reed she had leant on had snapped--her last hope was gone, and she knew
that she should never behold Ronald more. The next muster-day (then the
24th of every month) arrived; and, as being still "absent without
leave," he was superseded, and his name appeared no longer on the list
of the regiment. It was sad intelligence for his friends in Perthshire;
but it was upon one gentle-loving and timid heart, that this sudden
stroke fell most heavily. Poor Alice! she grew very sad, and long
refused to be comforted. As a drowning man clings to straws, so clung
Alice to every hope and chance of Ronald's return, until the letter of
Sir Henry Torrens drove her from her last stronghold.
Days rolled on and became weeks, and weeks rolled on to months, and in
her own heart the poor girl was compelled to acknowledge or believe,
what her friends had long concluded, that Ronald Stuart was numbered
with the dead. It was a sad blow to one whose joyous heart had been but
a short time before full almost to overflowing with giddy and romantic
visions of love and happiness. Under this severe mental shock she
neither sickened nor died, and yet she felt as deeply and poignantly as
mortal woman could suffer.
Few or none, perhaps, die of love or of sorrow, whatever poets and
interested romancers may say to the contrary. But as this is not the
work of the one or the other, but a true memoir or narrative, the facts
must be told, however contrary to rule, or to the expectation of my dear
readers.
In course of time the sorrow of Alice Lisle became more subdued, the
bloom returned to her faded cheek, and she used to laugh and smile,--but
not as of old. She was never now heard to sing, and the sound of her
harp or piano no more awoke the echoes of the house. She was content,
but far from being happy. When riding or rambling about with Virginia
or Louis, she could never look down from the mountains on the lonely
tower and desert glen of Isla without symptoms of the deepest emotion,
and she avoided every path that led towards the patrimony of the
Stuarts.
But a good example of philosophy and resignation under woe was set
before her by her servant, Jessie Cavers. That young damsel, finding
that she had lost Evan Iverach beyond the hope of recovery, instead of
spoiling her bright eyes in weeping for his death, employed them
successfully in looking for a successor to his vacant place. She
accordingly accepted the offers of Jock Nevermiss, the gamekeeper, whose
coarse shooting-jacket and leather spats had been for a time completely
eclipsed by the idea of Iverach's scarlet coat and gartered hose.
The old Earl of Hyndford came down again in the shooting season, and
renewed his attentions to Alice; but with no better success than
before,--much to his amazement. He deemed that her heart, being
softened by grief, would the more readily receive a new impression. He
quitted Inchavon-house, and, in a fit of spleen and disappointment, set
off on a continental ramble, acting the disconsolate lover with all his
might.
Louis, leaving Virginia at Inchavon with his sister, rejoined the
Highlanders at Fermoy, and in a week thereafter had the pleasure to
obtain a "company."
The Highlanders were daily expecting the route for their native country,
but were again doomed to be disappointed. They were ordered to
Flanders,--to the "Lowlands of Holland," where Scottish valour has been
so often triumphant in the times of old, for the flames of war had
broken forth again with renewed fury.
*CHAPTER VI.*
*THE TORRE DE LOS FRAYLES.*
"Thought's fantastic brood
Alone is waking; present, past, and future,
Wild mis-shaped hope and horrible rememb'rings,
Now rise a hideous and half-viewless chaos
To fancy's vision, till the stout heart fails
At its own prospect."
_The Hermit of Roselva._
When Ronald found himself helplessly and, as he thought, irrecoverably
immured in the _Torre de los Frayles_, and surrounded by a band of the
most merciless and desperate ruffians conceivable,--defenceless, in
their power, and secluded among the wildest fastnesses of the Spanish
Pyrenees, his heart sickened at the hopelessness of his prospects. His
life depended entirely on the will and pleasure of his captors, and he
felt all that acute agony of spirit of which a brave man is susceptible
when reflecting that he might perish like a child in their hands,
helpless and unrevenged. He was conducted to a desolate apartment, to
which light was admitted by a couple of loop-holes, which, being
destitute of glass, gave free admittance to the cold air of the
mountains.
