CHAPTER XXV
HOW THE _MARGARET_ WON OUT TO SEA
It was night. Peter, faint with loss of blood and stiff with bruises,had bade his farewell to their Majesties of Spain, who spoke many softwords to him, calling him the Flower of Knighthood, and offering himhigh place and rank if he would abide in their service. But he thankedthem and said No, for in Spain he had suffered too much to dwell there.So they kissed his bride, the fair Margaret, who clung to her woundedhusband like ivy to an oak, and would not be separated from him, evenfor a moment, that husband whom living she had scarcely hoped to claspagain. Yes, they kissed her, and the queen threw about her a chain fromher own neck as a parting gift, and wished her joy of so gallant a lord.
"Alas! your Majesty," said Margaret, her dark eyes filling with tears,"how can I be joyous, who must think of to-morrow?"
Thereon Isabella set her face and answered:
"Dona Margaret Brome, be thankful for what to-day has brought you, andforget to-morrow and that which it must justly take away. Go now, andGod be with you both!"
So they went, the little knot of English sailormen, who, wrapped inSpanish cloaks, had sat together in the amphitheatre and groaned whenthe Eagle struck, and cheered when the Falcon swooped, leading, orrather carrying Peter under cover of the falling night to a boat not farfrom this Place of Bulls. In this they embarked unobserved, for themultitude, and even Peter's own squires believed that he had returnedwith his wife to the palace, as he had given out that he would do. Sothey were rowed to the _Margaret_, which straightway made as though shewere about to sail, and indeed dropped a little way down stream. Hereshe anchored again, just round a bend of the river, and lay there forthe night.
It was a heavy night, and in it there was no place for love or lovers'tenderness. How could there be between these two, who for so long hadbeen tormented by doubts and fears, and on this day had endured suchextremity of terror and such agony of joy? Peter's wound also was deepand wide, though his shield had broken the weight of Morella's sword,and its edge had caught upon his shoulder-piece, so that by good chanceit had not reached down to the arteries, or shorn into the bone; yet hehad lost much blood, and Smith, the captain, who was a better surgeonthan might have been guessed from his thick hands, found it needful towash out the cut with spirit that gave much pain, and to stitch it upwith silk. Also Peter had great bruises on his arms and thighs, and hisback was hurt by that fall from the white charger with Morella inhis arms.
So it came about that most of that night he lay outworn, half-sleepingand half-waking, and when at sunrise he struggled from his berth, it wasbut to kneel by the side of Margaret and join her in her prayers thather father might be rescued from the hands of these cruel priestsof Spain.
Now during the night Smith had brought his ship back with the tide, andlaid her under the shelter of those hulks whereof Peter had spoken,having first painted out her name of _Margaret_, and in its place setthat of the _Santa Maria_, a vessel of about the same build and tonnage,which, as they had heard, was expected in port. For this reason, orbecause there were at that time many ships in the river, it happenedthat none in authority noted her return, or if they did, neglected toreport the matter as one of no moment. Therefore, so far all went well.
According to the tale of Henriques, confirmed by what they had learnedotherwise, the great procession of the Act of Faith would turn on to thequay at about eight o'clock, and pass along it for a hundred yards or soonly, before it wound away down a street leading to the _plaza_ wherethe theatre was prepared, the sermon would be preached, the Masscelebrated, and the "relaxed" placed in cages to be carried to theQuemadero.
At six in the morning Smith mustered those twelve men whom he had chosento help him in the enterprise, and Peter, with Margaret at his side,addressed them in the cabin, telling them all the plan, and praying themfor the sake of their master and of the Lady Margaret, his daughter, todo what men might to save one whom they loved and honoured from sohorrible a death.
