THE MOUNTAIN FORTRESS
And so on a bright spring morning our pilgrims started. Whoever has
traversed the road from Sorrento to Naples, that wonderful path along
the high rocky shores of the Mediterranean, must remember it only as
a wild dream of enchantment. On one side lies the sea, shimmering
in bands of blue, purple, and green to the swaying of gentle winds,
exhibiting those magical shiftings and changes of color peculiar
to these waves. Near the land its waters are of pale, transparent
emerald, while farther out they deepen into blue and thence into a
violet-purple, which again, towards the horizon-line, fades into misty
pearl-color. The shores rise above the sea in wild, bold precipices,
grottoed into fantastic caverns by the action of the waves, and
presenting every moment some new variety of outline. As the path of
the traveler winds round promontories whose mountain-heights are
capped by white villages and silvery with olive-groves, he catches the
enchanting sea-view, now at this point, and now at another, with Naples
glimmering through the mists in the distance, and the purple sides of
Vesuvius ever changing with streaks and veins of cloud-shadows, while
silver vapors crown the summit. Above the road the steep hills seem
piled up to the sky,--every spot terraced, and cultivated with some
form of vegetable wealth, and the wild, untamable rocks garlanded
over with golden broom, crimson gillyflowers, and a thousand other
bright adornments. The road lies through villages whose gardens and
orange-orchards fill the air with sweet scents, and whose rose-hedges
sometimes pour a perfect cascade of bloom and fragrance over the walls.
Our travelers started in the dewy freshness of one of those gorgeous
days which seem to cast an illuminating charm over everything.
Even old Elsie's stern features relaxed somewhat under the balmy
influences of sun and sky, and Agnes's young, pale face was lit up
with a brighter color than for many a day before. Their pilgrimage
through this beautiful country had few incidents. They walked in the
earlier and latter parts of the day, reposing a few hours at noon
near some fountain or shrine by the wayside,--often experiencing the
kindly veneration of the simple peasantry, who cheerfully offered them
refreshments, and begged their prayers at the holy places whither they
were going.
In a few days they reached Naples, where they made a little stop with
the hospitable family to whom Jocunda had recommended them. From Naples
their path lay through the Pontine Marshes; and though the malaria
makes this region a word of fear, yet it is no less one of strange,
soft, enchanting beauty. A wide, sea-like expanse, clothed with an
abundance of soft, rich grass, painted with golden bands and streaks of
bright yellow flowers, stretches away to a purple curtain of mountains,
whose romantic outline rises constantly in a thousand new forms of
beauty. The upland at the foot of these mountains is beautifully
diversified with tufts of trees, and the contrast of the purple
softness of the distant hills with the dazzling gold and emerald of the
wide meadow-tracts they enclose is a striking feature in the landscape.
Droves of silver-haired oxen, with their great, dreamy, dark eyes and
polished black horns, were tranquilly feeding knee-deep in the lush,
juicy grass, and herds of buffaloes, uncouth, but harmless, might be
seen pasturing or reposing in the distance. On either side of the way
were waving tracts of yellow fleur-de-lis, and beds of arum, with its
arrowy leaves and white blossoms. It was a wild luxuriance of growth, a
dreamy stillness of solitude, so lovely that one could scarce remember
that it was deadly.
Elsie was so impressed with the fear of the malaria, that she
trafficked with an honest peasant, who had been hired to take back to
Rome the horses which had been used to convey part of the suite of a
nobleman traveling to Naples, to give them a quicker passage across
than they could have made on foot. It is true that this was quite
contrary to the wishes of Agnes, who felt that the journey ought to be
performed in the most toilsome and self-renouncing way, and that they
should trust solely to prayer and spiritual protection to ward off the
pestilential exhalations.
In vain she quoted the Psalm, "Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror
by night, nor for the arrow that flieth by day, nor for the pestilence
that walketh in darkness, nor for the destruction that wasteth at
noon-day," and adduced cases of saints who had walked unhurt through
all sorts of dangers.
"There's no use talking, child," said Elsie. "I'm older than you, and
have seen more of real men and women; and whatever they did in old
times, I know that nowadays the saints don't help those that don't take
care of themselves; and the long and the short of it is, we must ride
across those marshes, and get out of them as quick as possible, or we
shall get into Paradise quicker than we want to."
In common with many other professing Christians, Elsie felt that going
to Paradise was the very dismalest of alternatives,--a thing to be
staved off as long as possible.
