The Vale of Cedars; Or, The Martyr

by Grace Aguilar

  CHAPTER XIV.

  1st MONK.--The storm increases; hark! how dismally It sounds along the cloisters!

  BERNARD.--As on I hastened, bearing thus my light, Across my path, not fifty paces off, I saw a murdered corse, stretched on its back, Smeared with new blood, as though but freshly slain.

  JOANNA BAILLIE.

  The apartment adjoining the council-room of the castle, and selectedthis night as the scene of King Ferdinand's banquet, was at thecommencement of the storm filled with the expected guests. From fortyto fifty were there assembled, chosen indiscriminately from theCastilians and Arragonese, the first statesmen and bravest warriorsof the age. But the usual animated discussion, the easy converse, andeager council, had strangely, and almost unconsciously, sunk into agloomy depression, so universal and profound, that every effortto break from it, and resume the general topics of interest, wasfruitless. The King himself was grave almost to melancholy, thoughmore than once he endeavored to shake it off, and speak as usual. Menfound themselves whispering to each other as if they feared to speakaloud--as if some impalpable and invisible horror were hovering roundthem. It might have been that the raging storm without affected allwithin, with a species of awe, to which even the wisest and thebravest are liable when the Almighty utters His voice in the tempest,and the utter nothingness of men comes home to the proudest heart.But there was another cause. One was missing from the council and theboard; the seat of Don Ferdinand Morales was vacant, and unuttered butabsorbing anxiety occupied every mind. It was full two hours, rathermore, from the given hour of meeting; the council itself had beendelayed, and was at length held without him, but so unsatisfactory didit prove, that many subjects were postponed. They adjourned to thebanquet-room; but the wine circled but slowly, and the King leant backon his chair, disinclined apparently for either food or drink.

  "The storm increases fearfully," observed the aged Duke of Murcia,a kinsman of the King, as a flash of lightning blazed through thecasements, of such extraordinary length and brilliance, that even thenumerous lustres, with which the room was lighted, looked dark whenit disappeared. It was followed by a peal of thunder, loud as if ahundred cannons had been discharged above their heads, and causingseveral glasses to be shivered on the board. "Unhappy those compelledto brave it."

  "Nay, better out than in," observed another. "There is excitement inwitnessing its fury, and gloom most depressing in listening to itthus."

  "Perchance 'tis the shadow of the coming evil," rejoined Don Felixd'Estaban. "Old legends say, there is never a storm like this, withoutbringing some national evil on its wings."

  "Ha! say they so?" demanded the King, suddenly, that his guestsstarted. "And is there truth in it?"

  "The lovers of such marvels would bring your Grace many proofs that,some calamity always followed such a tempest," replied Don Felix. "Itmay or may not be. For my own part, I credit not such things. We areourselves the workers of evil--no fatality lurking in storms."

  "Fated or casual, if evil has occurred to Don Ferdinand Morales,monarch and subject will alike have cause to associate this tempestwith national calamity," answered the King, betraying at once theunspoken, but engrossing subject of his thoughts. "Who saw him last?"

  Don Felix d'Estaban replied that he had seen him that day two hoursbefore sunset.

  "And where, my Lord--at home or abroad?"

  "In his own mansion, which he said he had not quitted that day," wasthe rejoinder.

  "And how seemed he? In health as usual?"

  "Ay, my liege, save that he complained of a strange oppressiveness,disinclining him for all exertion."

  "Did he allude to the council of to-night?"

  "He did, my Lord, rejoicing that he should be compelled to rousehimself from his most unwonted mood of idleness."

  "Then some evil has befallen him," rejoined the King; and thecontraction of his brow denied the calmness, implied by his unmovedtone. "We have done wrong in losing all this time, Don Alonzo," headded, turning to the Senor of Aguilar, "give orders that a band ofpicked men scour every path leading hence to Morales' mansion: headthem thyself, an thou wilt, we shall the more speedily receivetidings. Thine eyes have been more fixed on Don Ferdinand's vacantseat, than on the board this last hour; so hence, and speed thee, man.It may be he is ill: we have seen men stricken unto death from onehour to the other. If there be no trace of him in either path, hiethee to his mansion; but return not without news. Impalpable evil isever worse than the tangible and real."

