Slowly, very slowly, the walls of that hermit's cell seemed to fade out
of sight.
The darkness of the place did not appear to grow more profound, but the
light became greyer in tone, more misty in character, so that at length
I felt I was standing in a kind of opalescent vapour, which would not
let me distinguish objects more than two or three feet distant from the
point where I stood, lost in profound amazement at the changes that came
upon me from every quarter.
Something went moaning and sighing past me with eyes so huge and
luminous that they gleamed like lamps of fire. Then I caught the sound
of a woman crying--not with heartrending sobs that would tear to atoms
the grief that had caused that outburst of emotion--but slowly,
regularly, resistlessly, as though sorrow had touched the centre of her
being and her tears flowed with every single throb of her heart.
Afterwards a scene formed itself in front of me, but whether it was a
piece of clever stage realism or the free use of a panorama and a
cinematograph I could never discover. All at once the light grew soft
and rosy like that of early summer dawn, and I saw, apparently,
stretched in front of me a sandy waste of country, across which the old
monk, who had just been speaking to me was walking, footsore and bowed
with age and weariness. Then came a shrill blast on a horn, and before
one could utter even a sound a horde of savages in their war paint swept
across the landscape and seized the old man and demanded something from
him which he refused to yield. In a flash they caught him up amongst
them, and there I saw inflicted on him such hideous atrocity and torture
that I found myself reeling backward sick with the smell of burning
flesh and faint with the sight of that flow of human blood.
Fortunately, the scene at length faded--everything went completely
black--and out of a silence, so still that it could be felt almost,
there arose the shrill whistle of an Arctic blast that pierced me
through and through with cold. Sharper and sharper grew the frost about
me. Eventually I became conscious of something that bit and stung which
was falling on my hands, my face, my shoulders with ever-increasing
swiftness, till, stretching out my fingers, I seemed to be in the centre
of a bitter and searching snowstorm, above which the moon appeared to
rise and to exhibit in front of me a man clad in the uniform of a
Canadian letter-carrier. Almost as soon as he became visible I could
see that the man was well-nigh spent and broken with the cold, but, as
he toiled on and on in front of me I saw him sink deeper and deeper into
the drift, until at length, absolutely exhausted, he threw up his arms
and fell face downwards in the snow. Oh! how I toiled to reach him as
the snow fell faster and faster, rapidly blocking his form out of sight.
Somehow something seemed to force me perpetually to take a wrong
direction--I became conscious of inhaling something uncommonly like
chloroform--and I, too, fell.
When I next opened my eyes the scene had changed. Instead of snowclad
plain and a wind that howled and whistled and cut through me like
a newly-sharpened knife, I seemed to find myself in a
brilliantly-furnished throne-room hung with rich tapestries and
candelabra of gold, whilst dotted about the floor were pieces of gilded
furniture of the days of Louis Seize. At the far end of this
magnificent apartment were folding doors, and as, all sick and dizzy,
like a man newly recovered from a surgical operation, I arose from the
lounge on which in some miraculous fashion I had become stretched I saw
these flung wide open. A stately march broke from an organ in a hidden
gallery above, and there entered a procession of pages, who, taking no
notice of my presence, ranged themselves, in their picturesque costumes
of a bygone court period, on all sides of the room.
The music now became more jubilant as other figures loomed up in the
doorway--figures of courtiers, jesters, ecclesiastics--until at length
the apartment was almost filled with people, all conversing eagerly in
that melodious Spanish tongue which I recognised but could not follow,
although my knowledge of Latin was really profound enough to qualify me
for a priest. Suddenly, however, the music stopped--all sounds of
conversation ceased as if by magic--and all present appeared to take up
their allotted positions. The next moment there entered two
ecclesiastics in scarlet cassocks and cottas, carrying their birettas in
their hands, whilst close behind there came a thin, white-faced
cardinal, clad in the purple of the Roman Church, with the traditional
skull cap at the back of his head.
Very low bent the assemblage at his approach to the throne, and no
sooner was he seated than the smell of incense, cast on braziers full of
burning charcoal in the corners of the room, arose, in clouds of smoke
that had a most stimulating, instead of an oppressive, feeling upon me.
I felt so bright, so strong so elastic that I could run, jump, anything,
and I could barely contain myself as supplicant after supplicant entered
the throne-room, and besought, in Spanish, some favour from the
cardinal, who, I gathered, from the constant repetition of the phrase,
could be no less a dignitary than the Cardinal-Archbishop of Toledo.
Priests came--country cures, apparently newly arrived from remote
mountain districts; pale-faced, humble-looking mother superiors, whose
clothes and bearing bore eloquent evidence of their faithfulness to
their vows of poverty and obedience; interspersed with which would now
and then figure some crafty, oily scrivener; or, again, a fat, well-clad
merchant, who seemed to bring the very trafficking of his shop into his
language, his gestures, and attitude.