After many days of journeying, the travelers, somewhat weary and
foot-sore, found themselves in a sombre and lonely dell of the
mountains, about an hour before the going down of the sun. The
slanting yellow beams turned to silvery brightness the ashy foliage
of the gnarled old olives, which gaunt and weird clung with their
great, knotty, straggling roots to the rocky mountain-sides. Before
them, the path, stony, steep, and winding, was rising upward and still
upward, and no shelter for the night appeared, except in a distant
mountain-town, which, perched airily as an eagle's nest on its hazy
height, reflected from the dome of its church and its half-ruined
old feudal tower the golden light of sunset. A drowsy-toned bell was
ringing out the Ave Maria over the wide purple solitude of mountains,
whose varying outlines were rising around.
"You are tired, my little heart," said old Elsie to Agnes, who had
drooped during a longer walk than usual.
"No, grandmamma," said Agnes, sinking on her knees to repeat her
evening prayer, which she did, covering her face with her hands.
Old Elsie kneeled too; but, as she was praying,--being a thrifty
old body in the use of her time,--she cast an eye up the steep
mountain-path and calculated the distance of the little airy village.
Just at that moment she saw two or three horsemen, who appeared to be
stealthily observing them from behind the shadow of some large rocks.
When their devotions were finished, she hurried on her grandchild
saying,--
"Come, dearie! it must be we shall find a shelter soon."
The horsemen now rode up behind them.
"Good-evening, mother!" said one of them, speaking from under the
shadow of a deeply slouched hat.
Elsie made no reply, but hurried forward.
"Good-evening, pretty maid!" he said again, riding still nearer.
"Go your ways in the name of God," said Elsie. "We are pilgrims, going
for our souls to Rome; and whoever hinders us will have the saints to
deal with."
"Who talks of hindering you, mother?" responded the other. "On the
contrary, we come for the express purpose of helping you along."
"We want none of your help," said Elsie, gruffly.
"See, now, how foolish you are!" said the horseman. "Don't you see that
that town is a good seven miles off, and not a bit of bed or supper to
be had till you get there, and the sun will be down soon? So mount up
behind me, and here is a horse for the little one."
In fact, the horsemen at this moment opening disclosed to view a
palfrey with a lady's saddle, richly caparisoned, as if for a person
of condition. With a sudden movement, two of the men dismounted,
confronted the travelers, and the one who had acted as spokesman,
approaching Agnes, said, in a tone somewhat imperative,--
"Come, young lady, it is our master's will that your poor little feet
should have some rest."
And before Agnes could remonstrate, he raised her into the saddle as
easily as if she had been a puff of thistledown, and then turning to
Elsie, he said,--
"For you, good mother, if you wish to keep up, you must e'en be content
with a seat behind me."
"Who are you? and how dare you?" said Elsie, indignantly.
"Good mother," said the man, "you see God's will is that you should
submit, because we are four to you two, and there are fifty more within
call. So get up without more words, and I swear by the Holy Virgin no
harm shall be done you."
Elsie looked and saw Agnes already some distance before her, the bridle
of her palfrey being held by one of the horsemen, who rode by her side
and seemed to look after her carefully; and so, without more ado, she
accepted the services of the man, and, placing her foot on the toe of
his riding-boot, mounted to the crupper behind him.
"That is right," said he. "Now hold on to me lustily, and be not
afraid."
So saying, the whole troop began winding as rapidly as possible up the
steep, rocky path to the mountain-town.
Notwithstanding the surprise and alarm of this most unexpected
adventure, Agnes, who had been at the very point of exhaustion from
fatigue, could not but feel the sensation of relief and repose which
the seat in an easy saddle gave her. The mountain air, as they rose,
breathed fresh and cold on her brow, and a prospect of such wondrous
beauty unrolled beneath her feet that her alarm soon became lost in
admiration. The mountains that rose everywhere around them seemed to
float in a transparent sea of luminous vapor, with olive-orchards
and well-tilled fields lying in far, dreamy distances below, while
out towards the horizon silver gleams of the Mediterranean gradually
widened to the view. Soothed by the hour, refreshed by the air, and
filled with admiration for the beauty of all she saw, she surrendered
herself to her situation with a feeling of solemn religious calm, as
to some unfolding of the Divine Will, which might unroll like the
landscape beneath her. They pursued their way in silence, rising higher
and higher out of the shadows of the deep valleys below, the man who
conducted them observing a strict reserve, but seeming to have a care
for their welfare.
