Diego. "I have talked with the Admiral, your father, and he tells me
that he must depart to-morrow to seek the King and the Queen at Santa
Fé. After considering it, as I shall not be obliged to attend the Queen
for a month, the Admiral and I have agreed that it is better for you
and Don Felipe to remain here with me during that month. Then we can
travel to Santa Fé together."
The first sensation of Diego and Don Felipe was one of disappointment;
their dream was to see the fall of the city of Granada. Doña Christina,
however, unconsciously reconciled them to this delay by adding:
"All the information we have from Granada shows that the city can
scarcely be finally reduced before December, and during that long time
both of you will be better off here than at Santa Fé."
It was not so bad after all--that was the unspoken thought in the minds
of Diego and Don Felipe, and the meaning of the exchange of glances.
Doña Christina talked to Diego, telling him many interesting things
concerning the castle, and was pleased with his admiration of the
library. Then she rose, saying:
"I have many matters to attend to even at this hour, and I will leave
you with Señora Julia."
As soon as Doña Christina left the room Señora Julia sustained the
reputation Don Felipe had given her. Don Felipe inquired concerning a
certain old gentleman in the neighborhood who was supposed to admire
Señora Julia very much. The poor lady was deeply embarrassed, and Doña
Luisita came to the rescue by saying:
"Do not mind my brother, dear Señora Julia. He only says such things
because they make you blush. Do not pay the least attention to him."
In spite of her ferocious appearance, Señora Julia proved no restraint
on the three young people, who laughed and talked merrily together,
Señora Julia joining with them. Diego had never before been thrown with
a girl of Doña Luisita's rank, and he was surprised and charmed at
her gentle and unassuming manner. She was full of curiosity about the
great voyage the Admiral wished to take, and was well informed on the
geography of the world as it was then known. Several times Señora Julia
said it was time for her to take Doña Luisita to her apartment; but
every time Don Felipe, with much impudence but great affection, held
her by force and would not let her rise from her chair. At last Señora
Julia said, in consternation:
"This is the hour that Doña Christina always comes to this room to say
good night to Doña Luisita."
This was enough. Don Felipe and Diego scampered off as fast as they
could run to their own room.
III
THE CASTLE OF LANGARA
The Admiral was to start early in the morning, and Diego and Don Felipe
earnestly hoped that Fray Piña would accompany him. But to their secret
chagrin they found that Fray Piña was to remain at the castle with
them. They knew very well the meaning of this--hard study during many
hours of the day, while the woods and mountains called to them to be
explored, while the fish in the streams remained unmolested. There
would be little hunting or fishing, and not much time to spend over the
books of poetry and romance in the library. In addition, Don Tomaso
de Gama was to travel with the Admiral to Santa Fé, from whence he
had only been absent a short time. Both youths bitterly regretted his
departure, and that they would not have the delight of listening to his
tales of adventure, his merry songs, nor enjoy his gallant and dashing
manners and company.
By daybreak Diego and Don Felipe were up and dressed. Already, below
in the courtyard, they could hear the tramping of the travelers'
mules. Diego went to the Admiral's room, and with him descended to the
courtyard. Early as it was, Doña Christina was present to say farewell
to her guests. The Admiral thanked her with his usual grave courtesy
for her hospitality and, especially, her kindness in asking Diego to
remain and share Don Felipe's studies with Fray Piña. Don Tomaso, his
foot in his stirrup, cried:
"What a happy time you will have, Diego and Don Felipe--no distractions
from study--history, geography, astronomy, and mathematics in the
morning, and mathematics, astronomy, geography, and history in the
afternoon! Now, at Santa Fé, I shall have a very hard time--watching
the besieged city of Granada, making sorties against the gates, living
in a tent, jousting with other knights by way of pastime, riding in the
tilt-yard--all the hardships and the pleasures of a soldier's life."
Don Tomaso, laughing at the long faces of Diego and Don Felipe, flung
himself joyously on his horse. The Admiral kissed and blessed both of
the youths, and said, by way of consolation:
"All will not be over at Granada in one short month."
Then the cavalcade rode off. Diego and Don Felipe were in terror for
fear Fray Piña would call them to their studies at once; but even the
stern instructor had a little mercy on them for two days, in which they
were quite free.
