HOW TWO WOMEN DISCUSSED THE MAKING OF THEIR FORTUNES--HOW TWO CHILDREN
DIVERTED THEMSELVES--AND HOW TWO MEN PLOTTED TREASON
It would be difficult to describe the feelings of Don Suero, and his
rage, when he learned, on entering the castle with reinforcements, which
he considered quite sufficient to destroy the bandits,--as he believed
that but few were left alive after the falling of the arched roof,--that
they had fled, carrying Teresa away with them. When he received this
news regarding his sister, he at once thought of Sancha, and anxiously
asked what had become of her. His retainers were not able to give him
this information, as the confusion and terror, which reigned in the
castle when the bandits abandoned it, had not permitted them to see
whether they had carried off any others with the Infanta. He ran at
once, filled with fear and uneasiness, to the chamber which Sancha
occupied in the lower floor of the castle. The door was locked. Don
Suero threw himself violently against it, and as it did not yield, he
cried out--
"Sancha, Sancha! open the door; the bandits have fled."
Don Suero heard bolts drawn and articles of furniture pulled away, which
evidently had been placed there to strengthen the door. It was then
partially opened. Sancha stood there, trembling, and pale as a corpse.
The count uttered a cry of joy on seeing her, and the girl threw herself
into his arms, murmuring with difficulty--
"O my lord, can I believe my eyes? Is it indeed true that your life has
not been taken by the daggers of the robbers; that a life more precious
to me than my own has been preserved for me? During the fierce combat
which has just taken place, I put my ear to the keyhole to try to hear
your voice. I heard it at first, but then it ceased. I believed you were
dead, and I searched for a knife or some other weapon with which to
pierce my heart and breathe my last at the same time as you; but I could
find nothing; I had no means of ending my life. The cries of 'Fire! the
castle is on fire!' came at that moment to my ears, and I felt quite
sure that the Castle of Carrion was about being reduced to ashes. I then
bolted this door and heaped up the furniture against it, in order that
no one could enter to save me from the flames, so that my ashes might be
mingled with yours."
Sancha had in reality fastened and barricaded her door in order to
protect herself against the fury of the bandits, and terror had changed
her appearance; but she had learned to take advantage of all the
different chances of life, and as an excellent opportunity presented
itself of adorning herself with a fresh claim to the love of Don Suero,
she profited by it. She felt fully persuaded that the count loved her,
and as, from the first day she entered the Castle of Carrion, she had
had numerous opportunities of studying lovers' ways, she knew that they
are credulous in proportion to the love that dominates and blinds them.
"The count," she had said to herself, "will believe me madly in love
with him, if I let him see that, without him, I look upon life as of no
value."
And Sancha had not deceived herself, for Don Suero interrupted her,
clasping her to his breast, and exclaiming in passionate accents--
"Sancha! my own Sancha! How stupid I have often been, doubting of your
love! I will be your slave as long as I live, and if death should snatch
you from my side--then Sancha, I shall cease to live also."
The girl abandoned the respectful tone and manners with which she had
received the count, hanging from his neck and making use of her most
winning caresses.
"O my love, my sweet charmer, my deity, my all! Should a day come when
you would thrust me from your arms, cast me from your heart,--then
plunge your dagger in my breast, and my death will not be so full of
anguish."
"Throw you from my arms? Cast you from my heart? Never, Sancha, never!
Bonds unite us which not even death can break."
"Ah!" exclaimed the young woman in a sad tone of voice, and as if
suddenly all strength had left the arms which had clasped the neck of
Don Suero, she let them fall down, as if she were overcome with fear.
"The bonds of love unite us, it is true, and they are the only ones
which establish the union between man and woman in private life; but can
one always live shut up in a castle, or in a miserable cabin? What men
and women are there who do not sometimes appear in public? To the eyes
of the vulgar it is only permitted to them to present themselves in it
with one name--with that of husband and wife. There will be tournaments
and other festivals to which you must go; you will have to be present at
the Court and assist at its entertainments. Will you have me then at
your side, and will I be able to satisfy that desire, that imperious
necessity, of hearing constantly your voice, and of warming myself in
the fire of your eyes?"
