Upon the morning following the strange arrest King Philip was disturbed
at his orisons by a secretary made over-bold by the amazing news. He
must needs, forgetful of time and place, blurt out to his master that
El Beauvallet was taken prisoner. King Philip made no sign at all, but
went on with his prayers.
The secretary flushed scarlet and drew back. King Philip finished his
prayers and went his stately way to his cabinet.
He sat down at his desk there, placed his gouty foot upon the velvet
stool, and pondered a document. A note was laboriously written in the
margin. King Philip laid down his quill and raised his hooded eyes to
the secretary. "You said something," he stated, and folded his hands
tranquilly before him.
Vasquez, still discomposed, told the news baldly. "Sire, El Beauvallet
was captured at the house of Noveli last night!"
Philip thought it over for a moment. "That is not possible," he said at
last. "Explain yourself."
The tale came tumbling out then, garbled, of course, but sufficiently
arresting. Vasquez had it from Admiral Perinat that the Chevalier de
Guise was none other than El Beauvallet, the terrible pirate. The
Chevalier, then, was laid by the heels, and there were men in the
ante-chamber craving an audience with his Majesty.
Philip blinked once, but seemed unmoved. "The Chevalier de Guise,"
he said slowly. "His papers were in order," he announced heavily. He
looked calmly at Vasquez. "Does he admit it?" he inquired.
"No, sire, I believe not. I believe--I am sure--he sent at once to
the French Ambassador to demand his protection. But Don Maxia de
Perinat----"
Philip looked at his folded hands. "Perinat is a bungler," he said.
"One who blunders once may blunder twice. This seems to me a foolish
tale. I will see M. de Lauvinière."
The French Ambassador came in a moment later, unhurriedly, and made
his bow. His countenance was a little troubled, but he made no haste
to come to his business. Compliments passed, an idle word on some
idle matter. At length Philip said: "You have come upon some urgent
business, señor. Let me hear it."
The Ambassador bowed again. "I have come upon the strange business of
the arrest of the Chevalier de Guise, sire," he said, and paused as
though he hardly knew how to proceed.
Philip waved one hand slightly. "Take your time, señor," he said
kindly. "I perceive that you are troubled. You may trust me with your
whole mind."
This was to set the Ambassador at his ease. De Lauvinière, knowing the
King of old, inclined his head with a slightly ironic smile. The irony
went unnoticed. "Sire, the Chevalier has sent, as a subject of France,
to claim my protection," he said bluntly. "I am indeed troubled. I have
to understand that he has been arrested on suspicion of being no less a
person than Sir Nicholas Beauvallet, the sea-robber. My first impulse,
sire, was to laugh at a charge so absurd."
Philip put his finger-tips together, and over them watched the
Ambassador. "Continue, señor."
"The Chevalier, sire, very naturally denies this. His papers are in
order; I cannot find from anything that I hear that there is any other
proof to substantiate the charge than Don Maxia de Perinat's word. I
have seen Don Maxia, sire, and I must humbly confess that although he
speaks as a man altogether convinced, I cannot deem his conviction
to be sufficient evidence against the Chevalier. Moreover, sire,
it appears that a certain lady who was taken prisoner by this same
Beauvallet not so many months ago utterly denies that this man is he."
"I had not supposed it possible, señor, that El Beauvallet could be in
Spain," said Philip calmly. "You come to request his release."
The Ambassador hesitated. "Sire, this is a very strange, a very
difficult matter," he said. "It is no part of my desire to act hastily
in it."
"Rest assured, señor, we shall do nothing without careful
consideration," Philip said. "Do you identify the Chevalier?"
Again there was a momentary hesitation. "I cannot do that, sire. I am
not over-familiar with the members of the house of Guise; I have never,
to my knowledge, met this man. But from what I know of the family I did
from the first moment of seeing him suspect that this man might not be
what he claimed to be. It is in my mind that the Chevalier de Guise
should be a younger man than this, nor can I trace any resemblance to
the Guises in his countenance."
Philip weighed that. "It might thus chance, señor," he said.