They swore that they would, every one of them, for their English bloodwas up, nor did they so much as speak of the great rewards that had beenpromised to those who lived through this adventure, and to the familiesof those who fell. Then they breakfasted, girded their swords and knivesabout them, and put on their Spanish cloaks, though, to speak truth,these lads of Essex and of London made but poor Spaniards. Now, atlength the boat was ready, and Peter, although he could scarcely stand,desired to be carried into it that he might accompany them. But thecaptain, Smith, to whom perhaps Margaret had been speaking, set down hisflat foot on the deck and said that he, who commanded there, wouldsuffer no such thing. A wounded man, he declared, would but cumber themwho had little room to spare in that small boat, and could be of noservice, either on land or water. Moreover, Master Peter's face wasknown to thousands who had watched it yesterday, and would certainly berecognised, whereas none would take note at such a time of a dozencommon sailors landed from some ship to see the show. Lastly, he woulddo best to stop on board the vessel, where, if anything went wrong, theymust be short-handed enough, who, if they could, ought to get her awayto sea and across it with all speed.
Still Peter would have gone, till Margaret, throwing her arms about him,asked him if he thought that she would be the better if she lost bothher father and her husband, as, if things miscarried, well might happen.Then, being in pain and very weak, he yielded, and Smith, having givenhis last directions to the mate, and shaken Peter and Margaret by thehand, asking their prayers for all of them, descended with his twelvemen into the boat, and dropping down under shelter of the hulks, rowedto the shore as though they came from some other vessel. Now the quaywas not more than a bowshot from them, and from a certain spot upon the_Margaret_ there was a good view of it between the stern of one hulk andthe bow of another. Here, then, Peter and Margaret sat themselves downbehind the bulwark, and watched with fears such as cannot be told, whilea sharp-eyed seaman climbed to the crow's-nest on the mast, whence hecould see over much of the city, and even the old Moorish castle thatwas then the Holy House of the Inquisition. Presently this man reportedthat the procession had started, for he saw its banners and the peoplecrowding to the windows and to the roof-tops; also the cathedral bellbegan to toll slowly. Then came a long, long wait, during which theirlittle knot of sailors, wearing the Spanish cloaks, appeared upon thequay and mingled with the few folk that were gathered there, since themost of the people were collected by thousands on the great _plaza_ orin the adjacent streets.
At length, just as the cathedral clock struck eight, the "triumphant"march, as it was called, began to appear upon the quay. First came abody of soldiers with lances; then a crucifix, borne by a priest andveiled in black crape; then a number of other priests, clad insnow-white robes to symbolise their perfect purity. Next followed mencarrying wood or leather images of some man or woman who, by flight to aforeign land or into the realms of Death, had escaped the clutches ofthe Inquisition. After these marched other men in fours, each four ofthem bearing a coffin that contained the body or bones of some deadheretic, which, in the absence of his living person, like the effigies,were to be committed to the flames as a token of what the Inquisitionwould have done to him if it could--to enable it also to seizehis property.
Then came many penitents, their heads shaven, their feet bare, and clad,some in dark-coloured cloaks, some in yellow robes, called the_sanbenito_, which were adorned with a red cross. These were followed bya melancholy band of "relaxed" heretics, doomed to the fire orstrangulation at the stake, and clothed in _zamarras_ of sheepskin,painted all over with devils and the portraits of their own facessurrounded by flames. These poor creatures wore also flame-adorned capscalled _corozas_, shaped like bishops' mitres, and were gagged withblocks of wood, lest they should contaminate the populace by somedeclaration of their heresy, while in their hands they bore tapers,which the monks who accompanied them relighted from time to time if theybecame extinguished.
Now the hearts of Peter and Margaret leaped within them
, for at the endof this hideous troop rode a man mounted on an ass, clothed in a_zamarra_ and _coroza_, but with a noose about his neck. So the FrayHenriques had told the truth, for without doubt this was John Castell.Like people in a dream, they saw him advance in his garb of shame, andafter him, gorgeously attired, civil officers, inquisitors, andfamiliars of noble rank, members of the Council of Inquisition, behindwhom was borne a flaunting banner, called the Holy Standard ofthe Faith.
Now Castell was opposite to the little group of seamen, and, or so itseemed, something went wrong with the harness of the ass on which hesat, for it stopped, and a man in the garb of a secretary stepped to it,apparently to attend to a strap, thus bringing all the processionbehind to a halt, while that in front proceeded off the quay and roundthe corner of a street. Whatever it might be that had happened, itnecessitated the dismounting of the heretic, who was pulled roughly offthe brute's back, which, as though in joy at this riddance of itsburden, lifted its head and brayed loudly.