  Don Alonzo scarcely waited the conclusion of the King's speech, soeager was he to depart; and the longing looks cast after him betrayedhow many would have willingly joined him in his search.

  "His wife?" repeated the King, in answer to some suggestions of hiskinsman's. "Nay, man; hast thou yet to learn, that Morales' heartwould break ere he would neglect his duty? No: physical incapacitywould alone have sufficient power to keep him from us--no mental ill."

  If the effort to continue indifferent conversation had been difficultbefore, it now became impossible. The very silence felt ominous. Whatevil could have befallen? was asked internally by each individual; butthe vague dread, the undefined horror of something terrible impending,prevented all reply; and so nearly an hour passed, when, far removedas was the council-room from the main body of the castle, a confusionas of the entrance of many feet, and the tumultuary sound of eagervoices, was distinguished, seeming to proceed from the great hall.

  "It cannot be Don Alonzo so soon returned," remarked the Duke ofMurcia; but even as he spoke, and before the King had time to make animpatient sign for silence, so intently was he listening, the Lord ofAguilar himself re-entered the apartment.

  "Saints of heaven!" ejaculated the King, and his exclamation wasechoed involuntarily by all around. The cheek of the warrior, neverknown to blanch before, was white as death; his eye haggard and wild;his step so faltering, that his whole frame reeled. He sunk on thenearest seat, and, with a shuddering groan, pressed both hands beforehis eyes.

  "Wine! wine! give him wine!" cried Ferdinand impetuously, pushing abrimming goblet towards him. "Drink, man, and speak, in Heaven's name.What frightful object hast thou seen, to bid thee quail, who neverquailed before? Where is Morales? Hast thou found him?"

  "Ay," muttered Don Alonzo, evidently struggling to recall hisenergies, while the peculiar tone of the single monosyllable causedevery heart to shudder.

  "And where is he? Why came he not hither? Why neglect our royalsummons?" continued the King, hurrying question after question withsuch an utter disregard of his usual calm, imperturbable cautiousness,that it betrayed far more than words how much he dreaded the Senor'sreply. "Speak, man; what has detained him?"

  "_Death_!" answered the warrior, his suppressed grief and horrorbreathing in his hollow voice; and rising, he approached the King'sseat, and kneeling down, said in that low, concentrated tone, whichreaches every ear, though scarce louder than a whisper, "Sire, he ismurdered!"

  "Murdered!" reiterated the King, as the word was echoed in all thevarious intonations of horror, grief, and indignation from all around;and he laid his hand heavily on Aguilar's shoulder--"Man, man, how canthis be? Who would dare lift up the assassin's hand against him--him,the favorite of our subjects as of ourselves? Who had cause ofenmity--of even rivalship with him? Thou art mistaken, man; it_cannot_ be! Thou art scared with the sight of murder, and no marvel;but it cannot be Morales thou hast seen."

  "Alas! my liege, I too believed it not; but the murdered corpse nowlying in the hall will be too bloody witness of my truth."

  The King released his hold, and without a word of rejoinder, strodefrom the apartment, and hastily traversing the long galleries, andmany stairs, neither paused nor spoke, till, followed by all hisnobles, he reached the hall. It was filled with soldiers, who, withloud and furious voices, mingled execrations deep and fearful onthe murderer, with bitter lamentations on the victim. A suddenand respectful hush acknowledged the presence o
f the Sovereign;Ferdinand's brows were darkly knit, his lip compressed, his eyesflashing sternly over the dense crowd; but he asked no question, norrelaxed his hasty stride till he stood beside the litter on which,covered with a mantle, the murdered One was lying. For a single minutehe evidently paused, and his countenance, usually so controlled asnever to betray emotion, visibly worked with some strong feeling,which seemed to prevent the confirmation of his fears, by the triflingmovement of lifting up the mantle. But at length, and with a hurriedmovement, it was cast aside; and there lay that noble form, cold,rigid in death! The King pushed the long, jetty hair, now clotted withgore, from the cheek on which it had fallen; and he recognized, toowell, the high, thoughtful brow, now white, cold as marble; the large,dark eye, whose fixed and glassy stare had so horribly replaced thebright intelligence, the sparkling lustre so lately there. Theclayey, sluggish white of death was already on his cheek; his lip,convulsively compressed, and the left hand tightly clenched, as if thesoul had not been thus violently reft from the body, without a strong:pang of mortal agony. His right hand had stiffened round the hiltof his unsheathed sword, for the murderous blow had been dealt frombehind, and with such fatal aim, that death must have been almostinstantaneous, and the tight grasp of his sword the mere instinctivemovement of expiring nature. Awe-struck, chilled to the heart, did thenoble friends of the departed gather round him. On the first removalof the mantle, an irresistible yell of curses on the murderer burstforth from the soldiery, wrought into fury at thus beholding theiralmost idolized commander; but the stern woe on the Sovereign's facehushed them into silence; and the groan of grief and horror whichescaped involuntarily from Ferdinand's lips, was heard throughout thehall.