"Certainly, sire. I may well be mistaken. But upon my first meeting
with him I wrote into France to discover more of him. The answer to
my letter must be awaited before I can state whether this man is the
Chevalier or whether he is not. I have come here to-day, sire, to
request you, very humbly, to be patient a few weeks, to hold your hand,
in effect, until I receive the answer to my letter."
Philip nodded slowly. "We shall do nothing unadvisedly," he said. "We
must think on this. You shall hear more of our decision, señor. Be sure
we should be loth to proceed against a subject of our cousin of France."
"I have to thank your Majesty for your courtesy," de Lauvinière said,
and bowed over the King's cold hand. He was ushered out of the cabinet,
and passed through the ante-chamber without delay. Perinat tried to
stop him, and shot an eager question, but de Lauvinière answered
evasively, and passed on.
The King would not see Don Maxia de Perinat. "It does not need for us
to listen to Don Maxia," he said coldly. "He will make his deposition
to the Alcalde at a later time. We will give audience to Don Cristobal
de Porres."
Don Cristobal, commander of the Guards of Castile, Governor of the
great barracks where Beauvallet was imprisoned, was awaiting the King's
pleasure in the anteroom. He was a man of some forty years of age, dark
and tall, with a grave countenance and a thin mouth half concealed by
his black mustachio and the pointed beard he wore. He came in very
promptly, and stood just inside the door, deeply bowing. "Sire!"
"We have sent for you, señor, to inquire into this matter of your
prisoner. I do not immediately understand why the _ginetes_ were called
in."
"The Casa Noveli, sire, is hard by the barracks," Porres answered.
"A gentleman came in hot haste with the news that El Beauvallet
was captured, and my lieutenant, Cruza, perhaps acted without due
reflection. I have held the man in ward against the hearing of your
Majesty's pleasure."
Philip seemed to be satisfied, for he said nothing for a moment or two,
but gazed with apparent abstraction before him. Presently he brought
his eyes back to Porres' face, and spoke abruptly. "Let search be made
in his baggage," he said. "We shall require you to keep the Chevalier
under surveillance, Don Cristobal, until such time as we make known
our further pleasure. If he travels with a servant----" he paused. "It
might be well to interrogate the man."
"Sire----!"
Philip waited.
"It was judged expedient, sire, to send early this morning to the inn
where the Chevalier lodged. I do not know sire, if this was agreeable
to your Majesty, but in consideration--the charge was of such a
nature--there was a fear----"
"Compose yourself, señor."
"In short, sire, acting a little on Don Maxia de Perinat's advice, I
caused search to be made through the Chevalier's effects, and sent
to apprehend the servant, deeming it a measure your Majesty would
approve."
"You acted precipitately," said Philip. "These things are not done
without good advice. Continue."
"I ask your Majesty's pardon if I did wrongly. When my men came to the
inn they found the--the Chevalier's baggage strewn about, his chests
and strong box broken open and empty. His money was gone, his jewels, a
sword of Ferrara make, the best of his dress--in short, sire, a seeming
robbery, committed by the servant, who had fled."
"Who had fled," repeated the King. "But continue, señor."
"This we thought a suspicious circumstance, sire, but upon question
the tapster at the inn confessed to having had speech with the servant
last night, when he was evidently making his escape. The man says that
he was something merry in his bearing, talked of his good fortune, and
said that if his master was laid by the heels it was a good riddance to
him, and he was not one to be slow to catch at opportunity."
"Possible! Possible!" said Philip. "Yet this might well be a ruse. We
have to consider all points, Don Cristobal. What said the Chevalier?"
Don Cristobal smiled rather ruefully. "The Chevalier, sire, exhibited a
very natural anger, and--in fact, sire, he demands--he is high in his
tone--that strict search should be made for the fellow. He would have
us send after the man to the Frontier, for he is left penniless. The
Chevalier, sire, was particularly enraged at the loss of his sword. He
started up, sire, and demanded to know whether the servant had made off
with this piece, and upon being told that it was not to be found, he
seemed like to fly into a very real passion. The next thing he asked,
sire, was whether his papers, too, were gone, and it seemed to me--I
was watching him closely--that he showed great relief when I could
assure him that they were safe."