Excepting an antique table and chair, the room was destitute of
furniture, and Ronald was compelled to repose on the stone-flagged
floor, with no other couch than a large ragged mantle, which a renegade
priest, one of thousands whom the war had unfrocked, lent him, offering,
at the same time, indulgently to hear his confession. Ronald glanced at
the long dagger and brass-barrelled pistols which garnished the belt of
the _ci-devant_ padre, and, smiling sourly, begged to be excused, saying
that he had nothing to confess, saving his disgust for his captors, and
the sense he felt of Spanish ingratitude.
"_Morte de Dios!_" swore the incensed priest as he departed, "you are an
incorrigible heretic. Feeding you, is feeding what ought to be burned;
and I would roast you like a kid, but for that meddling ape Gaspar!"
By order of the last-named worthy, who appeared to be the acknowledged
leader, a sentinel was placed at the door of the apartment, which was
well secured on the outside to prevent Ronald's escape. At the same time
Alosegui, who said he wished to be friendly to a _brother capitan_, gave
him a screw of a peculiar construction, with which he could strongly
secure his door on the inside--a necessary precaution when so formidable
an enemy as Narvaez Cifuentes was within a few feet of him. Having
secured the entrance as directed, he rolled himself up in the cloak of
the pious father,--but not to sleep, for dawn of day found him yet
awake, cursing his untoward fortune, and revolving, forming, and
rejecting a thousand desperate plans to escape. Even when, at last, he
did drop into an uneasy sleep or dreamy doze, he was quickly aroused by
the twangling of guitars and uproar of a drunken chorus in the next
apartment, where the padre was trolling forth a ditty, which, a few
years before, would have procured him a lodging for life in the dungeons
of the terrible Inquisition.
To Stuart, his present situation appeared now almost insupportable. He
sprang to the narrow loop-holes, and made a long and acute reconnoisance
of the country round about, especially in the neighbourhood of the
robbers' den, and he became aware that escape, without the concurrence
of Alosegui or some of his followers, was utterly impracticable. The
tower was perched, like an eagle's nest, on the very verge of a
perpendicular cliff, some hundred yards in height, and a chasm, dark and
apparently bottomless, separated the tower from the other parts of the
mountain, or, I may say, the _land_, as it hung almost in the air. At
every pass of the hills leading to the narrow vale where it was
situated, a well-armed and keen-eyed scout kept watchful guard, for the
double purpose of giving alarm in case of danger, or warning when any
booty appeared in sight. The bottom of the valley which the tower
overlooked was covered with rich copse-wood, among which wound, like a
narrow stripe of crystal, a mountain stream, a tributary of the
Bidassoa,--the way to the West.
About noon he was visited by Gaspar Alosegui, with whom he was
ceremoniously invited to take breakfast; and yielding to the cravings of
appetite, he unhesitatingly accepted the proposal, and sat down at the
same table with four fellows, who, Gaspar told him, were the greatest
cut-throats and most expert bravoes in Spain. The apartment in which
they sat was a dilapidated hall, which bore no distant resemblance to
the one at Lochisla, save that its roof was covered with carved stone
pendants and grim Gothic faces, among which hung branches of grapes or
raisins, nets of Portugal onions, bags of Indian corn, and other
provender; and the floor was strewed with mule-pannels, saddles, arms of
all sorts, towards which Ronald glanced furtively from time to time, and
countless bales, barrels, wineskins, &c. like a merchant's storehouse.
Ronald got through his repast without offending any of the
dagger-grasping rogues; but he was so much disgusted with their language
and brutality of manner, that in future he resolved to eat by himself,
at all risks. Narvaez, with a strong party under his command, was
absent, to watch for a train of mules in the neighbourhood of
Roncesvalles, and Ronald was therefore relieved from his hateful
presence. Gaspar assembled the remainder of the band in solemn
conclave, to consult about the ransom of Stuart. When the latter, who
stood near Alosegui's chair, looked around him upon the ruffian
assemblage, and beheld so many dark, ferocious, and black-bearded faces,
he _felt_ that, among such men, his life was not worth a _quarto_.
The amount of the ransom had been fixed on the preceding evening. When
Alosegui inquired where the Conde de Villa Franca then resided, no one
could say any thing with certainty about it, but all supposed him to be
at Madrid. In support of this supposition, the _soi-disant_ padre
produced, from the crown of his sugar-loaf hat, a ragged number of "_El
Espanol_," at least three months old, well worn and frayed, and which he
carried about him for gun-wadding. In one of the columns, the arrival
of Don Alvaro and his countess appeared among the fashionable
intelligence. To Madrid, therefore, it was resolved that Ronald should
despatch a letter, the bearer of which should be Juan de la Roca, who,
for cunning and knavery, was equal, if not infinitely superior, to
Lazarillo de Tormes, of happy memory. His travelling expenses were also
to be defrayed, fully and amply, before the captive would be released.