The two lads started out on foot in the clear October sunrise to climb
the near-by mountains, to ford the streams, to enjoy themselves in
that expenditure of energy which is the glorious patrimony of youth.
Don Felipe had to show all of his haunts to Diego, and together the
two boys climbed and walked and slid down steep places and waded
mountain streams, with the utmost enjoyment to themselves. Both knew
something about plants, thanks to Fray Piña, and they were surprised
and delighted to find some beautiful pink orchids having their second
blooming of the year. Diego gathered them, roots and all, carefully,
with much earth, saying:
"These will I take to Doña Christina."
"And I will take some to my sister, for her garden. You should see
Luisita's garden. She loves it well."
They did not return to the castle until near sunset, and were tired,
hungry, and dirty, but very happy. Don Felipe led the way to the back
of the castle, where, sheltered from the north by high stone walls,
was a warm spot, in which a formal little Italian garden was laid out.
Here was Doña Christina with Doña Luisita and Señora Julia. Luisita
ran forward to greet them and at once noticed the plants Diego was so
carefully carrying.
"I never saw that flower bloom in the autumn!" she cried.
Diego had the readiness to offer her some at once, saying:
"The rest are for the noble lady, Doña Christina."
Then he won for himself the undying esteem of Señora Julia by
presenting her with one of the plants.
Doña Christina, who was very observant, thought well of Diego for
remembering the old governess, and as the three young people were
busily planting the flowers, she said to Señora Julia:
"The youth Diego is well mannered. He knows how to behave to his
elders."
"Truly he is," replied Señora Julia. "No youth can be called well
mannered who does not observe politeness to the old and the obscure."
Soon it was time for supper; and Diego and Don Felipe, washed and
dressed and combed, were ready for it. The meal was not splendid and
ceremonious as the night before, only the family being present, except
Diego and Fray Piña; but Diego thought it one of the pleasantest hours
he had ever passed. Family life was unknown to him; the recollection
of his mother, of his early childhood in Lisbon, of the modest home
in which the great Admiral toiled to support his wife and child, and
to assist from his narrow means his venerable father, and to help in
the education of his younger brothers, was, to Diego, like a faint and
far-off dream. He had known many phases and vicissitudes of life in
his short span of years, and had not been unhappy on the whole. But
this sweet domestic life, the society of ladies at meals, the gentle
restraint of their presence, was wholly new and delightful to him.
The conversation was chiefly in the hands of Doña Christina, Señora
Julia, Fray Piña, and the chaplain, with two or three other persons,
officers of the great household maintained by the family of de Langara
y Gama. Occasionally Doña Christina referred courteously to Diego or
Don Felipe; but they were for the most part quiet listeners to the
intelligent conversation of their elders, Doña Luisita too, being
attentive to all that was said.
After supper Diego and Don Felipe had a delicious hour in the library,
Diego reading with Don Felipe his newly found treasure, the poems of
Petrarca. Don Felipe was glad to improve his Italian by this reading,
but laughed at Diego for being so passionately fond of the sonnets.
Then came an hour most delightful of all to Diego, motherless and
homeless as he had long been. Don Felipe and he were summoned to the
room of Doña Christina. There, every night, it was Doña Christina's
practice to spend an hour with her children, and Diego was included
with the utmost kindness in this little family circle. Doña Christina's
kind heart was touched at the thought of Diego's lack of home life and
home affection; Fray Piña had given her an excellent impression of the
boy, and with the generosity of a warm heart Doña Christina wished to
make Diego happy and good, as she desired to make her own children. She
therefore treated him as a son, and Diego responded with the depth of
gratitude and affection of a strong nature.
Doña Christina encouraged the lads to talk freely of their hopes
and plans, Doña Luisita listening intently. Diego did not lose Doña
Christina's respect by his high anticipations, his firm confidence that
his father was about to make the greatest discoveries the world has
ever known.
"I have but one thing of which to be proud," said Diego, frankly, to
Doña Christina; "that is my father. I am not of great family like Don
Felipe. I am the son of a poor man. I am not old enough to have done
anything on my own account. But when I think of my father--his courage,
his perseverance during nearly eighteen years, of his knowledge--for
Fray Piña says my father is the ablest mathematician in Spain--of
the way my father commands the respect of all, from the great Queen
Isabella down to Brother Lawrence, the servant--my heart swells so with
pride my breast can hardly hold it."