"Ah, the papers were left?" Philip asked.
"They were discovered, sire, in the inner pocket of a mandilion. I
judged that the man had overlooked them in his haste. A wallet was
found on the floor with a few odd bills in it, but nothing more. The
Chevalier's linen was overturned as though the servant had sought
amongst it for something, and we found sundry other articles of
raiment."
"Let these be taken to the Chevalier," said Philip. "This is a delicate
matter, señor, needing our careful judgment."
There was the sound of a softly opened door behind him. A man came into
the room from some inner room behind Philip, a man in a priest's gown.
Philip's thin lips parted in a smile that showed teeth that were yellow
and rather pointed. "You are come opportunely, Father."
The priest had gone unobtrusively to the window, but he turned at
Philip's words, and came nearer to the King's chair. He was Father
Allen, an English Jesuit, never far from Philip's side. "You have need
of me, sire?"
"I may have need of you, Father," Philip answered cautiously. "There
is a man held in ward, Father, who is accused of being the freebooter,
Beauvallet."
"I have heard something of this, sire, from Frey Luis."
"Do you know this Beauvallet, Father?" asked Philip directly.
"I regret, sire, no. I knew his father by sight, but the sons by
hearsay only."
"A pity." Philip's smile died. He regarded the opposite wall for a
while. "I do not see what El Beauvallet does in Spain," he said, and
awaited enlightenment.
It came from Porres. "The tale is very strange, sire, almost
incredible. It is said--by the lady's cousin--that El Beauvallet came
into Spain to carry off Doña Dominica de Rada y Sylva."
Philip looked at him. It was plain that such a mad exploit was beyond
his Catholic Majesty's comprehension.
Father Allen spoke from behind the King's chair. "Beauvallet had no
need to come into Spain if that had been his purpose."
Philip nodded. "That is true. This is a very foolish tale," he said.
"Moreover, it is impossible for such a man as El Beauvallet to enter
into Spain."
"As to that, sire"--Father Allen lifted his shoulders--"there might be
ways of compassing it, if the man were bold enough."
A new voice spoke from the door behind Philip. "A man in league with
the powers of darkness could do it." A monk of the Dominican order had
come in quietly. His cowl partly shaded his face, but his eyes shone
dark and intense. He came further into the room. "I have thought on
this, sire." He sighed heavily. "Who can say what such a man might do?"
The faintest hint of a contemptuous smile flitted across Father Allen's
lips, but he said nothing.
"Consider, sire, what dreadful errand this man may have come upon,"
insisted Frey Luis in a hushed voice.
Philip brought his gaze round to the Frey. "What errand?" he asked,
puzzled.
"Sire, how shall we say that El Beauvallet would hesitate to seek the
life of even your Majesty?" Frey Luis folded his hands in the wide
sleeves of his habit and fixed his eyes on Philip.
Philip moved a paper on his desk. His brain turned this over and
detected a flaw. "If such were his errand, Frey Luis, he would have
made the attempt when I saw him in this room with only yourself
present," he said.
"Sire, who knows in what cunning ways Satan goes to work?"
Don Cristobal interposed. "I do not think that this man is such a one,
sire. I could more readily believe, from what I have seen of the man,
in Don Diego de Carvalho's explanation."
But King Philip was not at all inclined to believe in it. His
matter-of-fact mind discarded it as the wildest of suppositions. "A
test might be made," he mused. "A simple Mass, perhaps."
Don Cristobal coughed. The dull eyes travelled to his face. "You were
about to say, señor?"
"The Chevalier, sire, has made the suggestion himself."
Philip looked at the Jesuit. Father Allen spoke smoothly. "That is
clever of him," he said. "But you should know, sire, that it is not so
long since the Beauvallets were of the True Faith. It is almost sure
that this man would pass such a test triumphantly."
