The Spanish Brothers: A Tale of the Sixteenth Century

by Deborah Alcock

  XX

  The First Drop of a Thunder Shower.

  "Closed doorways that are folded And prayed against in vain"--E. B. Browning

  Meanwhile the happy weeks glided on noiselessly and rapidly. Theybrought full occupation for head and heart, as well as varied andintense enjoyment. Don Juan's constant intercourse with Dona Beatriz wasnot the less delightful because already he sought to imbue her mind withthe truths which he himself was learning every day to love better. Hethought her an apt and hopeful pupil, but, under the circumstances, hewas scarcely the best possible judge.

  Carlos was not so well satisfied with her attainments; he advisedreserve and caution in imparting their secrets to her, lest throughinadvertence she might betray them to her aunt and cousins. Juanconsidered this a mark of his constitutional timidity; yet he so farattended to his warnings, that Dona Beatriz was strongly impressed withthe necessity of keeping their religious conversations a profoundsecret, whilst her sensibilities were not shocked by any mention ofwords so odious as heresy or Lutheranism.

  Put there could be no doubt as to Juan's own progress under theinstructions of his brother, and of Losada and Fray Cassiodoro. Hebegan, ere long, to accompany Carlos to the meetings of the Protestants,who welcomed the new acquisition to their ranks with affectionateenthusiasm. All were attracted by Don Juan's warmth and candour ofdisposition, and by his free, joyous, hopeful temperament; though he wasnot beloved by any as intensely as Carlos was by the few who really knewhim, such as Losada, Don Juan Ponce de Leon, and the young monk, FrayFernando.

  Partly through the influence of his religious friends, and partlythrough the brilliant reputation he had brought from Alcala, Carlos nowobtained a lectureship at the College of Doctrine, of which the provost,Fernando de San Juan, was a decided and zealous Lutheran. Thisappointment was an honourable one, considered in no way derogatory tohis social position, and useful as tending to convince his uncle that hewas "doing something," not idly dreaming his time away.

  Occupations of another kind opened out before him also. Amongst the manysincere and anxious inquirers who were troubled with perplexitiesconcerning the relations of the old faith and the new, were some whoturned to him, with an instinctive feeling that he could help them.This was just the work that best suited his abilities and histemperament. To sympathize, to counsel, to aid in conflict as only thatman can do who has known conflict himself, was God's special gift tohim. And he who goes through the world speaking, whenever he can, a wordin season to the weary, will seldom be without some weary one ready tolisten to him.

  Upon one subject, and only one, the brothers still differed. Juan sawthe future robed in the glowing hues borrowed from his own ardent,hopeful spirit. In his eyes the Spains were already won "for truth andfreedom," as he loved to say. He anticipated nothing less than aglorious regeneration of Christendom, in which his beloved country wouldlead the van. And there were many amongst Losada's congregation whoshared these bright and beautiful, if delusive dreams, and theenthusiasm which had given them birth, and in its turn was nourished bythem.

  Again, there were others who rejoiced with much trembling over the goodtidings that often reached them of the spread of the faith in distantparts of the country, and who welcomed each neophyte to their ranks asif they were adorning a victim for the sacrifice. They could not forgetthat name of terror, the Holy Inquisition. And from certain ominousindications they thought the sleeping monster was beginning to stir inhis den. Else why had new and severe decrees against heresy beenrecently obtained from Rome? And above all, why had the Bishop ofTerragona, Gonzales de Munebraga, already known as a relentlesspersecutor of Jews and Moors, been appointed Vice-Inquisitor General atSeville?

  Still, on the whole, hope and confidence predominated; and strange, nay,incredible as it may appear to us, beneath the very shadow of the Trianathe Lutherans continued to hold their meetings "almost with open doors."

  One evening Don Juan escorted Dona Beatriz to some festivity from whichhe could not very well excuse himself, whilst Carlos attended a re-unionfor prayer and mutual edification at the usual place--the house of DonaIsabella de Baena.

