moment failed him at the prospect of so sudden a death, and the fear of
falling unrevenged: it was the feeling of a moment only,--the next he
was all stern eagerness to be fired at, and to fire in his turn, should
he survive. With clasped hands and starting eyes Evan watched the
heart-stirring affair, stoutly resolving, should his master fall, to
avenge him by driving his bayonet through the heart of Don Balthazzar.
"_Cuidado; senor officiale_," cried the conde triumphantly; "Don
Alvaro's imprudence is likely to cost you dear. By our Lady of the Rock
your life is forfeited. I am the most deadly shot in all Castile; but
yet I would spare you on one condition,--that you swear by a soldier's
sacred word of honour, never again to come into the presence of Donna
Catalina."
"What right have you to dictate terms so degrading? Never, proud
Spaniard! while I live, will I make such a promise."
"Then die!" cried the other furiously. He raised his pistol: his eye
glanced over the sight for a second,--he fired, and the surrounding
ruins rang with the sharp report. Ronald's pulses beat more freely as
the hissing shot whistled through his Highland bonnet, sending one of
the long black feathers which adorned it floating away on the evening
breeze.
"Praise be to the Lord in Heaven! ye have escaped," said Evan,
fervently. "But it's your turn now, sir: level low, and if the muzzle
rises ye'll be sure to wing him like ony muir-cock; and mony a gude
thousand we've bagged thegither in Strathonan, and mony mair we'll bag
gin we get ower this awfu' adventure."
"_Dios y Demonios!_ some demon of hell has turned aside my hand. I have
shot at a score, and never yet swerved in my aim," cried the conde in a
hoarse tone of anger and surprise, when as the smoke cleared off he
beheld his antagonist still standing erect before him. "No! by
Santiago, I never missed before. You have stood my discharge bravely,
senor cavalier; but my courage is not less than your own. Fire!" he
cried, laying his hand upon his heart.
"Noo, Maister Ronald,--noo, sir! O be calm; may be ye'll never hae sic
anither chance. This chield look's unco saucy; but mind ye the auld
proverb, "Ilka cock craws crouse on its ain middenstead." Its most
awfu' wark this for a Sabbath evening; but oh, sir! level low; mark the
buckle o' his waist-belt, and if the piece throws high, like the ither,
the braw dies at his button-holes stand a bad chance." Evan spoke in an
anxious and hurried tone, while he eyed the conde with no slight feeling
of hatred and animosity. Ronald levelled his pistol at the tall and
finely formed figure of his brave opponent, who surveyed him steadily,
without a muscle of his noble features changing.
"I can never thus coldly shoot so fine a fellow," thought the generous
Highlander, and fired his weapon in the air. An exclamation of sorrow
from Evan, and another of angry surprise from the Spaniard, followed the
report.
"Santos Santissimos! what mean you by this? Am I unworthy of being fired
at? You have most grossly insulted me by this action, senor; and you
ought to have considered the very great honour I did you, in becoming
personally your antagonist."
"How! Don Balthazzar; honour?--"
"Certainly. Save myself, perhaps, no cavalier of noble lineage, or a
long transmitted name, would have condescended to contend thus openly in
arms with a stranger, whose birth and blood are both obscure. No,
senor! a dagger-thrust from a dark corner would have put an end to our
rivalry. But think not to escape; for, by our Lady of the Rock in
Leon,[*] we part not this day, until the sod smokes with the blood of
one or other of us,--so defend yourself!" He unsheathed his long
cavalry sword, and rushed so suddenly upon Ronald, that the latter had
barely time to draw and parry his impetuous onset. So fierce was his
stroke, that the arm of the Highlander tingled to the very shoulder when
their keen blades clashed together; and so much was he infuriated at
this unlooked-for assault, that for some moments he struck blindly and
at random, whirling his heavy claymore round his head like a willow
wand, and having many narrow escapes from the sharp-pointed blade of the
Spaniard, who retained his temper and presence of mind admirably.
Ronald soon found the necessity of being cool likewise, and using art as
well as courage. In the fashion of the Highland swordsman, he placed
forward his right foot with a long stride, presenting it as a tempting
object for a blow, while he narrowly watched the eye of his adversary,
who instantly dealt a sweeping stroke at the defenceless limb, which the
young Gael withdrew with the rapidity of light, bestowing at the same
time a blow on the conde, which broke the shell of his Toledo and
wounded his right hand severely.
[*] A much-frequented image of the Virgin Mary, on a mountain called the
rock of France, between the city of Salamanca and Rodrigo, in Leon. It
stood there, or still stands in a building, which is, I believe, a
monastery of Dominican friars.
