"FOR ROLLO'S SAKE"
Yet for all this brave adventure Concha was as far as ever from meeting
with General Elio. She had not even reached Vera, where it sits proudly
on the northern slopes of the Moncayo--not though El Sarria had quite
correctly pointed out the path, and though La Perla had served her like
the very pearl and pride of all Andalucian steeds.
For once more, as so often in this history and in all men's lives, the
cup had slipped on its way to the lip, the expected unexpected had
happened--and Concha found herself in the wrong camp.
She rode at full speed (as we have seen) out of sight--that is, the
sight of La Perla's owner. And owing to the red _boina_--which Master
Adrian considered to become her so well, she came very near to riding
out of this history. For, through the higher _arroyo_ of Aranda de
Moncayo, which (like a slice cut clean out of a bride's cake) divides
the shoulder of the mountain, she rode directly into the camp of a field
force operating against Cabrera under the personal command of General
Espartero, the future dictator and present Commander-in-Chief of all the
armies of the Queen-Regent.
At first she was nowise startled, thinking only that Vera and General
Elio were nearer than had been represented. "Well," she thought, "so
much the better!"
But as she came near she saw the measured tread of sentries to and fro.
She observed the spick-and-span tents, the uniforms and the shining
barrels of the muskets, which in another moment would have arrested her
headlong course.
Concha at once perceived, even without looking at the standard which
drooped at the tent door of the officer in command, that this could be
no mere headquarters of Carlist _partidas_.
As women are said by the Wise Man to be of their lover's religion if he
have one, and if he have none, never to miss it; so Concha was quite
ready to be of the politics which were most likely to deliver Rollo from
his present difficulties. Therefore, taking the red _boina_ from her
head, an act which disturbed still more the severe precision of her
locks, she dashed at full speed into the camp, crying, "_Viva la Reina!
Viva Maria Cristina! Viva Isabel Segunda!_"
Checking her steed before the standard, Concha first saluted the
surprised group. Then giving a hand to the nearest (and best-looking)
officer, she dismounted with a spring light as the falling of a leaf
from a tree. With great solemnity she advanced to the staff from which
the heavy standard hung low, and taking the embroidered fringe between
finger and thumb, touched it with her lips.
Yet if you had called our little Concha a humbug--which in certain
aspects of her character would have been a perfectly proper
description--she would have replied in the utmost simplicity, and with a
completely disarming smile, "But I only did it for Rollo's sake!"
Which was true in its way, but (strangely enough) the thought of an
audience always stirred Mistress Concha to do her best--"for Rollo's
sake!"
"Take me to the General," she said, with a glance round the circle; "I
have ridden from the camp of the enemy to bring him tidings of the
utmost importance. Every moment is precious!"
"But the General is asleep," a staff-officer objected; "he gave orders
that he was not to be called on any account."
"Tell him that upon his hearing my news depend the lives of the
Queen-Regent and her daughter, the young Queen. The Cause itself hangs
in the balance!"
And to hear Concha pronounce the last words was enough to have made a
convert of Don Carlos himself. Who could have supposed that till within
a few hours she had been heart and soul with the enemies of "The Cause"?
Certainly not the smart Madrid officers who stood round, wishing that
they had shaved more recently, and that their "other" uniforms had not
been hanging, camphor-scented on account of the moths, in the
close-shuttered lodgings about the Puerta del Sol.
The Commander-in-Chief solved the difficulty, however, at that very
moment, by appearing opportunely at the door of his tent.
General Espartero at this time was a man of forty-five. His services in
South America had touched his hair with grey. In figure he was heavily
built, but, in spite of fever-swamps and battle-wounds, still erect and
soldierly.
"What news does the _Senorita_ bring?" he asked with a pleasant smile.
"That I can only tell to yourself, General," the girl answered; "my name
is Concha Cabezos of Seville. My father had the honour to serve with
you in the War of the Independence!"
"And a good soldier he was, _Senorita_," said Espartero, courteously. "I
remember him well at Salamanca. He fought by my side like a brother!"
Now since Concha was well aware that her father had not even been
present at that crowning mercy, she smiled, and was comforted to know
that even the great General Baldomero Espartero was an Andalucian--and a
humbug.
For which the Commander-in-Chief had the less excuse, since _he_ could
not urge that it was done "for Rollo's sake!"
Concha knew better than to blurt out her news concerning the presence of
the Queen and her daughter so near the camp. That wise little woman had
her terms to make, and for so much was prepared to give so much.
Therefore from the first word she kept Rollo in the foreground of her
narrative. He it was who, single-handed, had saved the little Queen. He
it was who had defended La Granja against the gipsies. It was, indeed,
somewhat unfortunate that the Queen-Regent should have conceived a
certain prejudice against him, but then (here Concha smiled) the General
knew well what these great ladies were--on mountain-heights one day, in
deep sea-abysses the next. Rollo had compelled the party to leave the
infected district of La Granja for the healthy one of the Sierra de
Moncayo. What else, indeed, could he do? The road to Madrid was in the
hands of roving _partidas_ of the malignant, as his Excellency knew, and
it was only in this direction that there was any chance of safety. That
was Master Rollo's whole offence.
