Calavar, leading the way, conducted the new Bishop to the condemned
man's cell. Ruy Lopez walked like one in a dream. Was he awake, or not?
He hardly knew. At the bottom of his heart he cursed the King and his
Court. He understood perfectly that he had become Bishop of Segovia, but
he felt deeply at what a price he had bought his dignity. What had Don
Gusman done that he should be thus sacrificed? Don Gusman, the best
chess player in Spain! He thought of all this as he proceeded over the
marble flags which led to the State prison, and as he thought he prayed
that the ground would open and swallow him up.
Don Gusman was pacing impatiently up and down his narrow cell with a
hurried step that betrayed the feverish anxiety of his mind. The cell
was furnished with a massive table and two heavy wooden stools, the
floor being covered with coarse, thick mats. Shut out from all the
noises of the outer world, here silence reigned supreme. A crucifix,
roughly carved, was fixed to the wall in the niche of a high window,
which was carefully barred with iron. Except for this image of
resignation and mercy, the walls were bare. Well might this dungeon
serve as antechamber to the tomb.
As Ruy Lopez entered the cell a sudden burst of sunshine flooded the
walls as if in bitter mockery of him who was soon to see it no more.
The Duke saluted the new Bishop with great courtesy. They regarded each
other, and exchanged in that look a thousand words which they alone
could understand. Ruy Lopez felt the painfulness of his position deeply,
and the Duke understood his embarrassment. Their thoughts were both the
same, that in the condemnation of one of the principal favourites of the
King an innocent life was threatened! The proofs of the crime imputed to
the Duke were grave; the most important being a despatch written in Don
Gusman's hand to the French Court, in which he unfolded a scheme for
assassinating Philip II. This had sufficed to condemn him.
Don Gusman, strong in his innocence, had kept a rigorous silence when
brought before his judges, and the accusation not being denied,
sentence of death was passed upon him. Don Gusman since his
incarceration had not altered. He had braved the storm, and looked upon
death with an unmoved countenance. His last hours had no terrors for
him. If his forehead was overshadowed, if his steps were agitated and
his breathing hurried, it was because there rose before his eye the
image of his betrothed, Dona Estella, who, ignorant of her lover's fate,
was waiting for him in her battlemented castle on the banks of the
Guadalquiver. If he felt weak at this fatal moment, and if a pang shot
through his heart, it was because his thoughts were of her who was to
him the dearest thing in all the world.
[Illustration: "RUY LOPEZ ENTERED THE CELL."]
Ruy Lopez had not entered alone. Calavar was at his side; and it was he
who announced to the Duke the King's decision and reply. Ruy Lopez
confirmed the executioner's words, and the Duke, falling on his knees
before the new Bishop, asked his blessing, then turning to Calavar with
a gesture of authority, he dismissed him, saying:--
"In three hours I shall be at your disposal."
Calavar obeyed him and went out, and the Duke and Bishop were left
alone.
Ruy Lopez was trembling with nervousness, whilst Don Gusman's face wore
a calm and serene expression. He took the Bishop's hand, and wrung it
warmly. There was a pause. The Duke was the first to break the silence.
"We have met before in happier circumstances," he said, smiling.
"It is true," stammered Ruy Lopez, who, pale and agitated, resembled
rather the penitent than the confessor.
"Much happier," repeated the Duke, absently. "Do you remember, when you
played your celebrated game of chess with Paoli Boy, the Sicilian, in
the presence of the King and Court, that it was upon my right arm that
the King leant?" Then after a pause he continued: "Do you remember also,
father, those words of Cervantes, 'Life is a game of chess?' I have
forgotten the exact place in which the passage occurs, but its meaning
is, that upon earth men play different rôles. There are, as in chess,
kings, knights, soldiers, bishops, according to their birth, fate and
fortune; and when the game is over death lays them all as equals in the
tomb, even as we gather together the chessmen into a box."
