OF OUR COMING TO THE DUKE OF MONTESINA AND HIS HOUSE UPON THE HILL
“OH, look, Sir Englishman!” I cried, in the immodesty of my soul. “Do
you not see those tall white walls that crown yonder precipice? Look at
the beams of the morning on each spire and turret. Do they not smile
and beckon? Look at those soldiers with flashing corslets marching
upon the outer scarp. Do you not see their halberds glistening and
the golden sheen upon their caps? Do they not feed your heart, Sir
Englishman, these symbols of renown and victory?”
Indeed, all the majesty of power and the high-hearted genius of
war and lofty enterprise passed before my eyes that morning in the
spring. Hitherto my life was laid among the mountains in the north,
where in one-and-twenty years the bravest things presented to it were
monasteries, in themselves grand and severe, yet calling with no
trumpet to the blood; and now and then some stained and ragged soldier,
maimed and overborne, returning to his native parts. But now that my
soul was filled with images of martial businesses, which never fail to
delight an ardent nature, the sight thrilled in my veins like music;
and as I stood upon the bridge of Alcantara, with my heart attuned to a
strange yearning of desire, I rejoiced so greatly in the life that God
had given me, that looking far unto those hills on which was set this
castle, I thought I saw His face shining between the distant mountains
and the yet more distant heavens.
“Sir Richard Pendragon,” I said, in the ecstasy of contemplation of the
future and its store, “limn that surprising lady that is daughter to
the duke; for I am here to woo her with courage, constancy, and high
thoughts. You understand me?”
“I understand you for a beggar,” said the Englishman, with a laugh and
a short grunt.
“My purse is bankrupt,” said I, “but there is blood in my heart and a
sword by my leg; and, good Sir Richard Pendragon, if you could look
behind my purposes, you would say I had no poverty whatever.”
“Well now,” said he, “if you had so much as three pesetas in the world,
which you’ve not, I would wager that amount against you that if you
could obtain the ear of the duke--and even to do that you will have
to tread as warily as a young dog fox stealing down a hedgerow upon a
morning in October--he will either pull your ears or cut your throat
when you mention his daughter. Why, if he hath a miniard goodly wench
with a rounded chin and a neat ankle, hath she no suitors, varlet? Are
there no princes and noblemen and foreigners of consideration, with the
blood of kings under their doublets, to woo this piece of the rib of
Adam? Would they not come to this castle with the blowing of horns and
the waving of banners, with companies of soldiers wearing their livery?
Think of the valour of their performances, good varlet; the treasure
in their chests; the breadth of their dominions. And then Master Don
What-does-he-call-himself--a country youth with his shoes clouted by
the village cobbler, a very beggar without a dole in his wallet, a raw
Hodge or bumpkin, as we say in our direct English parlance, with a pair
of hose too small in the shank and a coat laced with steel already past
its meridian--this mad fellow comes forward and speaks to the duke of
his daughter! If I do not die of a fluxion, may I forget the savour of
burnt sack!”
Now though I was so derided by the Englishman, he had so poor an
opinion of all persons, with one notable exception, that I did not pay
him that heed which perhaps I ought to have done. Yet I will confess
that the higher we ascended the steep road that wound in and out to the
gate of the castle, the more was my mind engaged by the notion that his
words had made to take shape in it; for he knew the world famously,
and there might be sooth in what he said, since, after all, I had only
my pedigree, good as it was, and a stout heart to recommend me to the
duke’s service.
As we rode up into the shadow of those walls, that were now sheer and
massive over our heads, Sir Richard Pendragon bent towards me and
said,--
“Miguel, be advised by an elderly soldado. Get you back to Toledo city,
sell your horse, which is as old as the moon, buy yourself an orange
basket, take your stance at the shadiest corner of the Plaza del Toros,
and be content with a modest annuity. You can then pay the true friend
that addresses you the hundred crowns that are his due for launching
you out of your native element into this broad and magnificent world.