Most unfortunately, however, when on the very threshold of safety, his
party had been ambushed and taken by Cabrera. But the captor's force was
a small one, and with boldness and caution the whole band of the
malignants, together with their prisoners, might be secured. The Carlist
General had threatened to murder the two Queens and the Duke of
Rianzares at sunrise, as was his butcherly wont. And if Espartero would
deliver the royal party, not only was his own future assured, but the
fortunes of all who had taken any part in the affair.
The General listened carefully, looking all the while, not at Concha,
but down at the little folding table of iron which held a map of
Northern Spain. He continued to draw figures of eight upon it with his
forefinger till Concha's eyes wearied of watching him, as she nervously
waited his decision.
"How came you here?" he asked at last.
"I borrowed a mare and a Carlist _boina_, and rode hither as fast as
horseflesh could carry me. I heard from a friend of the Cause that your
command was in the neighbourhood!"
"And from whom did you receive that intelligence? I thought the fact was
pretty well concealed? Indeed, we only arrived an hour ago!"
Concha cast about for a name. The necessary fiction was also, of course,
"for Rollo's sake." A thought struck her. She would serve another
comrade, as it were, _en passant_.
"From a good friend in the Carlist ranks," she said, "one Sergeant
Cardono!"
The General looked a little nonplussed, for, like many generals of all
nationalities, he had no slight _penchant_ for omniscience.
"I never heard of him," he said sharply. "Who may he be?"
Concha leaned yet closer and laid a small, soft, brown hand gently upon
the General's gold-embroidered cuff. The General, not being so simple as
he looked, drew back his arm a little so that the hand rested a moment
on his wrist ("for Rollo's sake") before it was gently withdrawn.
"You have heard of Jose Maria of Ronda?" she whispered.
The General's face lighted up, and as swiftly dulled down.
"Certainly; what Andalucian has not?" he said. "But Jose Maria is dead.
He was executed at Salamanca!"
"Ah," said Concha, "that tale was for the consumption of Don Carlos and
his friends! In fact, he is the best spy we Nationals ever had--aye, or
ever will have!"
"Ah!" said Espartero, lost in thought. There were some matters which
seemed to need clearing up, but on the whole the thing looked probable.
Espartero had but recently been appointed to the district, and, being an
Andalucian, he was naturally still imperfectly acquainted with much that
had been done by his many incapable predecessors. Now, it is true that
on this occasion our Concha was inventing or rather (for the word is a
hard one to use of so charming a personality) restating as facts certain
hints which had fallen from the lips of La Giralda. But she was also
speaking from a profound knowledge of gipsy nature, which, as in the
case of Ezquerra and La Giralda herself, never attaches itself
permanently or from conviction to any cause, but uses all equally
according to whim, liking, or self-interest.
Concha, in a whirlwind of excitement, would have liked the General to
attack the Carlist camp immediately, but the more cautious Don Baldomero
only shook his head.
"That is all very well when a small force is to be rushed at any cost,"
he said, "or a strong position taken along lines previously studied by
daylight or opened up by artillery. But when our object is to preserve
the lives of persons so important to the world as the royal family of
Spain, lying at the mercy of ruffians who would not hesitate to murder
every one of them in cold blood--it is best to wait for the attack till
the morning. So I will push forward my forces on all sides, and, if all
goes well, surprise Cabrera at the earliest glimmering of dawn."
"And my friends who have suffered so much to bring this about?" urged
Concha, anxiously. "What of them?"
"I promise you, on my honour, that they shall be protected and
rewarded!" said Espartero.
"And Don Rollo, the brave Scot--even if the Queen continues to dislike
him?" persisted Concha.
"_Senorita_," smiled the General, "it will be a vastly greater peril to
the young man, I fear, if _you_ like him! He will have so many jealous
rivals on his hand!"
For Baldomero Espartero also was an Andalucian, and the men of that
province, high and low, never permit themselves to get out of practice
when there is opportunity for a compliment.
Concha looked the General full in the face with her deep, magnificent
eyes, which were aquamarine, violet, or dark-grey, according to the
light upon them. They were (as she would sometimes own) fallacious eyes,
and upon occasion were wont to express far more than their owner meant
to stand by. But, the latent love power behind them once fixed, these
same eyes could convince the most sceptical of the unalterable nature of
the affection which they professed. So it was in the present instance.
Concha merely looked at the General squarely for a moment, and said,
without flinching, "_I love him!_"
Espartero stooped and touched her brow lightly with his lips, graciously
and tenderly as a father might upon a solemn occasion. Then he gathered
up her little brown hands in his. They were trembling now, not
rock-steady as when they held the musket on the balcony at La Granja.
"My daughter," he said, "do not fear for your young Scot. Queens and
consorts and premiers are not the most powerful folk in Spain--not, at
least, so long as Baldomero Espartero, the Andalucian, commands those
good lads out there!"
Then the future Dictator stepped to his tent door, summoned a staff
officer, and ordered him to put a tent at the disposal of the young
_Senorita_. "And request the commandants of the several columns to come
immediately to me at headquarters, as also the gipsy-spy Ezquerra, our
late headsman of Salamanca!"
Thus did Mistress Concha, "for Rollo's sake!"