"Yes, I remember those words of Don Quixote," replied Don Lopez,
astonished at this singular conversation, "and I remember also Sancho's
reply: 'That however good the comparison was, it was not so new that he
had not heard it before.'"
"I was your favourite pupil, even your rival," said the Duke, without
appearing to hear Don Lopez.
"It is true," cried the Bishop. "You are a great master of the game, and
I have been often proud of having such a pupil. But now, on your knees,
my son."
They knelt down together, and there before the crucifix Don Gusman made
confession to Ruy Lopez, who as he listened could hardly restrain his
tears.
When the Duke had finished, two hours after--for the confession under
the Church seal was long and touching--the Bishop blessed the prisoner,
and gave him absolution. The face of Don Gusman, as he rose, was calm
and resigned.
[Illustration: "THEY KNELT DOWN TOGETHER."]
But there remained still an hour to wait.
"This delay is torture," cried the Duke. "Why do they not cut off the
prisoners at once, instead of stretching their souls upon such a rack of
agony? An eternity of suffering is in each of these minutes." And the
prisoner began to walk impatiently to and fro, with his eyes constantly
bent upon the door. The Duke's firmness was shaken by the thought of
that weary hour of waiting. Ruy Lopez had fulfilled his duty. The
prisoner's soul was purified, and now the priest could become the
friend.
As Don Lopez heard Don Gusman utter this exclamation, and saw his face
grow white, he understood what agony he was undergoing, and felt at once
that something must be done to divert his thoughts. But in vain he
racked his brain for an idea. He could think of nothing. What could he
propose to a man about to die? For such as he, the flower has no longer
perfume, woman has no longer beauty. Then suddenly a thought flashed
across his brain.
"How would a game of chess--" he began, timidly.
"An excellent idea!" cried Don Gusman, recalled to himself by this
singular proposal. "A farewell game of chess."
"You consent?"
"Most readily; but where are the chessmen, my friend?"
"Am I not always provided with the instruments of war?" said Ruy Lopez,
smiling. Then he pulled forward the two stools and set out upon the
table a microscopic set of chessmen. "Our Lady pardon me!" he continued.
"I often pass my spare time in the confessional in working out some
problem."
The chessmen being set out, the players took their seats, and were soon
absorbed in the excitement of the game.
This strange contest, between a priest and a condemned prisoner, made a
picture worthy of the brush of Rembrandt or Salvator Rosa. The light
which streamed from the arched windows fell upon the pale, noble
features of Don Gusman, and upon the venerable head of Ruy Lopez.
The emotions of the two players were very different. Ruy Lopez played
with a preoccupation which was not usual to him, and which rendered him
much inferior to his ordinary strength. Don Gusman, on the contrary,
stimulated by excitement, played with more than his ordinary skill. At
this moment his noble Castilian blood did not fail him, for never had
the Duke given better proof of the clearness of his mind. Such a flash
of intellect must be compared to the last flickers of the failing lamp,
or to the last song of the dying swan.
Don Gusman suddenly attacked his adversary with an impetuosity which
nearly gained him a certain victory; but Ruy Lopez, recalled to himself
by this vigorous effort, defended himself bravely. The game became more
and more complicated. The Bishop strove to gain a mate which he saw, or
believed he saw, at hand, whilst Don Gusman played with the eagerness of
certain victory. Everything was forgotten, and time passed unnoticed.
The chess-board was their universe, and a life of anxiety was in each
move.
The minutes, the quarters, the half-hours flew by, and the fatal hour
arrived at last.
A distant sound struck on their ears; it grew nearer, it increased, and
the door swinging open gave admittance to Calavar and his assistants,
who advanced into the cell with torches in their hands. They were armed
with swords, and two of them bore the block, covered with a black cloth,
on which lay an axe.
[Illustration: "THE GAME BECAME MORE AND MORE COMPLICATED."]
The torches were placed in the receptacle prepared for them, whilst one
of the men scattered cedar sawdust on the floor. All this was the work
of a moment, while the executioner stood waiting for the prisoner.