The sun is a good thing, so are the stars, so are the rivers and
mountains, so is yonder palace of the Moriscoes, so is this castle
that lies before us; and when you beget children you will be able to
say that you have looked on all these things in your youth. But I pray
you, my son, not to dwell upon them here. Return to some humbler walk,
good Don; for if you adventure through these white gates flanked with
grinning dragons made out of pumice stone, that sanguine and youthful
spirit may get such an overthrow as will cripple it for years. At
present, my young companion, you are of no account in the world. Now go
your ways, like a good boy, and sell the wind-galled, curb-hocked, and
bespavined old bone-bag that bears you.”
“Good Sir Richard Pendragon,” I said stoutly, “I have no fear of my
reception before the duke. My sword is not much, but he shall have it
for his use.”
“Much!” said the Englishman; “much is a large word for nothing. Get an
orange basket, my son; and I pray you not to come into the presence of
his grace before you have grown a beard. He is a whimsical old fellow,
and yet so haughty that he might cut off your ears if you caused him to
laugh excessively.”
“Pray have no qualms, Sir Richard. I will speedily obtain an audience
of this grandee, and will look to it that he does not laugh at me too
much.”
Being extremely upon my mettle, I rapped smartly with the hilt of my
sword upon the massive gate.
When the Englishman saw that no heed was paid to my repeated blows, he
laughed in a short, dry fashion, which gave me a feeling of discomfort.
“By your leave, you man of wisdom,” said he, “and advancing my poor
opinion with that reserve that is its merit, I believe I spy a chain
and padlock to this gate.”
I was fain to confess myself puzzled when my eye fell on these
accompaniments.
“I am thinking, my son,” said Sir Richard, “although, to be sure, it
is no more than a whim or a notion of mine, that you might be called
to wait six days for an answer to your summons, for by its situation
I should judge it to be a gate that is opened once a week; of a
Wednesday, for the kitchen-maids to sally out at and wash their linen
down below in the Tagus. And I would respectfully urge, although this
again is no more than a whim or a notion, that the grand entrance is
along this path half a furlong to the left; at least, if it be not so,
it hath changed its place since I was here last June.”
It put me out of humour to reflect that I had not used my observation
more shrewdly, for as soon as I received this information, which the
Englishman conveyed to me in a mocking manner, I was able to perceive
that behind the gate the patio was empty, instead of thronging soldiers
and activity. Therefore we turned our horses into the path he had
proposed, and stayed them presently before a gate far handsomer. And
no sooner had I set my sword to this than it fell back before my hand
and a very grave personage was standing with his hat off before my
bridle-rein and inquiring my good pleasure.
That he was a person of consideration was clear enough. His mien was
extraordinarily dignified, and to all that I said he listened politely;
but when I asked for an audience of the duke he referred me to one of
a surpassing stoutness, who came waddling up to us as we discoursed
together. This gentleman, although extremely heavy and slow of speech,
proved just as civil, and gave me to understand that he was no less
a person than Don Luiz, the duke’s gentleman-usher. But when I spoke
of an audience he bowed very low, and yet looked at me in a kind of
sorrow, for he said,--
“Sir, you crave the impossible. The levee was yesterday, and a week
must pass before you can be admitted to the next.”
“Sir,” I said, “I have travelled from the Asturias upon no other
errand.”
Don Luiz shook his head, and deplored the fact that this could not help
the matter. And all this time the Englishman was laughing in such a
manner that I feared he must pitch straight off his horse.
“I would have you to believe, Don Luiz,” said I, with an urgency that
was increased by the behaviour of the Englishman, “that I am one Miguel
Jesus Maria de Sarda y Boegas, a name antecedent, if you please, to the
Moorish invasion, and as favourably looked on as any in the northern
provinces.”
Still, in spite of the earnestness with which I mentioned this, the
portly and consequential Don Luiz stood as mute as a stone, not so much
as twitching his lips or abating his glance in any particular. Indeed
it would seem, from the manner in which he enfolded me in his sleepy
looks, that the style of my clothes and their condition were a more
imminent matter than my business and descent.
