great, with the king, but before she had a chance of doing so the wild
scheme of the two infantes received still stronger support from an
unexpected quarter. Some time earlier the king had asked the pope to
give him a Bull, or papal document, allowing him to raise a crusade
whenever he thought it would have a chance of success. At the moment the
pope was busy with several other affairs nearer home, and returned no
answer. When at last he had leisure to attend to the king of Portugal's
request, and sent over an abbot with the Bull, Duarte seems to have
forgotten all about the matter, and was filled with dismay. Of course
his brothers were delighted and declared that the king could no longer
resist!
In spite, however, of wife, pope, and brothers, the king _did_ resist,
though he went as far as to say that any expedition which _might_ be
undertaken must be directed against Tangier, and that fourteen thousand
men would be the utmost that he could furnish. But when he had yielded
this much, it was difficult for him to refuse his consent, even though
dom John and dom Pedro spoke strongly in a family council of the folly
of beginning a war when the treasury was empty and the people unwilling
to bear the burden of taxation.
Dom Pedro's words found their echo in the heart of Duarte. They said
what his own sense had told him, and he was filled with fears for the
future, though he could not break his promise. One last effort he made,
and this was an appeal to the pope as to whether it was lawful to impose
a tax for the purpose of making war against the infidels. The pope and
his cardinals decided that it was _not_, as the infidels had not made
war upon _him_, and Duarte, though more than ever cast down, had not the
courage to acknowledge that he had been hasty and foolish, and, bitterly
though he repented of his weakness, he allowed Enrique to equip fleets
in Lisbon and in Oporto.
* * * * *
But when, at the end of August 1436, the hour of departure arrived, the
king had recovered himself, and handed Enrique a paper of instructions
which would probably have changed the fate of the expedition had they
been followed. Unfortunately, Enrique was a headstrong man, and thought
that he _must_ know better than his stay-at-home brother, who had not
seen a battlefield for eighteen years. He had listened contemptuously to
dom Pedro when he pointed out that African conquests were both expensive
and useless, that the cities, even if taken, could never become part of
Portugal, and would always need garrisons to hold them, and smiled
scornfully at the statement that any Portuguese force besieging Tangier
would in its turn of a surety be besieged by a Moorish host, who would
gather men from all parts and have a supply of provisions constantly at
hand.
'Those whom the gods will to destroy they first infatuate,' says the
proverb, and no man was ever more infatuated than the infante dom
Enrique. The fourteen thousand men of which the king had spoken had
dwindled down to six thousand, and these were but half-hearted. Small as
the force was, dom Duarte had instructed Enrique to divide it into
three, in order to prevent the Moors from concentrating large numbers
upon one place. This counsel Enrique declined to follow, nor did he
attempt to surprise and take Tangier by assault, which might possibly
have been successful. Instead, he allowed the Moors to assemble a large
army and to put the town in a state of defence. Finally, he totally
disobeyed the wise counsel of Duarte to make his camp close to the sea,
where his ships lay at anchor, in order that provisions and a retreat
might be secured to them.
* * * * *
Having thus done all in his power to ensure defeat, only one thing
remained, and that was 'to die like good men with constant souls,' in
the words which the poet Calderon puts into the mouth of Fernando. Too
late Enrique perceived the snare into which his folly had led them, and
assembling his little army, gave orders that at night, when the Moorish
camp was quiet, they should cut their way through to the ships and put
to sea. Their attacks on Tangier had been repulsed with heavy losses, he
told them, and if the enterprise was ever to be carried through they
must first seek reinforcements.
The men agreed with him, and prepared to sell their lives dearly.
Silently at the appointed time they crept up to the Moorish tents,
beyond which lay safety and the great galleons. But the chaplain,
unluckily, had been before them. As soon as darkness fell he had
deserted to the enemy, and the sight of the large force drawn up in
order of battle was the first sign of warning to the Christians that
they had been betrayed.
