relations with Morella in London, and told the +tale of his wooing with so much detail and imaginative power that in the end +that also was left unfinished. So it was with everything. Clever as +Morella’s advocate might be, sometimes in English and sometimes in the +Spanish tongue, Betty overwhelmed him with words and apt answers, until, able +to make nothing of her, the poor man sat down wiping his brow and cursing her +beneath his breath. +</p> + +<p> +Then the secretaries were sworn, and after them various members of +Morella’s household, who, although somewhat unwillingly, confirmed all +that Betty had said as to his embracing her with lifted veil and the rest. So +at length Betty closed her case, reserving the right to address the court after +she had heard that of the marquis. +</p> + +<p> +Now the king, queen, and their assessors consulted for a little while, for +evidently there was a division of opinion among them, some thinking that the +case should be stopped at once and referred to another tribunal, and others +that it should go on. At length the queen was heard to say that at least the +Marquis of Morella should be allowed to make his statement, as he might be able +to prove that all this story was a fabrication, and that he was not even at +Granada at the time when the marriage was alleged to have taken place. +</p> + +<p> +The king and the alcaldes assenting, the marquis was sworn and told his story, +admitting that it was not one which he was proud to repeat in public. He +narrated how he had first met Margaret, Betty, and Peter at a public ceremony +in London, and had then and there fallen in love with Margaret, and accompanied +her home to the house of her father, the merchant John Castell. +</p> + +<p> +Subsequently he discovered that this Castell, who had fled from Spain with his +father in childhood, was that lowest of mankind, an unconverted Jew who posed +as a Christian (at this statement there was a great sensation in court, and the +queen’s face hardened), although it is true that he had married a +Christian lady, and that his daughter had been baptized and brought up as a +Christian, of which faith she was a loyal member. Nor did she know—as he +believed—that her father remained a Jew, since, otherwise, he would not +have continued to seek her as his wife. Their Majesties would be aware, he went +on, that, owing to reasons with which they were acquainted, he had means of +getting at the truth of these matters concerning the Jews in England, as to +which, indeed, he had already written to them, although, owing to his shipwreck +and to the pressure of his private affairs, he had not yet made his report on +his embassy in person. +</p> + +<p> +Continuing, he said that he admitted that he had made love to the +serving-woman, Betty, in order to gain access to Margaret, whose father +mistrusted him, knowing something of his mission. She was a person of no +character. +</p> + +<p> +Here Betty rose and said in a clear voice: +</p> + +<p> +“I declare the Marquis of Morella to be a knave and a liar. There is more +good character in my little finger than in his whole body, and,” she +added, “than in that of his mother before him”—an allusion at +which the marquis flushed, while, satisfied for the present with this +home-thrust, Betty sat down. +</p> + +<p> +He had proposed to Margaret, but she was not willing to marry him, as he found +that she was affianced to a distant cousin of hers, the Señor Peter +Brome, a swashbuckler who was in trouble for the killing of a man in London, as +he had killed the soldier of the Holy Hermandad in Spain. Therefore, in his +despair, being deeply enamoured of her, and knowing that he could offer her +great place and fortune, he conceived the idea of carrying her off, and to do +so was obliged, much against his will, to abduct Betty also. +</p> + +<p> +So after many adventures they came to Granada, where he was able to show the +Dona Margaret that the Señor Peter Brome was employing his imprisonment +in making love to that member of his household, Inez, who had been spoken of, +but now could not be found. +</p> + +<p> +Here Peter, who could bear this no longer, also rose and called him a liar to +his face, saying that if he had the opportunity he would prove it on his body, +but was ordered by the king to sit down and be silent. +</p> + +<p> +Having been convinced of her lover’s unfaithfulness, the marquis went on, +the Dona Margaret had at length consented to become his wife on condition that +her father, the Señor Brome, and her servant, Betty Dene, were allowed +to escape from Granada—— +</p> + +<p> +“Where,” remarked the queen, “you had no right to detain +them, Marquis. Except, perhaps, the father, John Castell,” she added +significantly. +</p> + +<p> +Where, he admitted with sorrow, he had no right to detain them. +</p> + +<p> +“Therefore,” went on the queen acutely, “there was no legal +or moral consideration for this alleged promise of marriage,”—a +point at which the lawyers nodded approvingly. +</p> + +<p> +The marquis submitted that there was a consideration; that at any rate the Dona +Margaret wished it. On the day arranged for the wedding the prisoners were let +go, disguised as Moors, but he now knew that through the trickery of the woman +Inez, whom he believed had been bribed by Castell and his fellow-Jews, the Dona +Margaret escaped in place of her servant, Betty, with whom he subsequently went +through the form of marriage, believing her to be Margaret. +</p> + +<p> +As regards the embrace before the ceremony, it took place in a shadowed room, +and he thought that Betty’s face and hair must have been painted and dyed +to resemble those of Margaret. For the rest, he was certain that the ceremonial +cup of wine that he drank before he led the woman to the altar was drugged, +since he only remembered the marriage itself very dimly, and after that nothing +at all until he woke upon the following morning with an aching brow to see +Betty sitting by him. As for the power of administration which she produced, +being perfectly mad at the time with rage and disappointment, and sure that if +he stopped there any longer he should commit the crime of killing this woman +who had deceived him so cruelly, he gave it that he might escape from her. +Their Majesties would notice also that it was in favour of the Marchioness of +Morella. As this marriage was null and void, there was no Marchioness of +Morella. Therefore, the document was null and void also. That was the truth, +and all he had to say. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap22"></a>CHAPTER XXII.<br /> +THE DOOM OF JOHN CASTELL.</h2> + +<p> +His evidence finished, the Marquis of Morella sat down, whereon, the king and +queen having whispered together, the head alcalde asked Betty if she had any +questions to put to him. She rose with much dignity, and through her +interpreter said in a quiet voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, a great many. Yet she would not debase herself by asking a single +one until the stain which he had cast upon her was washed away, which she +thought could only be done in blood. He had alleged that she was a woman of no +character, and he had further alleged that their marriage was null and void. +Being of the sex she was, she could not ask him to make good his assertions at +the sword’s point, therefore, as she believed she had the right to do +according to all the laws of honour, she asked leave to seek a +champion—if an unfriended woman could find one in a strange land—to +uphold her fair name against this base and cruel slander.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, in the silence that followed her speech, Peter rose and said: +</p> + +<p> +“I ask the permission of your Majesties to be that champion. Your +Majesties will note that according to his own story I have suffered from this +marquis the bitterest wrong that one man can receive at the hands of another. +Also, he has lied in saying that I am not true to my affianced lady, the Dona +Margaret, and surely I have a right to avenge the lie upon him. Lastly, I +declare that I believe the Señora Betty to be a good and upright woman, +upon whom no shadow of shame has ever fallen, and, as her countryman and +relative, I desire to uphold her good name before all the world. I am a +foreigner here with few friends, or none, yet I cannot believe that your +Majesties will withhold from me the right of battle which all over the world in +such a case one gentleman may demand of another. I challenge the Marquis of +Morella to mortal combat without mercy to the fallen, and here is the proof of +it.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, stepping across the open space before the bar, he drew the leathern +gauntlet off his hand and threw it straight into Morella’s face, thinking +that after such an insult he could not choose but fight. +</p> + +<p> +With an oath Morella snatched at his sword; but, before he could draw it, +officers of the court threw themselves on him, and the king’s stern voice +was heard commanding them to cease their brawling in the royal presences. +</p> + +<p> +“I ask your pardon, Sire,” gasped Morella, “but you have seen +what this Englishman did to me, a grandee of Spain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” broke in the queen, “but we have also heard what you, +a grandee of Spain, did to this gentleman of England, and the charge you +brought against him, which, it seems, the Dona Margaret does not believe.” +</p> + +<p> +“In truth, no, your Majesty,” said Margaret. “Let me be sworn +also, and I can explain much of what the marquis has told to you. I never +wished to marry him or any man, save this one,” and she touched Peter on +the arm, “and anything that he or I may have done, we did to escape the +evil net in which we were snared.” +</p> + +<p> +“We believe it,” answered the queen with a smile, then fell to +consulting with the king and the alcaldes. +</p> + +<p> +For a long time they debated in voices so low that none could hear what they +said, looking now at one and now at another of the parties to this strange +suit. Also, some priest was called into their council, which Margaret thought a +bad omen. At length they made up their minds, and in a low, quiet voice and +measured words her Majesty, as Queen of Castile, gave the judgment of them all. +Addressing herself first to Morella, she said: +</p> + +<p> +“My lord Marquis, you have brought very grave charges against the lady +who claims to be your wife, and the Englishman whose affianced bride you admit +you snatched away by fraud and force. This gentleman, on his own behalf and on +behalf of these ladies, has challenged you to a combat to the death in a +fashion that none can mistake. Do you accept his challenge?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would accept it readily enough, your Majesty,” answered Morella +in sullen tones, “since heretofore none have doubted my courage; but I +must remember that I am”—and he paused, then +added—“what your Majesties know me to be, a grandee of Spain, and +something more, wherefore it is scarcely lawful for me to cross swords with a +Jew-merchant’s clerk, for that was this man’s high rank and office +in England.” +</p> + +<p> +“You could cross them with me on your ship, the <i>San +Antonio</i>,” exclaimed Peter bitterly, “why then are you ashamed +to finish what you were not ashamed to begin? Moreover, I tell you that in love +or war I hold myself the equal of any woman-thief and bastard in this kingdom, +who am one of a name that has been honoured in my own.” +</p> + +<p> +Now again the king and queen spoke together of this question of rank—no +small one in that age and country. Then Isabella said: +</p> + +<p> +“It is true that a grandee of Spain cannot be asked to meet a simple +foreign gentleman in single combat. Therefore, since he has thought fit to +raise it, we uphold the objection of the Marquis of Morella, and declare that +this challenge is not binding on his honour. Yet we note his willingness to +accept the same, and are prepared to do what we can to make the matter easy, so +that it may not be said that a Spaniard, who has wrought wrong to an +Englishman, and been asked openly to make the amend of arms in the presence of +his sovereigns, was debarred from so doing by the accident of his rank. +Señor Peter Brome, if you will receive it at our hands, as others of +your nation have been proud to do, we propose, believing you to be a brave and +loyal man of gentle birth, to confer upon you the knighthood of the Order of +St. James, and thereby and therein the right to consort with as equal, or to +fight as equal, any noble of Spain, unless he should be of the right +blood-royal, to which place we think the most puissant and excellent Marquis of +Morella lays no claim.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thank your Majesties,” said Peter, astonished, “for the +honour that you would do to me, which, had it not been for the fact that my +father chose the wrong side on Bosworth Field, being of a race somewhat +obstinate in the matter of loyalty, I should not have needed to accept from +your Majesties. As it is I am very grateful, since now the noble marquis need +not feel debased in settling our long quarrel as he would desire to do.