Men from the thin line of crowd that edged the quay came forward asthough to help, and among them were several in capes, such as were wornby the sailors of the _Margaret_. The officers and grandees behindshouted, "Forward!--forward!" whereon those attending to the ass hustledit and its rider a little nearer to the water's edge, while the guardsran back to explain what had happened. Then suddenly a confusion arose,of which it was impossible to distinguish the cause, and next instantMargaret and Peter, still gripping each other, saw the man who had beenseated on the ass being dragged rapidly down the steps of the quay, atthe foot of which lay the boat of the _Margaret_.
The mate at the helm saw also, for he blew his whistle, a sign at whichthe anchor was slipped--there was no time to lift it--and men who werewaiting on the yards loosed the lashings of certain sails, so thatalmost immediately the ship began to move.
Now they were fighting on the quay. The heretic was in the boat, andmost of the sailors; but others held back the crowd of priests and armedfamiliars who strove to get at him. One, a priest with a sword in hishand, slipped past them and tumbled into the boat also. At last all werein save a single man, who was attacked by three adversaries--John Smith,the captain. The oars were out, but his mates waited for him. He struckwith his sword, and some one fell. Then he turned to run. Two maskedfamiliars sprang at him, one landing on his back, one clinging to hisneck. With a desperate effort he cast himself into the water, draggingthem with him. One they saw no more, for Smith had stabbed him, theother floated up near the boat, which already was some yards from thequay, and a sailor battered him on the head with an oar, so thathe sank.
Smith had vanished also, and they thought he must be drowned. Thesailors thought it too, for they began to give way, when suddenly agreat brown hand appeared and clasped the stern-sheets, while abull-voice roared:
"Row on, lads, I'm right enough."
Row they did indeed, till the ashen oars bent like bows, only two ofthem seized the officer who had sprung into the boat and flung himscreaming into the river, where he struggled a while, for he could notswim, gripping at the air with his hands, then disappeared. The boat wasin mid-stream now, and shaping her course round the bow of the firsthulk beyond which the prow of the _Margaret_ began to appear, for thewind was fresh, and she gathered way every moment.
"Let down the ladder, and make ready ropes," shouted Peter.
It was done, but not too soon, for next instant the boat was bumping ontheir side. The sailors in her caught the ropes and hung on, while thecaptain, Smith, half-drowned, clung to the stern-sheets, for the waterwashed over his head.
"Save him first," cried Peter. A man, running down the ladder, threw anoose to him, which Smith seized with one hand and by degrees workedbeneath his arms. Then they tackled on to it, and dragged him bodilyfrom the river to the deck, where he lay gasping and spitting out foamand water. By now the ship was travelling swiftly, so swiftly thatMargaret was in an agony of fear lest the boat should be towed underand sink.
But these sailor men knew their trade. By degrees they let the boat dropback till her bow was abreast of the ladder. Then they helped Castellforward. He gripped its rungs, and eager hands gripped him. Up hestaggered, step by step, till at length his hideous, fiend-painted cap,his white face, whence the beard had been shaved, and his open mouth, inwhich still was fixed the wooden gag, appeared above the bulwarks, asthe mate said afterwards, like that of a devil escaped from hell. Theylifted him over, and he sank fainting in his daughter's arms. Then oneby one the sailors came up after him--none were missing, though two hadbeen wounded, and were covered with blood. No, none were missing--Godhad brought them, every one, safe back to the deck of the _Margaret_.
Smith, the captain, spat up the last of his river water and called for acup of wine, which he drank; while Peter and Margaret drew the accursedgag from her father's mouth, and poured spirit down his throat. Shakingthe water from him like a great dog, but saying never a word, Smithrolled to the helm and took it from the mate, for the navigation of theriver was difficult, and none knew it so well as he. Now they wereabreast the famous Golden Tower, and a big gun was fired at them; butthe shot went wide. "Look!" said Margaret, pointing to horsemengalloping southwards along the river's bank.
"Yes," said Peter, "they go to warn the ports. God send that the windholds, for we must fight our way to sea."
