"He greatly longed some land that now did feel
The yoke of misbelieving men once more
To his Redeemer's kingdom to restore."
Harry Hartsed arrived in Lisbon while the court was still in mourning
for the death of the great and good King Joao the First. He bore
various despatches to Sir Walter Northberry from his English cousins,
and from his daughter; and was kindly received by his own distant
cousin, Sir James Hartsed, and by him placed in the household of the
Master of Avis, who showed him much kindness, and made many inquiries
after his little favourite, Nella Northberry. There were enough English
about the Court of Lisbon to prevent Harry from feeling lonely, and the
life there was full of interest and energy. Not that Harry's
disposition led him to emulate the Portuguese princes in their love of
literature and science; but he did ardently desire to make as graceful a
figure in the tilt-yard as Dom Fernando, and to be able to pick up a nut
with the point of his lance when his horse was at full gallop, as
cleverly as King Duarte himself. He succeeded beyond his hopes in these
aims, growing from an uninformed country lad into an accomplished
gentleman; and, moreover, in the atmosphere of earnest piety and strict
performance of duty in which he found himself, he could not but perceive
that something more than good horsemanship and skill in arms, or even in
learning, went to the making of these splendid princes.
The years since the disappearance of Katharine Northberry had been full
of changes. The marriage of Dom Pedro had been followed by that of Dom
Duarte to Leonora of Aragon. The Princess Isabel had been given by her
father to Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy; and Dom Joao had also found
a wife for himself. These various royal households added greatly to the
gaiety of the court; and when the period of mourning for King Joao was
over, it proved that the young Queen Leonora loved state and ceremony,
and inaugurated many festivities. She was at this time very popular
with the people, and every one rejoiced in the presence of a lady at the
head of affairs.
Duarte, meanwhile, with an industry and talent equal to his father's,
and with an even greater purity of action and intention, devoted himself
to schemes for the good of his subjects, and by so doing made up for the
loss of his father's great minister, Alvarez de Pereira, who had died a
few months before the king, and who had long ago put into shape the
young princes' plans for the tithing of Ceuta.
Dom Enrique had been but little at Lisbon, his great undertakings filled
up his time, and he had of late joined the King of Aragon in a war with
the Duke of Milan, during which he had been taken prisoner, to the great
alarm and distress of his brothers; but he had soon regained his
liberty, and now, at the end of 1435, was at the court.
Fernando's health had become somewhat less delicate, though it was still
a check on his sharing in his brothers' exploits; but he led a very
busy, useful, and devout life, managing the affairs of the Order of
Avis, spending nearly all his private fortune in ransoming prisoners
from the Moors, and in acts of charity or devotion. To the poor,
wherever he went, he was a personal friend, and the young men of his
household regarded him with enthusiastic admiration, marvelling at the
combination of such saintly qualities with such a genuine love for all
connected with military honour and personal prowess.
The people spoke of his almsgiving, his life of prayer and self-denial,
his unfailing gentleness of word and deed, of the sufferings borne with
such exemplary patience, and thought that he led the life of a saint on
earth. And all this while the life that looked so holy and so peaceful,
and was so pure from outward stain, was full of inward storm and
struggle, of longings and ambitions, but imperfectly laid at the foot of
the Cross. There was much yet to come before Fernando's victory was
won.
One bright winter's day he was sitting in his private room in the
palace. As Master of Avis, he possessed property and residences in more
than one part of Portugal; but in Lisbon he still lived under his
brother's roof, chiefly that Duarte might bestow on him, in his frequent
illnesses, as much as possible of his scanty intervals of leisure.
Besides, Fernando's tastes were simple, and he loved the surroundings of
his boyhood. He had been occupied all the morning, after attending mass
in the king's chapel, with the various affairs of his order, and with a
consultation with the Archbishop of Lisbon, over the details of a new
mission to be despatched to the coast of Africa, in the wake of some of
Dom Enrique's recent discoveries, and now, wearied with so much
exertion, was sitting by the hearth, on which burned a small wood fire.
It was a pleasant room enough, long and narrow, with a high carved and
painted ceiling, and a great chimney-piece of white marble, carved with
the dragon's heads that King Joao, in honour of his English Garter,
introduced on every occasion, just as he taught his soldiers to shout
Saint George.
Harry Hartsed and a young nephew and namesake of the great minister,
Alvarez de Pereira, were sitting at the farther end of the room, and
talking in a subdued voice, as they looked out between the mullions of
the window over the palace garden.
After some discussion between themselves, Harry glanced at the prince,
and, perceiving that he was doing nothing, crossed the room and ventured
to address him.
"My Lord, Dom Alvarez and I were discussing a question. May I crave
leave to ask your opinion on it?"
Fernando started from his reverie, and looked up with the expression in
his eyes, half-wistful, half-eager, altogether unsatisfied, that
contrasted so strangely with the kind bright smile with which he ever
greeted a request.
"You are welcome to my opinion," he said, gaily; "but I know not if it
will be of much value to _you_."
"My Lord, Alvarez here declares that his fate has been foretold by the
stars, and that certain days in the year are unfavourable to him. That
if he went into battle on those days he would assuredly be slain. That
being so, it would be well to cast one's horoscope, and learn how to
keep from such dangers."
"But," said Fernando, "if duty called Dom Alvarez to battle on these
fateful days, he would but go in with a worse heart for thinking it sure
that he would never come out again."