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come hither and kneel down, Señor Peter Brome,” said the +queen when he had finished speaking. +</p> + +<p> +He obeyed, and Isabella, borrowing his sword from the king, gave him the +accolade by striking him thrice upon the right shoulder and saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Rise, Sir Peter Brome, Knight of the most noble Order of Saint Iago, and +by creation a Don of Spain.” +</p> + +<p> +He rose, he bowed, retreating backwards as was the custom, and thereby nearly +falling off the dais, which some people thought a good omen for Morella. As he +went the king said: +</p> + +<p> +“Our Marshal, Sir Peter, will arrange the time and manner of your combat +with the marquis as shall be most convenient to you both. Meanwhile, we command +you both that no unseemly word or deed should pass between you, who must soon +meet face to face to abide the judgment of God in battle <i>à +l’outrance</i>. Rather, since one of you must die so shortly, do we +entreat you to prepare your souls to appear before His judgment-seat. We have +spoken.” +</p> + +<p> +Now the audience appeared to think that the court was ended, for many of them +began to rise; but the queen held up her hand and said: +</p> + +<p> +“There remain other matters on which we must give judgment. The +señora here,” and she pointed to Betty, “asks that her +marriage should be declared valid, or so we understand, and the Marquis of +Morella asks that his marriage with the said señora should be declared +void, or so we understand. Now this is a question over which we claim no power, +it having to do with a sacrament of the Church. Therefore we leave it to his +Holiness the Pope in person, or by his legate, to decide according to his +wisdom in such manner as may seem best to him, if the parties concerned should +choose to lay their suit before him. Meanwhile, we declare and decree that the +señora, born Elizabeth Dene, shall everywhere throughout our dominions, +until or unless his Holiness the Pope shall decide to the contrary, be received +and acknowledged as the Marchioness of Morella, and that during his lifetime +her reputed husband shall make due provision for her maintenance, and that +after his death, should no decision have been come to by the court of Rome upon +her suit, she shall inherit and enjoy that proportion of his lands and property +which belongs to a wife under the laws of this realm.” +</p> + +<p> +Now, while Betty bowed her thanks to their Majesties till the jewels on her +bodice rattled, and Morella scowled till his face looked as black as a +thunder-cloud above the mountains, the audience, whispering to each other, once +more rose to disperse. Again the queen held up her hand, for the judgment was +not yet finished. +</p> + +<p> +“We have a question to ask of the gallant Sir Peter Brome and the Dona +Margaret, his affianced. Is it still their desire to take each other in +marriage?” +</p> + +<p> +Now Peter looked at Margaret, and Margaret looked at Peter, and there was that +in their eyes which both of them understood, for he answered in a clear voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Your Majesty, that is the dearest wish of both of us.” +</p> + +<p> +The queen smiled a little, then asked: “And do you, Señor John +Castell, consent and allow your daughter’s marriage to this knight?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do, indeed,” he answered gravely. “Had it not been for +this man here,” and he glanced with bitter hatred at Morella, “they +would have been united long ago, and to that end,” he added with meaning, +“such little property as I possessed has been made over to trustees in +England for their benefit and that of their children. Therefore I am +henceforward dependent upon their charity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good,” said the queen. “Then one question remains to be put, +and only one. Is it your wish, both of you, that you should be wed before the +single combat between the Marquis of Morella and Sir Peter Brome? Remember, +Dona Margaret, before you answer, that in this event you may soon be made a +widow, and that if you postpone the ceremony you may never be a wife.” +</p> + +<p> +Now Margaret and Peter spoke a few words together, then the former answered for +them both. +</p> + +<p> +“Should my lord fall,” she said in her sweet voice that trembled as +she uttered the words, “in either case my heart will be widowed and +broken. Let me live out my days, therefore, bearing his name, that, knowing my +deathless grief, none may thenceforth trouble me with their love, who desire to +remain his bride in heaven.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well spoken,” said the queen. “We decree that here in our +cathedral of Seville you twain shall be wed on the same day, but before the +Marquis of Morella and you, Sir Peter Brome, meet in single combat. Further, +lest harm should be attempted against either of you,” and she looked +sideways at Morella, “you, Señora Margaret, shall be my guest +until you leave my care to become a bride, and you, Sir Peter, shall return to +lodge in the prison whence you came, but with liberty to see whom you will, and +to go when and where you will, but under our protection, lest some attempt +should be made on you.” +</p> + +<p> +She ceased, whereon suddenly the king began speaking in his sharp, thin voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Having settled these matters of chivalry and marriage,” he said, +“there remains another, which I will not leave to the gentle lips of our +sovereign Lady, that has to do with something higher than either of +them—namely, the eternal welfare of men’s souls, and of the Church +of Christ on earth. It has been declared to us that the man yonder, John +Castell, merchant of London, is that accursed thing, a Jew, who for the sake of +gain has all his life feigned to be a Christian, and, as such, deceived a +Christian woman into marriage; that he is, moreover, of our subjects, having +been born in Spain, and therefore amenable to the civil and spiritual +jurisdiction of this realm.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused, while Margaret and Peter stared at each other affrighted. Only +Castell stood silent and unmoved, though he guessed what must follow better +than either of them. +</p> + +<p> +“We judge him not,” went on the king, “who claim no authority +in such high matters, but we do what we must do—we commit him to the Holy +Inquisition, there to take his trial!” +</p> + +<p> +Now Margaret cried aloud. Peter stared about him as though for help, which he +knew could never come, feeling more afraid than ever he had been in all his +life, and for the first time that day Morella smiled. At least he would be rid +of one enemy. But Castell went to Margaret and kissed her tenderly. Then he +shook Peter by the hand, saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Kill that thief,” and he looked at Morella, “as I know you +will, and would if there were ten as bad at his back. And be a good husband to +my girl, as I know you will also, for I shall ask an account of you of these +matters when we meet where there is neither Jew nor Christian, priest nor king. +Now be silent, and bear what must be borne as I do, for I have a word to say +before I leave you and the world. +</p> + +<p> +“Your Majesties, I make no plea for myself, and when I am questioned +before your Inquisition the task will be easy, for I desire to hide nothing, +and will tell the truth, though not from fear or because I shrink from pain. +Your Majesties, you have told us that these two, who, at least, are good enough +Christians from their birth, shall be wed. I would ask you if any spiritual +crime, or supposed crime, of mine will be allowed to work their separation, or +to their detriment in any way whatsoever.” +</p> + +<p> +“On that point,” answered the queen quickly, as though she wished +to get in her words before the king or any one else could speak, “you +have our royal word, John Castell. Your case is apart from their case, and +nothing of which you may be convicted shall affect them in person or,” +she added slowly, “in property.” +</p> + +<p> +“A large promise,” muttered the king. +</p> + +<p> +“It is my promise,” she answered decidedly, “and it shall be +kept at any cost. These two shall marry, and if Sir Peter lives through the +fray they shall depart from Spain unharmed, nor shall any fresh charge be +brought against them in any court of the realm, nor shall they be persecuted or +proceeded against in any other realm or on the high seas at our instance or +that of our officers. Let my words be written down, and one copy of them signed +and filed and another copy given to the Dona Margaret.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Majesty,” said Castell, “I thank you, and now, if die I +must, I shall die happy. Yet I make bold to tell you that had you not spoken +them it was my purpose to kill myself, here before your eyes, since that is a +sin for which none can be asked to suffer save the sinner. Also, I say that +this Inquisition which you have set up shall eat out the heart of Spain and +bring her greatness to the dust of death. The torture and the misery of those +Jews, than whom you have no better or more faithful subjects, shall be avenged +on the heads of your children’s children for so long as their blood +endures.” +</p> + +<p> +He finished speaking, and, while something that sounded like a gasp of fear +rose from that crowded court as the meaning of Castell’s bold words came +home to his auditors, the crowd behind him separated, and there appeared, +walking two by two, a file of masked and hooded monks and a guard of soldiers, +all of whom doubtless were in waiting. They came to John Castell, they touched +him on the shoulder, they closed around him, hiding him as it were from the +world, and in the midst of them he vanished away. +</p> + +<p> +Peter’s memories of that strange day in the Alcazar at Seville always +remained somewhat dim and blurred. It was not wonderful. Within the space of a +few hours he had been tried for his life and acquitted. He had seen Betty, +transformed from a humble companion into a magnificent and glittering +marchioness, as a chrysalis is transformed into a butterfly, urge her strange +suit against the husband who had tricked her, and whom she had tricked, and, +for the while at any rate, more than hold her own, thanks to her ready wit and +native strength of character. +</p> + +<p> +As her champion, and that of Margaret, he had challenged Morella to a single +combat, and when his defiance was refused on the ground of his lack of rank, by +the favour of the great Isabella, who wished to use him as her instrument, +doubtless because of those secret ambitions of Morella’s which Margaret +had revealed to her, he had been suddenly advanced to the high station of a +Knight of the Order of St. James of Spain, to which, although he cared little +for it, otherwise he might vainly have striven to come. +</p> + +<p> +More, and better far, the desire of his heart would at length be attained, for +now it was granted to him to meet his enemy, the man whom he hated with just +cause, upon a fair field, without favour shown to one or the other, and to +fight him to the death. He had been promised, further, that within some few +days Margaret should be given to him as wife, although it well might be that +she would keep that name but for a single hour, and that until then they both +should dwell safe from Morella’s violence and treachery; also that, +whatever chanced, no suit should lie against them in any land for aught that +they did or had done in Spain. +</p> + +<p> +Lastly, when all seemed safe save for that chance of war, whereof, having been +bred to such things, he took but little count; when his cup, emptied at length +of mire and sand, was brimming full with the good red wine of battle and of +love, when it was at his very lips indeed, Fate had turned it to poison and to +gall. Castell, his bride’s father, and the man he loved, had been haled +to the vaults of the Inquisition, whence he knew well he would come forth but +once more, dressed in a yellow robe “relaxed to the civil arm,” to +perish slowly in the fires of the Quemadero, the place of burning of heretics. +</p> + +<p> +What would his conquest over Morella avail if Heaven should give him power to +conquer? What kind of a bridal would that be which was sealed and consecrated +by the death of the bride’s father in the torturing fires of the +Inquisition? How would they ever get the smell of the smoke of that sacrifice +out of their nostrils? Castell was a brave man; no torments would make him +recant. It was doubtful even if he would be at the pains to deny his faith, he +who had only been baptized a Christian by his father for the sake of policy, +and suffered the fraud to continue for the purposes of his business, and that +he might win and keep a Christian wife. No, Castell was doomed, and he could no +more protect him from priest and king than a dove can protect its nest from a +pair of hungry peregrines. +</p> + +<p> +Oh that last scene! Never could Peter forget it while he lived—the vast, +fretted hall with its painted arches and marble columns; the rays of the +afternoon sun piercing the window-places, and streaming like blood on to the +black robes of the monks as, with their prey, they vanished back into the +arcade where they had lurked; Margaret’s wild cry and ashen face as her +father was torn away from her, and she sank fainting on to Betty’s +bejewelled bosom; the cruel sneer on Morella’s lips; the king’s +hard smile; the pity in the queen’s eye; the excited murmurings of the +crowd; the quick, brief comments of the lawyers; the scratching of the +clerk’s quill as, careless of everything save his work, he recorded the +various decrees; and above it all as it were, upright, defiant, unmoved, +Castell, surrounded by the ministers of death, vanishing into the blackness of +the arcade, vanishing into the jaws of the tomb. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap23"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.<br /> +FATHER HENRIQUES AND THE BAKER’S OVEN.</h2> + +<p> +A week had gone by. Margaret was in the palace, where Peter had been to see her +twice, and found her broken-hearted. Even the fact that they were to be wed +upon the following Saturday, the day fixed also for the combat between Peter +and Morella, brought her no joy or consolation. For on the next day, the +Sunday, there was to be an “Act of Faith,” an +<i>auto-da-fé</i> in Seville, when wicked heretics, such as Jews, Moors, +and persons who had spoken blasphemy, were to suffer for their +crimes—some by fire on the Quemadero, or place of burning, outside the +city; some by making public confession of their grievous sin before they were +carried off to perpetual and solitary imprisonment; some by being garotted +before their bodies were given to the flames, and so forth. In this ceremony it +was known that John Castell had been doomed to play a leading part. +</p> + +<p> +On her knees, with tears and beseechings, Margaret had prayed the queen for +mercy. But in this matter those tears produced no more effect upon the heart of +Isabella than does water dripping on a diamond. Gentle enough in other ways, +where questions of the Faith were concerned she had the craft of a fox and the +cruelty of a tiger. She was even indignant with Margaret. Had not enough been +done for her? she asked. Had she not even passed her royal word that no steps +should be taken to deprive the accused of such property as he might own in +Spain if he were found guilty, and that none of those penalties which, +according to law and custom fell upon the children of such infamous persons, +should attach to her, Margaret? Was she not to be publicly married to her +lover, and, should he survive the combat, allowed to depart with him in honour +without even being asked to see her father expiate his iniquity? Surely, as a +good Christian she should rejoice that he was given this opportunity of +reconciling his soul with God and be made an example to others of his accursed +faith. Was she then a heretic also? +</p> + +<p> +So she stormed on, till Margaret crept from her presence wondering whether this +creed could be right that would force the child to inform against and bring the +parent to torment. Where were such things written in the sayings of the Saviour +and His Apostles? And if they were not written, who had invented them? +</p> + +<p> +“Save him!