Don Suero was fascinated by his love and by the words of that cunning
and ambitious peasant girl; not so much, however, as to suddenly abandon
his aristocratic feelings and his pride of birth. For Don Suero,
although one of the vilest of men, believed himself to be one of the
noblest cavaliers of Spain, not considering that nobility of birth is
valueless when nobleness of heart is absent. Who was Sancha, that the
Count of Carrion could bestow his hand on her? The count asked himself
that question before replying to that of Sancha, and thus, doubtless, he
answered it: "She is an obscure peasant girl; she is the daughter of a
labourer, who has been well cudgelled more than once by not only
grandees like me, but by miserable, beggarly hidalgos; she is the pupil
of Mari-Perez; she is a woman whom I love only for her beauty." Yes, in
that way the count must have answered himself, for he replied to Sancha,
with marked disdain--
"You hold the love of the noble Count of Carrion of so little value that
you ambition still more? Do you not consider yourself sufficiently
honoured and happy with him as you are? Sancha, if you desire that my
love should not change into hatred, if you desire to be the mistress of
my riches and of my heart, if you desire, as you say, never to leave my
side, be content to remain as you now are."
"My ambition is satisfied with being as I am," answered the girl; and
she added, again throwing her arms round the neck of the count, "Pardon
me, my sweet love, for my affection caused me to forget for the moment
my humble extraction and the honour which I owe to you. I asked of
public opinion what bonds were those which guaranteed to a woman the
fidelity of a man, and I was told that they were those of marriage. My
mind was confused by the joy of seeing you uninjured at my side, and I
was guided by the views of ordinary people."
The count was calmed down by this apology. Sancha had learned much at
the side of Mari-Perez, and felt that she could not then persist in
urging her ambitious longings. The first step had been taken; there was
time enough to continue the journey, and she would await an opportune
time to do so. Cunning and perseverance were necessary, for she was
playing for a very valuable stake--that of becoming Countess of Carrion.
The next day an old woman in ragged garments approached the castle. Her
face was bandaged, as if it were wounded, and she leaned on a staff,
asking charity from the passers-by. "That old woman," narrates the
"Chronicle," "stopped under the window of the girl's room, and, weeping
bitterly, asked for alms in the names of God and of the Holy Virgin; and
when the girl heard her she went to the window, and they spoke for some
time in secret." We, however, are more fully informed than the writer of
these lines, and know what they were talking about.
The girl, indeed, went to the window, as soon as she heard the voice of
the old woman, and said to her in a low voice--
"The count is mad in love with me."
"That is all right, my daughter," replied the old woman joyfully; "if he
loves you, and if you profit by my lessons, we shall succeed in what we
desire, and shall not have to live by amusing hidalgos, who must be
flattered and made much of for their good looks. O my daughter, I was
very uneasy respecting what took place last night in the castle, until I
was informed in the town that the bandits only carried off the Infanta."
"Go away, mother Mari-Perez, for if the count should recognise you and
see you speaking to me, we might, perchance, lose all we gained up to
the present."
"I will do so, daughter," said Mari-Perez, for we now know that it was
she. "Please God, when I see you again you will be the wife of Don
Suero."
"I hope so, mother."
And the old woman walked off from the castle, commending to God and all
the saints the lady, from whom people thought she had received bounteous
alms.
Let us now return to Don Suero. The reader can calculate how enamoured
he was of Sancha, having seen him occupied with her for some minutes,
just at a time that was the least suitable for love affairs. It is not
easy to guess how long he would have remained by the side of the peasant
girl, if his nephews, Diego and Fernando, had not arrived on the scene.
The two boys were looking for him in the vicinity of Sancha's chamber,
calling out his name in loud voices. Don Suero heard them, and went out
at once to meet them.
"O uncle," cried out Diego, on seeing him, "what a lot of dead men there
are down below and in the passages! If you only knew how afraid we were
when we heard the awful uproar throughout the castle! Fernando and I
were in bed, and when some men came into our room we pretended to be
asleep. Tell us, is it true that they have taken off our aunt?"
"Yes, my children," answered Don Suero, as he liked the boys very much,
chiefly because he had noticed their evil dispositions.
"I am glad of it," said Fernando, "for she was always scolding us
because we did not say our prayers, and because we stuck pins in the
dogs and cats, and cut off the hens' feet, to see how they would walk
lame."
Don Suero almost repented of his work, that is to say, of the bad
education which he had given to his nephews, when he heard them speak in
such a way of his sister, for he loved Teresa, although his affection
was of that barbarous and tyrannical nature which tortures while it
caresses.