Even Enrique felt that in the face of such numbers fighting was useless,
but he placed his men in the best position and awaited events. All the
next day the Moors made no sign, but on the following morning envoys
left the ranks and proposed terms of peace. Considering all things, they
were not hard. Ceuta must be surrendered, the Moorish captives in
Portugal be released, and the Christian camp with everything it
contained abandoned to the captors. But the infantes wished to deal
directly with the kings of Fez and Morocco, in order to make sure that
the terms offered would be loyally carried out. They were still
expecting the return of the envoys which they had sent when the Moors,
who had grown more and more impatient at the long wait so close to their
enemies, could be restrained no more and fell on the Portuguese.
* * * * *
In spite of their small numbers, the Portuguese, commanded by dom
Enrique and the bishop of Ceuta, fought so fiercely that after six hours
the Moors were beaten back. After a short rest dom Enrique ordered every
man to repair the trenches and to throw up earthworks to protect the
camp, in case of another assault. They worked hard the whole of that
night, which was Saturday, and when by sunrise on Sunday everything was
finished, the soldiers sank down exhausted where they were, and cried
for food and water. It was long in coming. Then a horrible suspicion,
which turned the men's faces white, ran, no one knew why, from end to
end of the camp. Was there _any_ food? and, worse still, any water?
They had guessed truly; they had no provisions left, and the water had
been cut off by the Moors. For two days they held out, then dom Enrique
decided to accept the terms offered him. He would give up Ceuta and the
Moorish prisoners, would abandon the camp, and would undertake that
Portugal should sign a peace with the Barbary States lying along that
part of the African coast for a hundred years. In return the former
Moorish governor of Ceuta, Salat-ben-Salat, should hand over his son as
a hostage, in exchange for four Portuguese nobles, but the pledge for
the surrender of Ceuta was to be dom Fernando himself.
Bitter were the shame and grief that filled dom Enrique when the results
of his folly were brought home to him, and he instantly begged that he
might be accepted as hostage instead of his brother. No doubt the Moors
would have agreed to this; it mattered little to them which of the
infantes remained captive, but the council of war which Enrique summoned
would not consent. Fernando knew nothing of war, they said, but Enrique,
their commander, could not be spared, though it is hard to see what
Enrique had done except lead them into traps which a recruit might have
foreseen. Dom Fernando was present with the rest of the council, and was
the first to declare that his brother's proposal was not to be thought
of. Then, with a heavy heart, Enrique signed the treaty, and a few hours
later Fernando and he had parted for the last time.
* * * * *
Thus ended the expedition for the taking of Tangier; and what had it
attained? As far as Portugal was concerned, the loss, as stipulated by
treaty, of Ceuta, by which the country set such store; the death of five
hundred out of the six thousand men under the walls of Tangier, which
held out in spite of the field guns used in war for the first time; the
waste of money which had been only raised by the oppression of the
people; and the delivery of the king's favourite brother into the hands
of a cruel race.
Such was the tale which the fugitives had to tell on their arrival at
Lisbon. And while the king was debating the best means of rescuing the
captive, let us see how Fernando himself was faring.
Accompanied by his chaplain, his doctor, his secretary, and a few
friends, who would seem to have gone with him of their own will, dom
Fernando was sent by his captors to the fortress of Tangier, and closely
imprisoned for several days. Perhaps the Moors may have been waiting
for Enrique, who had gone to Ceuta, to deliver up the keys of the town;
but as nothing was heard of him, the captives were taken next to the
little town of Arzilla, further down the coast. Here the Portuguese were
kindly treated by the governor, and Fernando, though the hardships he
had gone through had told heavily on his health, did all he could to
help his friends, who fared no better than himself, and devoted what
money was left to him to ransoming those who had been for some years in
captivity.
For seven months Fernando and his companions remained in Arzilla, and
during all that time both he and his gaoler, Salat-ben-Salat, expected
to receive answers to the many letters the captive prince had been
suffered to write to Enrique respecting his promise to surrender Ceuta,
where he stayed for some time after the embarkation of the Portuguese
army. But after five months the only news that reached Arzilla was that
Enrique had returned to Portugal; so Fernando then wrote to the king
himself, imploring that he would redeem his pledge and set him free. It
seemed little to ask, seeing that a treaty is considered sacred, and
Duarte, from every point of view, was ready to fulfil the stipulation;
but there was a strong party in the state which held that a Christian
city should never be delivered up to the unbelievers, and even Enrique
advised him instead to offer a large ransom and the Moorish captives
then in Portugal in exchange for the infante.