—save him!” Margaret had gasped to Peter in +despair. “Save him, or I swear to you, however much I may love you, +however much we may seem to be married, never shall you be a husband to +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“That seems hard,” replied Peter, shaking his head mournfully, +“since it was not I who gave him over to these devils, and probably the +end of it would be that I should share his fate. Still, I will do what a man +can.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” she cried in despair; “do nothing that will bring +you into danger.” But he had gone without waiting for her answer. +</p> + +<p> +It was night, and Peter sat in a secret room in a certain baker’s shop in +Seville. There were present there besides himself the Fray Henriques—now +a secretary to the Holy Inquisition, but disguised as a layman—the woman +Inez, the agent Bernaldez, and the old Jew, Israel of Granada. +</p> + +<p> +“I have brought him here, never mind how,” Inez was saying, +pointing to Henriques. “A risky and disagreeable business enough. And now +what is the use of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No use at all,” answered the Fray coolly, “except to me who +pocket my ten gold pieces.” +</p> + +<p> +“A thousand doubloons if our friend escapes safe and sound,” put in +the old Jew Israel. “God in Heaven! think of it, a thousand +doubloons.” +</p> + +<p> +The secretary’s eyes gleamed hungrily. +</p> + +<p> +“I could do with them well enough,” he answered, “and hell +could spare one filthy Jew for ten years or so, but I see no way. What I do +see, is that probably all of you will join him. It is a great crime to try to +tamper with a servant of the Holy Office.” +</p> + +<p> +Bernaldez turned white, and the old Jew bit his nails; but Inez tapped the +priest upon the shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you thinking of betraying us?” she asked in her gentle voice. +“Look here, friend, I have some knowledge of poisons, and I swear to you +that if you attempt it, you shall die within a week, tied in a double knot, and +never know whence the dose came. Or I can bewitch you, I, who have not lived a +dozen years among the Moors for nothing, so that your head swells and your body +wastes, and you utter blasphemies, not knowing what you say, until for very +shame’s sake they toast you among the faggots also.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bewitch me!” answered Henriques with a shiver. “You have +done that already, or I should not be here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, if you do not wish to be in another place before your time,” +went on Inez, still tapping his shoulder gently, “think, think! and find +a way, worthy servant of the Holy Office.” +</p> + +<p> +“A thousand doubloons!—a thousand gold doubloons!” croaked +old Israel, “or if you fail, sooner or later, this month or next, this +year or next, death—death as slow and cruel as we can make it. There are +two Inquisitions in Spain, holy Father; but one of them does its business in +the dark, and your name is on its ledger.” +</p> + +<p> +Now Henriques was very frightened, as well he might be with all those eyes +glaring at him. +</p> + +<p> +“You need fear nothing,” he said, “I know the devilish power +of your league too well, and that, if I kill you all, a hundred others I have +never seen or heard of would dog me to my death, who have taken your accursed +money.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am glad that you understand at last, dear friend,” said the +soft, mocking voice of Inez, who stood behind the monk like an evil genius, and +again tapped him affectionately on the shoulder, this time with the bare blade +of a poniard. “Now be quick with that plan of yours. It grows late, and +all holy people should be abed.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have none. I defy you,” he answered furiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, friend—very well; then I will say good night, or rather +farewell, since I am not likely to meet you again in this world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you going?” he asked anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! to the palace to meet the Marquis of Morella and a friend of his, a +relation indeed. Look you here. I have had an offer of pardon for my part in +that marriage if I can prove that a certain base priest knew that he was +perpetrating a fraud. Well, I <i>can</i> prove it—you may remember that +you wrote me a note—and, if I do, what happens to such a priest who +chances to have incurred the hatred of a grandee of Spain and of his noble +relation?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am an officer of the Holy Inquisition; no one dare touch me,” he +gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I think that there are some who would take the risk. For +instance—the king.” +</p> + +<p> +Fray Henriques sank back in his chair. Now he understood whom Inez meant by the +noble relative of Morella, understood also that he had been trapped. “On +Sunday morning,” he began in a hollow whisper, “the procession will +be formed, and wind through the streets of the city to the theatre, where the +sermon will be preached before those who are relaxed proceed to the Quemadero. +About eight o’clock it turns on to the quay for a little way only, and +here will be but few spectators, since the view of the pageant is bad, nor is +the road guarded there. Now, if a dozen determined men were waiting disguised +as peasants with a boat at hand, perhaps they might——” and he +paused. +</p> + +<p> +Then Peter, who had been watching and listening to all this play, spoke for the +first time, asking: +</p> + +<p> +“In such an event, reverend Sir, how would those determined men know +which was the victim that they sought?” +</p> + +<p> +“The heretic John Castell,” he answered, “will be seated on +an ass, clad in a <i>zamarra</i> of sheepskin painted with fiends and a +likeness of his own head burning—very well done, for I, who can draw, had +a hand in it. Also, he alone will have a rope round his neck, by which he may +be known.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why will he be seated on an ass?” asked Peter savagely. +“Because you have tortured him so that he cannot walk?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so—not so,” said the Dominican, shrinking from those +fierce eyes. “He has never been questioned at all, not a single turn of +the <i>mancuerda</i>, I swear to you, Sir Knight. What was the use, since he +openly avows himself an accursed Jew?” +</p> + +<p> +“Be more gentle in your talk, friend,” broke in Inez, with her +familiar tap upon the shoulder. “There are those here who do not think so +ill of Jews as you do in your Holy House, but who understand how to apply the +<i>mancuerda</i>, and can make a very serviceable rack out of a plank and a +pulley or two such as lie in the next room. Cultivate courtesy, most learned +priest, lest before you leave this place you should add a cubit to your +stature.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go on,” growled Peter. +</p> + +<p> +“Moreover,” added Fray Henriques shakily, “orders came that +it was not to be done. The Inquisitors thought otherwise, as they believed +—doubtless in error—that he might have accomplices whose names he +would give up; but the orders said that as he had lived so long in England, and +only recently travelled to Spain, he could have none. Therefore he is +sound—sound as a bell; never before, I am told, has an impenitent Jew +gone to the stake in such good case, however worthy and worshipful he might +be.” +</p> + +<p> +“So much the better for you, if you do not lie,” answered Peter. +“Continue!” +</p> + +<p> +“There is nothing more to say, except that I shall be walking near to him +with the two guards, and, of course, if he were snatched away from us, and +there were no boats handy in which to pursue, we could not help it, could we? +Indeed, we priests, who are men of peace, might even fly at the sight of cruel +violence.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should advise you to fly fast and far,” said Peter. “But, +Inez, what hold have you on this friend of yours? He will trick +everybody.” +</p> + +<p> +“A thousand doubloons—a thousand doubloons!” muttered old +Israel like a sleepy parrot. +</p> + +<p> +“He may think to screw more than that out of the carcases of some of us, +old man. Come, Inez, you are quick at this game. How can we best hold him to +his word?” +</p> + +<p> +“Dead, I think,” broke in Bernaldez, who knew his danger as the +partner and relative of Castell, and the nominal owner of the ship +<i>Margaret</i> in which it was purposed that he should escape. “We know +all that he can tell, and if we let him go he will betray us soon or late. Kill +him out of the way, I say, and burn his body in the oven.” +</p> + +<p> +Now Henriques fell upon his knees, and with groans and tears began to implore +mercy. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you complain so?” asked Inez, watching him with reflective +eyes. “The end would be much gentler than that which you righteous folk +mete out to many more honest men, yes, and women too. For my part, I think that +the Señor Bernaldez gives good counsel. Better that you should die, who +are but one, than all of us and others, for you will understand that we cannot +trust you. Has any one got a rope?” +</p> + +<p> +Now Henriques grovelled on the ground before her, kissing the hem of her robe, +and praying her in the name of all the saints to show pity on one who had been +betrayed into this danger by love of her. +</p> + +<p> +“Of money you mean, Toad,” she answered, kicking him with her +slippered foot. “I had to listen to your talk of love while we journeyed +together, and before, but here I need not, and if you speak of it again you +shall go living into that baker’s oven. Oh! you have forgotten it, but I +have a long score to settle with you. You were a familiar of the Holy Office +here at Seville—were you not?—before Morella promoted you to Motril +for your zeal, and made you one of his chaplains? Well, I had a sister.” +And she knelt down and whispered a name into his ear. +</p> + +<p> +He uttered a sound—it was more of a scream than a gasp. +</p> + +<p> +“I had nothing to do with her death,” he protested. “She was +brought within the walls of the Holy House by some one who had a grudge against +her and bore false witness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know. It was you who had the grudge, you snake-souled rogue, and +it was you who gave the false witness. It was you, also, who but the other day +volunteered the corroborative evidence that was necessary against Castell, +saying that he had passed the Rood at your house in Motril without doing it +reverence, and other things. It was you, too, who urged your superiors to put +him to the question, because you said he was rich and had rich friends, and +much money could be wrung out of him and them, whereof you were to get your +share. Oh! yes, my information is good, is it not? Even what passes in the +dungeons of the Holy House comes to the ears of the woman Inez. Well, do you +still think that baker’s oven too hot for you?” +</p> + +<p> +By this time Henriques was speechless with terror. There he knelt upon the +floor, glaring at this soft-voiced, remorseless woman who had made a tool and a +fool of him; who had beguiled him there that night, and who hated him so +bitterly and with so just a cause. Peter was speaking now. +</p> + +<p> +“It would be better not to stain our hands with the creature’s +blood,” he said. “Caged rats give little sport, and he might be +tracked. For my part, I would leave his judgment to God. Have you no other way, +Inez?” +</p> + +<p> +She thought a while, then prodded the Fray Henriques with her foot, saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Get up, sainted secretary to the Holy Office, and do a little writing, +which will be easy to you. See, here are pens and paper. Now I’ll dictate: +</p> + +<p> +  “‘Most Adorable Inez, +</p> + +<p class="letter"> +“‘Your dear message has reached me safely here in this accursed +Holy House, where we lighten heretics of their sins to the benefit of their +souls, and of their goods to the benefit of our own +bodies——’” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot write it,” groaned Henriques; “it is rank +heresy.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, only the truth,” answered Inez. +</p> + +<p> +“Heresy and the truth—well, they are often the same thing. They +would burn me for it.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is just what many heretics have urged. They have died gloriously +for what they hold to be the truth, why should not you? Listen,” she went +on more sternly. “Will you take your chance of burning on the Quemadero, +which you will not do unless you betray us, or will you certainly burn more +privately, but better, in a baker’s oven, and within half an hour? Ah! I +thought you would not hesitate. Continue your letter, most learned scribe. Are +those words down? Yes. Now add these: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> + “‘I note all you tell me about the trial at the Alcazar before +their Majesties. I believe that the Englishwoman will win her case. That was a +very pretty trick that I played on the most noble marquis at Granada. Nothing +neater was ever done, even in this place. Well, I owed him a long score, and I +have paid him off in full. I should like to have seen his exalted countenance +when he surveyed the features of his bride, the waiting-woman, and knew that +the mistress was safe away with another man. The nephew of the king, who would +like himself to be king some day, married to an English waiting-woman! Good, +very good, dear Inez. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> + “‘Now, as regards the Jew, John Castell. I think that the matter +may possibly be managed, provided that the money is all right, for, as you +know, I do not work for nothing. Thus——’” +</p> + +<p> +And Inez dictated with admirable lucidity those suggestions as to the rescue of +Castell, with which the reader is already acquainted, ending the letter as +follows: +</p> + +<p class="letter"> + “‘These Inquisitors here are cruel beasts, though fonder of money +than of blood; for all their talk about zeal for the Faith is so much wind +behind the mountains. They care as much for the Faith as the mountain cares for +the wind, or, let us say, as I do. They wanted to torture the poor devil, +thinking that he would rain maravedis; but I gave a hint in the right quarter, +and their fun was stopped. Carissima, I must stop also; it is my hour for duty, +but I hope to meet you as arranged, and we will have a merry evening. Love to +the newly married marquis, if you meet him, and to yourself you know how much. