"The outmost crowd have heard a sound,
Like horse's hoof on harden'd ground;
Nearer it came, and yet more near--
The very deathsmen pause to hear!"
SIR WALTER SCOTT.
In his private closet, far removed from the excitement stirring
without, King Ferdinand was sitting, on the morning appointed for
Stanley's execution: several maps and plans were before him, over
which he appeared intently engaged; but every now and then his brow
rested on his hand, and his eyes wandered from their object; Isabella
was at work in a recess of the window near him, conversing on his
warlike plans, and entering warmly into all his measures, as he roused
himself to speak of them, or silent when she saw him sunk in thought.
The history of the period dwells with admiration on the domestic
happiness of Ferdinand and Isabella, and most refreshingly do such
annals stand forth amid the rude and stormy scenes, both in public and
private life, most usual to that age. Isabella's real influence on
the far less lofty and more crafty Ferdinand was so silent, so
unobtrusive, that its extent was never known, either to himself or
to her people, till after her death, when in Ferdinand's rapid
deterioration from the nobler qualities of earlier years, it was
traced too clearly, and occasioned her loss to be mourned, yet more
than at the moment of her death.
The hour of noon chimed, and Ferdinand, with unusual emotion, pushed
the papers from him.
"There goes the knell of as brave and true a heart as ever beat," he
said. "If he be innocent--as I believe him--may Heaven forgive his
murderer! Hark! what is that?" he continued hurriedly, as the last
chime ceased to vibrate; and, striding to the door of his cabinet he
flung it open and listened intently.
"Some one seeks the King! follow me, Isabel. By St. Francis, we may
save him yet!" he exclaimed, and rapidly threading the numerous
passages, in less than a minute he stood within the hall.
"Who wills speech of Ferdinand?" he demanded. "Let him step forth at
once and do his errand."
"I seek thee, King of Spain!" was the instant answer, and a young lad
in the white garb of a Benedictine novice, staggered forwards. "Arthur
Stanley is innocent! The real murderer is discovered; he lies at the
point of death sixty miles hence. Send--take his confession; but
do not wait for that. Fly, or it is too late. I see it--the axe is
raised--is flashing in the sun; oh, stop it ere it falls!" And with
the wild effort to loose the grasp of an old soldier, who more
supported than detained him, his exhausted strength gave way, and they
laid him, white, stiff, and speechless, on a settle near.
With his first word, however, Ferdinand had turned to a trusty
soldier, and bade him "fly to stop the work of death;" and the man
needed not a second bidding: he darted from the hall, flew through the
castle-yard, repeated the words to the first individual he met, by
whom it was repeated to another, and by him again on and on till it
reached the crowds around the scaffold; where it spread like wildfire
from mouth to mouth, reaching the ear of Don Felix, even before his
eye caught the rapidly advancing soldier, whom he recognized at once
as one of his Sovereign's private guards; impelling him, with an
almost instinctive movement, to catch the upraised arm of the
executioner at the very instant he was about to strike.
"Wherefore this delay, Don Felix? it is but a cruel mercy," sternly
inquired the Chief Hermano, whose office had led him also to the
scaffold.
"Behold, and listen: praised be the holy saints, he is saved!" was
the rapid reply, as the voice of the soldier close by the foot of
the scaffold, was distinguished bidding them "Hold! hold! the King
commands it. He is innocent; the real murderer is discovered!" and
then followed a shout, so loud, so exulting, that it seemed to have
burst from those assembled hundreds at the same instant. The prisoner
heard it, indeed; but to his bewildered senses--taking the place as
it did of the expected blow--it was so utterly meaningless that he
neither moved nor spoke; and even Don Felix's friendly voice charging
him--"Up, Stanley! up, man! thou art saved--thine innocence made
known!" failed to convince him of the truth. He rose from his knees;
but his limbs shook, and his face--which had changed neither hue nor
expression when he had knelt for the fatal blow--was colorless as
marble. He laid his trembling hand on Father Francis's arm, and tried
to speak, but he could not utter a sound.
"'Tis true, my beloved son: thy sinful thoughts have been sufficiently
chastised; and the mercy of Heaven publicly revealed. Our prayers
have not been said in vain; thine innocence is known--the guilty one
discovered!"
To doubt these solemn accents was impossible, and though the effort
was mighty to prevent it, Nature would have sway, and Stanley laid his
head on the Prior's arm, and burst into tears. And the wild shout that
again awoke, seemed to clarion forth a thrilling denial to the charge
of weakness, which on such openly demonstrated emotion, some hearts
dead to the voice of Nature might have pronounced.
King Ferdinand had not been idle while this exciting scene was
enacting; questioning briefly but distinctly the villager who had
accompanied the novice; the latter still remaining in a state of
exhaustion precluding all inquiries from him. Perez, however, could
only repeat the lad's words when informed that the execution of Senor
Stanley was to take place that day. Father Ambrose had merely told him
that he (Perez) had rendered a most important service to more than one
individual by his compassionate care of the dying man, whose desire to
communicate with the King was no idle raving. He had also charged
him to take particular care of the young novice, who was ailing and
weakly; that the emergency of the present case alone had compelled him
to send the lad to Segovia, as his dress and ability, might gain him a
quicker admission to the King or Queen, than the rude appearance and
uncouth dialect of his companion. The father had also requested him to
urge the officers, whom the King might send to take the dying man's
confession, to travel at their utmost speed, for he thought death was
approaching fast.