The wind did hold, indeed it blew ever more strongly from the north; butoh! that was a long, evil day. Hour after hour they sped forward downthe widening river; now past villages, where knots of people wavedweapons at them as they went; now by desolate marshes, plains, and banksclothed with pine.
When they reached Bonanza the sun was low, and when they were off SanLucar it had begun to sink. Out into the wide river mouth, where thewhite waters tumbled on the narrow bar, rowed two great galleys to cutthem off, very swift galleys, which it seemed impossible to escape.
Margaret and Castell were sent below, the crew went to quarters, andPeter crept stiffly aft to where the sturdy Smith stood at the helm,which he would suffer no other man to touch. Smith looked at the sky, helooked at the shore, and the safe, open sea beyond. Then he bade themhoist more sail, all that she could carry, and looked grimly at the twogalleys lurking like deerhounds in a pass, that hung on their oars inthe strait channel, with the tumbling breakers on either side, throughwhich no ship could sail. "What will you do?" asked Peter. "MasterPeter," he answered between his teeth, "when you fought the Spaniardyesterday I did not ask you what _you_ were going to do. Hold yourtongue, and leave me to my own trade."
The _Margaret_ was a swift ship, but never yet had she moved soswiftly. Behind her shrilled the gale, for now it was no less. Her stoutmasts bent like fishing poles, her rigging creaked and groaned beneaththe weight of the bellying canvas, her port bulwarks slipped alongalmost level with the water, so that Peter must lie down on the deck,for stand he could not, and watch it running by within three feetof him.
The galleys drew up right across her path. Half a mile away they lay bowby bow, knowing well that no ship could pass the foaming shallows; laybow by bow, waiting to board and cut down this little English crew whenthe _Margaret_ shortened sail, as shorten sail she must. Smith yelled anorder to the mate, and presently, red in the setting sun, out burst theflag of England upon the mainmast top, a sight at which the sailorscheered. He shouted another order, and up ran the last jib, so that nowfrom time to time the port bulwarks dipped beneath the sea, and Peterfelt salt water stinging his sore back.
Thus did the _Margaret_ shorten sail, and thus did she yield her to thegreat galleys of Spain.
The captains of the galleys hung on. Was this foreigner mad, or ignorantof the river channel, they wondered, that he would sink with every soulthere upon the bar? They hung on, waiting for that leopard flag andthose bursting sails to come down; but they never stirred; only straightat them rushed the _Margaret_ like a bull. She was not two furlongsaway, and she held dead upon her course, till at last those galleys saw_that she would not sink alone_. Like a b
ull with shut eyes she helddead upon her furious course!
Confusion arose upon the Spanish ships, whistles were blown, menshouted, overseers ran down the planks flogging the slaves, lifted oarsshone red in the light of the dying sun as they beat the water wildly.The prows began to back and separate, five feet, ten feet, a dozen feetperhaps; then straight into that tiny streak of open water, like a stonefrom the hand of the slinger, like an arrow from a bow, rushed thewind-flung _Margaret_.
What happened? Go ask it of the fishers of San Lucar and the pirates ofBonanza, where the tale has been told for generations. The great oarssnapped like reeds, the slaves were thrown in crushed and mangled heaps,the tall deck of the port galley was ripped out of her like rent paperby the stout yards of the stooping _Margaret_, the side of the starboardgalley rolled up like a shaving before a plane, and the _Margaret_rushed through.
Smith, the captain, looked aft to where, ere they sank, the two greatships, like wounded swans, rolled and fluttered on the foaming bar. Thenhe put his helm about, called the carpenter, and asked what watershe made.
"None, Sir," he answered; "but she will want new tarring. It was oakagainst eggshells, and we had the speed."
"Good!" said Smith, "shallows on either side; life or death, and Ithought I could make room. Send the mate to the helm. I'll havea sleep."
Then the sun vanished beneath the roaring open sea, and, escaped fromall the power of Spain, the _Margaret_ turned her scarred and splinteredbow for Ushant and for England.