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“‘Your      +</p> + +<p class="right"> +“‘HENRIQUES. +</p> + +<p class="letter"> + “‘POSTSCRIPTUM.—This position will scarcely be as +remunerative as I hoped, so I am glad to be able to earn a little outside, +enough to buy you a present that will make your pretty eyes shine.’ +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +“There!” said Inez mildly, “I think that covers everything, +and would burn you three or four times over. Let me read it to see that it is +plainly written and properly signed, for in such matters a good deal turns on +handwriting. Yes, that will do. Now you understand, don’t you, if +anything goes wrong about the matter we have been talking of—that is, if +the worthy John Castell is not rescued, or a smell of our little plot should +get into the wind—this letter goes at once to the right quarter, and a +certain secretary will wish that he had never been born. Man!” she added +in a hissing whisper, “you shall die by inches as my sister did.” +</p> + +<p> +“A thousand doubloons if the thing succeeds, and you live to claim +them,” croaked old Israel. “I do not go back upon my word. Death +and shame and torture or a thousand doubloons. Now he knows our terms, +blindfold him again, Señor Bernaldez, and away with him, for he poisons +the air. But first you, Inez, be gone and lodge that letter where you +know.” +</p> +<p class="p2"> +That same night two cloaked figures, Peter and Bernaldez, were rowed in a +little boat out to where the <i>Margaret</i> lay in the river, and, making her +fast, slipped up the ship’s side into the cabin. Here the stout English +captain, Smith, was waiting for them, and so glad was the honest fellow to see +Peter that he cast his arms about him and hugged him, for they had not met +since that desperate adventure of the boarding of the <i>San Antonio</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“Is your ship fit for sea, Captain?” asked Peter. +</p> + +<p> +“She will never be fitter,” he answered. “When shall I get +sailing orders?” +</p> + +<p> +“When the owner comes aboard,” answered Peter. +</p> + +<p> +“Then we shall stop here until we rot; they have trapped him in their +Inquisition. What is in your mind, Peter Brome?—what is in your mind? Is +there a chance?” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, Captain, I think so, if you have a dozen fellows of the right +English stuff between decks.” +</p> + +<p> +“We have got that number, and one or two more. But what’s the +plan?” +</p> + +<p> +Peter told him. +</p> + +<p> +“Not so bad,” said Smith, slapping his heavy hand upon his knee; +“but risky—very risky. That Inez must be a good girl. I should like +to marry her, notwithstanding her bygones.” +</p> + +<p> +Peter laughed, thinking what an odd couple they would make. “Hear the +rest, then talk,” he said. “See now! On Saturday next Mistress +Margaret and I are to be married in the cathedral; then, towards sunset, the +Marquis of Morella and I run our course in the great bull-ring yonder, and you +and half a dozen of your men will be present. Now, I may conquer or I may +fail——” +</p> + +<p> +“Never!—never!” said the captain. “I wouldn’t +give a pair of old boots for that fine Spaniard’s chance when you get at +him. Why, you will crimp him like a cod-fish!” +</p> + +<p> +“God knows!” answered Peter. “If I win, my wife and I make +our adieux to their Majesties, and ride away to the quay, where the boat will +be waiting, and you will row us on board the <i>Margaret</i>. If I fail, you +will take up my body, and, accompanied by my widow, bring it in the same +fashion on board the <i>Margaret</i>, for I shall give it out that in this case +I wish to be embalmed in wine and taken back to England for burial. In either +event, you will drop your ship a little way down the river round the bend, so +that folk may think that you have sailed. In the darkness you must work her +back with the tide and lay her behind those old hulks, and if any ask you why, +say that three of your men have not yet come aboard, and that you have dropped +back for them, and whatever else you like. Then, in case I should not be alive +to guide you, you and ten or twelve of the best sailors will land at the spot +that this gentleman will show you to-morrow, wearing Spanish cloaks so as not +to attract attention, but being well armed underneath them, like idlers from +some ship who had come ashore to see the show. I have told you how you may know +Master Castell. When you see him make a rush for him, cut down any that try to +stop you, tumble him into the boat, and row for your lives to the ship, which +will slip her moorings and get up her canvas as soon as she sees you coming, +and begin to drop down the river with the tide and wind, if there is one. That +is the plot, but God alone knows the end of it! which depends upon Him and the +sailors. Will you play this game for the love of a good man and the rest of us? +If you succeed, you shall be rich for life, all of you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye,” answered the captain, “and there’s my hand on +it. So sure as my name is Smith, we will hook him out of that hell if men can +do it, and not for the money either. Why, Peter, we have sat here idle so long, +waiting for you and our lady, that we shall be glad of the fun. At any rate, +there will be some dead Spaniards before they have done with us, and, if we are +worsted, I’ll leave the mate and enough hands upon the ship to bring her +safe to Tilbury. But we won’t be—we won’t be. By this day +week we will all be rolling homewards across the Bay with never a Spaniard +within three hundred miles, you and your lady and Master Castell, too. I know +it! I tell you, lad, I know it!” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know it?” asked Peter curiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Because I dreamed it last night. I saw you and Mistress Margaret sitting +sweet as sugar, with your arms around each other’s middles, while I +talked to the master, and the sun went down with the wind blowing stiff from +sou-sou-west, and a gale threatening. I tell you that I dreamed it—I who +am not given to dreams.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap24"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.<br /> +THE FALCON STOOPS.</h2> + +<p> +It was the marriage day of Margaret and Peter. Clad in white armour that had +been sent to him as a present from the queen, a sign and a token of her good +wishes for his success in his combat with Morella, wearing the insignia of a +Knight of St. James hanging by a ribbon from his neck, his shield emblazoned +with his coat of the stooping falcon, which appeared also upon the white cloak +that hung from his shoulders, behind him a squire of high degree, who carried +his plumed casque and lance, and accompanied by an escort of the royal guards, +Peter rode from his quarters in the prison to the palace gates, and waited +there as he had been bidden. Presently they opened, and through them, seated on +a palfrey, appeared Margaret, wonderfully attired in white and silver, but with +her veil lifted so that her face could be seen. She was companioned by a troop +of maidens mounted, all of them, on white horses, and at her side, almost +outshining her in glory of apparel, and attended by all her household, rode +Betty, Marchioness of Morella—at any rate for that present time. +</p> + +<p> +Although she could never be less than beautiful, it was a worn and pale +Margaret who bowed her greetings to the bridegroom without those palace gates. +What wonder, since she knew that within a few hours his life must be set upon +the hazard of a desperate fray. What wonder, since she knew that to-morrow her +father was doomed to be burnt living upon the Quemadero. +</p> + +<p> +They met, they greeted; then, with silver trumpets blowing before them, the +glittering procession wound its way through the narrow streets of Seville. But +few words passed between them, whose hearts were too full for words, who had +said all they had to say, and now abided the issue of events. Betty, however, +whom many of the populace took for the bride, because her air was so much the +happier of the two, would not be silent. Indeed she chid Margaret for her lack +of gaiety upon such an occasion. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Betty!—Betty!” answered Margaret, “how can I be +gay, upon whose heart lies the burden of to-morrow?” +</p> + +<p> +“A pest upon the burden of to-morrow!” exclaimed Betty. “The +burden of to-day is enough for me, and that is not so bad to bear. Never shall +we have another such ride as this, with all the world staring at us, and every +woman in Seville envying us and our good looks and the favour of the +queen.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think it is you they stare at and envy,” said Margaret, glancing +at the splendid woman at her side, whose beauty she knew well over-shadowed her +own rarer loveliness, at any rate in a street pageant, as in the sunshine the +rose overshadows the lily. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” answered Betty, “if so, it is because I put the +better face on things, and smile even if my heart bleeds. At least, your lot is +more hopeful than mine. If your husband has to fight to the death presently, so +has mine, and between ourselves I favour Peter’s chances. He is a very +stubborn fighter, Peter, and wonderfully strong—too stubborn and strong +for any Spaniard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that is as it should be,” said Margaret, smiling faintly, +“seeing that Peter is your champion, and if he loses, you are stamped as +a serving-girl, and a woman of no character.” +</p> + +<p> +“A serving-girl I was, or something not far different,” replied +Betty in a reflective voice, “and my character is a matter between me and +Heaven, though, after all, it might scrape through where others fail to pass. +So these things do not trouble me over much. What troubles me is that if my +champion wins he kills my husband.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t want him to be killed then?” asked Margaret, +glancing at her. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I think not,” answered Betty with a little shake in her voice, +and turning her head aside for a moment. “I know he is a scoundrel, but, +you see, I always liked this scoundrel, just as you always hated him, so I +cannot help wishing that he was going to meet some one who hits a little less +hard than Peter. Also, if he dies, without doubt his heirs will raise suits +against me.” +</p> + +<p> +“At any rate your father is not going to be burnt to-morrow,” said +Margaret to change the subject, which, to tell the truth, was an awkward one. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Cousin, if my father had his deserts, according to all accounts, +although the lineage that I gave of him is true enough, doubtless he was burnt +long ago, and still goes on burning—in Purgatory, I mean—though God +knows I would never bring a faggot to his fire. But Master Castell will not be +burnt, so why fret about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“What makes you say that?” asked Margaret, who had not confided the +details of a certain plot to Betty. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know, but I am sure that Peter will get him out somehow. +He is a very good stick to lean on, Peter, although he seems so hard and stupid +and silent, which, after all, is in the nature of sticks. But look, there is +the cathedral—is it not a fine place?—and a great crowd of people +waiting round the gate. Now smile, Cousin. Bow and smile as I do.” +</p> + +<p> +They rode up to the great doors, where Peter, springing to the ground, assisted +his bride from her palfrey. Then the procession formed, and they entered the +wonderful place, preceded by vergers with staves, and by acolytes. Margaret had +never visited it before, and never saw it again, but all her life the memory of +it remained clear and vivid in her mind. The cold chill of the air within, the +semi-darkness after the glare of the sunshine, the seven great naves, or +aisles, stretching endlessly to right and left, the dim and towering roof, the +pillars that sprang to it everywhere like huge forest trees aspiring to the +skies, the solemn shadows pierced by lines of light from the high-cut windows, +the golden glory of the altars, the sounds of chanting, the sepulchres of the +dead—a sense of all these things rushed in upon her, overpowering her and +stamping the picture of them for ever on her memory. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly they passed onward to the choir, and round it to the steps of the great +altar of the chief chapel. Here, between the choir and the chapel, was gathered +the congregation—no small one—and here, side by side to the right +and without the rails, in chairs of state, sat their Majesties of Spain, who +had chosen to grace this ceremony with their presence. More, as the bride came, +the queen Isabella, as a special act of grace, rose from her seat and, bending +forward, kissed her on the cheek, while the choir sang and the noble music +rolled. It was a splendid spectacle, this marriage of hers, celebrated in +perhaps the most glorious fane in Europe. But even as Margaret noted it and +watched the bishops and priests decked with glittering embroideries, summoned +there to do her honour, as they moved to and fro in the mysterious ceremonial +of the Mass, she bethought her of other rites equally glorious that would take +place on the morrow in the greatest square of Seville, where these same +dignitaries would condemn fellow human beings—perhaps among them her own +father—to be married to the cruel flame. +</p> + +<p> +Side by side they knelt before the wondrous altar, while the incense-clouds +from the censers floated up one by one till they were lost in the gloom above, +as the smoke of to-morrow’s sacrifice would lose itself in the heavens, +she and her husband, won at last, won after so many perils, perhaps to be lost +again for ever before night fell upon the world. The priests chanted, the +gorgeous bishop bowed over them and muttered the marriage service of their +faith, the ring was set upon her hand, the troths were plighted, the +benediction spoken, and they were man and wife till death should them part, +that death which stood so near to them in this hour of life fulfilled. Then +they two, who already that morning had made confession of their sins, kneeling +alone before the altar, ate of the holy Bread, sealing a mystery with a mystery. +</p> + +<p> +All was done and over, and rising, they turned and stayed a moment hand in hand +while the sweet-voiced choir sang some wondrous chant. Margaret’s eyes +wandered over the congregation till presently they lighted upon the dark face +of Morella, who stood apart a little way, surrounded by his squires and +gentlemen, and watched her. More, he came to her, and bowing low, whispered to +her: +</p> + +<p> +“We are players in a strange game, my lady Margaret, and what will be its +end, I wonder? Shall I be dead to-night, or you a widow? Aye, and where was its +beginning? Not here, I think. And where, oh where shall this seed we sow bear +fruit? Well, think as kindly of me as you can, since I loved you who love me +not.