The twilight yet burned red in the sky, and painted with solemn lights
the mossy walls of the little old town, as they plunged under a
sombre antique gateway, and entered on a street as damp and dark as a
cellar, which went up almost perpendicularly between tall, black stone
walls that seemed to have neither windows nor doors. Agnes could only
remember clambering upward, turning short corners, clattering down
steep stone steps, under low archways, along narrow, ill-smelling
passages, where the light that seemed so clear without the town was
almost extinguished in utter night.
At last they entered the damp court of a huge, irregular pile of stone
buildings. Here the men suddenly drew up, and Agnes's conductor,
dismounting, came and took her silently from her saddle, saying
briefly, "Come this way."
Elsie sprang from her seat in a moment, and placed herself at the side
of her child.
"No, good mother," said the man with whom she had ridden, seizing her
powerfully by the shoulders, and turning her round.
"What do you mean?" said Elsie, fiercely. "Are you going to keep me
from my own child?"
"Patience!" replied the man. "You can't help yourself, so recommend
yourself to God, and no harm shall come to you."
Agnes looked back at her grandmother.
"Fear not, dear grandmamma," she said, "the blessed angels will watch
over us."
As she spoke, she followed her conductor through long, damp, mouldering
passages, and up flights of stone steps, and again through other long
passages, smelling of mould and damp, till at last he opened the door
of an apartment from which streamed a light so dazzling to the eyes of
Agnes that at first she could form no distinct conception as to where
she was.
As soon as her eyesight cleared, she found herself in an apartment
which to her simplicity seemed furnished with an unheard-of luxury.
The walls were richly frescoed and gilded, and from a chandelier of
Venetian glass the light fell upon a foot-cloth of brilliant tapestry
which covered the marble floor. Gilded chairs and couches, covered with
the softest Genoese velvet, invited to repose; while tables inlaid
with choice mosaics stood here and there, sustaining rare vases,
musical instruments, and many of the light, fanciful ornaments with
which, in those days, the halls of women of condition were graced. At
one end of the apartment was an alcove, where the rich velvet curtains
were looped away with heavy cords and tassels of gold, displaying
a smaller room, where was a bed with hangings of crimson satin
embroidered with gold.
Agnes stood petrified with amazement, and put her hand to her head, as
if to assure herself by the sense of touch that she was not dreaming,
and then, with an impulse of curious wonder, began examining the
apartment. The rich furniture and the many adornments, though only such
as were common in the daily life of the great at that period, had for
her simple eyes all the marvelousness of the most incredible illusion.
She touched the velvet couches almost with fear, and passed from object
to object in a sort of maze. When she arrived at the alcove, she
thought she heard a slight rustling within, and then a smothered laugh.
Her heart beat quick as she stopped to listen. There was a tittering
sound, and a movement as if some one were shaking the curtain, and at
last Giulietta stood in the door-way.
For a moment Agnes stood looking at her in utter bewilderment. Yes,
surely it was Giulietta, dressed out in all the bravery of splendid
apparel, her black hair shining and lustrous, great solid ear-rings of
gold shaking in her ears, and a row of gold coins displayed around her
neck.
She broke into a loud laugh at the sight of Agnes's astonished face.
"So, here you are!" she said. "Well, now, didn't I tell you so? You see
he was in love with you, just as I said; and if you wouldn't come to
him of your own accord, he must fly off with you."
"Oh, Giulietta!" said Agnes, springing towards her and catching her
hands, "what does all this mean? and where have they carried poor
grandmamma?"
"Oh, never worry about her! Do you know you are in high favor here, and
any one who belongs to you gets good quarters? Your grandmother just
now is at supper, I doubt not, with my mother; and a jolly time they
will have of it, gossiping together."
"Your mother here, too?"
"Yes, simple, to be sure! I found it so much easier living here than in
the old town, that I sent for her, that she might have peace in her old
age. But how do you like your room? Were you not astonished to see it
so brave? Know, then, pretty one, that it is all on account of the good
courage of our band. For, you see, the people there in Rome (we won't
say who) had given away all our captain's lands and palaces and villas
to this one and that, as pleased them; and one pretty little villa in
the mountains not far from here went to a stout old cardinal. What does
a band of our men do, one night, but pounce on old red-hat and tie
him up, while they helped themselves to what they liked through the
house? True, they couldn't bring house and all; but they brought stores
of rich furnishing, and left him thanking the saints that he was yet
alive. So we arranged your rooms right nobly, thinking to please our
captain when he comes. If you are not pleased, you will be ungrateful,
that's all."