  Don Juan returned at a late hour, but in high spirits. Going at once tothe room where his brother sat awaiting him, he threw off his cloak, andstood before him, a gay, handsome figure, in his doublet of crimsonsatin, his gold chain, and well-used sword, now worn for ornament, withits embossed scabbard and embroidered belt.

  "I never saw Dona Beatriz look so charming," he began eagerly. "DonMiguel de Santa Cruz was there, but he could not get no much as a singledance with her, and looked ready to die for envy. But save me from theimpertinence of Luis Rotelo! I shall have to cane him one of thesedays, if no milder measures will teach him his place and station. _He_,the son of a simple hidalgo, to dare lift his eyes to Dona Beatriz deLavella? The caitiff's presumption!--But thou art not listening,brother. What is wrong with thee?"

  No wonder he asked. The face of Carlos was pale; and the deep mournfuleyes looked as if tears had been lately there. "A great sorrow, brothermine," he answered in a low voice.

  "_My_ sorrow too, then. Tell me, what is it?" asked Juan, his tone andmanner changed in a moment.

  "Juliano is taken."

  "Juliano! The muleteer who brought the books, and gave you thatTestament?"

  "The man who put into my hands this precious Book, to which I owe my joynow and my hope for eternity," said Carlos, his lip trembling.

  "Ay de mi!--But perhaps it is not true."

  "Too true. A smith, to whom he showed a copy of the Book, betrayed him.God forgive him--if there be forgiveness for such. It may have been amonth ago, but we only heard it now. And he lies there--_there_."

  "Who told you?"

  "All were talking of it at the meeting when I entered. It is the sorrowof all; but I doubt if any have such cause to sorrow as I. For he is myfather in the faith, Juan. And now," he added, after a long, sad pause,"I shall _never_ tell him what he has done for me--at least on this sideof the grave."

  "There is no hope for him," said Juan mournfully, as one that mused.

  "_Hope_! Only in the great mercy of God. Even those dreadful dungeonwalls cannot shut Him out."

  "No; thank God."

  "But the prolonged, the bitter, the horrible suffering! I have beentrying to contemplate, to picture it--but I cannot, I dare not. Andwhat I dare not think of, he must endure."

  "He is a peasant, you are a noble--that makes some difference," said DonJuan, with whom the tie of brotherhood in Christ had not yet effaced allearthly distinctions. "But Carlos," he questioned suddenly, and with alook of alarm, "does not he know everything?"

  "_Everything_," Carlos answered quietly. "One word from his lips, andthe pile is kindled for us all. But that word will never be spoken.To-night not one heart amongst us trembled for ourselves, we only weptfor him."

  "You trust him, then, so completely? It is much to say. They in whosehands he is are cruel as fiends. No doubt they will--"

  "Hush!" interrupted Carlos, with a look of such exceeding pain, thatJuan was effectually silenced. "There are things we cannot speak of,save to God in prayer. Oh, my brother, pray for him, that He for whomhe has risked so much may sustain him, and, if it may be, shorten hisagony."

  "Surely more than two or three will join in that prayer. But, mybrother," he added, after a pause, "be not so downcast. Do you not knowthat every great cause must have its martyr? When was a victory won,and no brave man left dead on the field; a city stormed, and none fallenin the breach? Perhaps to that poor peasant may be given the glory--thegreat glory--of being honoured throughout all time as the sainted martyrwhose death has consecrated our holy cause to victory. A grand lottruly? Worth suffering for!" And Juan's dark eye kindled, and hischeek glowed with enthusiasm.

  Carlos was silent.

  "Dost thou not think so, my brother?"

  "I think that Christ is worth
suffering; for," said Carlos at last."And that nothing short of his personal presence, realized by faith, canavail to bring any man victorious through such fearful trials. Maythat--may he be with his faithful servant now, when all human help andcomfort are far away."