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus14"></a> +<br /> +<img src="images/fig14.jpg" width="372" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“We are players in a strange game, my lady Margaret” +</p> +</div> + +<p> +And again bowing, first to her, then to Peter, he passed on, taking no note of +Betty, who stood near, considering him with her large eyes, as though she also +wondered what would be the end of all this play. +</p> + +<p> +Surrounded by their courtiers, the king and queen left the cathedral, and after +them came the bridegroom and the bride. They mounted their horses and in the +glory of the southern sunlight rode through the cheering crowd back to the +palace and to the marriage feast, where their table was set but just below that +of their Majesties. It was long and magnificent; but little could they eat, +and, save to pledge each other in the ceremonial cup, no wine passed their +lips. At length some trumpets blew, and their Majesties rose, the king saying +in his thin, clear voice that he would not bid his guests farewell, since very +shortly they would all meet again in another place, where the gallant +bridegroom, a gentleman of England, would champion the cause of his relative +and countrywoman against one of the first grandees of Spain whom she alleged +had done her wrong. That fray, alas! would be no pleasure joust, but to the +death, for the feud between these knights was deep and bitter, and such were +the conditions of their combat. He could not wish success to the one or to the +other; but of this he was sure, that in all Seville there was no heart that +would not give equal honour to the conqueror and the conquered, sure also that +both would bear themselves as became brave knights of Spain and England. +</p> + +<p> +Then the trumpets blew again, and the squires and gentlemen who were chosen to +attend him came bowing to Peter, and saying that it was time for him to arm. +Bride and bridegroom rose and, while all the spectators fell back out of +hearing, but watching them with curious eyes, spoke some few words together. +</p> + +<p> +“We part,” said Peter, “and I know not what to say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Say nothing, husband,” she answered him, “lest your words +should weaken me. Go now, and bear you bravely, as you will for your own honour +and that of England, and for mine. Dead or living you are my darling, and dead +or living we shall meet once more and be at rest for aye. My prayers be with +you, Sir Peter, my prayers and my eternal love, and may they bring strength to +your arm and comfort to your heart.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she, who would not embrace him before all those folk, curtseyed till her +knee almost touched the ground, while low he bent before her, a strange and +stately parting, or so thought that company; and taking the hand of Betty, +Margaret left him. +</p> + +<p class="p2"> +Two hours had gone by. The Plaza de Toros, for the great square where +tournaments were wont to be held was in the hands of those who prepared it for +the <i>auto-da-fé</i> of the morrow, was crowded as it had seldom been +before. This place was a huge amphitheatre—perchance the Romans built +it—where all sorts of games were celebrated, among them the baiting of +bulls as it was practised in those days, and other semi-savage sports. Twelve +thousand people could sit upon the benches that rose tier upon tier around the +vast theatre, and scarce a seat was empty. The arena itself, that was long +enough for horses starting at either end of it to come to their full speed, was +strewn with white sand, as it may have been in the days when gladiators fought +there. Over the main entrance and opposite to the centre of the ring were +placed the king and queen with their lords and ladies, and between them, but a +little behind, her face hid by her bridal veil, sat Margaret, upright and +silent as a statue. Exactly in front of them, on the further side of the ring +in a pavilion, and attended by her household, appeared Betty, glittering with +gold and jewels, since she was the lady in whose cause, at least in name, this +combat was to be fought <i>à l’outrance.</i> Quite unmoved she +sat, and her presence seemed to draw every eye in that vast assembly which +talked of her while it waited, with a sound like the sound of the sea as it +murmurs on a beach at night. +</p> + +<p> +Now the trumpets blew, and silence fell, and then, preceded by heralds in +golden tabards, Carlos, Marquis of Morella, followed by his squires, rode into +the ring through the great entrance. He bestrode a splendid black horse, and +was arrayed in coal-black armour, while from his casque rose black ostrich +plumes. On his shield, however, painted in scarlet, appeared the eagle crowned +with the coronet of his rank, and beneath, the proud motto—“What I +seize I tear.” A splendid figure, he pressed his horse into the centre of +the arena, then causing it to wheel round, pawing the air with its forelegs, +saluted their Majesties by raising his long, steel-tipped lance, while the +multitude greeted him with a shout. This done, he and his company rode away to +their station at the north end of the ring. +</p> + +<p> +Again the trumpets sounded, and a herald appeared, while after him, mounted on +a white horse, and clad in his white armour that glistened in the sun, with +white plumes rising from his casque, and on his shield the stooping falcon +blazoned in gold with the motto of “For love and honour” beneath +it, appeared the tall, grim shape of Sir Peter Brome. He, too, rode out into +the centre of the arena, and, turning his horse quite soberly, as though it +were on a road, lifted his lance in salute. Now there was no cheering, for this +knight was a foreigner, yet soldiers who were there said to each other that he +looked like one who would not easily be overthrown. +</p> + +<p> +A third time the trumpets sounded, and the two champions, advancing from their +respective stations, drew rein side by side in front of their Majesties, where +the conditions of the combat were read aloud to them by the chief herald. They +were short. That the fray should be to the death unless the king and queen +willed otherwise and the victor consented; that it should be on horse or on +foot, with lance or sword or dagger, but that no broken weapon might be +replaced and no horse or armour changed; that the victor should be escorted +from the place of combat with all honour, and allowed to depart whither he +would, in the kingdom or out of it, and no suit or blood-feud raised against +him; and that the body of the fallen be handed over to his friends for burial, +also with all honour. That the issue of this fray should in no way affect any +cause pleaded in Courts ecclesiastical or civil, by the lady who asserted +herself to be the Marchioness of Morella, or by the most noble Marquis of +Morella, whom she claimed as her husband. +</p> + +<p> +These conditions having been read, the champions were asked if they assented to +them, whereon each of them answered, “Aye!” in a clear voice. Then +the herald, speaking on behalf of Sir Peter Brome, by creation a knight of St. +Iago and a Don of Spain, solemnly challenged the noble Marquis of Morella to +single combat to the death, in that he, the said marquis, had aspersed the name +of his relative, the English lady, Elizabeth Dene, who claimed to be his wife, +duly united to him in holy wedlock, and for sundry other causes and injuries +worked towards him, the said Sir Peter Brome, and his wife, Dame Margaret +Brome, and in token thereof, threw down a gauntlet, which gauntlet the Marquis +of Morella lifted upon the point of his lance and cast over his shoulder, thus +accepting the challenge. +</p> + +<p> +Now the combatants dropped their visors, which heretofore had been raised, and +their squires, coming forward, examined the fastenings of their armour, their +weapons, and the girths and bridles of their horses. These being pronounced +sound and good, pursuivants took the steeds by the bridles and led them to the +far ends of the lists. At a signal from the king a single clarion blew, whereon +the pursuivants loosed their hold of the bridles and sprang back. Another +clarion blew, and the knights gathered up their reins, settled their shields, +and set their lances in rest, bending forward over their horses’ necks. +</p> + +<p> +An intense silence fell upon all the watching multitude as that of night upon +the sea, and in the midst of it the third clarion blew—to Margaret it +sounded like the trump of doom. From twelve thousand throats one great sigh +went up, like the sigh of wind upon the sea, and ere it died away, from either +end of the arena, like arrows from the bow, like levens from a cloud, the +champions started forth, their stallions gathering speed at every stride. Look, +they met! Fair on each shield struck a lance, and backward reeled their +holders. The keen points glanced aside or up, and the knights, recovering +themselves, rushed past each other, shaken but unhurt. At the ends of the lists +the squires caught the horses by the bridles and turned them. The first course +was run. +</p> + +<p> +Again the clarions blew, and again they started forward, and presently again +they met in mid career. As before, the lances struck upon the shields; but so +fearful was the impact, that Peter’s shivered, while that of Morella, +sliding from the topmost rim of his foe’s buckler, got hold in his visor +bars. Back went Peter beneath the blow, back and still back, till almost he lay +upon his horse’s crupper. Then, when it seemed that he must fall, the +lacings of his helm burst. It was torn from his head, and Morella passed on +bearing it transfixed upon his spear point. +</p> + +<p> +“The Falcon falls,” screamed the spectators; “he is +unhorsed.” +</p> + +<p> +But Peter was not unhorsed. Freed from that awful pressure, he let drop the +shattered shaft and, grasping at his saddle strap, dragged himself back into +the selle. Morella tried to stay his charger, that he might come about and fall +upon the Englishman before he could recover himself; but the brute was heady, +and would not be turned till he saw the wall of faces in front of him. Now they +were round, both of them, but Peter had no spear and no helm, while the lance +of Morella was cumbered with his adversary’s casque that he strove to +shake free from it, but in vain. +</p> + +<p> +“Draw your sword,” shouted voices to Peter—the English voices +of Smith and his sailors—and he put his hand down to do so, then +bethought him of some other counsel, for he let it lie within its scabbard, +and, spurring the white horse, came at Morella like a storm. +</p> + +<p> +“The Falcon will be spiked,” they screamed. “The Eagle +wins!—the Eagle wins!” And indeed it seemed that it must be so. +Straight at Peter’s undefended face drove Morella’s lance, but lo! +as it came he let fall his reins and with his shield he struck at the white +plumes about its point, the plumes torn from his own head. He had judged well, +for up flew those plumes, a little, a very little, yet far enough to give him +space, crouching on his saddle-bow, to pass beneath the deadly spear. Then, as +they swept past each other, out shot that long, right arm of his and, gripping +Morella like a hook of steel, tore him from his saddle, so that the black horse +rushed forward riderless, and the white sped on bearing a double burden. +</p> + +<p> +Grasping desperately, Morella threw his arms about his neck, and intertwined, +black armour mixed with white, they swayed to and fro, while the frightened +horse beneath rushed this way and that till, swerving suddenly, together they +fell upon the sand, and for a moment lay there stunned. +</p> + +<p> +“Who conquers?” gasped the crowd; while others answered, +“Both are sped!” And, leaning forward in her chair, Margaret tore +off her veil and watched with a face like the face of death. +</p> + +<p> +See! As they had fallen together, so together they stirred and rose—rose +unharmed. Now they sprang back, out flashed the long swords, and, while the +squires caught the horses and, running in, seized the broken spears, they faced +each other. Having no helm, Peter held his buckler above his head to shelter +it, and, ever calm, awaited the onslaught. +</p> + +<p> +At him came Morella, and with a light, grating sound his sword fell upon the +steel. Before he could recover himself Peter struck back; but Morella bent his +knees, and the stroke only shore the black plumes from his casque. Quick as +light he drove at Peter’s face with his point; but the Englishman leapt +to one side, and the thrust went past him. Again Morella came at him, and +struck so mighty a blow that, although Peter caught it on his buckler, it +sliced through the edge of it and fell upon his unprotected neck and shoulder, +wounding him, for now red blood showed on the white armour, and Peter reeled +back beneath the stroke. +</p> + +<p> +“The Eagle wins!—the Eagle wins! Spain and the Eagle” shouted +ten thousand throats. In the momentary silence that followed, a single voice, a +clear woman’s voice, which even then Margaret knew for that of Inez, +cried from among the crowd: +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, the Falcon stoops!” +</p> + +<p> +Before the sound of her words died away, maddened it would seem, by the pain of +his wound, or the fear of defeat, Peter shouted out his war-cry of <i>“A +Brome! A Brome!”</i> and, gathering himself together, sprang straight at +Morella as springs a starving wolf. The blue steel flickered in the sunlight, +then down it fell, and lo! half the Spaniard’s helm lay on the sand, +while it was Morella’s turn to reel backward—and more, as he did +so, he let fall his shield. +</p> + +<p> +“A stroke!