ALL DANDIES ARE NOT COWARDS
It was not, however, so simple a matter as Rollo supposed to obtain an
audience with the Queen-Regent of Spain. Her daughter, willing, but by
no means eager to see her mother, had at last been taken up to her room
by one of the serving-men, whose faithfulness during the night had been
so greatly stimulated by La Giralda's declared intention of shooting
either of them who should fail from his post for an instant.
To the same gold-laced functionary, upon his return, Rollo made his
request.
"Tell her Majesty that those gentlemen who last night defended the
palace, wish to be admitted into her presence in order that they may
represent to her the danger of remaining longer in a house exposed alike
to the attacks of bloodthirsty villains and to the ravages of the
plague."
"Her Majesty, being otherwise engaged, is not at present able to receive
the gentlemen," was the civil but unsatisfactory answer brought back.
Rollo stood a moment fuming, biting his thumb-nail as he had a fashion
of doing when thinking deeply. Then he asked a sudden question--
"Where is El Sarria?"
"Without on the terrace--doing a little sentry duty on his own
account," said the Sergeant. "I told him that the gipsies, being walkers
in darkness, had gone off for at least twelve hours, and that there was
no use in any further vigilance till nightfall, should it be our
ill-fortune to spend another night in this place. But" (here the
Sergeant shrugged his shoulders very slightly, as only an Andalucian or
a Frenchman can), "well--our excellent Don Ramon is the best and bravest
of men. But it is a pity that he has not room here for more than one
idea at a time!"
And Sergeant Cardono tapped his brow with his forefinger.
"I do not know," said Rollo, smiling, "if the one idea is a good one, it
may carry a man far! But that matters nothing now. Let these two friends
of mine, Don Juan and M. de Saint Pierre, take his place on the terrace.
We have a difficult part to play upstairs, and we want only men of your
nation or mine--men neither easily excited nor yet too over-scrupulous!"
He added the last words under his breath.
And so, on pretext that it was time El Sarria should be relieved, a few
minutes thereafter John Mortimer and Etienne found themselves pleasantly
situated on the broad terrace looking out on the dry fountains and the
glittering waterfalls of La Granja, while El Sarria solemnly mounted the
stairs to hold audience with his young leader.
No great talker was El Sarria at any time, and now he had nothing to say
till Rollo informed him why he wanted his help. Then he was ready to do
everything but talk--go to the world's end, fight to the death, give up
all except Dolores (and risk even her!) that he might do the will of his
chief. El Sarria was not good at fine ethical distinctions, but he
understood obedience prompt and unquestioning, through and through and
up and down.
Rollo did not directly reveal his intentions to his followers, nor did
he take Concha into his confidence. He had not even spoken another word
to her, but a glance had passed between them, and Concha was satisfied.
It had told her much--that he loved her, that his heart held her to be
the best-beloved thing the sun shone on--that there were dangers and
difficulties before them, but that whatever happened neither would look
back nor take their hands from the plough. Yes, oh too wise sceptic, it
was indeed a comprehensive glance, yet it passed as swiftly as when in a
placid lake a swallow dips his wing in full flight and is off again with
the drops pearling from his feathers.
"I wish you to follow me, gentlemen," he said slowly. "Bring your arms.
If her Majesty the Queen-Regent of Spain will not see us, perhaps we may
fare better with the Queen's Consort! I for one intend that we shall!"
Without offering any further explanation, Rollo turned and marched
steadily but not hastily to the chamber door of Senor Munoz, Duke of
Rianzares. The liveried servant who was approaching with a jug of hot
water (the younger of La Giralda's charges on the previous night),
called out to them that they could not at that moment see his
Excellency. He was, it appeared, in the act of dressing. With the coming
of the morning light these two gentlemen of the bed-chamber had resumed
the entire etiquette of the Spanish court, or at least such modified
forms of it as, a little disarranged by altitude and the portent of an
informal and (as yet) unauthorised Prince Consort, prevailed at La
Granja.
But Rollo would have nothing of all this. Enough time had been wasted.