As Calavar entered, Ruy Lopez started to his feet, in a tremor of alarm,
but the Duke did not move. His eyes were fixed upon the chess-board. It
was his turn to play. Calavar, seeing his abstracted gaze, advanced to
the Duke's side and placed his hand upon his shoulder.
"Come," he said.
The prisoner shuddered as if he had trodden upon a serpent.
"I must finish this game," he said, imperiously.
"It is impossible," Calavar replied.
"But, fellow, the game is mine! I can force mate in a few moves. Let me
play it out."
"I cannot. It is impossible," repeated the executioner.
"Are the three hours gone already?"
"The last stroke has just struck. We must obey the King."
The assistants, who had until then stood leaning on their swords, came
forward at these words.
The Duke was sitting against the wall, under the high window, with the
table between him and Calavar. He started to his feet.
"I shall not move until the game is over. In half an hour my head shall
be at your disposal."
"My lord," replied Calavar, "I respect you deeply, but I cannot grant
you this request. I answer for your life with mine."
Don Gusman made a gesture of impatience, and pulling off his diamond
rings, he threw them at the executioner's feet. "I mean to finish the
game," he said, carelessly.
The jewels sparkled as they rolled and settled in the dust.
"My orders are imperative," cried Calavar, "and you must pardon us,
noble Duke, if we have to use force; but the King's orders and the law
of Spain must be carried out. Obey, then, and do not waste your last
moments in a useless struggle. Speak to the Duke, my lord Bishop. Tell
him to submit to his fate."
Ruy Lopez's reply was as prompt as it was decisive. He seized the axe
which lay upon the block and swung it with both hands above his head.
"By Heaven!" he cried, "the Duke _shall_ finish his game!"
Scared by the gesture which accompanied these words, Calavar drew back
in such a fright that he stumbled and fell back on his companions. The
swords flashed from their scabbards, and the band prepared for attack.
But Ruy Lopez, who appeared to have put forth the strength of a
Hercules, cast upon the ground his heavy wooden stool.
"The first of you who passes this limit dies!" he cried in a loud voice.
"Courage, Duke!--to the attack! There are only four of these miscreants.
The last desire of your Grace shall be gratified, were I to lose my life
in the attempt. And you, wretched man, beware how you lay a finger upon
a Bishop of the Church. Down with your swords and respect the Lord's
anointed!" And Ruy Lopez continued to hurl forth, in a jargon of
Spanish and Latin, one of those formulas of excommunication and
malediction which at that period acted so strongly upon the masses of
the people.
The effect was prompt. The men stood rooted to the spot with terror,
whilst Calavar, thinking that to kill a Bishop without a sealed order
from the King was to run the risk of putting his life in jeopardy in
this world and his soul in the next, avowed himself vanquished. He knew
not what to do next. To rush with the news to the King, who was waiting
impatiently for Don Gusman's head, was only to expose himself. To attack
the prisoner and the priest would be too hazardous, for Ruy Lopez was a
man of no mean strength. The position of affairs was critical. At last
he decided to take the easiest way out of the difficulty--to wait.
"Will you promise me faithfully to give yourself up in half an hour?" he
demanded of Don Gusman.
"I promise," replied the Duke.
"Play on, then," said the executioner.
The truce being thus concluded, the players returned to their seats and
their game, whilst Calavar and his companions, forming themselves into a
circle, stationed themselves round the two players. Calavar, who was
himself a chess player, looked on with interest, and could not prevent
himself from involuntarily considering each move the players made.
Don Gusman looked up for an instant upon the circle of faces which
surrounded him, but his _sang froid_ did not abandon him.
"Never have I played in the presence of such a noble company!" he cried.
"Bear witness, rascals, that at least once in my life I have beaten Don
Lopez." Then he returned to the game with a smile upon his lips. The
Bishop gripped the handle of the axe which he still held in his hand.
"If I were only sure of escaping from this tigers' den," he thought, "I
would break every head of the four of them."