He dropped his shattered weapon.
"Claymore for ever!" shouted Evan, triumphantly capering about, snapping
his fingers, whooping and hallooing in a truly Highland style, so
overjoyed was he to see his master victorious. "Claymore for ever and
aye! bonnily dune,--bravely dune. Sir, Wallace himsel couldna hae
matched him better. It was my puir auld faither learned ye that trick,
Maister Ronald; and God be thanked it's a' ower noo, and that your skin
is a haill ane."
The discomfited cavalier bestowed on him a proud look, at once withering
and disdainful.
"Noble senor," said he, turning to Ronald, "you have this day vanquished
one of the most accomplished of King Ferdinand's cavalry officers,--in
fact, senor, I am one of the best swordsmen in all the ten provinces of
Spain; and to disarm me thus, is no small feat for so young a soldier,
and I honour you for it. Catalina de Villa Franca must be--but strike!
Fortune has placed my life a second time at your absolute disposal; take
it, for I swear, by every saint on our monkish muster-rolls, I will have
no ignominious terms dictated to me, even though disarmed and at your
mercy. So strike the blow that will free you from me for ever."
"Never! gallant conde. This quarrel was your own seeking, and I forgive
you for it freely, and for the many insults you have offered me."
"_Senor officiale_, you are too generous: no cavalier or rival in Spain
would lose the chance you cast away so carelessly."
"Evan, hand this gentleman his sword? And now, conde, we must look to
your wound: I trust it is not a severe one?"
"Pho! 'tis a mere scratch."
"Yet it bleeds much."
"_Carajo!_ it does,--more than I wish it to do. But, senor, I have
received so many wounds in different ways, and have bled so much, that I
marvel I have any blood left in me at all."
"I regret that the cut is so severe," said Ronald, as the conde held up
his hand, from which the blood streamed freely.
"Pho! senor; to express regret, though it may appear very generous, is
folly. A few minutes since we would with pleasure have passed our
blades through each other's hearts,--but that feeling is past now. Ho!
Mendizabal. Rogue! why do you tarry? Bind up this quickly, and let me
be gone. I have lost much time already, and Carlos d'Espana will
scarcely get the despatches within the appointed time." The wound was
tied up hastily, so impatient was Don Balthazzar to be gone; and a
strange excitement and irritability possessed him now, instead of his
former coolness and self-possession.
The moment it was over, he sharply scrutinized his saddle-girths and
harness-buckles; after which he vaulted with the grace of a true
horseman upon the back of his noble Spanish charger, which had stood by
unmoved during the conflict between its rider and Ronald Stuart.
"Senor," said the conde to the latter in a low but emphatic voice, "our
quarrel is ended amicably for the present; but perhaps we may meet
again. Do not think that a cavalier of old Castile will thus easily
resign to another so fair a prize as Catalina de Villa Franca. No,
senor; I must live for her, or learn to die for Spain."
He dashed the sharp rowels into his horse's flanks, tearing the very
skin; and forcing the animal to leap a ruined wall, fully six feet high,
he vanished from their sight, and rode madly and recklessly towards the
centre street of the city. A few minutes more, and they beheld his
glittering accoutrements flashing in the evening sun, as he plunged
forward at the same furious speed beyond the walls of the city, and
disappeared over the eminences in the direction of Albuquerque.
"He is a gallant fellow," thought Ronald, who watched him until he
disappeared; "and a noble example he has given me. To him I have almost
unwittingly acted that part, which now Hyndford acts to me. But for
Truxillo,--I have nothing to regret; I have acted honourably towards
him, and in my own heart I thank God that this quarrel is ended
amicably, and with so little damage."
An interruption now occurred to Evan's expressions of joy for the safety
of his master, who, although most interested in the fortunate issue of
the duel, cared indeed least about it. For his attendance, Doctor
Mendizabal had received from Ronald a _doblon_, or _onza_, a coin worth
about L3. 10s. English; and as it was the first time in his life that he
had ever received so great a fee, his thanks, his protestations, and the
sweeps he made with his sombrero were innumerable; and he had just taken
his departure, when Sargento Gomez scrambled hurriedly over the ruinous
walls, and leaping into the sort of court where they stood, advanced
towards Ronald with a Spanish military salute.
"Noble senor," said he breathlessly, "I have been in search of you over
the whole of Merida--"
"My life on't, anither fechtin' job!" ejaculated Evan, who saw Pedro was
highly excited, although he knew not a word he uttered. "Got wi 't,
Gomez, in some decent tongue a body can comprehend."