—a good stroke!” roared the crowd. “The +Falcon!—the Falcon!” +</p> + +<p> +Peter saw that fallen shield, and whether for chivalry’s sake, as thought +the cheering multitude, or to free his left arm, he cast away his own, and +grasping the sword with both hands rushed on the Spaniard. From that moment, +helmless though he was, the issue lay in doubt no longer. Betty had spoken of +Peter as a stubborn swordsman and a hard hitter, and both of these he now +showed himself to be. As fresh to all appearance as when he ran the first +course, he rained blow after blow upon the hapless Spaniard, till the sound of +his sword smiting on the good Toledo steel was like the sound of a hammer +falling continually on the smith’s red iron. They were fearful blows, yet +still the tough steel held, and still Morella, doing what he might, staggered +back beneath them, till at length he came in front of the tribune, in which sat +their Majesties and Margaret. Out of the corner of his eye Peter saw the place, +and determined in his stout heart that then and there he would end the thing. +Parrying a cut which the desperate Spaniard made at his head, he thrust at him +so heavily that his blade bent like a bow, and, although he could not pierce +the black mail, almost lifted Morella from his feet. Then, as he reeled +backwards, Peter whirled his sword on high, and, shouting +“<i>Margaret!</i>” struck downwards with all his strength. It fell +as lightning falls, swift, keen, dazzling the eyes of all who watched. Morella +raised his arm to break the blow. In vain! The weapon that he held was +shattered, the casque beneath was cloven, and, throwing his arms wide, he fell +heavily to the ground and lay there moving feebly. +</p> + +<p> +For an instant there was silence, and in it a shrill woman’s voice that +cried: +</p> + +<p> +“The Falcon has stooped. The English hawk <i>has stooped!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +Then there arose a tumult of shouting. “He is dead!” “Nay, he +stirs.” “Kill him!” “Spare him; he fought well!” +</p> + +<p> +Peter leaned upon his sword, looking at the fallen foe. Then he glanced upwards +at their Majesties, but these sat silent, making no sign, only he saw Margaret +try to rise from her seat and speak, to be pulled back to it again by the hands +of women. A deep hush fell upon the watching thousands who waited for the end. +Peter looked at Morella. Alas! he still lived, his sword and the stout helmet +had broken the weight of that stroke, mighty though it had been. The man was +but wounded in three places and stunned. “What must I do?” asked +Peter in a hollow voice to the royal pair above him. +</p> + +<p> +Now the king, who seemed moved, was about to speak; but the queen bent forward +and whispered something to him, and he remained silent. They both were silent. +All the intent multitude was silent. Knowing what this dreadful silence meant, +Peter cast down his sword and drew his dagger, wherewith to cut the lashings of +Morella’s gorget and give the <i>coup de grâce</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Just then it was that for the first time he heard a sound, far away upon the +other side of the arena, and, looking thither, saw the strangest sight that +ever his eyes beheld. Over the railing of the pavilion opposite to him a woman +climbed nimbly as a cat, and from it, like a cat, dropped to the ground full +ten feet below, then, gathering up her dress about her knees, ran swiftly +towards him. It was Betty! Betty without a doubt! Betty in her gorgeous garb, +with pearls and braided hair flying loose behind her. He stared amazed. All +stared amazed, and in half a minute she was on them, and, standing over the +fallen Morella, gasped out: +</p> + +<p> +“Let him be! I bid you let him be.” +</p> + +<p> +Peter knew not what to do or say, so advanced to speak with her, whereon with a +swoop like that of a swallow she pounced upon his sword that lay in the sand +and, leaping back to Morella, shook it on high, shouting: +</p> + +<p> +“You will have to fight me first, Peter.” +</p> + +<div class="fig" style="width:100%;"> +<a name="illus15"></a> +<br /> +<img src="images/fig15.jpg" width="411" height="600" alt="[Illustration: ]" /> +<p class="caption">“You will have to fight me first, Peter” +</p> +</div> + +<p> +Indeed, she did more, striking at him so shrewdly with his own sword that he +was forced to spring sideways to avoid the stroke. Now a great roar of laughter +went up to heaven. Yes, even Peter laughed, for no such thing as this had ever +before been seen in Spain. It died away, and again Betty, who had no low voice, +shouted in her villainous Spanish: +</p> + +<p> +“He shall kill me before he kills my husband. Give me my husband!” +</p> + +<p> +“Take him, for my part,” answered Peter, whereon, letting fall the +sword, Betty, filled with the strength of despair, lifted the senseless +Spaniard in her strong white arms as though he were a child, and his bleeding +head lying on her shoulder, strove to carry him away, but could not. +</p> + +<p> +Then, while all that audience cheered frantically, Peter with a gesture of +despair threw down his dagger and once more appealed to their Majesties. The +king rose and held up his hand, at the same time motioning to Morella’s +squires to take him from the woman, which, seeing their cognizance, Betty +allowed them to do. +</p> + +<p> +“Marchioness of Morella,” said the king, for the first time giving +her that title, “your honour is cleared, your champion has conquered, and +this fierce fray was to the death. What have you to say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” answered Betty, “except that I love the man, +though he has treated me and others ill, and, as I knew he would if he crossed +swords with Peter, has got his deserts for his deeds. I say I love him, and if +Peter wishes to kill him, he must kill me first.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir Peter Brome,” said the king, “the judgment lies in your +hand. We give you the man’s life, to grant or to take.” +</p> + +<p> +Peter thought a while, then answered: +</p> + +<p> +“I grant him his life if he will acknowledge this lady to be his true and +lawful wife, and live with her as such, now and for ever, staying all suits +against her.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can he do that, you fool,” asked Betty, “when you have +knocked all his senses out of him with that great sword of yours?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps,” suggested Peter humbly, “some one will do it for +him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Isabella, speaking for the first time, “I will. +On behalf of the Marquis of Morella I promise these things, Don Peter Brome, +before all these people here gathered. I add this: that if he should live, and +it pleases him to break this promise made on his behalf to save him from death, +then let his name be shamed, yes, let it become a byword and a scorn. Proclaim +it, heralds.” +</p> + +<p> +So the heralds blew their trumpets and one of them called out the queen’s +decree, whereat the spectators cheered again, shouting that it was good, and +they bore witness to that promise. +</p> + +<p> +Then Morella, still senseless, was borne away by his squires, Betty in her +blood-stained robe marching at his side, and his horse having been brought to +him again, Peter, wounded though he was, mounted and galloped round the arena +amidst plaudits such as that place had never heard, till, lifting his sword in +salutation, suddenly he and his gentlemen vanished by the gate through which he +had appeared. +</p> + +<p> +Thus strangely enough ended that combat which thereafter was always known as +the Fray of the Eagle and the English Hawk. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap25"></a>CHAPTER XXV.<br /> +HOW THE <i>MARGARET</i> WON OUT TO SEA.</h2> + +<p> +It was night. Peter, faint with loss of blood and stiff with bruises, had bade +his farewell to their Majesties of Spain, who spoke many soft words to him, +calling him the Flower of Knighthood, and offering him high place and rank if +he would abide in their service. But he thanked them and said No, for in Spain +he had suffered too much to dwell there. So they kissed his bride, the fair +Margaret, who clung to her wounded husband like ivy to an oak, and would not be +separated from him, even for a moment, that husband whom living she had +scarcely hoped to clasp again. Yes, they kissed her, and the queen threw about +her a chain from her own neck as a parting gift, and wished her joy of so +gallant a lord. +</p> + +<p> +“Alas! your Majesty,” said Margaret, her dark eyes filling with +tears, “how can I be joyous, who must think of to-morrow?” +</p> + +<p> +Thereon Isabella set her face and answered: +</p> + +<p> +“Dona Margaret Brome, be thankful for what to-day has brought you, and +forget to-morrow and that which it must justly take away. Go now, and God be +with you both!” +</p> + +<p> +So they went, the little knot of English sailormen, who, wrapped in Spanish +cloaks, had sat together in the amphitheatre and groaned when the Eagle struck, +and cheered when the Falcon swooped, leading, or rather carrying Peter under +cover of the falling night to a boat not far from this Place of Bulls. In this +they embarked unobserved, for the multitude, and even Peter’s own squires +believed that he had returned with his wife to the palace, as he had given out +that he would do. So they were rowed to the <i>Margaret</i>, which straightway +made as though she were about to sail, and indeed dropped a little way down +stream. Here she anchored again, just round a bend of the river, and lay there +for the night. +</p> + +<p> +It was a heavy night, and in it there was no place for love or lovers’ +tenderness. How could there be between these two, who for so long had been +tormented by doubts and fears, and on this day had endured such extremity of +terror and such agony of joy? Peter’s wound also was deep and wide, +though his shield had broken the weight of Morella’s sword, and its edge +had caught upon his shoulder-piece, so that by good chance it had not reached +down to the arteries, or shorn into the bone; yet he had lost much blood, and +Smith, the captain, who was a better surgeon than might have been guessed from +his thick hands, found it needful to wash out the cut with spirit that gave +much pain, and to stitch it up with silk. Also Peter had great bruises on his +arms and thighs, and his back was hurt by that fall from the white charger with +Morella in his arms. +</p> + +<p> +So it came about that most of that night he lay outworn, half-sleeping and +half-waking, and when at sunrise he struggled from his berth, it was but to +kneel by the side of Margaret and join her in her prayers that her father might +be rescued from the hands of these cruel priests of Spain. +</p> + +<p> +Now during the night Smith had brought his ship back with the tide, and laid +her under the shelter of those hulks whereof Peter had spoken, having first +painted out her name of <i>Margaret</i>, and in its place set that of the +<i>Santa Maria</i>, a vessel of about the same build and tonnage, which, as +they had heard, was expected in port. For this reason, or because there were at +that time many ships in the river, it happened that none in authority noted her +return, or if they did, neglected to report the matter as one of no moment. +Therefore, so far all went well. +</p> + +<p> +According to the tale of Henriques, confirmed by what they had learned +otherwise, the great procession of the Act of Faith would turn on to the quay +at about eight o’clock, and pass along it for a hundred yards or so only, +before it wound away down a street leading to the <i>plaza</i> where the +theatre was prepared, the sermon would be preached, the Mass celebrated, and +the “relaxed” placed in cages to be carried to the Quemadero. +</p> + +<p> +At six in the morning Smith mustered those twelve men whom he had chosen to +help him in the enterprise, and Peter, with Margaret at his side, addressed +them in the cabin, telling them all the plan, and praying them for the sake of +their master and of the Lady Margaret, his daughter, to do what men might to +save one whom they loved and honoured from so horrible a death. +</p> + +<p> +They swore that they would, every one of them, for their English blood was up, +nor did they so much as speak of the great rewards that had been promised to +those who lived through this adventure, and to the families of those who fell. +Then they breakfasted, girded their swords and knives about them, and put on +their Spanish cloaks, though, to speak truth, these lads of Essex and of London +made but poor Spaniards. Now, at length the boat was ready, and Peter, although +he could scarcely stand, desired to be carried into it that he might accompany +them. But the captain, Smith, to whom perhaps Margaret had been speaking, set +down his flat foot on the deck and said that he, who commanded there, would +suffer no such thing. A wounded man, he declared, would but cumber them who had +little room to spare in that small boat, and could be of no service, either on +land or water. Moreover, Master Peter’s face was known to thousands who +had watched it yesterday, and would certainly be recognised, whereas none would +take note at such a time of a dozen common sailors landed from some ship to see +the show. Lastly, he would do best to stop on board the vessel, where, if +anything went wrong, they must be short-handed enough, who, if they could, +ought to get her away to sea and across it with all speed. +</p> + +<p> +Still Peter would have gone, till Margaret, throwing her arms about him, asked +him if he thought that she would be the better if she lost both her father and +her husband, as, if things miscarried, well might happen. Then, being in pain +and very weak, he yielded, and Smith, having given his last directions to the +mate, and shaken Peter and Margaret by the hand, asking their prayers for all +of them, descended with his twelve men into the boat, and dropping down under +shelter of the hulks, rowed to the shore as though they came from some other +vessel. Now the quay was not more than a bowshot from them, and from a certain +spot upon the <i>Margaret</i> there was a good view of it between the stern of +one hulk and the bow of another. Here, then, Peter and Margaret sat themselves +down behind the bulwark, and watched with fears such as cannot be told, while a +sharp-eyed seaman climbed to the crow’s-nest on the mast, whence he could +see over much of the city, and even the old Moorish castle that was then the +Holy House of the Inquisition. Presently this man reported that the procession +had started, for he saw its banners and