  "The murderer?" at length demanded many of the nobles at the samemoment. "Who has dared do this awful deed? Don Alonzo, is there noclue to his person--no trace of his path?"

  "There is trace and clue enough," was the brief and stern reply. "Themurderer is secured!"

  "Ha!" exclaimed the King, roused at once; "secured, sayest thou? Inour bitter grief we had well-nigh forgotten justice. Bring forth thedastardly craven; we would demand the reason of this cowardly blow erewe condemn him to the death of torture which his crime demands. Lethim confront his victim. Why do you pause, my Lord? Produce themurderer."

  Still Don Alonzo stood irresolute, and a full minute passed ere hesigned to the men who had accompanied him. A figure was instantly ledforward, his arms strongly secured in his own mantle, and his hat soslouched over his face, that not a feature could be distinguished.Still there was something in his appearance that struck a cold chillof doubt to the heart of the King, and in a voice strangely expressiveof emotion, he commanded--"Remove his hat and mantle: we should knowthat form."

  He was obeyed, for there was no resistance on the part of theprisoner, whose inner dress was also stained with blood, as were hishands. His cheek was ashy pale; his eye bloodshot and pale; and hiswhole appearance denoting such excessive agitation, that it would havegone far to condemn him, even had there been no other proof.

  "Stanley!" burst from the astonished King, as a wild cry ran roundthe hall, and "Death to the ungrateful foreigner!"--"Death to thebase-born Englishman!"--"Tortures and death!" escaped, in everyvariety of intonation, from the fierce soldiery, who, regardless evenof their Sovereign's presence, drew closer and closer round, clashingtheir weapons, and with difficulty restrained from tearing him topieces where he stood.

  "He was my foe," muttered the prisoner, almost unconscious of theimport of his words, or how far they would confirm the suspicionsagainst him. "He robbed me of happiness--he destined me to misery. Ihated him; but I did not murder him. I swore to take his life or losemy own; but not thus--not thus. Great God! to see him lying there, andfeel it might have been my hand. Men, men! would ye quench hatred,behold its object stricken before you by a dastard blow like this, andye will feel its enormity and horror. I did not slay him; I wouldgive my life to the murderer's dagger to call him back, and ask hisforgiveness for the thoughts of blood I entertained against him; but Itouched him not--my sword is stainless."

  "Thou liest, false traitor!" exclaimed Don Felix, fiercely, and heheld up the hilt and about four inches of a sword, the remainder ofwhich was still in the body. "Behold the evidence to thy black lie!My liege, this fragment was found beside the body deluged in gore.We know the hilt too well to doubt, one moment, the name of itspossessor; there is not another like it throughout Spain. It snapt inthe blow, as if more honorable than its master, it could not surviveso foul a stain. What arm should wield it save his own?"

  A universal murmur of execration, acknowledged this convincingevidence; doubly confirmed, as it seemed to be by the fearful startand muttered exclamation, on the part of the prisoner the moment itwas produced. The nobles thronged round the King, some entreating himto sentence the midnight assassin to instant execution; others, toretain him in severest imprisonment till the proofs of his guilt couldbe legally examined, and the whole European World hear of the crime,and its chastisement; lest they should say that as a foreigner,justice was refused to him. To this opinion the King leaned.

  "Ye counsel well and wisely, my lords," he said. "It shall not besaid, because the murdered was our subject, and the murderer an alien,that he was condemned without examination of proofs against him, orbeing heard in his own defence. Seven suns hence we will ourselvesexamine every evidence for or against him, which, your penetration, mylords, can collect. Till then, Don Felix, the prisoner is yourcharge, to be produced when summoned; and now away with the midnightassassin--he has polluted our presence too long. Away with the baseingrate, who has thus requited our trust and love; we would look onhim no more."