"That is the right kind of pride," quietly responded Doña Christina. "I
know what the great Queen thinks of the Admiral, your honored father. I
was proud to have a man of so much learning, courage, and virtue under
my roof."
Then began for Diego a time of new and unusual happiness, for it was
more than mere pleasure. He was very sanguine, as the young must be, of
the success of his father at court. King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella
had promised that as soon as the fearful struggle with the Moors was
over they would redeem the promise they had made and provide the
Admiral with the vessels and men he had asked for his voyage--a force
so pitifully small for an enterprise so great that it staggered the
imagination. And already it was known that the city of Granada was
unable to hold out longer than the first of the year. Diego and Don
Felipe gloried in the prospect of seeing the great military pageants
that would mark the fall of the Moorish power in Spain; and Diego
was enough of a Spaniard to feel a patriotic pride in the thought
of driving the foreign invaders from the soil of Spain. So they had
splendid dreams of what they would see at Santa Fé, the city built
in a day, as it were, across the narrow valley from Granada and
commanding its main gates, and where the armies of Castile and Arragon
were encamped. Meanwhile was a month of joy which was not seriously
impaired by the fact that the two lads spent their mornings in hard
study under the iron rule of Fray Piña. After twelve o'clock they were
free to explore the mountains, to hunt, to follow the streams--all the
healthy pleasures of an outdoor life. Their respect for Fray Piña was
increased by the vast knowledge he had of plants and animals, of sports
and of the history of the region. Sometimes they rode, sometimes they
walked, always they enjoyed themselves. In the evening, when they
returned, after they had made themselves presentable, they had the
pleasant family supper in the great hall. Afterward they went to the
library and read for a while, and then Doña Christina would have them
in her private room, where, with Doña Luisita and Señora Julia, Fray
Piña and the chaplain, they had a delightful hour of conversation and
reading. Often Doña Christina would ask Fray Piña to read to them some
interesting book. Fray Piña was well informed on astronomy, and on
clear nights would give Diego and Don Felipe lessons in the science
of the stars. Doña Luisita was also a pupil in these lessons. Doña
Christina and the chaplain became so interested that they too would
join the group, of whom Doña Luisita and Señora Julia were a part, on
the highest point of the main tower of the castle. There, in the sharp
autumn nights, they would assemble, warmly wrapped in heavy riding
cloaks, and listen to the mellow voice of Fray Piña explaining the
mysteries of the palpitating stars and the serene planets that made
the dark-blue sky radiant. Often in after life and among different
scenes the memory came back to Diego of those hours spent on the tower
by night, when earth seemed far away and Doña Luisita's eyes, so softly
bright, shone like stars.
When, at last, late in November, the day of departure from the castle
of Langara came and Diego and Don Felipe were to take the road
to Granada, Diego was amazed to find that he was sorry to leave.
Doña Christina was going with them to begin her tour of duty as
lady-in-waiting to Queen Isabella. Doña Luisita was to remain at the
castle for the present in care of Señora Julia and the chaplain. On the
last of their pleasant evenings Doña Luisita was very sad; and when
they took their last lesson in astronomy, and were all together for the
last time, tears dropped from Doña Luisita's dark eyes. All tried to
comfort her, because it was not pleasant to be left behind.
"Never mind, Doña Luisita," said Diego, "we will not forget you, Don
Felipe and I, and, if Doña Christina will let us, we will put a little
line at the foot of her letters--and I will try and make you some
pictures of Granada, although I cannot draw and paint as well as Don
Felipe."
Don Felipe, too, made many promises; and Doña Luisita submitted
patiently, for Doña Christina, being a wise woman, was accustomed to
exact prompt and uncomplaining obedience from both Doña Luisita and Don
Felipe.
On the cold, dark morning they rode away Doña Luisita showed a brave
spirit and kept back her tears with smiles. Doña Christina and two of
her waiting women were to travel on the sure-footed mules, as ladies
did in those times. Besides Fray Piña and Diego and Don Felipe, there
went for protection, six men armed with harquebuses and mounted, and
the chief steward and his assistant. These last rode ahead to secure
accommodations for the party, as they would be four nights upon the
road.