"A muleteer has within this hour arrived from Fuente del Maistre, and
says he saw a party of French cavalry advancing down this side of the
Guadiana. Donna Catalina wishes to see you immediately. You must fly,
senor, if you would escape being made prisoner."
"French cavalry! How can it be possible? Yet Evelyn of the 13th said
something about it, which I have forgotten. Can the veracity of your
informant be relied on?"
"He is true to death, senor! He is my own brother, Lazaro Gomez of
Merida, and an honester muleteer will not be found on the road between
Madrid and Alcantara,--and that is one of many leagues in length. He
has had the honour to be employed more than once by my Lord Wellington,
as a spy upon Marshals Soult and Marmont."
"A recommendation, truly! Are the enemy in force?"
"He said two or three troops, senor,--Dombrouski's lancers."
"Sir Rowland Hill is retiring on Merida. Did your brother Lazaro see
any sign of his troops?"
"No, senor."
"'Tis very unaccountable how they have outflanked our division in this
manner."
"Senor, they must have advanced by some secret way pointed out by some
of those traitorous banditti which infest every sierra and wood just
now. These fellows would hang their mother for a maravedi; so 'tis no
wonder they are often false to Spain."
"These lancers must inevitably be captured by Sir Rowland's advanced
guard, which cannot be far off now."
"True, senor; but you may either be killed or taken captive before the
British come up,--and so may I, as a Spanish soldier. We must retire
westwards to Albuquerque. But come, senor; Donna Catalina--"
"Yonder they come, by heavens!" cried Ronald, as a cloud of dust and the
glitter of accoutrements appeared about two or three miles off,
advancing rapidly towards Merida by the river side. "We shall have to
retire without delay; but I must first bid the ladies adieu. Get your
harness, Pedro; and though there are but three of us, we will not
surrender, even to them, without firing a shot."
"Viva!" cried the Spaniard, tossing his red forage-cap into the air, and
leaping up to catch it again. "Viva, noble senor! I will follow you to
death, even as I would the noble cavalier who commands my troop, or King
Ferdinand the Seventh himself."
Descending from the ruins of the fortress, they entered the city, where
all was terror, confusion, and dismay at the unexpected appearance of
the enemy, whose numbers were exaggerated, and declared to be the whole
of Marshal Ney's division, and which, according to report, had utterly
annihilated the British under Sir Rowland Hill. Most of the inhabitants
were taking to flight, laden with their bedding and clothing,--matters
which a Spaniard ranks among his most valuable goods and chattels.
Hundreds of men, bearing burdens of every sort, were pressing towards
the western gate, followed by women, whose lamentations were mingled
with many a bitter "_carajo_" against the invaders of their soil. Among
others appeared Doctor Mendizabal, carrying a carbine in one hand, while
with the other he led by the bridle a stout mule, on which were seated
his wife and two children. Others led mules and donkeys laden with all
kinds of household stuff, and a dense press ensued among the crowd about
the city gate, and loud curses of anger and impatience were uttered on
all sides at the delay in front, the intense pressure from the
continually increasing mass behind permitting but few to get out at a
time.
At length a passage was made through the dense column by the arrival of
an important personage,--the corregidor, or chief magistrate of the
city, surrounded by several alguazils in broad-leaved sombreros, wearing
the livery of the city, and armed with long halberts, or Spanish
blunderbusses with brass bell-mouths. The corregidor was a grave old
hidalgo, wearing a large military cocked-hat and long moustaches twisted
up to his ears; he was muffled in a large brown cloak, and smoked his
cigar, while he surveyed with an unmoved eye the crowd, where almost
every face wore the expression of terror, rage, impatience, and dismay.
However, all fell back on the right and left, as his old-fashioned
coach, with its emblazoned coats armorial, and drawn by a single mule,
advanced towards the gate. Mounted on another mule rode a livery
servant, wearing a red feather in his sombrero, a stiletto in his sash,
and armed with an enormous whip, which was never a moment idle, being
continually at work either among the people to make them give way, or on
his cattle to make them increase their speed, and place as great a
distance as possible between himself and the dreaded legions of France.
This servant rode alongside of the mule which drew the vehicle, leading
it by the bridle, the usual custom in Spain, and one which is truly very
awkward and unsightly.
At the gate of the garden Ronald was met by the young ladies, who both
advanced hastily towards him, exclaiming, "O Don Ronald! have you
heard--"
"They are in sight--"
"_O Madre de Dios!_ you will be either killed, or taken a prisoner over
the Pyrenees to France."