"Be silent, and do not speak badly of your aunt," said the count; "go
back to your beds."
"We want to see first the dead and the wounded men," replied Diego. "If
you were only to see all the blood that is coming from their wounds, and
the gestures they are making."
"And I want to see them too," said Fernando.
Don Suero did not hear these cruel words of the children, for he had
hurriedly walked off towards the corridors where the fight had been the
hottest.
His vassals, the peasants who had come with him, were busy in aiding the
wounded of both sides.
"God's anger! what are you doing, fellows?" exclaimed the count, seeing
that his vassals were attending to the wounded bandits. "Kill all those
that belonged to that cursed band; let that be your first care."
"My lord, do you know what you order?" was said to him from all sides.
"The Vengador has sent to tell us that the Infanta Doña Teresa is held
as a hostage for the lives and liberty of all those of his band who are
here, and that Guillen, who would not leave your sister, will also
answer for them with his life."
"Oh!" exclaimed Don Suero, almost howling with rage, and stamping on the
ground, "why does not the ground open and swallow up the castle and all
in it? The bandits shall die, even though my sister dies also! My
sister--poor Teresa! No, no, care for them and bind their wounds, let
none of them die, for those ruffians--may God confound them!--would kill
my sister without pity."
The count then took precautions for the proper guarding of the entrances
into the castle, and sent off his vassals, except a few whom he retained
to keep watch on the ramparts with the few crossbow-men who were still
alive and uninjured after the fight.
When the townspeople left the castle, Bellido Dolfos entered it, and
proceeded to the apartment of the count, who was preparing to take some
rest. He was covered with blood, which was dropping from a wound in the
front part of his head; his face was pallid and disfigured, his voice
was feeble, and his legs bent under him at every step.
Bellido considered that he had a just right to treat Don Suero with
familiarity, considering the services he had rendered him, and the
pitiful condition in which he now was on account of those services; he
therefore entered the chamber without any previous intimation, and
before he was perceived he threw himself down on an arm-chair. It
creaked with the weight of Bellido, and Don Suero then turned round, and
seeing a wounded man whom he did not recognise, doubtless by reason of
the blood which covered his countenance, he stepped backwards and
exclaimed--
"May Lucifer confound anyone who dares to enter my chamber! Get out of
this at once, fellow, whether you belong to my men, or to the band of
the accursed Vengador! It was enough for me to give orders that the
wounded should be cared for, without having to attend to them myself."
"Don't you know me, count?" said Bellido in a weak voice. "Don't you
recognise your faithful servant, Bellido Dolfos?"
"Bellido!" exclaimed Don Suero, approaching the traitor quickly. "You
are wounded, you are losing your blood. How did you get into such a
state, tell me,--but no, it is necessary first to staunch your wounds."
The count summoned his domestics, and at once sent for one of the
townsmen who practised the art of surgery, and who then happened to be
in the castle, lending his aid to the wounded. A moment afterwards he
arrived and bound up the wounds.
Bellido, whose wounds were not dangerous, according to the opinion of
him who had attended to them, felt himself much relieved, and he and the
count remained alone in the room.
"I was very uneasy regarding you, as I knew nothing as to what happened
to you," said Don Suero. "I feared that some misfortune had come upon
you."
"What troubles me most," replied Bellido, "is that the Vengador and
Rui-Venablos have escaped from the trap we set for them, and even got
away, carrying prisoners with them."
"Now, leaving that for the present, tell me how you received those
wounds, and where you were from the time the attack commenced until you
came here."
"I shall tell you all in a few words, for my head is not in a condition
for much talking. I swear to you that I will go out of my mind
altogether, or else exterminate the Vengador and his band. However,
learn now how I received this cursed wound. The entire band entered by
the postern, and I remained outside, having taken advantage of the
darkness, of the tumult, and of the bushes which surround that part of
the castle. When all were within, I approached the door, shut it, and
fastened it as well as I could, taking advantage of the nails with large
protruding heads, which are on its exterior, for the purpose of
resisting blows from outside. When the arch began to bulge down just
before falling, many of the bandits made a rush to the door, trying to
escape through it; I did my utmost to keep it shut, using all my
strength, but, notwithstanding, the bandits pushed it forward against
me; suddenly the arch fell in, and doubtless the block of stone, which
had occasioned its fall, rolled towards the postern, and, striking
violently against it, dashed it outwards, and I received such a blow on
my head that I was thrown several feet away on the ground, deprived of
my senses; and know not how the nails did not split my head open. When I
regained consciousness, I found myself covered with blood and in very
great pain; I tried to rise, but I fell again on the ground, and
remained there for a long time, until, making a fresh effort, I was able
to come here, having heard the bandits depart, and the townsmen return
to their homes, talking together as they went."
