XXII.
The Flood-Gates Opened.
"And they feared as they entered into the cloud."
For the first stage of Don Juan's journey Carlos accompanied him. Theyspent the time in animated talk, chiefly about Nuera, Carlos sendingkind messages to the dying man, to Dolores, and indeed to all thehousehold. "Remember, brother," he said, "to give Dolores the littlebooks I put into the alforjas, specially the 'Confession of a Sinner.'"
"I shall remember everything, even to bringing thee back tidings of allthe sick folk in the village. Now, Carlos, here we agreed to part;--no,not one step further."
They clasped each other's hands. "It is not like a long parting," saidJuan.
"No. Vaya con Dios, my Ruy."
"Quede con Dios,[#] brother;" and he rode off, followed by his servant.
[#] Remain with God.
Carlos watched him wistfully; would he turn for a last look? He _did_turn. Taking off his velvet montero, he gaily bowed farewell; thusallowing Carlos to gaze once more upon his dark, handsome, resolutefeatures, keen, sparkling eyes and curling black hair.
Whilst Juan saw a scholar's face, thoughtful, refined, sensitive; abroad pale forehead, from which the breeze had blown the waving fairhair (fair to a southern eye, though really a bright soft brown), andlips that kept the old sweetness of expression, though, whether from themanly fringe that graced them or from some actual change, the weaknesswhich marred them once had ceased to be apparent now.
Another moment, and both had turned their horses' heads. Carlos, when hereached the city, made a circuit to avoid one of the very frequentprocessions of the Host; since, as time passed on, he felt ever more andmore disinclined to the absolutely necessary prostration. Afterwards hecalled upon Losada, to inquire the exact address of a person whom he hadasked him to visit. He found him engaged in his character of physician,and sat down in the patio to await his leisure.
Ere long Dr. Cristobal passed through, politely accompanying to the gatea canon of the cathedral, for whose ailments he had just beenprescribing. The Churchman, who was evidently on the best terms withhis physician, was showing his good-nature and affability by giving himthe current news of the city; to which Losada listened courteously, witha grave, quiet smile, and, when necessary, an appropriate question orcomment. Only one item made any impression upon Carlos: it related to apleasant estate by the sea-side which Munebraga had just purchased,disappointing thereby a relative of the canon's who desired to possessit, but could not command the very large price readily offered by theInquisitor.
At last the visitor was gone. In a moment the smile had faded from thephysician's care-worn face. Turning to Carlos with a strangely alteredlook, he said, "The monks of San Isodro have fled."
"Fled?" Carlos repeated, in blank dismay.
"Yes; no fewer than twelve of them have abandoned the monastery."
"How did you hear it?"
"One of the lay brethren came in this morning to inform me. They heldanother solemn Chapter, in which it was determined that each one shouldfollow the guidance of his own conscience, those, therefore, to whom itseemed best to go have gone, the rest remain."
For some moments they looked at each other in silence. So fearful wasthe peril in which this rash act involved them all, that it almostseemed as if they had heard a sentence of death.
The voice of Carlos faltered as he asked at last,--"Have Fray Cristobalor Fray Fernando gone?"
"No; they are both amongst those, more generous if not more wise, whohave chosen to remain and take what God will send them here. Stay, hereis a letter from Fray Cristobal which the lay brother brought me; itwill tell you as much as I know myself."
Carlos read it carefully. "It seems," he said, when he had finished,"that the consciences of those who fled would not allow them any longerto conform, even outwardly, to the rules of their order. Moreover, fromthe signs of the times, they believe that a storm is about to burst uponthe company of the faithful."
"God grant it may prove that they have saved _themselves_ from itsviolence," Losada answered, with a slight emphasis on "themselves."
"And for us?--God help us!" Carlos almost moaned, the paper falling fromhis trembling hand. "What shall we do?"
"Be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might," returned Losadabravely. "No other strength remains for us. But God grant none of us inthe city may be so unadvised as to follow the example of the brethren.The flight of one might be the ruin of all."
"And those noble, devoted men who remain at San Isodro?"
"Are in God's hands, as we are."
"I will ride out and visit them, especially Fray Fernando."
"Excuse me, Senor Don Carlos, but you will do nothing of the kind; thatwere to court suspicion. I will bear any message you choose to send."
"And you?"
Losada smiled, though sadly. "The physician has occasion to go," hesaid; "he is a very useful personage, who often covers with his amplecloak the _dogmatizing heretic_."
Carlos recognized the official phraseology of the Holy Office. Herepressed a shudder, but could not hide the look of terror that dilatedhis large blue eyes.
The older man, the more experienced Christian, could compassionate theyouth. Losada, himself standing "face to face with death," spoke kindwords of counsel and comfort to Carlos. He cautioned him stronglyagainst losing his self-possession, and thereby running needlessly intodanger. "Especially would I urge upon you, Senor Don Carlos," he said,"the duty of avoiding unnecessary risk, for already you are useful tous; and should God spare your life, you will be still more so. If Ifall--"
"Do not speak of it, my beloved friend."
"It will be as God pleases," said the pastor calmly. "But I need notremind you, others stand in like peril with me. Especially FrayCassiodoro, and Don Juan Ponce de Leon."
"The noblest heads, the likeliest to fall," Carlos murmured.
"Then must younger soldiers step forth from the ranks, and take up thestandards dropped from their hands. Don Carlos Alvarez, we have highhopes of you. Your quiet words reach the heart; for you speak thatwhich you know, and testify that which you have seen. And the goodgifts of mind that God has given you enable you to speak with thegreater acceptance. He may have much work for you in his harvest-field.But whether he should call you to work or to suffer, shrink not, but 'bestrong and of good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed; forthe Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.'"