“Next week, sir,” was all he deigned to reply, and pointed to the gate
for his final answer. Feeling myself to be powerless against this
refusal, which was yet very arbitrary, resentment began to stir in me.
“Don Luiz,” I said firmly, “I cannot leave the precincts of this castle
until I have had audience of its master. I have journeyed expressly
from the Asturias to speak with him, and I can assure you it is not my
custom to permit anything to interpose between my mind and its declared
intention.”
Yet, notwithstanding the importunity of my tone, it left Don Luiz quite
impassive. Indeed ere long he undertook to show me another side to this
affair. He summoned two or three of the soldiers that were marching
up and down the patio, and in short terms ordered them to conduct
me to the gate. And I think I should have been taken there in this
ignominious fashion had not at this moment Sir Richard Pendragon, who
all this while had been consumed with hilarity, addressed the portly
gentleman-usher.
“Don Luiz,” said he, “I would have you pay no heed to this poor mad
varlet that is my squire. You see, Don Luiz, this immoderate, raving
squire of mine once travelled in my suite to the Asturias, and in
those altitudes he beheld a maid of pedigree to whom his wayward
fancy turned. And that matter deranged any little wit he did enjoy;
for he kissed her in those altitudes underneath the moon, and since
that evening he has been a babbler. His conversation is now composed
of pedigrees, maidens, Asturias, and moonshine of a highly grievous
nature. It is pitiful, Don Luiz, yet to my mind there is a kind of
poetry in it also.”
Now Sir Richard Pendragon feigned this monstrous tale with such a
simplicity of look, and recited it with such a proper voice, that Don
Luiz was moved to credulity, and said, “How whimsical! Yet indeed, sir,
it does not surprise me, for I could discern from his address that he
had a maggot in his brain.”
“Faith, yes,” said Sir Richard, with a solemnity at which I marvelled,
“and it twists his poor mind into such odd and strange devices as you
would never believe. Why, if he sits at home at the castle, he either
plays mumchance all day by the buttery door or devises some ridiculous
melody upon the virginal that makes all the cook-maids shed tears, or,
stranger than that, Don Luiz, he will sit for hours playing snapdragon
with the wishbone of a fowl. And when I say to him, ‘Wherefore, Miguel,
should this quaintness be your chief employ?’ says he, with his eyes
full of tears, ‘Why, excellency, if I used my fingers it would be sure
to burn my hand.’ Did you ever hear an honest Christian Spaniard speak
the like, Don Luiz?”
“By my faith, sir, I did not,” said Don Luiz, betraying some tokens of
impatiency. “Might I trouble you, sir, to the extent of asking your
business?”
“To see your master, the duke, in audience.”
“Then, sir, my answer must, with all respect, hold the same with you as
with your twisted and unhappy squire.”
“I am afeared, Don Luiz,” said my strange companion with a look
of insolence that became him remarkably well, “your wits are so
accompanied by sack and butter that you do not take me in this affair.
I will see your master at once.”
“On Tuesday next, sir,” said the gentleman-usher. “Before then an
audience is out of the question.”
“I say I will see your master immediately,” said the Englishman. “Do
you go straightway and inform him that a messenger is at the gate who
hath ridden express from the King and is demanding audience.”
“The King!” exclaimed Don Luiz, while I held my breath at such a piece
of audacity.
“The King,” said Sir Richard Pendragon sternly. “The King, my master,
who holds the Duke of Montesina and all his minions in the hollow of
his hand. Do you go straightway and tell him that, Don Luiz.”
Upon this assertion the chamberlain delivered a humble apology, called
to the grooms to take our horses, conducted us to an antechamber with
the greatest promptitude, and went forth himself to bear the matter
to his master. As soon as I was alone with my companion in the fair
apartment we had entered I began to tremble violently, and said to the
outrageous foreigner,--
“This is indeed a fine pickle, Sir Englishman! We shall certainly be
thrown into a dungeon, or perchance shall lose our heads. No prince of
Spain will forgive you unless you make good your words.”