the people crowding to the windows and +to the roof-tops; also the cathedral bell began to toll slowly. Then came a +long, long wait, during which their little knot of sailors, wearing the Spanish +cloaks, appeared upon the quay and mingled with the few folk that were gathered +there, since the most of the people were collected by thousands on the great +<i>plaza</i> or in the adjacent streets. +</p> + +<p> +At length, just as the cathedral clock struck eight, the +“triumphant” march, as it was called, began to appear upon the +quay. First came a body of soldiers with lances; then a crucifix, borne by a +priest and veiled in black crape; then a number of other priests, clad in +snow-white robes to symbolise their perfect purity. Next followed men carrying +wood or leather images of some man or woman who, by flight to a foreign land or +into the realms of Death, had escaped the clutches of the Inquisition. After +these marched other men in fours, each four of them bearing a coffin that +contained the body or bones of some dead heretic, which, in the absence of his +living person, like the effigies, were to be committed to the flames as a token +of what the Inquisition would have done to him if it could—to enable it +also to seize his property. +</p> + +<p> +Then came many penitents, their heads shaven, their feet bare, and clad, some +in dark-coloured cloaks, some in yellow robes, called the <i>sanbenito</i>, +which were adorned with a red cross. These were followed by a melancholy band +of “relaxed” heretics, doomed to the fire or strangulation at the +stake, and clothed in <i>zamarras</i> of sheepskin, painted all over with +devils and the portraits of their own faces surrounded by flames. These poor +creatures wore also flame-adorned caps called <i>corozas</i>, shaped like +bishops’ mitres, and were gagged with blocks of wood, lest they should +contaminate the populace by some declaration of their heresy, while in their +hands they bore tapers, which the monks who accompanied them relighted from +time to time if they became extinguished. +</p> + +<p> +Now the hearts of Peter and Margaret leaped within them, for at the end of this +hideous troop rode a man mounted on an ass, clothed in a <i>zamarra</i> and +<i>coroza</i>, but with a noose about his neck. So the Fray Henriques had told +the truth, for without doubt this was John Castell. Like people in a dream, +they saw him advance in his garb of shame, and after him, gorgeously attired, +civil officers, inquisitors, and familiars of noble rank, members of the +Council of Inquisition, behind whom was borne a flaunting banner, called the +Holy Standard of the Faith. +</p> + +<p> +Now Castell was opposite to the little group of seamen, and, or so it seemed, +something went wrong with the harness of the ass on which he sat, for it +stopped, and a man in the garb of a secretary stepped to it, apparently to +attend to a strap, thus bringing all the procession behind to a halt, while +that in front proceeded off the quay and round the corner of a street. Whatever +it might be that had happened, it necessitated the dismounting of the heretic, +who was pulled roughly off the brute’s back, which, as though in joy at +this riddance of its burden, lifted its head and brayed loudly. +</p> + +<p> +Men from the thin line of crowd that edged the quay came forward as though to +help, and among them were several in capes, such as were worn by the sailors of +the <i>Margaret</i>. The officers and grandees behind shouted, +“Forward!—forward!” whereon those attending to the ass +hustled it and its rider a little nearer to the water’s edge, while the +guards ran back to explain what had happened. Then suddenly a confusion arose, +of which it was impossible to distinguish the cause, and next instant Margaret +and Peter, still gripping each other, saw the man who had been seated on the +ass being dragged rapidly down the steps of the quay, at the foot of which lay +the boat of the <i>Margaret</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The mate at the helm saw also, for he blew his whistle, a sign at which the +anchor was slipped—there was no time to lift it—and men who were +waiting on the yards loosed the lashings of certain sails, so that almost +immediately the ship began to move. +</p> + +<p> +Now they were fighting on the quay. The heretic was in the boat, and most of +the sailors; but others held back the crowd of priests and armed familiars who +strove to get at him. One, a priest with a sword in his hand, slipped past them +and tumbled into the boat also. At last all were in save a single man, who was +attacked by three adversaries—John Smith, the captain. The oars were out, +but his mates waited for him. He struck with his sword, and some one fell. Then +he turned to run. Two masked familiars sprang at him, one landing on his back, +one clinging to his neck. With a desperate effort he cast himself into the +water, dragging them with him. One they saw no more, for Smith had stabbed him, +the other floated up near the boat, which already was some yards from the quay, +and a sailor battered him on the head with an oar, so that he sank. +</p> + +<p> +Smith had vanished also, and they thought he must be drowned. The sailors +thought it too, for they began to give way, when suddenly a great brown hand +appeared and clasped the stern-sheets, while a bull-voice roared: +</p> + +<p> +“Row on, lads, I’m right enough.” +</p> + +<p> +Row they did indeed, till the ashen oars bent like bows, only two of them +seized the officer who had sprung into the boat and flung him screaming into +the river, where he struggled a while, for he could not swim, gripping at the +air with his hands, then disappeared. The boat was in mid-stream now, and +shaping her course round the bow of the first hulk beyond which the prow of the +<i>Margaret</i> began to appear, for the wind was fresh, and she gathered way +every moment. +</p> + +<p> +“Let down the ladder, and make ready ropes,” shouted Peter. +</p> + +<p> +It was done, but not too soon, for next instant the boat was bumping on their +side. The sailors in her caught the ropes and hung on, while the captain, +Smith, half-drowned, clung to the stern-sheets, for the water washed over his +head. +</p> + +<p> +“Save him first,” cried Peter. A man, running down the ladder, +threw a noose to him, which Smith seized with one hand and by degrees worked +beneath his arms. Then they tackled on to it, and dragged him bodily from the +river to the deck, where he lay gasping and spitting out foam and water. By now +the ship was travelling swiftly, so swiftly that Margaret was in an agony of +fear lest the boat should be towed under and sink. +</p> + +<p> +But these sailor men knew their trade. By degrees they let the boat drop back +till her bow was abreast of the ladder. Then they helped Castell forward. He +gripped its rungs, and eager hands gripped him. Up he staggered, step by step, +till at length his hideous, fiend-painted cap, his white face, whence the beard +had been shaved, and his open mouth, in which still was fixed the wooden gag, +appeared above the bulwarks, as the mate said afterwards, like that of a devil +escaped from hell. They lifted him over, and he sank fainting in his +daughter’s arms. Then one by one the sailors came up after him—none +were missing, though two had been wounded, and were covered with blood. No, +none were missing—God had brought them, every one, safe back to the deck +of the <i>Margaret</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Smith, the captain, spat up the last of his river water and called for a cup of +wine, which he drank; while Peter and Margaret drew the accursed gag from her +father’s mouth, and poured spirit down his throat. Shaking the water from +him like a great dog, but saying never a word, Smith rolled to the helm and +took it from the mate, for the navigation of the river was difficult, and none +knew it so well as he. Now they were abreast the famous Golden Tower, and a big +gun was fired at them; but the shot went wide. “Look!” said +Margaret, pointing to horsemen galloping southwards along the river’s +bank. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Peter, “they go to warn the ports. God send that +the wind holds, for we must fight our way to sea.” +</p> + +<p> +The wind did hold, indeed it blew ever more strongly from the north; but oh! +that was a long, evil day. Hour after hour they sped forward down the widening +river; now past villages, where knots of people waved weapons at them as they +went; now by desolate marshes, plains, and banks clothed with pine. +</p> + +<p> +When they reached Bonanza the sun was low, and when they were off San Lucar it +had begun to sink. Out into the wide river mouth, where the white waters +tumbled on the narrow bar, rowed two great galleys to cut them off, very swift +galleys, which it seemed impossible to escape. +</p> + +<p> +Margaret and Castell were sent below, the crew went to quarters, and Peter +crept stiffly aft to where the sturdy Smith stood at the helm, which he would +suffer no other man to touch. Smith looked at the sky, he looked at the shore, +and the safe, open sea beyond. Then he bade them hoist more sail, all that she +could carry, and looked grimly at the two galleys lurking like deerhounds in a +pass, that hung on their oars in the strait channel, with the tumbling breakers +on either side, through which no ship could sail. “What will you +do?” asked Peter. “Master Peter,” he answered between his +teeth, “when you fought the Spaniard yesterday I did not ask you what +<i>you</i> were going to do. Hold your tongue, and leave me to my own +trade.” +</p> + +<p> +The <i>Margaret</i> was a swift ship, but never yet had she moved so swiftly. +Behind her shrilled the gale, for now it was no less. Her stout masts bent like +fishing poles, her rigging creaked and groaned beneath the weight of the +bellying canvas, her port bulwarks slipped along almost level with the water, +so that Peter must lie down on the deck, for stand he could not, and watch it +running by within three feet of him. +</p> + +<p> +The galleys drew up right across her path. Half a mile away they lay bow by +bow, knowing well that no ship could pass the foaming shallows; lay bow by bow, +waiting to board and cut down this little English crew when the <i>Margaret</i> +shortened sail, as shorten sail she must. Smith yelled an order to the mate, +and presently, red in the setting sun, out burst the flag of England upon the +mainmast top, a sight at which the sailors cheered. He shouted another order, +and up ran the last jib, so that now from time to time the port bulwarks dipped +beneath the sea, and Peter felt salt water stinging his sore back. +</p> + +<p> +Thus did the <i>Margaret</i> shorten sail, and thus did she yield her to the +great galleys of Spain. +</p> + +<p> +The captains of the galleys hung on. Was this foreigner mad, or ignorant of the +river channel, they wondered, that he would sink with every soul there upon the +bar? They hung on, waiting for that leopard flag and those bursting sails to +come down; but they never stirred; only straight at them rushed the +<i>Margaret</i> like a bull. She was not two furlongs away, and she held dead +upon her course, till at last those galleys saw <i>that she would not sink +alone</i>. Like a bull with shut eyes she held dead upon her furious course! +</p> + +<p> +Confusion arose upon the Spanish ships, whistles were blown, men shouted, +overseers ran down the planks flogging the slaves, lifted oars shone red in the +light of the dying sun as they beat the water wildly. The prows began to back +and separate, five feet, ten feet, a dozen feet perhaps; then straight into +that tiny streak of open water, like a stone from the hand of the slinger, like +an arrow from a bow, rushed the wind-flung <i>Margaret</i>. +</p> + +<p> +What happened? Go ask it of the fishers of San Lucar and the pirates of +Bonanza, where the tale has been told for generations. The great oars snapped +like reeds, the slaves were thrown in crushed and mangled heaps, the tall deck +of the port galley was ripped out of her like rent paper by the stout yards of +the stooping <i>Margaret</i>, the side of the starboard galley rolled up like a +shaving before a plane, and the <i>Margaret</i> rushed through. +</p> + +<p> +Smith, the captain, looked aft to where, ere they sank, the two great ships, +like wounded swans, rolled and fluttered on the foaming bar. Then he put his +helm about, called the carpenter, and asked what water she made. +</p> + +<p> +“None, Sir,” he answered; “but she will want new tarring. It +was oak against eggshells, and we had the speed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good!” said Smith, “shallows on either side; life or death, +and I thought I could make room. Send the mate to the helm. I’ll have a +sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the sun vanished beneath the roaring open sea, and, escaped from all the +power of Spain, the <i>Margaret</i> turned her scarred and splintered bow for +Ushant and for England. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="envoi">ENVOI</a></h2> +<p> +Ten years had gone by since Captain Smith took the good ship <i>Margaret</i> +across the bar of the Guadalquiver in a very notable fashion. It was late May +in Essex, and all the woods were green, and all the birds sang, and all the +meadows were bright with flowers. Down in the lovely vale of Dedham there was a +long, low house with many gables—a charming old house of red brick and +timbers already black with age. It stood upon a little hill, backed with woods, +and from it a long avenue of ancient oaks ran across the park to the road which +led to Colchester and London. Down that avenue on this May afternoon an aged, +white-haired man, with quick black eyes, was walking, and with him three +children—very beautiful children—a boy of about nine and two little +girls, who clung to his hand and garments and pestered him with questions. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are we going, Grandfather?” asked one little girl. +</p> + +<p> +“To see Captain Smith, my dear,” he answered. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t like Captain Smith,” said the other little girl; +“he is so fat, and says nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do,” broke in the boy, “he gave me a fine knife to use +when I am a sailor, and Mother does, and Father, yes, and Grandad too, because +he saved him when the cruel Spaniards wanted to put him in the fire. +Don’t you, Grandad?