He merely moved his head a hair's-breadth to the side, and the young man
in gold lace, a most deserving _valet-de-chambre_, found himself looking
down at the curved edge of El Sarria's sword-bayonet, whose point
touched his Adam's apple in a suggestive manner. He promptly dropped the
silver pipkin, whereupon the shaving-water of the Duke slowly decanted
itself over the _parqueterie_ floor. A portion scalded the valet's
finely shaped leg, yet he dared not complain, being in mortal fear of
the sword-bayonet. But in spite of the danger, his mind ran on the
question whether the skin would accompany the hose when he had an
opportunity to remove the latter in order to examine his injuries.
Rollo knocked on the Duke's door with loud confident knuckles, not at
all as the gentleman with the shaving-water would have performed that
feat.
Whereupon, inclining his ear, he heard hasty footsteps crossing the
floor, and, suspecting that if he stood on any sort of ceremony he might
find the door bolted and barred in his face, Rollo turned the handle and
quietly intruded a good half of a bountifully designed military
riding-boot within the apartment of the Duke.
So correctly had he judged the occupant's intentions that an iron bolt
was actually pushed before Don Fernando discovered that his door would
not close, owing to an unwonted obstruction.
"Your Excellency," cried Rollo, in a stern voice, "we desire to speak
with you on a question which concerns the lives of all within this
castle. Being unable to obtain an interview with her Majesty the
Queen-Regent, we make bold to request you to convey our wishes and--our
intentions to her!"
"I am dressing--I cannot see you, not at present!" cried a voice from
within.
"But, Senor, see you we must and shall," said Rollo, firmly; "in half a
minute we shall enter your apartment, so that you have due notice of our
intention."
For this Rollo of ours had an etiquette of his own applicable even to
circumstances so unique as obtained at the Castle of La Granja--which,
had the occurrences we describe not been the severest history, might
justly have been called the chiefest of all "Chateaux en Espagne."
Watch in hand Rollo stood, absorbed in the passage of the thirty seconds
of which he had given notice, and had not the Sergeant suddenly dashed
the chamber door open, the young Scot's foot would certainly have been
crushed to a jelly. For by this act the excellent Duke of Rianzares was
disclosed in the very act of dropping a ponderous marble bust of his
wife's grandfather upon the young man's toes.
After that, of course, there was no more ceremony with Senor Munoz. He
was immediately relieved of his weapons, ordered to the farther side of
the room away from all possible avenues of escape, and further guarded
by the Sergeant, who bent upon him a stern and threatening brow.
Then Rollo began to develop his intentions in a loud clear voice. For
if, as he suspected, Maria Cristina chanced to be within earshot, it
might save an explanation in duplicate if she should hear at first hand
what he was now about to communicate to her consort.
On either side of the young man were his two aides, the Sergeant and
Ramon Garcia, the first gaunt, tough, and athletic, of any age between
thirty and sixty, courage and invincible determination written plainly
on his brow, and in his eyes when as now he was angered, the Angel of
Death himself standing like a threat. On the other side stood Don Ramon
Garcia, gigantic in stature, deep-chested and solemn, driven by fate to
actions of blood, but all the same with the innocent heart of a little
child within his breast.
"Senor Munoz," said Rollo, speaking sharp and sudden, "let me introduce
these gentlemen to your notice. They are two of the most famous men in
all Spain and worthy of your acquaintance. This on my left is Senor Don
Jose Maria, late of the town of Ronda, and this on my right is Don Ramon
Garcia, better known as El Sarria of Aragon!"
For the first time the colour slowly forsook the handsome but somewhat
florid countenance of the Duke of Rianzares. He was, as his valet had
truly said, engaged at his toilet, and it is certainly difficult to look
impressive in a flowered dressing-gown. Being Spaniards and therefore
gentlemen, El Sarria and the Sergeant bowed slightly at Rollo's
introduction, and stood waiting. Rollo, noways loth, continued his
speech.
"Your Excellency is now aware of the names of two of those whom you may
thank for your safety. I myself, to whom the Queen-Regent owes the
recovery of her daughter, am a Scottish gentleman of good birth. My
companions below are severally the Count de Saint Pierre, a French
nobleman of ancient family, and Don Juan Mortimer, an English merchant
of unchallenged probity.