ENVOI
Ten years had gone by since Captain Smith took the good ship _Margaret_across the bar of the Guadalquiver in a very notable fashion. It waslate May in Essex, and all the woods were green, and all the birds sang,and all the meadows were bright with flowers. Down in the lovely vale ofDedham there was a long, low house with many gables--a charming oldhouse of red brick and timbers already black with age. It stood upon alittle hill, backed with woods, and from it a long avenue of ancientoaks ran across the park to the road which led to Colchester and London.Down that avenue on this May afternoon an aged, white-haired man, withquick black eyes, was walking, and with him three children--verybeautiful children--a boy of about nine and two little girls, who clungto his hand and garments and pestered him with questions.
"Where are we going, Grandfather?" asked one little girl.
"To see Captain Smith, my dear," he answered.
"I don't like Captain Smith," said the other little girl; "he is so fat,and says nothing."
"I do," broke in the boy, "he gave me a fine knife to use when I am asailor, and Mother does, and Father, yes, and Grandad too, because hesaved him when the cruel Spaniards wanted to put him in the fire. Don'tyou, Grandad?"
"Yes, my dear," answered the old man. "Look! there is a squirrelrunning over the grass; see if you can catch it before it reachesthat tree."
Off went the children at full pelt, and the tree being a low one, beganto climb it after the squirrel. Meanwhile John Castell, for it was he,turned through the park gate and walked to a little house by theroadside, where a stout man sat upon a bench contemplating nothing inparticular. Evidently he expected his visitor, for he pointed to theplace beside him, and, as Castell sat down, said:
"Why didn't you come yesterday, Master?"
"Because of my rheumatism, friend," he answered. "I got it first in thevaults of that accursed Holy House at Seville, and it grows on me yearby year. They were very damp and cold, those vaults," he addedreflectively.
"Many people found them hot enough," grunted Smith, "also, there wasgenerally a good fire at the end of them. Strange thing that we shouldnever have heard any more of that business. I suppose it was because ourMargaret was such a favourite with Queen Isabella who didn't want toraise questions with England, or stir up dirty water."
"Perhaps," answered Castell. "The water _was_ dirty, wasn't it?"
"Dirty as a Thames mud-bank at low tide. Clever woman, Isabella. No oneelse would have thought of making a man ridiculous as she did by Morellawhen she gave his life to Betty, and promised and vowed on his behalfthat he would acknowledge her as his lady. No fear of any trouble fromhim after that, in the way of plots for the Crown, or things of thatsort. Why, he must have been the laughing-stock of the whole land--anda laughing-stock never does anything. You remember the Spanish saying,'King's swords cut and priests' fires burn, but street-songs killquickest!' I should like to learn more of what has become of them all,though, wouldn't you, Master? Except Bernaldez, of course, for he's beensafe in Paris these many years, and doing well there, they say."
"Yes," answered Castell, with a little smile--"that is, unless I had togo to Spain to find out."
Just then the three children came running up, bursting through the gateall together.
"Mind my flower-bed, you little rogues," shouted Captain Smith, shakinghis stick at them, whereat they got behind him and made faces.
"Where's the squirrel, Peter?" asked Castell.
"We hunted it out of the tree, Grandad, and right across the grass, andgot round it by the edge of the brook, and then--"
"Then what? Did you catch it?"
"No, Grandad, for when we thought we had it sure, it jumped into thewater and swam away."
"Other people in a fix have done that before," said Castell, laughing,and bethinking him of a certain river quay.
"It wasn't fair," cried the boy indignantly. "Squirrels shouldn't swim,and if I can catch it I will put it in a cage."
"I think that squirrel will stop in the woods for the rest of its life,Peter."
"Grandad!--Grandad!" called out the youngest child from the gate,whither she had wandered, being weary of the tale of the squirrel,"there are a lot of people coming down the road on horses, such finepeople. Come and see."
This news excited the curiosity of the old gentlemen, for not many finepeople came to Dedham. At any rate both of them rose, somewhat stiffly,and walked to the gate to look. Yes, the child was right, for there,sure enough, about two hundred yards away, advanced an imposingcavalcade. In front of it, mounted on a fine horse, sat a still finerlady, a very large and handsome lady, dressed in black silks, andwearing a black lace veil that hung from her head. At her side wasanother lady, much muffled up as though she found the climate cold, andriding between them, on a pony, a gallant looking little boy. Afterthese came servants, male and female, six or eight of them, and last ofall a great wain, laden with baggage, drawn by four big Flemish horses.
