Captain from Castile

by Samuel Shellabarger; Internet Archive

  "Hold." Said the Emperor intently. "Take me with you, Lord Bishop. I do not follow Spanish so easily. You said this gold amounted to---"

  "Hunderd of thousands, sire."

  "How do you know it did?"

  "If Your Majesty will let me explain."

  "Well then, slowly." The Emperor added with an unintentional reflection on the preceeding charges against Cortes, "This is imporantant."

  Once again Fonesca rehearsed the sailing and arrival of the ship with special reference to the treasure. Now and then he turned to de Silva for confirmation, since it appeared that the latter had but just returned from investigating the affair at Palos.

  Charles's brow grew constantly darker.

  "Mille tonnerres!" he burst out. "I have heard of brass before butnothing like this. I ask you again how you know what was the amount. This pilot Alvarez, Sneor de Silva, and the ship's company, of whom you say you received testimony, could not know."

  "But yes, sire, they knew--that there many hundredweight chests on board and that these chests contained gold. Cortes himself instructing the pilot Alvarez to connive with Vargas in the robbery by helping him land the treasure near La Rabida. Alvarez was then to anchor at Palos and discharge his cargo with no metion of the gold."

  "Still, there may be an explanation," objected the Emperor. "If the gold was intended for us in person, de Vargas may have sent a messenger. He may be coming himself. When did he land?"

  "Two weeks since, Your Majesty. Has any messenger arrived? Besides, there is another more serious development which makes his guilt clear beyond further doubt."

  "More serious?"

  Da Silva cast up his eyes. "Your Majesty will hardly credit it, but not long afterwards, Pedro de Vargas returned openly to La Rabida. He returned with a hundred men-at-arms belonging to the Duke of Medina Sidona, the Guzman standard unfurled, and under the command of fhe Duke's own ensign. The officers of the port and of the Indian Council could do nothing. There, in plain sight of several of them, in the woods near La Ribida, de Vargas dug up ten or more hundred-weight chests, loaded them on mules, and departed. When one of the officers, taking his life in his hands, challenged him, he deigned to answer that these were his personal property, that Your Majesty had no part in them, and so adieu!"

  Charles turned to Gattinara. "Is the Duke a rebel, my lord Chancellor? He stood loyal during the late troubles, and have we not requited him with the castles of Niebla, Huelva, and Sanlucar?"

  Gattinara shook his head noncommittally.

  "Where is this pirate, de Vargas, meanwhile?" Charles fumed. "Has no one laid hands on him?"

  De Silva shook his head. "It is hard to arrest a man protected by His Grace Don Juan Alonso. Who will serve the warrant? Who has the authority? No sire he swaggers openly. It is said that he travels to Jaen, whee his father is Alcalde. He rides, like a conqueror, with twenty-five men-at-arms and his Indians in their war plumes, while the villages stare."

  "He has the gold with him?"

  "Probably sire."

  It was seldom that Charles of Austria lost his temper, but at this point he sprang up. "You ask me who has the authority to lay hands on him? Monseigneur de Gattinara, you will make out an imperial warrant for this man's arrest on the charge of high treason. You will send Captain Calros de Paz, with sufficient force to Jaen. And let the duke or alcade or pirate resist that warrant at their peril! Let him be brought here straight, for I shall examine him myself. I'm eager to meet the ruffian. Will you wager that we do not win back what he has stolen before he loses his head?"

  Blinded by his rage, the Emperor did not observe the expression on de Silva's face, but Gattinara noticed it.

  The Bishop of Burgos put in, "Sire, I ask again in behalf of Diego de Valesquez--"

  "No need to ask. Is he not already adelantado? Are you not in charge of Indian affairs. By all means let Velasquez have New Spain, whichh no doubt he richly deserves as compared with the bandit, Cortes. Give immediate order." ,

  "Your Majesty will sign the rescript."

  "When you will."

  "Why?" retorted Charles.

  "A precaution. Your Majesty."

  "Well—" The Emperor hesitated. "Well then, as you please. There can be no doubt of the result."

  "None."

  Faced by the glowering Bishop, Gattinara, fingering his pomander, sniffed thoughtfully and shook his head.