To save time, for it was a long way to Madrid, Ronald proposed to
communicate with the British consuls at Passages or Bayonne; but the
proposition was at once negatived by a storm of curses and a yell of
dissatisfaction from the banditti, while, waving his hand, Alosegui
acquainted him sternly, that it was inconsistent with their safety or
intentions to permit his corresponding with the consul at either of
these places, as some strenuous and unpleasant means might be taken to
release him unransomed. And before they would proceed farther in the
business, the wily _bandidos_ compelled him to pledge his solemn word of
honour as a cavalier and soldier, that he would not attempt to
escape,--a pledge which, it may be imagined, he gave with the utmost
reluctance. While his bosom was swelling with rage and regret, Ronald
seated himself at the table and wrote to Alvaro, praying that he would
lend him the sum the thieves required, and setting forth that his life
was forfeited in case of a refusal. Seldom has a letter been indited
under such circumstances. While he wrote, a Babel of tongues resounded
in his ear,--all swearing and quarrelling about the delay, and proposing
that cold steel or a swing over the rocks should cut the matter short,
as it was very doubtful whether the Count de Villa Franca would ever
send so large a sum of money. But Gaspar's voice of thunder silenced
their murmurs.
"I will drink the heart's blood of any man who opposes or disobeys my
orders," cried he, striking the rude table with his mighty fist. "I am
a man of honour, and must keep my word, _par Diez_! Hark you, my
comrades; again I tell you, that for three months the life of the
prisoner is as sacred as if he were an abbot."
"Three months!" thought Ronald bitterly. "In three months, but for this
cursed misfortune, I might have been the husband of Alice Lisle."
The letter to Don Alvaro was sealed by Ronald's own seal, (which one of
the band was so obliging as to lend him for the occasion,) and placed in
the hand of Juan de la Roca.
"_Adios, senor! adios, vaga!_" said the young thief with an impudent
leer, and presenting his hand to Ronald at his departure. "Remember,
senor, that for your sake, I lose the chance of winning one of the
sweetest prizes in Spain."
"How, Senor Juan?" replied Stuart, bestowing on him a keen glance of
contempt.
"A girl, to be sure, a fair girl we captured near Maya," said Juan
sulkily; "and I am half tempted to cast your despatch to the winds."
"Come, Juan, we must part friends at least," said Ronald, willing to
dissemble when he remembered how much his fate lay in the power of this
young rascal. He gave him his hand, and they parted with a show of
urbanity, which was probably affected on both sides.
In a few minutes he beheld him quit the Friars' Tower, and depart on his
journey mounted on a stout mule, and so much disguised that he scarcely
knew him. His ragged apparel had been replaced by the smart attire of a
student, and was all of becoming black velvet. A large portfolio was
slung on his back, to disguise him more, and support the character which
he resolved to bear as a travelling _artista_. He was a very handsome
young fellow, and his features were set off by his broad sombrero and
the black feathers which vanity had prompted him to don. A black silk
mantle dangled for ornament from his shoulders, while one more coarse
and ample was strapped to the bow of his mule's pannel. He had a pair
of holsters before him, and wore a long poniard in his sash: altogether,
he had very much the air of a smart student of Salamanca or Alcala. From
a window Ronald anxiously watched the lessening form of this messenger
of his fate, as he urged his mule down the steep windings of the pathway
to the valley; and a thousand anxieties, and alternate hopes and doubts
distracted him, as he thought of the dangers that beset the path of his
ambassador, of the lengthened duration and possible result of his
expedition.
In no country save Spain could the dreadful atrocities perpetrated by
the wretches into whose hands Ronald had fallen, have been permitted in
the nineteenth century. A day never passed without the occurrence of
some new outrage, and many were acted under his own observation. On one
occasion the band captured an aged syndic of Maya, who had made himself
particularly obnoxious by executing some of the gang. His captors, to
refine on cruelty, tore out his eyes and turned him away on the
mountains in a tempestuous night, desiring him to return to his
magistracy, and be more merciful to cavaliers of fortune in future.