"To escape either of these fates, I must bid you instantly adieu,
senoritas,--unless you will consent to retire with me from Merida, which
will scarcely be a safe place for you while the French are in it. The
advancing party are some of Dombrouski's Polish lancers, who are not
famous for their sentiments either of chivalry or gentle courtesy. They
are rough dogs, I understand; and in gallantry, are far inferior to the
brave cavalry of France."
"Oh, they are sad fellows, these lancers, and wear frightful whiskers;
but we do not fear them, senor," replied Inesella in her usual laughing
tone. "You must know that the Conde d'Erlon, who is one of my many most
humble and devoted admirers, gave me a written protection the last time
he was here, and all soldiers who march under the tri-colour of France,
must respect and obey it; therefore we do not fear them--quite the
reverse. Some of the French are very gay cavaliers, and I knew a very
handsome chasseur---- But, pho! poor fellow! he was assassinated with
some others at Albuquerque."
"Then, Donna Inesella, you fear not to remain. And will your letter
protect your cousin?"
"O yes, senor, it protects all who are with me; but of course you--"
"Must depart at once."
"Exactly, senor; old D'Erlon's letter will not protect you, who are his
enemy."
"Then, senoritas, now for flight," replied Ronald, tightening his sash
and belt. "I must abandon my baggage to your charge. The citizens are
nearly all off _en route_ for the north and west, and all the church
bells are tolling dismally. But I trust Sir Rowland Hill's advanced
guard will be here by to-morrow, and if so, our cavalry under General
Long will soon capture this handful of lancers."
"They appear, however, to have scared away my fiery brother, the conde;
he galloped furiously down the street a few minutes since, nearly riding
over a poor old padre, (protect, us Heaven!) and left the town, without
even bidding us adieu, although Catalina called to him from the street
balcony."
"Alas! Inesella," said Catalina, "your prattle will detain him here too
long, and every moment is fraught with danger."
"Holy Virgin, I hope not! Do not compromise your safety by tarrying
longer here, senor. Take the road for the forest of La Nava, and Pedro
Gomez will direct you. The Mother of God keep her holy hand over you,
brave cavalier! for we may never meet again."
"Farewell! _senor mio_. We have been very happy in Merida," said
Catalina, in a voice of assumed firmness, and presenting her white hand,
while her lip quivered and her cheek turned very pale. At that moment
the distant sound of a cavalry trumpet was borne towards them on the
passing breeze.
"Come awa, sir; we maunna bide a minute mair,--it's just a temptin' o'
Providence," urged Evan, examining his flint as he stood at the garden
gate with Pedro Gomez, who was armed with his carbine, and had donned
his helmet and accoutrements.
"Gude by to ye, leddies," added the Highlander, touching his bonnet;
"and mony thoosand thanks to ye for your kindness to my maister in this
unco hole o' a place."
"Keep this for my sake, fair Catalina, and think of me sometimes, when I
am far away from you," said Ronald, casting his tartan plaid over her
white shoulders as a parting gift; and kissing her pale brow, and her
cousin's hand, he retired hastily from the garden, followed by the
soldiers.
*CHAPTER XIV.*
*MULETEERS.*
"I dare do all that may become a man;
Who dares do more, is none."
_Macbeth._
The red sun was setting amidst a sea of light floating clouds, which
displayed a thousand blending shades of purple, saffron, and gold,
shedding the same warm hues on the scenery around Merida, tinging every
object of the beautiful landscape, through which, meandering between
dark green groves of the orange and olive, wound the slowly rolling and
broad-bosomed Guadiana, seeming like a flood of lucid gold, in which the
objects on its sides were reflected downwards, the changing sky above
and the black round arches of the noble bridge all appearing inverted in
the bosom of the stream, as on the surface of a polished mirror.
The dark shadows of the neighbouring mountain were falling across the
plain and the city, rendering yet darker the gloomy and antique streets,
where all was still confusion and dismay, and from which the chant of
the ecclesiastics, and the deep ding-dong of the tolling bells were
borne on the wind towards them, mingled with the shouts of the advancing
cavalry, who came on in a clamorous style truly French. Suddenly the
dark mass emerged from among the trees which had concealed their
approach, and galloped across the bridge some hundred in number, with
accoutrements glittering, plumes waving, and their tri-coloured penons
fluttering from the heads of their lofty lances.