  LXXIV

  THE CARVAJAL PALACE on that August evening blazed with more candles and flambeaux than had shone through its massive, grated windows for a long time. Old Julio Brica, the major domo, with a new white wand of office and clad in a new stiff suit of black velvet, marshalled an increased force of lackeys arrayed in spick-and-span liveries. He figured that the expense in wax and cloth would hardly come to less than five hundred pesos. But what were five hundred pesos now.

  Stationing a flunkey at the grilled Judas or sliding panel in the main door, he instructed him to keep a sharp lookout. "When you first see the torches of our noble guests, you will give the word. Then, Nicolas and Juan, you will take stout hold on the door rings. The rest of you," Brica continued, "will line the steps up to the main corridor, ten to a side in the order I have shown you. Is that understood? Bien! We must have no mistakes, mark that well, no scrambling or scuffing. All must be grace. Meanwhile, you at the Judas will watch. As soon as his excellency, the Alacade, Dona Maria, and the Captain de Vargas dismount and are on the point of approaching the door, you will step back. At the same moment, you, Nicolas and Juan, will open. But slowly! I say, without jerkiness. It must be is if our very doors paid reverrence to Their Excellencies, so that, when they reach the threshold, they will find no barrier. Then, by God, bow!" Brica flashed a minatory eye at his pupils. "Tuck in your bellies. Remember the honor of our master. Let each back form a right angle to the legs. Keep that position while Their Excellencies mount the steps to be greeted by His Magnificience. We have time to practice this once more. Let us have perfection."

  Whie Bricas' last anxious rehearsal went forward, the Marquis de Carvajal loitered in his downstairs cabinet, awaiting the coming of his guests with pleasant expectancy. Like the rest of his household, he was dressed for the occasion, but in a superior splendor matching his rank. The huge satin sleeves of his short mantle crackled with stiffness. They were slashed over gold, and the mantle itself had edges of costly fur. He wore a heavy onyx ring on his thumb and the Cross of Santiago dangling from a massive chain on his breast. The excessively wide-toed velvet shoes, equally slashed upon gold, showed a powdering of diamonds. His beard, once depressed by the misfortunes of three years ago, though grayer now, had more than regained its starch and set a final patrician stamp on his appearance.

  Viewing himself in a long Venetian mirror, he nodded approval. He felt that he lived up to his title. Then, having given his wide-brimmed, plume-circled hat a more arrogant tilt, he sauntered about the room fingering various small ohjets d'art but actually lost in happy meditation.

  Several thoughts, all golden, drifted through his mind. Luisa to be betrothed this evening to Pedro de Vargas, who was now one of the richest men in Spain. Pedro's fortune. Three hundred thousand pesos, Don Francisco had said, and the Alcalde's word could be relied on. Three hundred thousand pesos in gold. Cdspita! What grandee could raise a quarter of that much cash? And then the wedding when Pedro returned triumphant and honored from court. The Marquis himself to the right of the altar, the Bishop officiating, the nobility of the province filling the nave. His imagination wandered on.

  So impressed was Carvajal by Pedro's wealth and prospects that, without hesitating too long, he had offered to use all his influence at court in behalf of Cortes's suit before the Emperor. He had even proposed to accompany Pedro north to Valladolid and lend him the weight of his personal support. In his pleasant reverie, the Marquis pictured Pedro's success, in which he would share. It was not too much to hope that the Emperor would recognize his merit with the grant of another fief.

  A w
atchman's distant cry recalled the hour, and he realized that his guests would be soon arriving. Pedro had reached Jaen from Seville only that day and had been met some distance outside of town by his father, by the Marquis himself, and two-score other gentlemen. But he had not yet seen Luisa. Because of this, no outside guests had been invited to witness the betrothal that evening. It was good policy, the I Marquis reflected, to waste no time in making sure of Pedro before so eligible a young man proceeded to court.

  Apropos of Luisa, he wondered suddenly where the devil she was. She ought to be downstairs now, and ready.

  "If the silly jade," he fumed, "puts on her coquette airs tonight and keeps Their Excellencies waiting, I'll take my riding whip to her be-hmd if It's the last act of my life."