"You shall be well rewarded for all you have suffered in serving me,"
said Don Suero, holding out his hand to Bellido. "I promised you three
hundred gold marks if the Vengador and his band were destroyed, and I
shall pay you the full amount. If they were not all killed by the
falling of the arched roof, it was my fault, and not yours. But, as you
know more of the constitution of the band than I do, think you that the
Vengador will be able to get together again a band such as that which he
has now lost?"
"I swear to you that he will not be able to do so, nor even keep with
him the men that he now has," answered Bellido, in so confident a tone
of voice that the count was agreeably surprised.
"And who will conquer him, when the brotherhood of the Salvadores, in
whom all the grandees of the country have such confidence, has not
succeeded, and probably will never succeed, in suppressing the bandits?"
"I alone."
"You?"
"Yes. Do you think that Bellido Dolfos will be discouraged because he
stumbles at the beginning of a journey? Do you believe that it is the
gold from your coffers that urges him to make short work of the Vengador
and his band? If you so think, and so believe, you know me but little,
count. In souls like mine there is no place for discouragement, nor for
the forgetting of insults. The Vengador and Rui-Venablos dared to call
me traitor and to point their daggers at my breast. I would lose a
hundred lives rather than relinquish the chastisement of such audacity."
"You are wounded and weak from loss of blood. It will be some time
before you can attack the Vengador; meanwhile, he will have time to
reorganise his band."
"The wound which I have received will favour my projects."
"I do not understand you, Bellido."
"It is easy to understand me, my lord count. As soon as I can travel,
which will be in a few days, I shall set out to rejoin the Vengador. The
bandits will believe that I received the wound when the arch fell in,
and I will tell them that I had a miraculous escape. I will relate to
them a long story of the sufferings which I went through before I could
get back to them, and if formerly they simply looked on me as a member
of the band, they will in the future not alone consider me as such, but
also as one who became a victim through my devotion to it, and through
the cruelty of the Count of Carrion. At this moment I cannot tell you
exactly to what plans I must resort in order to win the full confidence
of the Vengador and his men, because my head is not capable of thinking
them out, but you shall know them soon, and your desires and mine shall
be fulfilled."
"Bellido, you are my best friend," said the count, again extending his
hand to the traitor. "All the gold in the world would not be too much to
reward your skill and the services which you are rendering me."
He then opened a strong chest and took money from it, which he handed to
Bellido, saying--
"Here are the three hundred marks, which you have so well earned."
The eyes of Bellido shone as brightly as the gold which the count had
placed in his hand.
"Look there," added Don Suero, pointing to the interior of the chest,
which certainly contained a treasure; "see how much gold I have,
wherewith to reward your services, should we succeed in exterminating
the bandits."
The eyes of Bellido shone like burning coals, and seemed as if they
wished to attract the gold, which they devoured, as the magnet attracts
iron.
"You will return to the camp of the bandits," said Don Suero, "as soon
as you are able, and--count on my gratitude. My sister is there, and I
fear that they will take base advantage of her weakness. Watch over her,
Bellido, for the noble family of the lords of Carrion must not have a
fresh crime committed by the band of the Vengador to lament over."
"Trust in me," replied Bellido. "Permit me now to retire and seek some
repose amid the wounded bandits, so that I may be still thought one of
them, and then watch them, should you intend to set them free to rejoin
their companions when they are strong enough to do so."
"Such is my intention," said Don Suero, "and the sooner the better, for
the Vengador will not give freedom to my sister until every man of his
who is alive returns to him."
"You will often hear me protest against your bad treatment of the
wounded, and even threaten you with the vengeance of the band. Pretend
that what I do angers you, but bear with me, for all will turn out to
your advantage."
"I shall do as you desire, Bellido."
Don Suero and Bellido Dolfos then separated, both content; the former
with fresh hopes of destroying the bandits, and the latter confident of
revenging himself and, at the same time, of making the count more and
more his debtor.