“You are a mad varlet,” said the Englishman; “you are as mad as nine
men’s morris.”
“The madness is with you, sir, in this grievous and terrible matter.”
“Ah, my young companion,” said the Englishman, “what a vain fellow thou
art to go in quest of the Princess Fortune without a knowledge of the
world. The time is ripe for me to give you a watchword, my son; your
excellent father appears not to have mentioned it. Learn to speak in
a loud voice. Fail in no enterprise from a disregard of that motto,
and in lieu of a vulgar death upon the gallows, which is the natural
destination of every snuffler that goes about paltry chewing his words,
you will die an eminently Christian death upon the field of battle, or
in your bed with your favourite bawd soothing your pillows with hot and
bitter tears.”
Before I could derive any store of fortitude from this advice wherewith
to meet the grave ordeal that was now before us both, Don Luiz returned
with the information that the duke, his master, was graciously pleased
to receive us in audience.
Now, whether it was the sting of the rebuffs that I had already
suffered during that ill-fated day, or the notion that I was become as
a branded madman by the tongue of calumny, or whether it was the odd
manner of our entrance, I cannot say, but what I know is this--I felt
the sweat creep upon my brow as I made my way into the presence of this
august grandee. I followed close upon the heels of Don Luiz and my most
singular companion. We passed through several spacious and gorgeous
apartments which were clad in great richness. Never had I seen so much
magnificence before. The mere presence of so much splendour seemed to
daunt me, for notwithstanding my birth and my father’s honour, in my
country suit all dulled with dust, and my old boots, I felt myself to
be but little better than a rustical fellow in surroundings of this
kind.
Yet the Englishman, although his dress in its inconsistency was
scarcely above my own, and though his pretext was so abominably false
that it had only to be exposed to place his life in jeopardy, was just
as much upon his ease in this dangerous place as if he had been abroad
in the plain. Without removing his bonnet or showing the least concern
for the dignity of the palace, he uttered a ribald joke in the ear of
Don Luiz and spoke to him of the weather.
When at last we were ushered into the presence of the duke I tried to
muster my courage, for I felt that the great moment of my life was
come. Striving to make an honourable appearance I bore my head high
and held myself in the most martial manner I could assume, and through
the haze that oppressed my eyes I strove to stand worthy of my quest
and the noble lady I was come to serve. You will understand, gentle
reader, that all depended on the fair impression I must contrive to
make upon the great nobleman who was about to receive me. Yet I was
fain to reflect that I must have done better justice to my birth and
breeding, which were all the credentials I had to offer, had I not been
so unluckily accompanied. I am sure no one could have been more deeply
sensible of the disadvantage of such a companionship. The flippant
behaviour of Sir Richard Pendragon must have sorely abated the grace
of my bearing, since such a mode of entry as he adopted before a great
personage must have been wholly to the detriment of any who followed in
his train. Indeed this extraordinary person was humming a catch as he
swaggered like a common ruffler, with his bonnet on, into the presence
of his grace, the Duke of Montesina.
The private chamber in which the duke sat was smaller than the others
through which we had passed. It was draped heavily with gorgeous
tapestries, and instead of rushes upon the floor there was a rich
Arabian carpet. The first thing I perceived was a noble painting of the
Holy Virgin. The duke was sitting in a gilded chair placed on a daïs
near a window through which streamed the beams of the bright sun. He
was engaged upon a refection of light wine and oat cake, and was alone
save for a dwarf who mowed at us behind the chair of his master.