  He applied himself to the bellrope and sent up a servant in hot haste to tell her ladyship and Doiia Antonia that he expected them to attend him on the moment. Then, of course, he continued to wait and mutter

  But this evening, for once, he might have spared his fidgets If there was a lookout at the judas downstairs, a tirewoman filled the same office at the window of the mirador. Luisa did not intend to be too early, but she would not for the world have missed standing with her father at the top of the stairs when Pedro entered.

  Meanwhile, she gave the last touches to her charm.

  "Was it orange blossom or rose water you used then?" Senora Hernandez queried.

  "Orange, I think. But what difference does it make. Cousin?"

  "A huge difference. I'm surprised you don't know. You see people associate certain scents with certain hours and persons. Wouldn't you notice it if you went into a church that didn't smell of incense? And supposed Alonso Ponce forgot to put on hyacinth, woudln't he seem different? Well, eso es todo. If you smelled of rose or orange blossom when young de Vargas kissed your hand that evening in the garden, and if the hankerchief you gave him smelled of it, that's your scent for him. He expects it now--I don't mean thinks of it, my love. But if you wear another scent, he'll miss something."

  Luisa frowned. "Lord save us, I can't remember. It was ages ago." She appealed to her maid. "Sanchita, do you remember?"

  "I think it was rose, your ladyship."

  "Why?"

  "Because Your Grace gave me your own vial half full for my nameday."

  Luisa reflected. "I believe you're right, Sanchita. Yes, you're right. I did use rose a good deal at that time. Heaven reward you! I was just on the point of orange blossom. But if you're wrong, my wench--'' Luisa's tender eyes hardened. "Bring me a flask of rose.''

  She apphed little dabs here and there.

  "More on the neck and breast," Antonia advised. "I'll leave vou two alone of course. You won't find him as shy as he was once."

  Luisa smiled and made the necessary additions. But, considering her-self in the mirror, her face grew longer.

  "I wish I wasn't so plump. You can talk about perfume all you like but he can't help noticing the difference." She pecked at an invisible wrinkle on her throat. "I've got so old."

  "Mv dear you're perfection!" returned the duenna. "If you'll let Sanchita take one more hitch in your lacings, you'll be as slender as you were at sixteen. Call twenty old, por Dios! But you could stand one more hitch."

  Obediently Luisa embraced one of the bedposts, while the maid untied the laces planted a firm knee on Luisa's posterior, and threw weight and muscles into the backward pull. A slight bulge--notling to speak of--showed above and beneath the wooden stays of the corset. Luisa gasped, but an inch had been gained.

  "Magnificent!" Antonia praised. "Now talk of being plump! No, Primacita, you are perfection, believe me. Soldiers like Captain de Vargas want no scrawny poppets in bed. And what skin, valgame dios! Like satin." With a pair of tweezers, she removed a single hair that disturbed the delicate arch of her cousin's eyebrow. "So, my love."

  "A voluminous petticoat reaching to the floor now was dropped over Luisa's head; then an equally long and ample dress of crimson and gold brocade, the bodice molding the corset and buttoned in front with gold buttons. A small net of garnets and topazs slightly compressed the blackness of Luisa's curled hair. Earrings and other jewels were put on. A drop of belladonna widened her eyes into black pools.

  Senora Hernandez glowed. "My darling, you are ravishing. I'd like to kiss you if it wasn't for the powder. Now let His Valor come! If he doesn't worship you in that gown, he's blind. Hermosa!"

  Consulting the mirror again, Luisa agreed. "Yes the dress is becoming. I want him to love me. I can hardly wait. . .Dolores," she called to the girl at the wmdow, "don't you see any lights yet? No. Tell me again how he looked, Cousin. Handsome, you said--"

  Dona Antonia had been sent that morning to watch Pedro's entry into town and report her impressions. From the window of the draper's shop, she had an excellent view.

  "Yes," she nodded; "that is in a manly way. Not a bit like Alonso Poncle pf course. He looks older than he is. A little hard. Very much nobleman and captain. Nothing of a boy any longer."

  "He was a sweet boy," Luisa reflected. " He sounds rather frightening."