"I will try to trust him; and may he make his strength perfect in myweakness," said Carlos. "But for the present," he added, "give me anylowly work to do, whereby I may aid you or lighten your cares, my lovedfriend and teacher."
Losada gladly gave him, as indeed he had done several times before,instructions to visit certain secret inquirers, and persons in distressand perplexity of mind.
He passed the next two or three days in these ministrations, and inconstant prayer, especially for the remaining monks of San Isodro, whosesore peril pressed heavily on his heart. He sought, as much aspossible, to shut out other thoughts; or, when they would force anentrance, to cast their burden, which otherwise would have beenintolerable, upon Him who would surely care for his own Church, his fewsheep in the wilderness.
One morning he remained late in his chamber, writing a letter to hisbrother; and then went forth, intending to visit Losada. As it was afast-day, and he kept the Church fasts rigorously, it happened that hehad not previously met any of his uncle's family.
The entrance to the physician's house did not present its usual cheerfulappearance. The gate was shut and bolted, and there was no sign ofpatients passing in or out Carlos became alarmed. It was long before heobtained an answer to his repeated calls. At last, however, some oneinside cried, "_Quien es?_"[#]
[#] Who is there?
Carlos gave his name, well known to all the household.
Then the door was half opened, and a mulatto serving-la
d showed aterrified face behind it.
"Where is Senor Cristobal?"
"Gone, senor."
"Gone!--whither?"
The answer was a furtive, frightened whisper. "Last night--theAlguazils of the Holy Office." And the door was shut and bolted in hisface.
He stood rooted to the spot, speechless and motionless, in a trance ofhorror. At last he was startled by feeling some one grasp his armwithout ceremony, indeed rather roughly.
"Are you moonstruck, Cousin Don Carlos?" asked the voice of Gonsalvo."At least you might have had the courtesy to offer me the aid of yourarm, without putting me to the shame of requesting it, miserable cripplethat I am!" and he gave vent to a torrent of curses upon his owninfirmities, using expressions profane and blasphemous enough to makeCarlos shiver with pain.
Yet that very pain did him real service. It roused him from his stupor,as sharp anguish sometimes brings back a patient from a swoon. He said,"Pardon me, my cousin, I did not see you; but I hear you now--withsorrow."
Gonsalvo deigned no answer, except his usual short, bitter laugh.
"Whither do you wish to go?"
"Home. I am tired."
They walked along in silence; at last Gonsalvo asked, abruptly,--
"Have you heard the news?"
"What news?"
"The news that is in every one's mouth to-day. Indeed, the city haswell nigh run mad with holy horror. And no wonder! Their reverences,the Lords Inquisitors, have just discovered a community of abominableLutherans, a very viper's nest, in our midst. It is said the wretcheshave actually dared to carry on their worship somewhere in the town.Ah, no marvel you look horror-stricken, my pious cousin. You couldnever have dreamed that such a thing was possible, could you?" Afterone quick, keen glance, he did not look again in his cousin's face; buthe might have felt the beating of his cousin's heart against his arm.
"I am told," he continued, "that nearly two hundred persons have beenarrested already."
"_Two hundred!_" gasped Carlos.
"And the arrests are going on still."
"Who is taken?" Carlos forced his trembling lips to ask.
"Losada; more's the pity. A good physician, though a bad Christian."
"A good physician, and a good Christian too," said Carlos in the voiceof one who tries to speak calmly in terrible bodily pain.
"An opinion you would do more wisely to keep to yourself, if a reprobatesuch as I may presume to counsel so learned and pious a personage."
"Who else?"
"One you would never guess. Don Juan Ponce de Leon, of all men. Thinkof the Count of Baylen's son being thus degraded! Also the master ofthe College of Doctrine, San Juan; and a number of Jeromite friars fromSan Isodro. Those are all I know worth a gentleman's taking account of.There are some beggarly tradesfolk, such as Medel d'Espinosa, theembroiderer; and Luis d'Abrego, from whom your brother bought thatbeautiful book of the Gospels he gave Dona Beatriz. But if only suchcattle were concerned in it, no one would care."
"Some fools there be," Don Gonsalvo continued after a pause, "who haverun to the Triana, and informed against themselves, thinking thereby toget off more easily. _Fools_, again I say, for their pains." And heemphasized his words by a pressure of the arm on which he was leaning.
At length they reached the door of Don Manuel's house. "Thanks for youraid," said Gonsalvo. "Now that I remember it, Don Carlos, I hear alsothat we are to have a grand procession on Tuesday with banners andcrosses, in honour of Our Lady, and of our holy patronesses Justina andRufina, to beg pardon for the sin and scandal so long permitted in themidst of our most Catholic city. You, my pious cousin, licentiate oftheology and all but consecrated priest--you will carry a taper, nodoubt?"
Carlos would fain have left the question unanswered; but Gonsalvo meantto have an answer. "You will?" he repeated, laying his hand on his arm,and looking him in the face, though with a smile. "It would be verycreditable to the family for one of us to appear. Seriously; I adviseyou to do it."
Then Carlos said quietly, "_No_;" and crossed the patio to the staircasewhich led to his own apartment.
Gonsalvo stood watching him, and mentally retracting, at his last word,the verdict formerly pronounced against him as "a coward," "not half aman."
The Spanish Brothers: A Tale of the Sixteenth Century Page 22