"I should do my duty, my lord, I trust," said Dom Diego Alvarez, who had
followed Hartsed.
"Assuredly, senor; I did but speak to show you how little, to my
thinking, knowledge of the future is a help to the present performance
of duty. And you have, surely heard, since it is the common story, how
a Jewish astrologer would have dissuaded the king, my brother, from
receiving the homage of his subjects on the day appointed, declaring it
to be an unfortunate one."
"But his grace was not influenced by a rascally Jew," said Harry.
"No," returned the prince; "against the opinions of his councillors he
held to his first intention. The king and the dukes, my brothers,
having deeply studied the courses of the stars, have found great wonders
among them, for which they glorify God; but they do not read in them
their own future."
"Well," remarked Harry, "I must say that little knowledge came by one
attempt I know of, to read the future," and, in answer to the prince's
question, he related his expedition to the forest with Nella.
"Alas, poor child," said Fernando, much moved, "it needs no witch to
guess at her fate. Young Mistress Nella must have a brave heart."
"There's nothing, my lord," said Harry, "that I should enjoy more than a
good blow at the Infidel, and there are many here that think with me.
We listen to tales of the siege of Ceuta, and long for our turn."
"Ay?" said Fernando, thoughtfully. "It seems as if our prayers must be
weak when we withhold ourselves. But who is coming?"
"It is the Duke of Viseo, my lord," said Alvarez.
"Then you may leave us," said Fernando, as Dom Enrique entered, and,
after an affectionate greeting, sat down beside him.
"I think of soon returning to Sagres," he said; "my sailors will be
looking for me. Since we have penetrated to the coast of Africa, I have
more business than ever."
"I should like to go with you for a time to Sagres," said Fernando. "I
could not make observations for you like Duarte, nor work out your
mathematics like Pedro, but I long to see more of your doings there."
"It is so cold at Sagres," said Enrique; "the winds there are too bleak
and rough for you; and yet it would be well for you to spend a few idle
weeks."
"I am strong now," said Fernando hastily; "nothing will hurt me."
Enrique smiled and shook his head.
"Nothing ails me _now_ but idleness," repeated Fernando, as he looked up
at his brother with a sort of inquiry in his face.
Enrique was standing leaning his back against the high chimney corner,
and now he turned his eyes on Fernando and said--
"Is that thought so fresh in your mind still?"
"Is it ever absent?" cried Fernando, rising in his eagerness. "Can I
forget my childish vow, and the longing I have ever had so to devote
myself? We have done much with Ceuta for a centre for the spread of the
Cross. If Tangier were ours--" he paused, laying his hand on Enrique's
shoulder. "See, my brother, I am strong enough now for a campaign. I
should run no more risk than the rest of you. Is it not my turn? I am
the only one of us all whose sword has never been drawn. Am _I_ fit to
be head of the Order of Avis? Does such home-staying become my father's
son? Must I be the only one to do nothing for the honour of Portugal or
for Holy Church?"
Enrique's enthusiasm was easily fired. All his life he had been ready
to turn aside from his own special objects to strike a blow at the Moor.
"If you and I could head an expedition," he said, thoughtfully; "much
toil need not fall on you."
"Ah!" cried Fernando. "At such a time I should feel no hardships. I am
not so full of my own conceit as to imagine myself a fit leader. Let me
but fight under your banner; profit by your experience. Is not our
prosperity a shame, while we suffer that unimaginable evil at our very
gates?"
"It would consecrate all other efforts," said Enrique, with the peculiar
earnestness that always made his words weighty; "and to fight as we have
always wished, side by side, in this holy war!"
"Yes. Alone I could do little! This hope has been my one aim, my
prayer, through all the poor life that has borne so little fruit.
Enrique, _you_ have known it?"
"Yes. I know that you have never swerved from it. But you must not
call your life fruitless, my Fernando."
"Fruitful of impatience and discontent! In truth I am not worthy of
this task."
"Nevertheless," said Enrique, with his grave smile, "let us together
offer our unworthiness to Him Who will purge our sins away. So shall we
win honour for ourselves and our brother."
Self-devotion and personal glory were so united in the mind during the
reign of chivalry, that it was not marvellous that these ardent souls
did not quite distinguish between them. Enlightened as the princes of
Avis were, they were, even Enrique, men of their own day. Their more
personal aims of scientific discovery, missionary work, organised
charity and the like, were experimental, and they could not set them
quite on a level with the recognised privilege and the duty of
distinguishing themselves in the battle-field. First, they must be
soldiers, afterwards, men of science and philanthropists, and Fernando
felt himself to have missed his vocation. The deep sense of religion,
felt in especial by these two, offered them another and higher object.
Perhaps the strong desire of self-devotion was the talent specially
committed to the "ages of faith." The evil they wished to remove was
great and obvious, and Fernando did not consider that he might be doing
the Church's work perhaps as effectually in another way. He was humble
enough in his estimate of himself; he had done the work at hand without
a complaint; but the long-restrained wish, once entertained, swept all
before it like a flood, and could see no obstacles and no objections.
His natural tastes, his religious fervour, his wish for self-denial, and
that self which he had not yet altogether learned to deny, all worked
together, by the force of his strong will, to attain his object.
Enrique loved him too well to oppose him, and moreover was to the full
as impetuous, and more used to having his own way.