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my dear,” answered the old man. “Look! there is a +squirrel running over the grass; see if you can catch it before it reaches that +tree.” +</p> + +<p> +Off went the children at full pelt, and the tree being a low one, began to +climb it after the squirrel. Meanwhile John Castell, for it was he, turned +through the park gate and walked to a little house by the roadside, where a +stout man sat upon a bench contemplating nothing in particular. Evidently he +expected his visitor, for he pointed to the place beside him, and, as Castell +sat down, said: +</p> + +<p> +“Why didn’t you come yesterday, Master?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because of my rheumatism, friend,” he answered. “I got it +first in the vaults of that accursed Holy House at Seville, and it grows on me +year by year. They were very damp and cold, those vaults,” he added +reflectively. +</p> + +<p> +“Many people found them hot enough,” grunted Smith, “also, +there was generally a good fire at the end of them. Strange thing that we +should never have heard any more of that business. I suppose it was because our +Margaret was such a favourite with Queen Isabella who didn’t want to +raise questions with England, or stir up dirty water.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps,” answered Castell. “The water <i>was</i> dirty, +wasn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Dirty as a Thames mud-bank at low tide. Clever woman, Isabella. No one +else would have thought of making a man ridiculous as she did by Morella when +she gave his life to Betty, and promised and vowed on his behalf that he would +acknowledge her as his lady. No fear of any trouble from him after that, in the +way of plots for the Crown, or things of that sort. Why, he must have been the +laughing-stock of the whole land—and a laughing-stock never does +anything. You remember the Spanish saying, ‘King’s swords cut and +priests’ fires burn, but street-songs kill quickest!’ I should like +to learn more of what has become of them all, though, wouldn’t you, +Master? Except Bernaldez, of course, for he’s been safe in Paris these +many years, and doing well there, they say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered Castell, with a little smile—“that is, +unless I had to go to Spain to find out.” +</p> + +<p> +Just then the three children came running up, bursting through the gate all +together. +</p> + +<p> +“Mind my flower-bed, you little rogues,” shouted Captain Smith, +shaking his stick at them, whereat they got behind him and made faces. +</p> + +<p> +“Where’s the squirrel, Peter?” asked Castell. +</p> + +<p> +“We hunted it out of the tree, Grandad, and right across the grass, and +got round it by the edge of the brook, and then—” +</p> + +<p> +“Then what? Did you catch it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Grandad, for when we thought we had it sure, it jumped into the +water and swam away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Other people in a fix have done that before,” said Castell, +laughing, and bethinking him of a certain river quay. +</p> + +<p> +“It wasn’t fair,” cried the boy indignantly. “Squirrels +shouldn’t swim, and if I can catch it I will put it in a cage.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think that squirrel will stop in the woods for the rest of its life, +Peter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Grandad!—Grandad!” called out the youngest child from the +gate, whither she had wandered, being weary of the tale of the squirrel, +“there are a lot of people coming down the road on horses, such fine +people. Come and see.” +</p> + +<p> +This news excited the curiosity of the old gentlemen, for not many fine people +came to Dedham. At any rate both of them rose, somewhat stiffly, and walked to +the gate to look. Yes, the child was right, for there, sure enough, about two +hundred yards away, advanced an imposing cavalcade. In front of it, mounted on +a fine horse, sat a still finer lady, a very large and handsome lady, dressed +in black silks, and wearing a black lace veil that hung from her head. At her +side was another lady, much muffled up as though she found the climate cold, +and riding between them, on a pony, a gallant looking little boy. After these +came servants, male and female, six or eight of them, and last of all a great +wain, laden with baggage, drawn by four big Flemish horses. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, whom have we here?” ejaculated Castell, staring at them. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Smith stared too, and sniffed at the wind as he had often done upon his +deck on a foggy morning. +</p> + +<p> +“I seem to smell Spaniards,” he said, “which is a smell I +don’t like. Look at their rigging. Now, Master Castell, of whom does that +barque with all her sails set remind you?” +</p> + +<p> +Castell shook his head doubtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“I seem to remember,” went on Smith, “a great girl decked out +like a maypole running across white sand in that Place of Bulls at +Seville—but I forgot, you weren’t there, were you?” +</p> + +<p> +Now a loud, ringing voice was heard speaking in Spanish, and commanding some +one to go to yonder house and inquire where was the gate to the Old Hall. Then +Castell knew at once. +</p> + +<p> +“It is Betty,” he said. “By the beard of Abraham, it is +Betty.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think so too; but don’t talk of Abraham, Master. He is a +dangerous man, Abraham, in these very Christian lands; say, ‘By the Keys +of St. Peter,’ or, ‘By St. Paul’s infirmities.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Child,” broke in Castell, turning to one of the little girls, +“run up to the Hall and tell your father and mother that Betty has come, +and brought half Spain with her. Quickly now, and remember the name, +<i>Betty!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +The child departed, wondering, by the back way; while Castell and Smith walked +towards the strangers. +</p> + +<p> +“Can we assist you, Señora?” asked the former in Spanish. +</p> + +<p> +“Marchioness of Morella, <i>if</i> you please—” she began in +the same language, then suddenly added in English, “Why, bless my eyes! +If it isn’t my old master, John Castell, with white wool instead of +black!” +</p> + +<p> +“It came white after my shaving by a sainted barber in the Holy +House,” said Castell. “But come off that tall horse of yours, +Betty, my dear—I beg your pardon—most noble and highly born +Marchioness of Morella, and give me a kiss.” +</p> + +<p> +“That I will, twenty, if you like,” she answered, arriving in his +arms so suddenly from on high, that had it not been for the sturdy support of +Smith behind, they would both of them have rolled upon the ground. +</p> + +<p> +“Whose are those children?” she asked, when she had kissed Castell +and shaken Smith by the hand. “But no need to ask, they have got my +cousin Margaret’s eyes and Peter’s long nose. How are they?” +she added anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“You will see for yourself in a minute or two. Come, send on your people +and baggage to the Hall, though where they will stow them all I don’t +know, and walk with us.” +</p> + +<p> +Betty hesitated, for she had been calculating upon the effect of a triumphal +entry in full state. But at that moment there appeared Margaret and Peter +themselves—Margaret, a beautiful matron with a child in her arms, +running, and Peter, looking much as he had always been, spare, long of limb, +stern but for the kindly eyes, striding away behind, and after him sundry +servants and the little girl Margaret. +</p> + +<p> +Then there arose a veritable babel of tongues, punctuated by embracings; but in +the end the retinue and the baggage were got off up the drive, followed by the +children and the little Spanish-looking boy, with whom they had already made +friends, leaving only Betty and her closely muffled-up attendant. This +attendant Peter contemplated for a while, as though there were something +familiar to him in her general air. +</p> + +<p> +Apparently she observed his interest, for as though by accident she moved some +of the wrappings that hid her face, revealing a single soft and lustrous eye +and a few square inches of olive-coloured cheek. Then Peter knew her at once. +</p> + +<p> +“How are you, Inez?” he said, stretching out his hand with a smile, +for really he was delighted to see her. +</p> + +<p> +“As well as a poor wanderer in a strange and very damp country can be, +Don Peter,” she answered in her languorous voice, “and certainly +somewhat the better for seeing an old friend whom last she met in a certain +baker’s shop. Do you remember?” +</p> + +<p> +“Remember!” answered Peter. “It is not a thing I am likely to +forget. Inez, what became of Fray Henriques? I have heard several different +stories.” +</p> + +<p> +“One never can be sure,” she answered as she uncovered her smiling +red lips; “there are so many dungeons in that old Moorish Holy House, and +elsewhere, that it is impossible to keep count of their occupants, however good +your information. All I know is that he got into trouble over that business, +poor man. Suspicions arose about his conduct in the procession which the +captain here will recall,” and she pointed to Smith. “Also, it is +very dangerous for men in such positions to visit Jewish quarters and to write +incautious letters—no, not the one you think of; I kept faith—but +others, afterwards, begging for it back again, some of which miscarried.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is he dead then?” asked Peter. +</p> + +<p> +“Worse, I think,” she answered—“a living death, the +‘Punishment of the Wall.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor wretch!” said Peter, with a shudder. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” remarked Inez reflectively, “few doctors like their +own medicine.” +</p> + +<p> +“I say, Inez,” said Peter, nodding his head towards Betty, +“that marquis isn’t coming here, is he?” +</p> + +<p> +“In the spirit, perhaps, Don Peter, not otherwise.” +</p> + +<p> +“So he is really dead? What killed him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Laughter, I think, or, rather, being laughed at. He got quite well of +the hurts you gave him, and then, of course, he had to keep the queen’s +gage, and take the most noble lady yonder, late Betty, as his marchioness. He +couldn’t do less, after she beat you off him with your own sword and +nursed him back to life. But he never heard the last of it. They made songs +about him in the streets, and would ask him how his godmother, Isabella, was, +because she had promised and vowed on his behalf; also, whether the marchioness +had broken any lances for his sake lately, and so forth.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor man!” said Peter again, in tones of the deepest sympathy. +“A cruel fate; I should have done better to kill him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Much; but don’t say so to the noble Betty, who thinks that he had +a very happy married life under her protecting care. Really, he ate his heart +out till even I, who hated him, was sorry. Think of it! One of the proudest men +in Spain, and the most gallant, a nephew of the king, a pillar of the Church, +his sovereigns’ plenipotentiary to the Moors, and on secret +matters—the common mock of the vulgar, yes, and of the great too!” +</p> + +<p> +“The great! Which of them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nearly all, for the queen set the fashion—I wonder why she hated +him so?” Inez added, looking shrewdly at Peter; then without waiting for +an answer, went on: “She did it very cleverly, by always making the most +of the most honourable Betty in public, calling her near to her, talking with +her, admiring her English beauty, and so forth, and what her Majesty did, +everybody else did, until my exalted mistress nearly went off her head, so full +was she of pride and glory. As for the marquis, he fell ill, and after the +taking of Granada went to live there quietly. Betty went with him, for she was +a good wife, and saved lots of money. She buried him a year ago, for he died +slow, and gave him one of the finest tombs in Spain—it isn’t +finished yet. That is all the story. Now she has brought her boy, the young +marquis, to England for a year or two, for she has a very warm heart, and +longed to see you all. Also, she thought she had better go away a while, for +her son’s sake. As for me, now that Morella is dead, I am head of the +household—secretary, general purveyor of intelligence, and anything else +you like at a good salary.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are not married, I suppose?” asked Peter. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Inez answered; “I saw so much of men when I was younger +that I seem to have had enough of them. Or perhaps,” she went on, fixing +that mild and lustrous eye upon him, “there was one of them whom I liked +too well to wish——” +</p> + +<p> +She paused, for they had crossed the drawbridge and arrived opposite to the Old +Hall. The gorgeous Betty and the fair Margaret, accompanied by the others, and +talking rapidly, had passed through the wide doorway into its spacious +vestibule. Inez looked after them, and perceived, standing like a guard at the +foot of the open stair, that scarred suit of white armour and riven shield +blazoned with the golden falcon, Isabella’s gift, in which Peter had +fought and conquered the Marquis of Morella. Then she stepped back and +contemplated the house critically. +</p> + +<p> +At each end of it rose a stone tower, built for the purposes of defence, and +all around ran a deep moat. Within the circle of this moat, and surrounded by +poplars and ancient yews, on the south side of the Hall lay a walled +pleasaunce, or garden, of turf pierced by paths and planted with flowering +hawthorns and other shrubs, and at the end of it, almost hidden in drooping +willows, a stone basin of water. Looking at it, Inez saw at once that so far as +the circumstances of climate and situation would allow, Peter, in the laying +out of this place, had copied another in the far-off, southern city of Granada, +even down to the details of the steps and seats. She turned to him and said +innocently: +</p> + +<p> +“Sir Peter, are you minded to walk with me in that garden this pleasant +evening? I do not see any window in yonder tower.” +</p> + +<p> +Peter turned red as the scar across his face, and laughed as he answered: +</p> + +<p> +“There may be one for all that. Get you into the house, dear Inez, for +none can be more welcome there; but I walk no more alone with you in +gardens.” +</p> + +<p class="center"> +THE END +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FAIR MARGARET ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. 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