* * * * *
Always distrustful of his own opinion, and fearful of taking any decided
action, Duarte next appealed for counsel to the pope and to the kings of
all the countries of Europe. They sent the politest and most sympathetic
answers to his questions. No words could express their admiration for
dom Fernando's patience under his sufferings, and their pity for his
hard lot, but--faith with Moslems need never be kept, and at all costs
Ceuta must be retained.
Thus, after all, it was the Christians, and not the Moslems, who failed
to keep their word and were responsible for the death of Fernando.
* * * * *
At length news reached Fernando that dom John was starting with a fleet
for his rescue, and then the doom which he dreaded befell him, for he
was sent with his fellow-captives at once to Fez, a city far in the
interior, and delivered over to Lazuraque, the vizier of the young king,
a man whose name was a proverb of cruelty throughout the whole of
Barbary. On their arrival at Fez, after a journey in which the whole
population turned out to howl at and to stone them, they were thrust
into a tiny cell without a ray of light. The four months that they spent
in this black hole were bad enough, but worse was yet to follow. The
little money that Fernando had left was taken from him, and heavy chains
were fastened to the ankles of the prisoners, while their food was
hardly fit for dogs or enough to keep them alive. But Fernando at least
never grumbled, and tried to keep up the hearts of his friends.
One morning a warder entered the cell and roughly informed the prince
that he was to go and clean out the vizier's stables, while the others
were to dig up the royal garden. Of course Fernando had never done such
a thing in his life, and now, hardly able to stand from weakness, and
with fetters on his legs, it seemed an impossible task. Still, only to
get out into the sunshine again was delightful to him, and he worked
away with a will. However, he could not have done his cleansing very
thoroughly, or else the vizier had merely wished to humiliate him, for
the next day he was sent to the gardens with the rest. Here he was
almost happy; he loved flowers, and he had the company of his friends,
to whom he could talk freely, for the gaolers, satisfied that they
could not escape, left them very much to themselves. As to food, each
man had two loaves a day, but no meat; however, in this respect Fernando
fared better than the others, for when the king of Fez and his wives
walked through the gardens, as they often did, they would speak to him
with the politeness to which he had long been a stranger, and bid their
slaves bring him fruit and wine from their own table. It seems curious
that king Abdallah did not insist on better treatment for the Portuguese
prince, but he was afraid of Lazuraque, who had ruled the kingdom from
Abdallah's childhood, and dared not interfere.
When darkness fell the captives were taken back to their prison, and
here Fernando had a cell all to himself, and, tired out with his
labours, was glad enough to throw himself on the two sheepskins covered
by an old carpet which served him for a bed, and lay his head on the
bundle of hay which was his pillow.
* * * * *
Matters had gone on in this way for a few weeks, when one day the
captives were told that they were to work in the gardens no more;
heavier chains were fastened to their arms and legs, and they were all
thrust together into one tiny dungeon. Then a message came that dom
Fernando was to be brought before the vizier. With a beating heart the
infante gladly followed his gaoler. Surely Lazuraque would not have
troubled to send for him unless deliverance had been at hand? But his
hopes fell at the sight of Lazuraque's face, which was cruel and stern
as usual.
'Your brother the king of Portugal is dead,' were the words that fell
upon Fernando's ears, and he sank fainting to the ground. When he came
to himself, he was lying chained in his cell, with his friends anxiously
bending over him.
Dom Pedro was now regent, ruling for Duarte's little son, Alfonso V.,
and besides the view which he had always held that the honour of the
country demanded the surrender of Ceuta, he felt bound to carry out the
late king's will, which directed him to deliver Fernando at any cost.