"Now, then," exclaimed Ronald, as the last file disappeared from the
bridge, "we must strain every nerve to gain the wood of La Nava. A
party of these lancers may be sent forward to scour the roads, and we
are very far from safe yet."
"Courage, senor: 'tis but a couple of leagues or so from hence, and I am
well assured that no patrol will they send out while there is a single
wine-house unsacked in Merida."
"Cast away your knapsack, Evan: you will get another when we rejoin. It
is an encumbrance to you, so toss it away. Let us but gain the shelter
of the wood, and we will there await, in safety, the arrival of our own
troops, as they pass _en route_ for Portugal."
Evan took his knapsack by the straps, and cast it into a deep pool by
the way side, saying it was better "A' should gang that gate, than fa'
into the hands o' uncanny folk."
About eight miles from Merida they met Lazaro Gomez, the brother of
Pedro, and a party of muleteers of Catalonia, halted at a fountain which
babbled through an iron pipe fixed into the rock, from which the water
gushed, and fell into a little pebbled basin. Near it stood an ancient
stone cross, marking the tomb of one of Don Alvaro's ancestors, who
reposed here in unconsecrated ground. In the course of centuries it had
sunk deep into the earth; but on the upper part yet appeared the
time-worn and half-obliterated inscription:--
AQUI YACE.
EL NOBLE CABELLERO D. JUAN DE VILLA FRANCA,
.... MUERTOS .... BATALLA ANO D. 1128.
RUEGUEN A DIOS FOR EL!
This fountain and ancient tomb had been the object of many an evening
ride with Catalina, who related the history of Don Juan, a romance which
I may give to the public at some future time. Ronald paid but little
attention, to either the cross or brook, but advanced towards the jovial
muleteers, who were smoking paper cigars of their own
manufacture,--laughing, singing, and drinking aguardiente to wash down
their repast of bread, onions, and bacallao--oil and lettuce, which was
spread on the sward by the side of the fountain; around which, cropping
the herbage, wandered their mules, from whose harness jingled a thousand
little tinkling bells. On the approach of the British officer, the
frank fellows sprung to their feet with one accord, and held their
brimming horns towards him, while he was greeted with many 'vivas' and
sweeps of their sombreros.
"Senor cavalier, I am glad you have escaped our enemies by means of the
intelligence I brought to Merida," said Lazaro Gomez, the
master-muleteer; a short thick-set fellow, with a round bullet-head and
good-humoured face, containing that roguish sort of expression which is
always given by artists to the features of Sancho Panza. He was tanned
to the colour of mahogany by continual exposure to the sun, and his chin
displayed a short stunted black beard, and slovenly ill-trimmed
moustache.
"I am much obliged to you indeed, Master Lazaro; and I would that it was
in my power to reward you."
"Mention not reward, I beg of you, senor cavalier," replied Lazaro,
making another sweep with his sombrero. Ronald answered by a grave bow.
He had become too much accustomed to the appellation of 'cavalier' and
the pompous politeness of the Spaniards even to smile when he was
addressed in a style that would pass better with the renowned
Cid,--Rodrigo of Bivar, than Ronald Stuart of the Gordon Highlanders.
"But you must condescend to drink with us, senor," said a muleteer. "My
horn is filled with the best aquardiente."
"Viva el Rey!" said Ronald, in a complimentary tone, as he emptied the
cup.
"Viva el Rey!" cried the others, draining their liquor to the dregs.
"Evan," observed Ronald, "you will relish this beverage; 'tis somewhat
like our own mountain dew at home."
"It smells o' the peat reek, sir," said Evan, snuffing with his nose
over the horn which Lazaro had given him. "Sour water, I declare!
perfect fushionless water," said the young Highlandman, after he had
drunk it all off, however. "Meeserable trash! O'd, sir, I wadna gie a
gill stoup fu' o' what Alpin Gig used to brew wi' the sma' still in the
hole at Coir-nan Taischatrin, for a loch fu' o' this agyerdent, as ye
ca' it."
"How is this, Lazaro?" asked Pedro, observing that Evan disliked the
liquor. "Have you nothing else but muddy aquardiente to offer to honest
soldiers? Come, my jovial brother, broach us one of those bloated
pig-skins, which are piled on the backs of your mules there?"
"Our Lady del Pilar! a modest request," replied Lazaro. "Why, brother
Pedro, bethink you. I cannot touch the burdens of my cattle,--they are
the property of others. Could I broach a skin, our best would be at the
service of the noble cavalier. And as for our aquardiente, I avouch, by
the head of his Holiness! that better never came out of Catalonia."