An unfortunate _medico_ of Huarte, who was journeying on a mule across
the mountains from St. Juan de Luz, where he had been purchasing a store
of medicines, fell into their clutches somewhere near the rock of Maya.
He could procure no ransom: many who owed him long bills, and whom he
rescued from the jaws of death by the exercise of his art, and to whom
his messenger applied, would send him no answer, being very well
pleased, probably, to be rid of a troublesome creditor. One of the band
being seriously ill, the life of the _medico_ was to be spared if he
cured him. The bandit unluckily died, and the doom of his physician was
sealed. It was abruptly announced to him that he must die, and by his
own weapons, as Gaspar informed him. The unhappy son of Esculapius
prayed hard that his life might be spared, and promised that he would
dwell for the remainder of his days in the Torre de los Frayles,--to
spare him, for he was a very old man, and had many things to repent of.
But his tyrants were inexorable. After being confessed with mock
religious solemnity by Gorgorza de la Puente, he was compelled to
swallow every one of his own drugs, which he did with hideous grimaces
and trembling limbs, amidst the uproarious laughter and cruel jests of
his destroyers, who beheld him expire almost immediately after finishing
the nauseous dose they had compounded, and then consigned his body to
that charnel-house, the chasm before the doorway of their pandemonium.
Several months elapsed--months which to Ronald appeared like so many
centuries, for he had awaited in almost hourly expectation the arrival
of some intelligence from Madrid; but the dreary days lagged on, and his
heart began to lose hope. Juan de la Roca appeared to have travelled
slowly. Letters were received from him by Alosegui, at different times,
by the hands of certain muleteers and _contrabandistas_, who, on passing
the mountains, always paid a regular sum as toll to the banditti, whom,
for their own sakes, they were glad to conciliate so easily. These
despatches informed the thieves of Juan's progress; but they often
cursed the young rascal, and threatened vengeance for his tardiness and
delay. But Juan, by exercising his ingenuity as a cut-purse,
pick-pocket, cloak-snatcher, and gambler, contrived to keep himself in a
constant supply of cash; and he seemed determined to enjoy to the utmost
the short term of liberty allowed him. At last he disappeared. His
companions in crime heard of him no more; but whether he had been
poniarded in some brawl, sent to the galleys, or made off with Stuart's
ransom-money, remained a mystery. The last appeared to the banditti to
be the most probable cause for his non-appearance, and their curses were
loud and deep.
Stuart now found that his life was in greater jeopardy than before.
Alosegui proposed to him to take the vows, and join the banditti as a
volunteer in their next marauding expedition; and added, that if he
would take pains to conciliate the good-will of the lieutenant, the
Senor Narvaez, and distinguish himself, he might be promoted in the
band. Alosegui made this proposal with his usual dry sarcastic manner;
and although Ronald, who was in no humour to be trifled with, rejected
the strange offer of service with as much scorn and contempt as he could
muster, he saw, on second thoughts, that for his own safety a little
duplicity was absolutely necessary. He affected to have doubts, and
craved time to think of the matter, intending, if once well-armed, free
of the tower, and with his feet on the free mountainside, to fight his
way off, or to die sword in hand.
But he was saved from the dishonour of even pretending to be their
comrade for a single hour, because, in a very short space of time, a
most unlooked-for change of politics took place at Torre de los Frayles.
A train of muleteers about to depart from Elizondo for France or the
lower part of the Pyrenees, sent forward one of their number to the
robbers' den to pay the toll. The mule-driver was made right welcome.
The banditti found it necessary to cultivate to the utmost the
friendship of these travelling merchants, with whom they trafficked and
bartered, exchanging goods and valuables for money, clothing, arms, and
ammunition, supplies of which were regularly brought them, and accounts
were balanced in the most exact and business-like manner.
The envoy from Elizondo had transacted his business, and been furnished
with Alosegui's receipt and pass, formally signed and marked with a
cross; but he seemed in no hurry to depart, and remaining, drank and
played at chess and dominoes for some hours with the thieves, who were,
scouts excepted, generally all within their garrison in the day-time.