"Here therefore are five men who have defended the Queen-Regent with
their lives, and who now judge it to be necessary for her and the
Princess that they should put themselves immediately under our
protection and leave this place of instant and terrible danger!"
"The Queen will not be dictated to by any combination of men
whatsoever," the Duke answered; "she has resolved to remain at La
Granja, and therefore nothing can move her!"
Rollo bowed gracefully, but there was a dangerous glitter in his eye
which might have warned his opponent.
"Your Excellency," he went on, with great calmness, "we look confidently
for your voice and interest in this matter. You will have the goodness
to introduce us into the presence of the Queen-Regent. You are at
liberty to announce our intentions and prepare her Majesty for a visit!"
A quick light flashed over the indifferent and dogged countenance of
Senor Munoz. The hope of escape was written there as plainly as if
printed in Roman characters across his brow. But for this also Rollo had
made provision.
"Guard that inner door," he cried to El Sarria; and the giant moved
swiftly to his post, motioning away the gentleman-in-waiting as one
might displace a dog from a cushion. Then Rollo stepped briskly into the
corridor, set his hand to his mouth and called a single word aloud.
"_Concha!_"
And the girl stood before him almost ere his voice had ceased to echo
along the corridors. Silent she waited his pleasure. For this time it
was not Rollo, upon whose love for her the new sun had risen, who called
her, but Colonel Rollo Blair, the chief of the expedition of which she
was no insignificant part.
"You are armed?" he queried, as she followed him within the door and
her quick eyes took in the scene.
The girl nodded a little resentfully. Surely it was a superfluous
question. An Andalucian maiden, whose lover's life is in danger every
hour, always goes armed. But of course it was Rollo's duty as an officer
to make certain. All the same he might have known. _She_ would.
"Then," said Rollo, firmly, "you will accompany this gentleman to the
apartments of the Queen-Regent. You will permit him ten minutes' private
conversation with her Majesty in your presence. You will then accompany
him back. During his absence he is not to lay his hand upon any weapon,
have any personal contact with the Queen, or open any drawer, cabinet,
or case-of-arms. Also he is to return with you as soon as you inform him
that the time allotted is at an end. Here is my watch!"
"And if the _Senor_ should refuse to comply with any of these demands?"
suggested Concha.
"He will not refuse," answered Rollo; "but if the thing should happen,
why, you have full discretion! You understand?"
Concha nodded, and her lips, ordinarily so sweet and yielding, grew firm
with determination. She understood. So also did Munoz.
"You do not need to say more," she said clearly; "I am an Andalucian."
Rollo turned to Munoz. Not being a Spaniard, he thought it necessary to
make the matter yet more clear.
"You have heard," he said; "treachery will do you no good, and may
indeed suddenly deprive her reigning Majesty of the inestimable
consolations of your companionship. Be good enough to accompany this
young lady, sir. In ten minutes I shall expect your return with a
favourable answer. Permit them to pass, Don Ramon!"
But the consort of the Queen-Regent Maria Cristina fingered his chin
uncertainly without moving, and Rollo's brow darkened ominously, while
the Sergeant began to look hopeful. Neither were in the mood to put up
calmly with any further refusal or hesitation.
"I am quite willing--nay, even anxious to oblige you," said Munoz; "I
would gladly undertake the commission, but--but----!"
He stopped as if searching for words, still, however, rubbing his chin.
"But what?" thundered Rollo. The blood of all the Blairs was rising.
"Well, to put the matter plainly, I have never appeared before her
Majesty in this condition before. You would not have me go as I am?"
"In what condition?" cried the Scot in great astonishment.
"Unshaven, and with my hair undressed. That idiot there"--pointing to
the trembling valet--"spilt the water just when you came in."