But now it was not Ceuta that Lazuraque wanted, but a huge ransom,
impossible for Portugal to raise, and till this was forthcoming the
horrors of the prisoners' captivity were increased.
For some days after hearing the news Fernando's grief, together with the
stifling air of the cell, made him so ill that his companions expected
that every hour would be his last. Well he guessed that shame at the
result of the expedition, and sorrow for his own fate, had hastened the
end of dom Duarte, and the infante's thoughts flew back to the day of
the proclamation of the king, five years before, and to the prophecy of
master Guedelha. One thing, however, did not occur to him--that it was
Duarte's weakness in allowing the expedition which had brought about the
fulfilment of the prophecy.
* * * * *
After a while Lazuraque saw that unless he meant his captives to die,
which would not have suited him at all, he must free them from their
dungeon, so they were sent back to the gardens. Slowly the years 1439
and 1440 wore away. The hearts of the poor prisoners grew sick, but
Fernando alone never lost his cheerfulness, and kept up the spirits of
the others when they were bowed down with despair.
It was in 1441 that hope suddenly sprang into life again, for the news
reached them that some envoys had arrived from Portugal to treat for
their release, and that the governor of Arzilla was using his influence
on their behalf. Soon after they were removed from Fez near to Ceuta,
where they could once more see the blue Mediterranean and feel
themselves close to Portugal again. But everything came to an end
because neither side would trust the other. Lazuraque, though he still
preferred a ransom, part of which he could have put in his own pocket,
dared not refuse openly to exchange the prince for Ceuta, now that the
envoys had come for the express purpose of delivering up the fortress.
Still, he could place many obstacles in the way of the fulfilment of the
treaty, and declared that the keys of Ceuta must be in his possession
before the infante could be handed over to the envoys. They, on their
side, insisted on Fernando's release before the surrender of the
fortress.
So the poor victim of ill-faith was carried back to Fez, and set to
break stones with his companions. Then the plague broke out among the
Moors, and each man shrank from his sick brother, and left him to die
alone. As far as he might, dom Fernando sought out the plague-stricken
people and nursed them night and day, often going without his own food
that they might be nourished. Perhaps Lazuraque had fled like other rich
men from the city, but at all events he seems to have permitted dom
Fernando to do as he liked till the pestilence had run its course.
* * * * *
It was in March 1442 that Fernando was again taken before Lazuraque, and
though the prisoner always told himself that he had given up hope,
nevertheless his heart beat faster than usual at the summons. The Moor
did not waste words, but went at once to the point.
'I have sent for you to ask what price you will pay for your freedom and
that of your friends,' he said.
Dom Fernando looked at him for an instant before he answered. Long ago
he and his companions had talked over the matter and decided what they
could offer, if they ever had the chance. But now that the moment had
come on which everything depended, his voice seemed choked, and he could
not utter a sound.
'Are you deaf?' inquired Lazuraque impatiently. 'Be quick, or I shall
raise my terms.'
Then Fernando stammered out, 'Fifty thousand doubloons and fifty Moorish
prisoners.'
'Nonsense,' cried Lazuraque, with a scornful laugh. 'Fifty thousand
doubloons for a Portuguese prince! Why, it is a beggarly sum! Take him
away, gaoler, till he learns wisdom.' And the infante was led back to
his dungeon.
It was no more than he had expected, yet he needed all his strength of
will to help him bear the blow. By order of Lazuraque he was allowed to
receive his fellow-prisoners in order to take counsel with them, and at
length it was agreed that amongst them, by the aid of the king and their
families, they would treble their former offer, and promise one hundred
and fifty thousand doubloons and one hundred and fifty captives. This
the vizier agreed to accept, and when they heard the news the prisoners
fell on each other's necks and wept for joy. But for Fernando the hour
of happiness was soon at an end, for till the ransom was paid and the
captives landed on Moorish soil his treatment was worse than ever.