Ronald knew that a messenger from a train of mules was in his place of
confinement; but as visits of this kind in no way concerned him, he had
ascended to the summit of the tower, and there paced to and fro,
watching anxiously as usual the long dim vista of the valley, with the
expectation of seeing Juan de la Roca, on his grey mule, wending his way
towards the Tower of the Friars. He would have hailed with joy the
return of this young rogue as a delivering angel; but such a length of
time had now elapsed since his disappearance that, in Ronald's breast,
hope began gradually to give way to despair; and when he remembered
Alice, his home, and his forfeited commission, his brain almost reeled
with madness. Shading his eyes from the hot glare of the noon-day sun,
he was looking intently down the long misty vale which stretched away to
the westward, when he was roused by some one touching him on the
shoulder.
He turned about, and beheld the round and good-humoured face of Lazaro
Gomez, fringed, as of old, with its matted whiskers and thick scrub
beard.
"Lazaro Gomez, my trusty muleteer of Merida! how sorry I am to see you
in this devil's den."
"Senor, indeed you have much reason to be very happy, if you knew all."
"How, Gomez?"
"Hush, senor! Speak softly: you will know all in good time. I came
hither to pay the toll for my comrades, who at present keep themselves
close in Elizondo for fear of our friends in this damnable tower; and
there they must remain until I return. By our Lady of Majorga, but I am
glad to see you, senor! As I say now to my brother Pedro, _Senor
Caballero_, allow me to have the honour of shaking hands with you?"
Stuart grasped the huge horny hand of the honest muleteer and shook it
heartily, feeling a sensation so closely akin to rapture and delight,
that he could almost have shed tears. It was long since he had shaken
the hand of an honest man, or looked on other visages than those of
dogged, sullen, and scowling ruffians. At that moment Stuart felt
happy; it was so agreeable to have kind intercourse, even with so humble
a friend, after the five months he had passed in the dreary abode of
brutality and crime.
"And why, Lazaro, do you address your brother, the sergeant, so
formally?"
"Ah, senor! Pedro is a great man now! He is no longer a humble
trooper, to pipe-clay his belts and hold his captain's bridle. By his
sword he has carved out a fair name for himself, and a fair fortune
likewise. He led three assaults against Pampeluna, like a very valiant
fool as he is, and was three times shot through the body for his
trouble. Don Carlos de Espana, a right noble cavalier, embraced him
before the whole line of the Spanish army, and appointed him a cornet in
Don Alvaro's troop of lancers. The next skirmish with the enemy made
him a lieutenant, knight of Santiago, and of the most valiant order of
"the Band." Don Alvaro has also procured him a patent of nobility,
which he always carries in his sash, lest any one should unpleasantly
remind his nobleness that he is the eldest son of old Sancho Gomez the
alguazil, who dwelt by the bridge of Merida."
"I rejoice at his good fortune."
"But I have not told you all, senor," continued the gossiping muleteer.
"A rich young widow of Aranjuez, the Condessa de Estramera, fell in love
with him, when one day he commanded a guard at the palace of Madrid. An
old duenna was employed--letters were carried to and fro--meetings held
in solitary places; and the upshot was, that the condessa bestowed her
fair hand, with a fortune of--of--the holy Virgin knows how many
thousand ducats, upon my most happy rogue of a brother. Lieutenant Don
Pedro Gomez, of the lancers of Merida; and now they live like a prince
and princess."
"Happy Pedro! The condessa is beautiful; I have seen her, Lazaro."
"Plump Ignesa, the chamber-maid at the posada of Majorga, is more to my
mind. I never could relish your stately donnas, with their high combs
and long trains. This condessa is niece of that prince of rogues, the
Duke of Alba de T----, who was killed in the service of Buonaparte: but
Pedro cares not for that."
"In the history of his good fortune you see the advantage of being a
soldier, Lazaro."
"With all due respect to your honourable uniform, which I am sorry to
see so tattered, senor, I can perceive no advantage in being a
soldier--none at all, _par Diez_! I envy Pedro not the value of a
maravedi. He has served and toiled, starved and bled, in the war of
independence, like any slave, rather than a soldier."
"So have I, Lazaro," said Stuart; "and these rags, and confinement here
for five months, have been my reward."
The muleteer snapped his fingers, then gave a very knowing wink, and was
about to whisper something; but, observing one of the banditti watching,
he continued talking about his brother.