To my surprise, the last comers of all proved to be no less a personage
than the very Prior of the Order of St Bruno, clad in the Benedictine
garb he affected, accompanied by Jose Casteno and two or three of the
brethren. Apparently they had to pay some dues, for a table, crossed
like a draught-board, and a pair of balances were brought in and fixed
up before the cardinal, and from stout leather bags carried by the
brethren were poured diamonds and rubies and emeralds that must have
been worth thousands of pounds. Yet, large as their value looked, the
Cardinal-Archbishop did not seem satisfied. He rose impatiently from
his seat on the throne, his thin, ascetic, shrunken figure towering
wrathfully over Mr Cooper-Nassington, who this time looked a prey to
acute nervousness, and, shaking a warning finger at the pile of jewels,
His Eminence spoke, in the quick, fiery Spanish tongue, some words that
seemed to cause the St Bruno-ites to cower and shiver as though they
were being severely whipped.
A moment later they were hurried out of the audience chamber, and as the
crowd of courtiers and ecclesiastics, who had drawn nearer to the throne
during the altercation, settled themselves once again in their
accustomed places I saw the Cardinal beckon to one of his chamberlains,
to whom he whispered for a few seconds, looking the while, for the first
time, in my direction.
The man bowed very low at the close of his instructions, and, taking up
his wand of office, he marched with measured and dignified step in my
direction, the crowd stopping suddenly their whispers and watching his
movements with obvious interest. No sooner did he draw level with me
than he spoke:
"His Eminence desires that you should approach him, Mr Hugh Glynn," he
said in excellent English, although his tone was decidedly that of a
Spaniard. "He has some offer to make to you which he believes it is
well for you to consider. Pray follow me." And he turned about and led
me right to the steps of the throne itself.
By this time the effect of the incense had very largely passed from me.
In a way I was under the influence of the drugs in the sense that I was
conscious of a high degree of exaltation and moral fervour, but the lust
for action had gone and left in its place a consciousness of
extraordinary importance and power.
Very low I bent before the bowed figure in front of me, and after the
customary salutation: "Pax vobiscum," to which I found myself answering
quite mechanically: "Et cum spiritu tuo," the cardinal addressed me, in
rather laboured accents, in my own tongue.
"I have had you brought here, Mr Glynn," he said slowly and with great
care, "in a rather curious fashion, it is true, but none the less
effective, although I won't stop now to explain it, for two special and
momentous reasons. The first relates to the Order of St Bruno, from
which I had you rescued in the moment of your initiation, for a cause
that will quickly appear to all obvious enough. You have seen for
yourself how the Prior and his brethren have come before me. They are,
as a body, in my debt to an extent that would appal you, and yet,
although I am probably one of the most lenient lenders in the world, you
have seen for yourself how they attempt to evade payment by presents of
costly jewels and of precious stones. Knowing this, I ask you, was it
wise of you to want to link yourself with them? Remember, once you join
them you become liable _ipso facto_ for as much money as they happen to
owe and cannot afford to pay for themselves. As a man who has been
trained as a lawyer--nay, as one who intends shortly to incur all the
sacred obligations of matrimony--is it wise of you to rush blindfold
into this zone of debt and difficulty you can have no certain knowledge
of, no appreciation? Take time to consider it while I put before you
the second reason why you have been bidden here to this audience
chamber.
"As a matter of fact," he went on with increasing earnestness, "you
stand at present in the most important city of Spain--Toledo--which
possesses one of the most valuable collections of ancient historical
manuscripts that have remained untranscribed since centuries and
centuries before the days of the ill-fated Armada. In the minds of the
rulers, however, the time has come for these documents to be disinterred
from the chests in which they have lain from time immemorial, to be
deciphered, and to be given to the world at the discretion of the head
curator. Now, that place of head curator is vacant, and, although it is
decided that only a Spaniard can fill it, I can easily get you letters
of naturalisation, for I am empowered to offer you that position--a life
appointment--at a salary of 2000 pounds English each year."
In spite of myself I gasped at the munificence of this offer. In a
flash I saw all the magnificent possibilities of a position of eminence
and of usefulness such as that--to practise as a means of livelihood the
finest and most fascinating hobby man who loved history ever had--and I
own I was just on the point of accepting it when I felt instinctively
the prick of the thorn hidden beneath the rose. I had to renounce my
rights as an Englishman! I had to disavow my birthright! I had to
throw aside the thing I treasured most--pride of race and birth! How
could I do this with those burning words of the old hermit in his cell
ringing even then in my ears? The Order of St Bruno might be a gang of
spendthrifts, they might have as officers adventurers who exploited the
poor puffed-up patriots they caught in the meshes of their sophistries
and vanity of their habits, but, after all, their ideal was too noble to
cast aside just for money alone.
"Must--must this curator be a Spaniard?" I cried, stretching out my
hands.
"He must," came the inexorable answer.