The dungeon into which he was now thrown was smaller and darker than
before, and even his gaoler was forbidden to speak to him. The
loneliness and silence put the finishing touch to the alternate hopes
and fears of the last few months, and one day, when the warder brought
his scanty supply of food, he found the prince lying unconscious on the
ground. Fearing the anger of Lazuraque should his prisoner escape him by
death before the money was received, he at once reported the matter, and
orders were given to remove the captive into a larger cell, where he
could feel the soft winds blowing and even see a ray of the sun. His
companions, who were once more working hard, with the least possible
allowance of sleep, were permitted to see him, and to carry him books
of prayer, as he had been deprived of his own. Greatest boon of all, he
was given a lamp by which he could read them.
[Illustration: He found the prince lying unconscious on the ground.]
Outside of his cell there was a sand-pit, in which some of the
Portuguese came to dig sand every morning to scatter over the floor of
the stables after they had been cleaned out. A tiny glimmer of light in
this part of the wall showed dom Fernando that a stone was loose, and
might with a little patience be moved away. It was hard work for one so
weak; still, it gave him something to do and to look forward to, and
prevented him, sitting all day in his prison, from wondering why no
answer to his letter had ever come, and if his brothers had forgotten
him altogether, little knowing that out of mere spite Lazuraque had kept
back everything they had written. When these thoughts came into his head
he worked away at the stone harder than ever, to deaden the pain which
was almost too bad to bear. At last one day his efforts were rewarded,
and he was able to take the stone in and out and speak to his
fellow-captives, who, with sun and air about them, were more fortunate
than he.
Perhaps he may have heard from them (for outside a gaol news flies
quickly) that ever since Duarte's death his wife had given great trouble
to dom Pedro by interfering in matters of government, and that civil war
had actually broken out in Portugal, though happily it was soon put an
end to by the flight of the queen. The expenses entailed by all this
would, Fernando understood, have prevented the raising of the large
ransom required; and with the lightening of his despair at his apparent
abandonment came suspicions of Lazuraque. It was so much easier and
happier for him to believe that the vizier, whose cruelty he knew,
should be playing some trick on him than that Pedro should have left him
to die without a word.
* * * * *
We cannot tell how it really happened, and why the money used by dom
Enrique ('the Navigator' as he was called) in fitting out exploring
expeditions was not employed in setting free the brother who had been
made captive through Enrique's own folly. Certain it is that fifty
thousand doubloons were all the Portuguese would offer, and now
Lazuraque demanded four hundred thousand! This Fernando learnt after
fifteen months of waiting, and then his last remnant of hope flickered
out.
When hope was gone he had nothing left to live for, and on June 1, 1443,
he was too weak even to kneel at his prayers. In vain did his companions
implore that he might be moved to a larger, healthier room; the vizier
refused all their petitions, and if he had granted them, most likely it
would have been too late. However, the prince's physician obtained leave
to see him, and his chaplain and secretary watched by him alternately,
so that he was not left alone in his last moments.
Four days passed in this manner, and on the morning of June 5 he awoke
looking happier than he had done since he bade farewell to the shores of
Portugal five years before.
'I have seen in a vision,' he said to his confessor, 'the archangel
Michael and Saint John entreating the Blessed Virgin to have pity on me
and put an end to my sufferings. And she smiled down on me, and told me
that to-day the gates of heaven should be thrown open, and I should
enter.' So saying he begged to confess his sins, and when this was done
he turned on his side and whispered, 'Now let me die in peace,' and with
the last rays of the sun he was free.
* * * * *
'He that is dead pays all his debts,' writes the poet who more than any
man knew the best and the worst of the human heart, but Lazuraque did
not agree with him. Fernando's body was stripped bare and hung for four
days from the battlements of the city, where, silent and uncomplaining
as in life, it was a prey to every insult the people could heap on it.
Then it was taken down and placed in a box, but still remained unheeded
on the walls. How long it might have stayed there we cannot guess, but
shortly after Fernando's death Lazuraque was stabbed by some victim of
his tyranny, and by-and-by the remnant of dom Fernando's fellow-captives
obtained their release on payment of a small ransom, leaving in Fez the
bones of three of their companions who had not long survived the
Constant Prince. It would seem as if his courage alone had sustained
them, and when he was gone they sank and died also.
* * * * *