  With, a rapid movement the unfortunate young man broke from the guard,which, at Don Felix's sign, closed round and sought to drag him fromthe hall, and flung himself impetuously at Ferdinand's feet.

  "I am no murderer!" he exclaimed, in a tone of such passionate agony,that to any less prejudiced than those around, it must at least haveraised doubt as to his guilt. "I am not the base ingrate you woulddeem me. Condemn me to death an thou wilt, I kneel not to sue forlife; for, dishonored and suspected, I would not accept it were itoffered. Let them bring forward what they will, I am innocent. Here,before ye all, in presence of the murdered victim, by all held sacredin Heaven or on Earth, I swear I slew him not! If I am guilty I callupon the dead himself to rise, and blast me with his gaze!"

  Involuntarily every eye turned towards the corpse; for, vague as suchan appeal might seem now, the age was then but barely past, when theassistance of the murdered was often required in the discovery of themurderer. Many a brave heart grew chill, and brown cheeks blanched, inanticipation of the unearthly sign, so fully were they convinced ofStanley's guilt, but none came. The stagnated blood did not flow forthagain--the eye did not glare with more consciousness than before--thecold hand did not move to point its finger at the prisoner; and DonFelix, fearing the effect of Stanley's appeal upon the King, signed tothe guards, who rudely raised and bore him from the hall.

  The tumults of these events had naturally spread far and wide over thecastle, reaching the apartments of the Queen who, perceiving the aweand terror which the raging tempest had excited in her attendants,though incapable of aught like fear herself, had refrained fromdismissing them as usual. The confusion below seeming to increase withevery moment, naturally excited her surprise; and she commanded oneof her attendants to learn its cause. Already terrified, none seemedinclined to obey, till a young girl, high spirited, and dauntlessalmost as Isabella herself, departed of her own free will, and in afew minutes returned, pale and trembling, with the dread intelligence,that Don Ferdinand Morales lay murdered in the hall, and that ArthurStanley was his murderer.

  Isabella paused not a moment, though the shock was so terrible thatfor the minute she became faint and sick, and hastily quitting herapartments, she entered the great hall at the moment the prisoner wasbeing borne from it. Stupefied with contending feelings. Ferdinand didnot
perceive her entrance. The nobles, drawn together in little knots,were conversing in low eager tones, or endeavoring to reduce thetumultuary soldiery to more order; and the Queen moved on unperceived,till she stood beside the corpse. She neither shrunk from it, norpaled; but bending over him, murmured in a tone, that from itsstartling indication of her unexpected presence, readied the ear ofall--"His poor, _poor_ Marie!"

  The effect was electric. Until that moment horror and indignation hadbeen the predominant feeling; but with those words came the thoughtof his young, his beautiful, his treasured wife--the utter, utterdesolation which that fearful death would bring to her; the contrastbetween her present position, and that in which they had so latelybeheld her; and there was scarcely a manly spirit there, that did notfeel unwonted moisture gather in his eyes, or his heart swell with anemotion never felt before.

  "Now blessings on thy true woman's heart, my Isabel!" exclaimed theKing, tenderly drawing her from the couch of the dead. "I dare vouchnot one of us, mourning the noble dead, has, till now, cast a thoughtupon the living. And who shall breathe these fearful tidings? Whoprepare the unfortunate Marie for the loss awaiting her, and yet tarryto behold and soothe her anguish?"

  "That will I do," replied the Queen, instantly. "None else willprepare her so gently, so kindly; for none knew her husband's worth sowell, or can mourn his loss more deeply. She shall come hither. Andthe murderer," she continued after a brief pause, and the changewas almost startling from the tender sympathy of the Woman to theindignant majesty of the Queen--"Ferdinand, have they told me true asto his person--is he secured?"

  "Ay," answered the King, briefly and bitterly: and from respect to hisfeelings, Isabella asked no more. Orders were issued for the body tobe laid in one of the state apartments; a guard to be stationed at theentrance of the chamber, and measures taken to keep the events of thatfatal night profoundly secret, lest confusion should be aroused in theeasily excited populace, or her terrible loss too rudely reach theears of the most painfully bereaved. These orders were punctuallyobeyed.