When the moment of farewell came in the gray of the early morning,
Diego felt strangely sad. Doña Luisita was clasped first in her
mother's arms and then in Don Felipe's. Diego made bold to kiss her
hand.
As the party clattered across the drawbridge, which was hauled up after
them, and watched the lowering of the flag on the keep, signifying that
the head of the house was absent, Diego turned and gave a last look at
the spot in which he had been so happy.
"You look as if you did not want to see the fall of Granada," said Don
Felipe. "After all, we shall have many more pleasant days together at
Langara."
"I hope so," replied Diego, from the bottom of his heart.
Diego carried in the breast of his leathern jacket a treasure which
had been given him by Doña Christina as a souvenir of his happy hours
in the library of the castle. This was the little manuscript volume of
Petrarca, which Diego had read for the first time with so much delight
at Langara.
The party traveled on slowly but steadily. After a while the dark
morning brightened and the sun shone gloriously.
It is a privilege of youth to rally quickly from sadness. So it was
that after a while Diego's heart was light again, and he began to
enjoy already, in anticipation, a return some day to the castle. Don
Felipe's good spirits were contagious. The two youths were full of
health, and of eager and ardent soul, each with a good horse under him,
and traveling toward a scene of splendid adventures. Diego surprised
himself by bursting into a song, with a refrain:
Merrily, merrily we go, my steed and I,
Soon will we return,
We will return, we will return!
At every stage of their journey they were met with news of the
impending triumph of the Spanish arms. The country was ablaze with
patriotism. For nearly eight hundred years the Moors had occupied
Spanish territory, had built great cities and fortresses, and had
maintained a great court at Granada, in the magnificent palace of the
Alhambra, grander than that of the Spanish sovereigns themselves.
The Moors were aliens and of another race; they had a different
civilization, Oriental in character and totally unlike the Christian
civilization. Never, during all these eight hundred years, had there
been peace in Spain; nor would there ever be peace until the foreign
invaders were driven out. Gradually they had been hemmed in, their
large cities taken, their fortresses forced to surrender, until now,
under Boabdil, a weak and effeminate king, Granada alone remained to
them. This had been invested on every side, no provisions had been
carried to the city and garrison for many months, and it was only a
question of a few weeks when it must surrender. The Spanish sovereigns
did not intend to carry the city by assault, not wishing to injure the
women and children or to endanger the city by fire, but to reduce it by
steady and incessant attacks. That hour was near at hand.
The Castilian army had borne its share in the campaign and siege,
and its Queen, Isabella of Castile, who had administered the civil
government of Arragon as well as Castile while King Ferdinand was in
the field, was to join him at Granada.
The party from the castle of Langara reached the neighborhood of Santa
Fé early in the morning of the day Queen Isabella was to arrive, and
thus were to witness the meeting between the Queen of Castile and the
King of Arragon; for, although they were husband and wife, they were
independent sovereigns, and met first as such.
Early in the bright November morning, upon the last stage of their
journey, the party from the castle was met by the Admiral coming
from Santa Fé to greet them. They met in the narrow pass of Pinos,
about six miles from Santa Fé. Already the highway was crowded with
the advance-guard of Queen Isabella's party, together with the great
concourse which always flocks toward the scene of coming exciting
events. The Admiral was accompanied by Don Tomaso de Gama and Alonzo
de Quintanilla, an accountant to Queen Isabella, and who was the
steady friend of the Admiral. As soon as they met Doña Christina
they all dismounted and respectfully greeted her. Then the Admiral
embraced Diego; and when greetings with all were exchanged they set
forward briskly. Doña Christina wished to reach Santa Fé and put on
the splendid attire of a court lady, in which to greet her Queen. Don
Tomaso, too, must return quickly, as well as Alonzo de Quintanilla. The
Admiral decided to return with them, so that Diego and Don Felipe,
with Fray Piña alone, standing on a rocky height directly overlooking
the road, witnessed the splendid pageant of the meeting of the
sovereigns. The multitude of persons was very great and of all sorts,
from peasants to great nobles with their long trains of attendants.