"Then I am deeply honoured by the trouble you have taken, the kindly
interest you have shown in me," I replied slowly, "but the thing is
frankly impossible--I cannot give up my nationality at a word in the the
way you stipulate."
There was a sudden shout, so loud that it sent me staggering backward
with my hands pressed closely to the drums of my ears. The
Cardinal-Archbishop appeared to bound from his throne like a man who had
been shot, and once again, as something soft, diaphanous, and white was
waved in front of me, I caught the sickly, sticky smell of chloroform,
which overpowered me so quickly that almost as soon as it reached me I
dropped to a lounge like a man dead with sleep.
When next I came to my senses I was astounded to find myself stretched
on the floor in that same hermit's cell from which I had started. The
old monk who had first explained to me the secret that held men together
in the Order of St Bruno was bending over me, bathing my temples with
some aromatic preparation from a small silver ewer that stood on the
floor beside him, whilst I found my head resting on the only evidence of
luxury in the place--a beautifully--embroidered silken cushion, that
insensibly recalled to me all the glories of the palace of the
Cardinal-Archbishop of Toledo.
Weak and trembling, like a man who had just recovered from a long and
debilitating illness, I scrambled to my feet, and, aided by my
companion, I seated myself on a chair that was standing near the table.
"Tell me," I said, passing a tremulous hand over my throbbing forehead,
"what has happened? Have you had a serious accident here while I have
been in this cell?"
"No," he said, with a grave shake of his head; "nothing has occurred
here--nothing at all."
"Did something hit me, or was I all of a sudden stricken with a fit."
"Neither," he replied; "all through you have been a free and a conscious
agent."
"Then, I didn't dream! I didn't rave! I have actually seen the things
I have pictured?" I stammered, thoroughly bewildered by the man's
steady and truthful gaze. "Oh! I have it," I cried suddenly again,
"you have hypnotised me! You made me believe that I was first at the
foot of a mountain in far-off Africa then on the snowclad wastes of
Canada, and afterwards in a noble throne-room in Spain, where an offer
was made that tempted me most sorely."
"That is not so," he answered coldly. "I am not a hypnotist! I do not
understand mesmerism, and, if I did, I wouldn't practise it. I consider
it is based on a malign perversion of some beneficent law of Nature.
"No," he went on, reaching out a hand and turning up the light that hung
above his head; "there has been no occult influence at work here--none
at all. All that you have seen has happened, fairly enough, but with
this distinction--it has all happened round about this room.
"As a matter of fact, you must always remember this," he proceeded, "the
founder of our order, the Bruno Delganni, had a most marvellous
knowledge of stage mechanics and effects, and when he found it so hard
to discover whether the men who wished to join him were really patriots
or not he turned this knowledge to the use you have seen. He erected in
every monastery that he established huge theatrical machinery and
properties, with the result that the brethren there are able to carry
out any kind of test they wish.
"In your case, the plan agreed on was a very simple but an effective
one. The first idea was to give you a fright, and then to take you off
on all manner of excursions, so that you would not realise when the
supreme test came what and which it was. Hence the deaths on the
mountain and in the snowstorm. The real trial came when we played with
all the force we could on the one string we knew held you like a vice--
your love of manuscripts. Would you respond to this and renounce your
birthright, or not?
"Luckily, you did not, although we bent every energy we had, every trick
we knew, to lure you into the trap, using hasheesh, chloroform, anything
that suited our purpose, to make our stage scenes seem to you the more
vital, the more real. In the end you made the supreme refusal--you
would not cease to be an Englishman. Therefore all our show ended as
suddenly as it had begun. We had tested you, and we had found you were
really the patriot you had always pretended to be to Jose Casteno when
any question arose of the safety or the use of those three manuscripts
that gave the whereabouts of the Lake of Sacred Treasure.
"We wanted to learn no more then. We decided there and then that you
were the kind of novice which the Order of St Bruno required, and we
hastened back to our proper garbs again, anxious only now to bring the
ceremony of initiation to an end. Hence it has come about that only one
other test remains to be applied to you, and then you will be free to
enter forthwith on all the rights and privileges of our brotherhood,
which are, I am to explain, very numerous, far-reaching, and valuable.
"Do not fear it. In character, in effect, it is totally different to
any experience you have been through; but our noble founder, Bruno
Delganni, held it to be a very precious expedient to practise, and in
his institutes, which we follow with scrupulous exactness, he lays it
down in the clearest fashion that on no account must we omit it, however
enthusiastic we may feel at the conduct of our novice in the other and
more theatrical tests we have applied to him."
"Very well," I said resignedly. "I am prepared. Do with me as you
will." And taking the glass of wine he pressed on me I drained it, and
then seated myself once more in the chair to await developments,
although in my inmost heart I felt so upset and confused that I hardly
knew how to speak.
With a stately inclination of the head the old monk passed through the
doorway and left me.
Slowly, very very slowly, the light faded, and then I became surrounded
by soft greyish darkness that afflicted me with a sense of intense
mournfulness.