Frey Luis spoke again. "There are tests the Holy Inquisition would
impose that would be harder to pass. We have to think of the soul,
sire. Let this man be given over to the infinite compassion of the
Church."
Philip laid his hand on the table. "A heretic of any nation, Frey
Luis, belongs to the Church. I am not so undutiful a son of Christ
as to withhold from the Church any heretic, be he a notorious pirate
or a peaceable burgher," he said austerely. "As an enemy to Spain El
Beauvallet should be judged by the secular arm, but I have to think of
the soul, which must be saved at all costs. The Church demands him."
"Your Majesty is a faithful son of the Church," Father Allen said.
"That is well known. Humbly I would suggest, sire, that the charge of
heresy be strictly followed up."
There was a short silence. Don Cristobal stood patiently waiting by the
curtain that hung over the doorway. The King's eyes were veiled; he
seemed to brood, like some sated vulture. What thoughts passed in that
tortuous mind even Father Allen could not guess.
"There is as yet no suspicion of heresy," the King said at last. "We
must remember, Father, that we have to deal with a subject of France."
Father Allen bowed his head and stood back. The matter was plain enough
now. Philip had no wish to offend the French King upon so trivial a
matter, nor did he want his own secret dealings with the Guises to
be made public. He would not run the risk of the Chevalier de Guise
disclosing these dealings, Father Allen knew well.
Frey Luis, no Jesuit, but a priest with one single aim, one obsession,
did not read the King's mind so acutely, nor, had he been able to
appreciate Philip's difficulty, would it have weighed with him.
His faith was simple, and burned like a consuming flame; earthly
considerations he would never consider. "The Inquisition claims him,"
he said, "There may yet be time to rescue his soul from the depths to
which it has sunk."
The King gave only half an ear to this. "We gain nothing by haste," he
said. "You assume, Frey Luis, that this man is indeed El Beauvallet. I
am not so easily satisfied. I have listened to wild tales; they do not
convince me."
"The Holy Inquisition, sire, is tender above all things and infinitely
just," said Frey Luis earnestly. "It does not leap to conclusions, and
there can be nothing to be feared at its hands by a true son of Christ.
If this man be the Chevalier he could raise no objection to appearing
before a tribunal appointed to sift him."
Philip listened in silence. "True," he said meditatively, "There could
be no objection. A son of the Church would not flinch from such a
test." He paused and frowned. Much was revealed in such tests, he knew
very well; perhaps more in this instance might be forthcoming than
would be agreeable to his Catholic Majesty. The King saw clearly that
this was yet another case that went to prove the truth of his maxim
that nothing should be attempted without mature reflection. His frown
cleared. He repeated his former observation. "We gain nothing by undue
haste. If the man is proved not to be the Chevalier de Guise, I shall
know how to act. Until such time as I shall receive intelligence from
M. de Lauvinière, the Chevalier shall be kept in ward." He turned to
Porres. "This will be your charge, señor. You will treat the Chevalier
with all consideration, but let him be kept in guard." The frown
returned. "He must be used with strict courtesy," he said slowly. "He
will appreciate the grave difficulties of our situation. But we would
not have him in the least degree rudely entreated."
Don Cristobal was a little puzzled. "Pardon, sire, is he to be a
prisoner, or may he go abroad?"
Such bluntness was little to Philip's taste. His frown deepened. Father
Allen interposed. "Sire, if this man should be Beauvallet you cannot
guard him too securely."
"True," the King said. "We have to think of the safety of our realm.
You have some apartment, señor, in which he might be safely bestowed?
Some room from which no exit is possible? We do not speak of prison
cells."
"Yes, sire, he is in such a room now, pending your pleasure."
"There is no need to put indignity upon one who may well be proved
innocent of the charge proffered against him," Philip said. "A lock
should suffice, and a sentry outside. You will see to it, señor. We
shall hold you responsible for the Chevalier's safety and well-being.
You will remark his bearing, and report to us the least sign of an
attempt to escape."
Don Cristobal bowed. "I shall obey your Majesty in all my best," he
said, and bowed himself out of the closet.