None suspected that the fair-haired and blue-eyed youth standing by
the grave young ecclesiastic was the son of the man most talked of in
Spain at that moment, for the whole country was awake and alive to the
projects of the Admiral, who was derided by some, denounced by others,
strongly supported by a few, and eagerly discussed by all. Nor was it
known that the slim, handsome, black-eyed lad was one of the first
grandees of Spain, inheritor of a great dukedom with all its wealth,
honors, and responsibilities.
On every hand the sights and sounds were enchanting to Diego and
Don Felipe. Before them rose the splendid walled city of Granada,
the Moorish flag with its silver crescent floating from the highest
point of the citadel. The gilded domes and minarets of the doomed
city glittered in the noonday light. On one side the ground fell
away abruptly into a long, narrow gorge, through which the little
river Xeni flowed, bridged in many places. On the opposite heights
the improvised city of Santa Fé stretched away, grimly watchful of
the Moorish stronghold. Beyond that still were the long lines of the
encamped armies of Castile and Arragon. All the troops were under arms
to greet the Queen. In a large open space between the armies was a
splendid pavilion, of painted linen outside and luxuriously equipped
inside, which King Ferdinand had caused to be prepared for his Queen.
Over it hung the Gonfalon, the gorgeous banner of the two kingdoms,
bearing on one side the Castilian coat-of-arms and on the other that of
Arragon. From this camp first came a vast cavalcade of royal princes,
nobles, knights, and soldiers, halberdiers and harquebusiers to meet
the Queen and her party. Among them rode a number of ladies, of whom
Doña Christina was one.
As the procession wound its way over the plain toward the narrow road
that led from the plateau into the lower country, music rang out,
flags and banners fluttered gaily, and the armored knights seemed clad
in gold, as the sunlight gleamed upon their coats of chain mail. First
came a band of musicians playing the national hymns, followed by the
trumpeters with their silver trumpets. Then came the heralds in their
gorgeously embroidered coats, followed by a group of the chief officers
of state and the highest nobles in Spain, all superbly mounted. Next
came the ecclesiastics, headed by the great Cardinal Pedro Gonzalez
de Mendoza, afterward the firm friend of the Admiral. In an open
space, surrounded by the princes of his house, rode King Ferdinand,
a man of splendid appearance, a soldier as well as a statesman. He
rode a magnificent charger and was all smiles, bowing to the applause
of the thousands of spectators. After him rode Prince Juan, who, to
Diego and Don Felipe, was so far the most interesting person who had
yet appeared. He was about their own age, extremely handsome, with an
expression the most winning, a true son of his mother, the great Queen
Isabella. Diego thought it would not be hard to serve so gallant and
so gentle a young man.
Behind them came a guard of honor, consisting of the foremost knights
in Spain. Toward the end rode three young knights abreast who deeply
interested Diego. The first was his friend, Don Tomaso de Gama, looking
every inch a knight. On one side rode a dark young man, not handsome,
but with a soldier's eye. This was Gonzalez de Cordova, afterward the
celebrated general who won deathless glory in Italy. On the other side
rode the most beautiful knight Diego had ever seen. He looked the
embodiment of beauty, such as the Greek sculptors gave to their young
gods. It was Ponce de Leon, later on to discover Porto Rico and Florida
in his search for the fabled Bimini--the fountain of perpetual youth.
It was Don Felipe who gave Diego the names of these and many others in
the gorgeous cavalcade.
When the procession reached the edge of the plateau it halted, the
music was hushed, and a deep silence of expectancy followed. Presently,
from the narrow gorge beneath, floated the sweet sound of the silver
trumpets, which was the signal of the Queen's approach. Instantly from
the brazen throats of the King's trumpets came a joyous response. Soon
the head of the Queen's procession came into view. It was as splendid,
though not so large, as that of the King. The Queen, after the fashion
of the time, was mounted on a mule, splendidly caparisoned. Queen
Isabella wore a superb riding costume of black velvet with a hat and
feathers, and across her breast and on her slender arms was a delicate
gold chain armor, showing that this great and noble Queen, this tender
wife and devoted mother, was also a warrior and a sovereign. On her
right, similarly mounted, was the Princess Katharine, afterward the
noble and unfortunate wife of the eighth Henry of England.