"Nay," laughed Rollo, much relieved that there was to be no shedding of
blood, "indeed you must forgive him for that. El Sarria there is
entirely to blame. And on this occasion I trust that her Most Catholic
Majesty will pardon the informality of your appearance. You can point
out to her that you come, not on your own part, but as the ambassador of
others who were somewhat over-earnest in persuading you. I am sure that
my two friends here will share with me the very serious responsibility
of your unshaven chin."
"That I shall not fail to represent to her Majesty," said the Duke,
bowing imperturbably.
And without any further objections he went out, followed by Concha. And
that young lady with all the dignity of responsibility swelling in pride
under the crossed folds of her _rebozo_, did not vouchsafe even so much
as one glance to Rollo, but passed her commanding officer with eyes like
those of a rear-rank man on parade, fixed immovably on the broad back of
Senor Munoz. As soon as they were alone, however, she moved up
alongside, fingering her pistol-butt significantly. For this little
Concha was quite resolved to use her discretion to the uttermost should
any treachery be intended--aye, or even the appearance of it.
During their absence the remaining quartette in the chamber of Don
Fernando Munoz held their ground without a word of mutual converse.
Rollo stared out of the window and listened eagerly to the slamming of
doors and the far-away murmur of voices in the direction of the royal
apartments. Ramon, like the natural fine gentleman he was, fixed his
eyes on the Persian rugs which strewed the polished floor and awaited
orders. But Sergeant Cardono, unconditioned by any such fine scruples,
regarded with undisguised contempt mingled with pity the gold and ivory
fittings of the ducal dressing-table, the plated lamps, the gilt
candelabra, the Dresden china shepherdesses holding out ash-trays, and
all the varied elegancies which the affection and gratitude of a Queen
had provided for the tobacco-seller of Torrejon de Ardoz, who, like our
own Shakespeare, was said to have held many a steed outside his father's
door for a meagre dole of pence. For thus by merit, diverse in kind it
is true, do the really great soar above the insignificance of their
birth.
Thus in a straining silence, acute almost to breaking point, they
waited. Yet something of the epic's argument came to them even at that
distance--a shrill woman's voice vehemently debating, then a bass mutter
of masculine argument, a quick stamp, distinctly feminine, upon the
floor, then the slamming of a door, and on the back of that the sound of
returning footsteps.
"The Queen refuses to receive you, I am sorry to inform you, gentlemen,"
said the Duke. "That I did my best this lady will bear me witness. But
having had no opportunity of private conference with her Majesty, I was
unable (as indeed I anticipated) to effect anything."
Rollo turned to Concha without wasting words on his former ambassador.
"Return to the Queen's chamber," he said, "and inform her Majesty that
we will wait her pleasure here for other ten minutes. And if by the end
of that time we are not honoured with a visit from her Majesty, we shall
(most reluctantly and with all respect) be compelled to shoot Senor
Fernando Munoz, whose person we hold as a hostage for her Majesty's
complaisance in the affair we have undertaken. We can waste no more
time."
Concha's lips became more rigid than ever. They looked as if they never
would, should, or could be kissed. Juno herself, passing sentence upon
the object of great Jove's latest admiration, could not have appeared
more inflexibly stern.
But she only saluted, turned on her heel like a drill-sergeant, and
marched out by the side door.
In these trying circumstances the Duke of Rianzares displayed an
unexpected and wholly admirable calm. He leaned against the mantelpiece,
glanced once at the ormolu timepiece with the address of a Paris maker
below the winding-holes, and fell again to fingering his unshaven chin.
He then turned quickly toward the trembling valet, who regarded him with
eyes which seemed to apologise for such unprecedented circumstances.
"There would have been time to shave me even yet," he said, "only that
you were fool enough to spill the shaving-water."
Then, as if relinquishing hope, he sighed again and fell listlessly to
regarding himself in the mirror. He was a handsome man, even with an
unshaven chin that showed over a dressing-gown with yellow flowers on a
purple ground. Also the pulses of the tobacco-seller's son of the Ardoz
_estanco_ must have been urged by a pretty equal-beating heart, to
enable him to take matters so calmly.
The Sergeant muttered to himself once or twice as if making mental note
of an important fact which he desired to remember.
"All dandies are not cowards," was what he was saying.