With his usual rapidity of thought and decision, Ferdinand's orders
were given and so quickly obeyed, that even before the arrival of the
Sub-Prior and Don Felix with the released prisoner, a band of men,
headed by Don Alonzo and two of the chief officers of the Santa
Hermandad, had already started for the village. The King still
retained Perez, not only to reward him liberally, but that his tale
might be repeated to the proper authorities, and compared with that of
the novice, as soon as he had sufficiently recovered to give it. The
entrance of Stanley effectually prevented his giving more than a
pitying glance towards the poor boy, who had been raised on one of the
benches, surrounded by the soldiers, who were doing all their rude
kindness suggested to revive him.
Isabella had followed her husband to the hall, and been a quiet but
penetrative observer of all that followed. She had started as the
voice of the novice met her ear, and made a few hasty steps forward;
but then checked herself, and quietly watched the proceedings of the
soldiers. Perceiving how wholly ineffectual their efforts appeared,
she advanced towards them. With the most reverential affection the
men made way for her. They had been so accustomed to see her on the
battle-field, tending the wounded and the dying, soothing their
anguish and removing their cares, ay, and more than once doing the
same kindly office in their rude and lowly homes, that her appearance
and gentle tending of the boy, excited no surprise whatever. She
motioned them all back, apparently to allow a free current of air--in
reality, to prevent them from adopting her own suspicions; she did not
remove the somewhat unusually tightly-secured hood; but for her, one
glance on that white and chiselled face was sufficient. Her skill
was at length successful, and with the first symptom of returning
animation, she left him to the soldiers, and joined the throng around
the King; but her eye, which from long use, appeared literally endowed
with power to take in every desired object, however separated, at one
glance, still watched him as he painfully endeavored to rise, and
threw one searching glance towards the principal group. His eyes
rested a full minute on the prisoner, with an expression which
Isabella alone, perhaps, of all in that hall, could read. A momentary
crimson flushed his cheek, and then his face was bowed in his
spread hands, and his slight frame shook, with the fervor of the
thanksgiving, which his whole soul outpoured.
Perceiving that the lad had recovered his senses, Perez referred all
the eager questioners to him, feeling so bewildered at the marvellous
transformation of himself, in his own opinion, from, an ignorant
rustic, who had never seen the interior of a town, to the permitted
companion of his sovereign and his nobles, and even of Isabella, and
he received from her lips a few words of kindly commendation, that
it was almost an effort to speak; and he longed to rush back to his
village and astound them all, and still more, triumph over his friend,
the hostellerie-keeper, who, lord it as he might, had never been so
honored.
"Come hither, boy," said Ferdinand kindly; and the novice slowly and
with evident reluctance obeyed. "We could almost wish thy tastes had
pointed elsewhere than the church, that our acknowledgments of thy
exertions in our service might be more substantial than mere thanks;
however, thy patron saint shall not want a grateful offering. Nay, our
presence is surely not so terrible that thou shouldst tremble thus,
poor child! Hast thou aught more to communicate?--aught for our
private ear, or that of her Highness our consort? If not, we will not
exhaust thy little strength by useless questions."
In a tone so low and faltering, that Ferdinand was obliged to bend
down his head to hear, the novice replied, that if messengers had been
despatched to the village, his errand was sufficiently accomplished.
Father Ambrose had merely charged him to say that the real murderer
had himself confessed his crime, and that the sin had been incited,
by such a horrible train of secret guilt, that all particulars were
deferred till they could be imparted to the authorities of justice,
and by them to the sovereigns themselves. For himself he only asked
permission to return to the village with Perez, and rejoin his
guardian, Father Ambrose, as soon as his Grace would please to dismiss
him.
"Thou must not--shalt not--return without my poor thanks, my young
preserver," exclaimed Stanley, with emotion. "Had it not been for
exertions which have well nigh exhausted thee, exertions as gratuitous
as noble--for what am I to thee?--my honor might have been saved
indeed, but my life would have paid a felon's forfeit. Would that I
could serve thee--thou shouldst not find me ungrateful! Give me thine
hand, at least, as pledge that shouldst thou ever need me--if not for
thyself, for others--thou wilt seek me without scruple."
The boy laid his hand on Stanley's without hesitation, but without
speaking; he merely raised his heavy eyes a moment to his face, and
vainly did Stanley endeavor to account for the thrill which shot
through his heart so suddenly as almost to take away his breath, as he
felt the soft touch of that little hand and met that momentary glance.
Who has not felt the extraordinary power of a tone--a look--a touch?
which,
"Touching th' electric chain, wherewith we are darkly bound,"
fills the heart and mind with irresistible impulses, engrossing
thoughts, and startling memories, all defined and united, and yet
lasting for so brief a moment that we are scarcely able to realize
their existence ere they are gone--and so completely, that we perplex
ourselves again and again with the vain effort to recall their subject
or their meaning. And so it was with Stanley. The thrill passed and
he could not even trace its origin or flitting thought; he only saw a
Benedictine novice before him; he only felt regret that there was no
apparent means with which he could evince his gratitude.
On Father Francis offering to take charge of the boy, till his
strength was sufficiently renovated to permit his safe return to the
village, Isabella spoke, for the first time:--
"Reverend Father! We will ourselves take charge of this poor child.
There are some questions we would fain inquire, ere we can permit his
return to his guardian: if satisfactorily answered, a munificent
gift to his patron saint shall demonstrate, how deeply we feel the
exertions he has made; and if we can serve him better than merely
allowing his return to his monastery, trust me we shall not fail.
Follow me, youth!" she continued, as the Sub-Prior and the King,
though surprised at her words, acquiesced. The novice shrunk back
and clung to the side of Perez, as if most unwilling to comply; but
neither the command, nor the look, with which it was enforced could be
disobeyed, and slowly and falteringly he followed Isabella from the
hall.