"Now, whom have we here?" ejaculated Castell, staring at them.
Captain Smith stared too, and sniffed at the wind as he had often doneupon his deck on a foggy morning.
"I seem to smell Spaniards," he said, "which is a smell I don't like.Look at their rigging. Now, Master Castell, of whom does that barquewith all her sails set remind you?"
Castell shook his head doubtfully.
"I seem to remember," went on Smith, "a great girl decked out like amaypole running across white sand in that Place of Bulls at Seville--butI forgot, you weren't there, were you?"
Now a loud, ringing voice was heard speaking in Spanish, and commandingsome one to go to yonder house and inquire where was the gate to theOld Hall. Then Castell knew at once.
"It is Betty," he said. "By the beard of Abraham, it is Betty."
"I think so too; but don't talk of Abraham, Master. He is a dangerousman, Abraham, in these very Christian lands; say, 'By the Keys of St.Peter,' or, 'By St. Paul's infirmities.'"
"Child," broke in Castell, turning to one of the little girls, "run upto the Hall and tell your father and mother that Betty has come, andbrought half Spain with her. Quickly now, and remember thename, _Betty!_"
The child departed, wondering, by the back way; while Castell and Smithwalked towards the strangers.
"Can we assist you, Senora?" asked the former in Spanish.
"Marchioness of Morella, _if_ you please--" she began in the samelanguage, then suddenly added in English, "Why, bless my eyes! If itisn't my old master, John Castell, with whit
e wool instead of black!"
"It came white after my shaving by a sainted barber in the Holy House,"said Castell. "But come off that tall horse of yours, Betty, my dear--Ibeg your pardon--most noble and highly born Marchioness of Morella, andgive me a kiss."
"That I will, twenty, if you like," she answered, arriving in his armsso suddenly from on high, that had it not been for the sturdy support ofSmith behind, they would both of them have rolled upon the ground.
"Whose are those children?" she asked, when she had kissed Castell andshaken Smith by the hand. "But no need to ask, they have got my cousinMargaret's eyes and Peter's long nose. How are they?" she addedanxiously.
"You will see for yourself in a minute or two. Come, send on your peopleand baggage to the Hall, though where they will stow them all I don'tknow, and walk with us."
Betty hesitated, for she had been calculating upon the effect of atriumphal entry in full state. But at that moment there appearedMargaret and Peter themselves--Margaret, a beautiful matron with a childin her arms, running, and Peter, looking much as he had always been,spare, long of limb, stern but for the kindly eyes, striding awaybehind, and after him sundry servants and the little girl Margaret.
Then there arose a veritable babel of tongues, punctuated by embracings;but in the end the retinue and the baggage were got off up the drive,followed by the children and the little Spanish-looking boy, with whomthey had already made friends, leaving only Betty and her closelymuffled-up attendant. This attendant Peter contemplated for a while, asthough there were something familiar to him in her general air.
Apparently she observed his interest, for as though by accident shemoved some of the wrappings that hid her face, revealing a single softand lustrous eye and a few square inches of olive-coloured cheek. ThenPeter knew her at once.
"How are you, Inez?" he said, stretching out his hand with a smile, forreally he was delighted to see her.
"As well as a poor wanderer in a strange and very damp country can be,Don Peter," she answered in her languorous voice, "and certainlysomewhat the better for seeing an old friend whom last she met in acertain baker's shop. Do you remember?"
"Remember!" answered Peter. "It is not a thing I am likely to forget.Inez, what became of Fray Henriques? I have heard severaldifferent stories."
"One never can be sure," she answered as she uncovered her smiling redlips; "there are so many dungeons in that old Moorish Holy House, andelsewhere, that it is impossible to keep count of their occupants,however good your information. All I know is that he got into troubleover that business, poor man. Suspicions arose about his conduct in theprocession which the captain here will recall," and she pointed toSmith. "Also, it is very dangerous for men in such positions to visitJewish quarters and to write incautious letters--no, not the one youthink of; I kept faith--but others, afterwards, begging for it backagain, some of which miscarried."