  "No, not that. But frankly, Primacita, I don't think he's a man to be trifled with. There was one thing I noticed. He has a big mouth, you remember, and a big smile. He came riding at a footpace beacuse of the crowd. Everybody cheering. Now and then he tossed a handful of silver and smiled. But his eyes didn't. He glanced my way, and I could see them--far-off, indifferent. Perhaps he was tired."

  "I hope Alonso Ponce behaves," said Luisa. "What is he has been my galan? A gentleman ought to know when to step back."

  "I shouldn't worry," Antonia's eyes danced. "He doesn't want to lose his precious life, my dear. Captain de Vargas will know how to protect his novia from annoyance."

  "Yes," murmerd Luisa, "but perhaps--" She glanced at the maid and broke off.

  The duenna laughed. "Poo, he hasn't grown up for nothing. Even if he hears of it, he'll think no worse of a little gallantry, provided it's finished. And he'll run his sword through the man who suggests you aren't as chaste as Diana....But I'm wondering," she added, changing the subject, "what kind of bethrothal ring he'll give you. I wager it's out of the ordinary."

  Luisa forgot Ponce. "I wonder too. He must be very rich. I suppose he'll have to make over part of the gold to his father." Luisa was too much like the Marquis not to regret it. "Still I guess he's very rich, or Papa--"

  "Lights! Torches!," yelped the girl at the window of the mirador. "They're coming my lady."

  With a vast rustle, Luisa and Antonia swept out of the room and down the stairs, where they met a second messenger from the frantic Marquis.

  However, there was no time for scolding. With the long-prepared smile on his lips and Luisa on his arm, the Marquis de Carvajal took up position at the top of the reception stairs. The lookout at the judas dropped back. Nicolas and Juan laid hold of the door rings. The flunkeys lined the steps, prepared to bow. The doors slowly opened. Behind them showed the flaring of many torches; and out of the light, the expected figures entered: Dona Maria, plump and important, against the knightly leaness of the Alcalde, and behind them a tanned gentleman in gorgeous clothes by the side of the priest who would witness the betrothal; then several attendents, including a pair of tall Indians horrifically plumed.

  "Vamos! Now!" signaled Julio Brica.

  Except for one awkward back, upon which the major-domo longer to lay his staff, the household did honor to the Carvajal Palace.

  LXXV

  But upon Pedro de Vargas, the ordered lines of bowing servants made only a vague impression. He moved in a cunous unreality that telescoped the past and present. He was the lad who four years ago had sought shelter here and had been refused. He was the fugitive who haa once dreamed of such welcome as the crowning pinnacle of desire. He was the man, rich and feted, who now returned in a triumph that beggered anything he had imagined. For a moment, the various phases intermingled. The dream, too completely realized, still had the semblance of a dream.


  As he mounted the broad stairs, his eyes were on Luisa. He had expected to be disappointed, afraid that memory had idealized her. But no, standing there in gold and crimson, she seemed more beautiful than his fancy had recalled, a queen perhaps rather than a princess, but more breath-taking in her maturity. Here, too, the actual left imagination behind.

  On the landing, after Dona Maria had been received, he replied to Luisa's deep curtsy with a bow such as he would have made to an empress, a bow enhanced by the splendor of the court suit he had purchased in Seville. Then, dropping to one knee, he raised her hand to his lips.

  "You see, I have kept my promise, senora."

  Rising, he bowed to Dona Antonia, and was warmly embraced by the Marquis.

  It was a flawless scene, which Julio Brica in the background considered equal to the occasion.

  Don Francisco, who had done his best that day to keep from bursting with pride, exclaimed to Luisa: "A fe mia, senora, you are so enchanting tonight that I would kneel to you myself. But it would be a creaky business and I had best leave it to young joints.... Senora Hernandez your servant, madam." And to the Marquis: "Well, old friend, we've looked forward to this a long time; but, on my honor, it was worth waiting for."

  The Marquis cordially agreed. He gave his arm to Dona Maria and led his guests into the state sala facing the entrance. It was huge, tapestried, and glimmering with candles. The parish priest followed in a sweat of humility.