"Giulietta," said Agnes, who had scarcely seemed to listen to this
prattle, so anxious was she to speak of what lay nearest her heart, "I
want to see grandmamma. Can't you bring her to me?"
"No, my little princess, I can't. Do you know you are my mistress, now?
Well, you are; but there's one that's master of us both, and he says
none must speak with you till he has seen you."
"And is he here?"
"No, he has been some time gone northward, and has not
returned,--though we expect him to-night. So compose yourself, and ask
for anything in the world, but to see your grandmother, and I will show
that I am your humble servant to command."
So saying, Giulietta courtesied archly and laughed, showing her white,
shiny teeth, which looked as bright as pearls.
Agnes sat down on one of the velvet couches, and leaned her head on her
hand.
"Come, now, let me bring you some supper," said Giulietta. "What say
you to a nice roast fowl and a bottle of wine?
"How can you speak of such things in the holy time of Lent?" said Agnes.
"Oh, never you fear about that! Our holy Father Stefano sets such
matters right for any of us in a twinkling, and especially would he do
it for you."
"Oh, but Giulietta, I don't want anything. I couldn't eat, if I were to
try."
"Ta, ta, ta!" said Giulietta, going out. "Wait till you smell it. I
shall be back in a little while."
And she left the room, locking the door after her.
In a few moments she returned, bearing a rich silver tray, on which was
a covered dish that steamed a refreshing odor, together with a roll of
white bread, and a small glass _flacon_ containing a little choice wine.
By much entreaty and coaxing, Agnes was induced to partake of the
bread, enough to revive her somewhat after the toils of the day; and
then, a little reassured by the familiar presence of Giulietta, she
began to undress, her former companion officiously assisting her.
"There, now, you are tired, my lady princess," she said. "I'll unlace
your bodice. One of these days your gowns will be all of silk, and
stiff with gold and pearls."
"Oh, Giulietta," said Agnes, "don't!--let me,--I don't need help."
"Ta, ta, ta!--you must learn to be waited on," said Giulietta,
persisting. "But, Holy Virgin! what is the matter here? Oh, Agnes, what
_are_ you doing to yourself?"
"It's a penance, Giulietta," said Agnes, her face flushing.
"Well, I should think it was! Father Francesco ought to be ashamed of
himself; he is a real butcher!"
"He does it to save my soul, Giulietta. The cross of our Lord without
will heal a deadly wound within."
In her heart, Giulietta had somewhat of secret reverence for such
austerities, which the whole instruction of her time and country taught
her to regard as especially saintly. People who live in the senses more
than in the world of reflection feel the force of such outward appeals.
Giulietta made the sign of the cross, and looked grave for several
minutes.
"Poor little dove!" she said at last, "if your sins must needs be
expiated so, what will become of me? It must be that you will lay up
stores of merit with God; for surely your sins do not need _all_ this.
Agnes, you will be a saint some day, like your namesake at the Convent,
I truly do believe."
"Oh, no, no, Giulietta! don't talk so! God knows I wrestle with
forbidden thoughts all the while. I am no saint, but the chief of
sinners."
"That's what the saints all say," said Giulietta. "But, my dear
princess, when _he_ comes, he will forbid this; he is lordly, and will
not suffer his little wife"--
"Giulietta, don't speak so,--I cannot hear it,--I must not be his
wife,--I am vowed to be the spouse of the Lord."
"And yet you love our handsome prince," said Giulietta; "and there
is the great sin you are breaking your little heart about. Well, now,
it's all of that dry, sour old Father Francesco. I never could abide
him,--he made such dismal pother about sin; old Father Girolamo was
worth a dozen of him. If you would just see our good Father Stefano,
now, he would set your mind at ease about your vows in a twinkling; and
you must needs get them loosed, for our captain is born to command,
and when princes stoop to us peasant-girls, it isn't for us to say
nay. It's being good as Saint Michael himself for him to think of you
only in the holy way of marriage. I'll warrant me, there's many a lord
cardinal at Rome that isn't so good; and as to princes, he is one of a
thousand, a most holy and religious knight, or he would do as others do
when they have the power."
Agnes, confused and agitated, turned away, and, as if seeking
refuge, laid her down in the bed, looking timidly up at the unwonted
splendor,--and then, hiding her face in the pillow, began repeating a
prayer.
Giulietta sat by her a moment, till she felt, from the relaxing of the
little hand, that the reaction of fatigue and intense excitement was
beginning to take place. Nature would assert her rights, and the heavy
curtain of sleep fell on the weary little head. Quietly extinguishing
the lights, Giulietta left the room, locking the door.