The duke was an old man with a beard of silver, frail, and little in
his person, and of an ascetic, yet, as I make bold to think, a somewhat
peevish countenance. He rose upon our entry and bowed in so sublime a
manner as at once to make it clear that here was the pink and mirror
of a Spanish gentleman; one whose mind was grave and lofty, and whose
person was garnished with fine graces. A piece of old punctilio he was,
according to my companion, yet when he left his chair and took a few
steps towards us, to confer upon us an additional grace of welcome, his
form seemed to have been wedded to silk and silver all its days, such
was the ease with which it bore them; he seemed to move to music; while
when he brought himself to business, it appeared to my disordered mind,
dazzled as it was with so much glamour, that his lightest word became
a proclamation and his frown an executioner. Sir Richard Pendragon,
however, was far from having this awe of him. It filled me with dismay
to see this person of foreign nationality passage with the duke for all
the world as if he were of an equal condition.
“I trust I find the grace of your lordship in pretty good health,” said
the English giant; and it relieved me much to observe that he had the
good manners to pull off his bonnet, and to bow not ungracefully when
he addressed the duke in this fashion.
“I find myself in good health, I thank you, sir,” said the duke coldly
and simply. “You bear a communication from my nephew Castile, I
understand?”
“I am glad your excellency understands that,” said the Englishman, “for
burn my five wits if I do!”
“Will you deign to explain this matter?” said the duke, and it turned
me faint in my spirit to see a sudden light of anger flame across his
eyes.
“If I mentioned your nephew Castile, may I never drink sack out of a
bombard again,” said the Englishman.
“Bimbos,” said the duke, turning to the dwarf, who was grinning like
a jackanapes behind him, “do you go to Don Luiz and bring him here
instantly.”
It was clear that the duke was a man of choler by the irascibility of
his words.
Don Luiz came immediately. There was trepidation in his mien.
“This person,” said the duke, “informs us that he bears no
communication from our nephew the Castilian.”
“Under your favour, excellency,” said the Englishman, “your mind
although virtuously given and an ornament to your age and country,
appears to have led you into some sort of confusion. English Richard,
honest man, never spoke of Castile your nephew; he would scorn to speak
of such a scurvy rogue, but rather did he mention your lordship’s lord
and master.”
“My lord,” said the fat Don Luiz, speaking with a most ponderous
impressiveness, “my words shall be these. This gentleman informed me
at the gate that he was the bearer of a message from the King, and on
that ground demanded audience in quite a peremptory manner.”
“So I did, brother, so I did,” said the Englishman. “You cursed
Spaniards are so dull that I am obliged to speak peremptory if I speak
at all.”
“Further, my lord,” said Don Luiz, passing over this scandalous
interruption with immense disdain, “he declared himself to be the
emissary of that great King who at this moment held, as it were, your
lordship’s grace in the hollow of his hand. Now, it was perfectly clear
to me, your lordship, that there is only one king whose might is of
this nature, which is him of Castile, your lordship’s nephew. Thus,
under your grace’s favour, was I justified, I think.”
“Ods my life!” said the duke, addressing my companion with the greatest
irascibility, “if I find you have perverted your speech in this
particular, or that you think to make a toy of such as I, sirrah, I
will undertake to show you how far you are astray by having you broke
upon the wheel.”
When the angry duke spoke these last terrible words he exalted his
voice into such an accent as rendered them truly affrighting to my
ears. Straight I fell into a violent trembling on the Englishman’s
account; but he, steadfast man, did not abate a whit of his easy
smiling. As he looked at the threatful duke his red eyes seemed to be
full of a furtive and whimsical humour.
“No, by my soul,” he said, “this is not politeness, at least as we of
England understand that quality. Wheel? No matter where I travel in
this unholy land of Spain, the parish that I come to is a scurvy one.
Wheel? Duke or donkey driver, it is nothing to the matter, all are
tainted with incivility. Wheel? Why, duke, my message is ‘Be thou of
good courage,’ and He who sends it thee is that great King of Heaven
who holds thee in the hollow of His hand. Do you pause and think upon
it, duke.”
The duke obeyed him in this particular, for certes he paused and
thought upon it much. And while this he did with a deal of gravity, the
wheel rose up before my eyes and I could feel my bones being broken on
it. For was ever such audacity since the beginning of the world!