"Is he dead then?" asked Peter.
"Worse, I think," she answered--"a living death, the 'Punishment of theWall.'"
"Poor wretch!" said Peter, with a shudder.
"Yes," remarked Inez reflectively, "few doctors like their ownmedicine."
"I say, Inez," said Peter, nodding his head towards Betty, "that marquisisn't coming here, is he?"
"In the spirit, perhaps, Don Peter, not otherwise."
"So he is really dead? What killed him?"
"Laughter, I think, or, rather, being laughed at. He got quite well ofthe hurts you gave him, and then, of course, he had to keep the queen'sgage, and take the most noble lady yonder, late Betty, as hismarchioness. He couldn't do less, after she beat you off him with yourown sword and nursed him back to life. But he never heard the last ofit. They made songs about him in the streets, and would ask him how hisgodmother, Isabella, was, because she had promised and vowed on hisbehalf; also, whether the marchioness had broken any lances for his sakelately, and so forth."
"Poor man!" said Peter again, in tones of the deepest sympathy. "A cruelfate; I should have done better to kill him."
"Much; but don't say so to the noble Betty, who thinks that he had avery happy married life under her protecting care. Really, he ate hisheart out till even I, who hated him, was sorry. Think of it! One of theproudest men in Spain, and the most gallant, a nephew of the king, apillar of the Church, his sovereigns' plenipotentiary to the Moors, andon secret matters--the common mock of the vulgar, yes, and of thegreat too!"
"The great! Which of them?"
"Nearly all, for the queen set the fashion--I wonder why she hated himso?" Inez added, looking shrewdly at Peter; then without waiting for ananswer, went on: "She did it very cleverly, by always making the most ofthe most honourable Betty in public, calling her near to her, talkingwith her, admiring her English beauty, and so forth, and what herMajesty did, everybody else did, until my exalted mistress nearly wentoff her head, so full was she of pride and glory. As for the marquis, hefell ill, and after the taking of Granada went to live there quietly.Betty went with him, for she was a good wife, and saved lots of money.She buried him a year ago, for he died slow, and gave him one of thefinest tombs in Spain--it isn't finished yet. That is all the story. Nowshe has brought her boy, the young marquis, to England for a year ortwo, for she has a very warm heart, and longed to see you all. Also, shethought she had better go away a while, for her son's sake. As for me,now that Morella is dead, I am head of the household--secretary, generalpurveyor of intelligence, and anything else you like at a good salary."
"You are not married, I suppose?" asked Peter.
"No," Inez answered; "I saw so much of men when I was younger that Iseem to have had enough of them. Or perhaps," she went on, fixing thatmild and lustrous eye upon him, "there was one of them whom I liked toowell to wish----"
She paused, for they had crossed the drawbridge and arrived opposite tothe Old Hall. The gorgeous Betty and the fair Margaret, accompanied bythe others, and talking rapidly, had passed through the wide doorwayinto its spacious vestibule. Inez looked after them, and perceived,standing like a guard at the foot of the open stair, that scarred suitof white armour and riven shield blazoned with the golden falcon,Isabella's gift, in which Peter had fought and conquered the Marquis ofMorella. Then she stepped back and contemplated the house critically.
At each end of it rose a stone tower, built for the purposes of defence,and all around ran a deep moat. Within the circle of this moat, andsurrounded by poplars and ancient yews, on the south side of the Halllay a walled pleasaunce, or garden, of turf pierced by paths and plantedwith flowering hawthorns and other shrubs, and at the end of it, almosthidden in drooping willows, a stone basin of water. Looking at it, Inezsaw at once that so far as the circumstances of climate and situationwould allow, Peter, in the laying out of this place, had copied anotherin the far-off, southern city of Granada, even down to the details ofthe steps and seats. She turned to him and said innocently:
"Sir Peter, are you minded to walk with me in that garden this pleasantevening? I do not see any window in yonder tower."
Peter turned red as the scar across his face, and laughed as heanswered:
"There may be one for all that. Get you into the house, dear Inez, fornone can be more welcome there; but I walk no more alone with youin gardens."
THE END
Fair Margaret Page 25