"In war did never lion rage more fierce--
In peace was never gentle lamb more mild,
Than was that young and princely gentleman."
SHAKSPEARE.
The wars ravaging Spain had nursed many a gallant warrior, and given
ample opportunities for the possession and display of those chivalric
qualities without which, in that age, no manly character was
considered perfect. The armies of Ferdinand and Isabella counted some
of the noblest names and most valiant knights of Christendom. The
Spanish chivalry had always been famous, and when once organized under
a leader of such capacity and firmness as Ferdinand; when the notice
and regard of the Queen they idolized could only be obtained by manly
virtue as well as the warrior's ardor, a new spirit seemed to wake
within them; petty rivalships and jealousies were laid aside, all they
sought was to become distinguished; and never had chivalry shone with
so pure and glorious a lustre in the court of Spain as then, when,
invisibly and unconsciously, it verged on its decline.
It was amongst all this blaze of chivalry that Arthur Stanley had had
ample opportunity to raise, in his own person, the martial glory of
his own still much loved and deeply regretted land. Ferdinand had
honored him with so large a portion of his coveted regard, that
no petty feelings on the part of the Spaniards, because he was a
stranger, could interfere with his advancement; his friends, however,
were mostly among the Arragonese; to Isabella, and the Castilians, he
was only known as a valiant young warrior, and a marked favorite of
the king. There was one person, however, whom the civil contentions of
Spain had so brought forward, that his name was never spoken, either
in council, court, or camp, palace or hut--by monarch or captive,
soldier or citizen--without a burst of such warm and passionate
attachment that it was almost strange how any single individual, and
comparatively speaking, in a private station, could so have won the
hearts of thousands. Yet it had been gradually that this pre-eminence
had been attained--gradually, and entirely by the worth of its
object. At the early age of sixteen, and as page to Gonzalos de
Lara, Ferdinand Morales had witnessed with all the enthusiasm of
a peculiarly ardent, though outwardly quiet nature, the exciting
proceedings at Avila. His youth, his dignified mien, his earnestness,
perhaps even his striking beauty, attracted the immediate attention of
the young Alfonso, and a bond of union of reciprocal affection from
that hour linked the youths together. It is useless arguing on the
folly and frivolity of such rapid attachments; there are those with
whom one day will be sufficient, not only to awaken, but to rivet,
those mysterious sympathies which are the undying links of friendship;
and others again, with whom we may associate intimately for
months--nay, years--and yet feel we have not one thought in common,
nor formed one link to sever which is pain.
During Alfonso's brief career, Ferdinand Morales displayed personal
qualities, and a wisdom and faithfulness in his cause, well deserving
not only the prince's love, but the confidence of all those who were
really Alfonso's friends. His deep grief and ill-concealed indignation
at the prince's mysteriously sudden death might, for the time, have
obtained him enemies, and endangered his own life; but the favor
of Isabella, whom it was then the policy of the confederates to
conciliate in all things possible, protected and advanced him. The
love borne by the Infanta for her young brother surpassed even the
tenderest affection of such relatives; all who had loved and served
him were dear to her; and at a time when so much of treachery and
insidious policy lurked around her, even in the garb of seeming
devotion to her cause, the unwavering fidelity and straightforward
conduct of Morales, combined as it was with his deep affection for
Alfonso, permitted her whole mind to rest on him, secure not only of
his faithfulness, but of vigilance which would discover and counteract
every evil scheming of seeming friends. Her constantly chosen
messenger to Ferdinand, he became known and trusted by both that
prince and his native subjects. His wealth, which, seemed exhaustless,
independent of his preferments, was ever at the service of either
Isabella or her betrothed; he it was from whom the necessary means for
her private nuptials were borrowed. At that scene he was, of course,
present, and, at his own desire, escorted Ferdinand back to his own
domains--an honorable but most dangerous office, performed with his
usual unwavering fidelity and skill. That one so faithful in adversity
should advance from post to post as soon as dawning prosperity
permitted Isabella and Ferdinand to reward merit as well as to evince
gratitude, was not surprising; but no royal favor, no coveted honors,
no extended power, could alter one tittle of his single-hearted
truth--his unrestrained intercourse with and interest in his equals,
were they of the church, court, or camp--his gentle and unassuming
manner to his inferiors. It was these things that made him so
universally beloved. The coldest natures, if thrown in contact with
him, unconsciously to themselves kindled into warmth; vice itself
could not meet the glance of that piercing eye without shrinking, for
the moment, in loathing from itself.
Until Isabella and Ferdinand were firmly established on the throne,
and Arragon and Castile united, there had been little leisure amongst
their warriors to think of domestic ties, otherwise it might perhaps
have been noticed as somewhat remarkable that Ferdinand Morales
appeared to stand alone; kindred, indeed, he claimed with four or five
of the noblest amongst the Castilians, but he seemed to have no near
relative; and though he mingled courteously, and to some young hearts
far too pleasingly, amongst Isabella's court, it seemed as if he
would never stoop to love. The Queen often jested him on his apparent
insensibility, and entreating him to wed. At first he had smiled away
such words; but two or three months after the commencement of our
tale, he acknowledged that his affections had been for some years
engaged to one living so completely in retirement as to be unknown to
all; he had but waited till peace had dawned for Spain, and he might
offer her not only his love, but a secure and quiet home. He spoke
in confidence, and Isabella, woman-like, had listened with no little
interest, giving her royal approval of his choice, without knowing
more than his own words revealed; but feeling convinced, she said,
that Ferdinand Morales would never wed one whose birth or lineage
would tarnish his pure Castilian blood, or endanger the holy faith
of which he was so true a member. A red flush might have stained the
cheek of the warrior at these words, but the deep obeisance with
which he had departed from the royal presence concealed the unwonted
emotion. Ere a year from that time elapsed, not only the ancient city
of Segovia, where his large estates lay, but all Castile were thrown
into a most unusual state of excitement by the marriage of the popular
idol, Don Ferdinand Morales, with a young and marvellously lovely
girl, whom few, if any, had ever seen before, and whose very name,
Donna Marie Henriquez, though acknowledged as essentially Castilian,
was yet unfamiliar. The mystery, however, as to who she was, and where
he could have found her, was speedily lost in the universal admiration
of her exceeding and remarkable loveliness, and of the new yet
equally attractive character which, as a devoted husband, Morales
thenceforward displayed. Many had imagined that he was too grave, too
wrapt in his many engrossing duties, alike as statesman and general,
ever to play the lover; and he had seemed resolved that this
impression should remain, and shrunk from the exposure of such sacred
feelings; for none, save Isabella, knew he loved until they saw his
bride.