XXIII.
The Reign of Terror
"Though shining millions around thee stand, For the sake of him at thy right hand Think of the souls he died for here, Thus wandering in darkness, in doubt and fear.
"The powers of darkness are all abroad-- They own no Saviour, and they fear no God; And we are trembling in dumb dismay; Oh, turn not thou thy face away."--Hogg
It was late in the evening when Carlos emerged from his chamber. Howthe intervening hours had been passed he never told any one. But thismuch is certain,--he contended with and overcame a wild, almostuncontrollable impulse to seek refuge in flight. His reason told himthat this would be to rush upon certain destruction: so sedulouslyguarded were all the ways of egress, and so watchful and complete, inevery city and village of the land, was the inquisitorial organization;not to speak of the "Hermandad," or Brotherhood--a kind of civil police,always ready to co-operate with the ecclesiastical authorities.
Still, if he could not be saved, Juan might and should. This thoughtwas growing gradually clearer and stronger in his bewildered brain andaching heart while he knelt in his chamber, finding a relief in theattitude of prayer, though few and broken were the words of prayer thatpassed his trembling lips. Indeed, the burden of his cry was this:"Lord, have mercy on us. Christ, have mercy on us. Thou that carestfor us, forsake us not in our bitter need. For thine is the kingdom;even yet thou reignest."
This was all he could find to plead, either on his own behalf or on thatof his imprisoned brethren; though for them his heart was wrung withunutterable anguish. Once and again did he repeat--"_Thine_ is thekingdom and the power. Thine, O Father; thine, O Lord and Saviour.Thou canst deliver us."
It was well for him that he had Juan to save. He rose at last; andadded to the letter previously written to his brother a few lines ofmost earnest entreaty that he would on no account return to Seville.But then, recollecting his own position, he marvelled greatly at hissimplicity in purposing to send such a letter by the King's post--aninstitution which, strange to say, Spain possessed at an earlier periodthan any other country in Europe. If he should fall under suspicion,his letter would be liable to detention and examination, and might thusbe the means of involving Juan in the very peril from which he sought todeliver him.
A better plan soon occurred to him. That he might carry it out, hedescended late in the evening to the cool, marble-paved court, or_patio_, in the centre of which the fountain ever murmured andglistened, surrounded by tropical plants, some of them in gorgeousbloom.
As he had hoped, one solitary lamp burned like a star in a remotecorner; and its light illumined the form of a young girl seated on a lowchair, before an inlaid ebony table, writing busily. Dona Beatriz hadexcused herself from accompanying the family on an evening visit, thatshe might devote herself in undisturbed solitude to the composition ofher first love-letter--indeed, her first letter of any kind: for shortas he intended his absence to be, Juan had stipulated for thisconsolation, and induced her to premise it; and she knew that the King'spost went northwards the next day, passing by Nuera on his way to thetowns of La Mancha.
So engrossing was her occupation that she did not hear the step ofCarlos. He drew near, and stood behind her. Pearls, golden Agni, and ascarlet flower or two, were twined with her glossy raven hair; and thelamp shed a subdued radiance over her fine features, which glowedthrough their delicate olive with the rosy light of joy. An exquisitethough not very costly perfume, that Carlos in other days alwaysassociated with her presence, still continued a favourite with her, andfilled the place around with fragrance. It brought back his memory tothe past--to that wild, vain, yet enchanting dream; the brief romance ofhis life. But there was no time now even for "a dream within a dream."There was only time to thank God, from the depths of his soul, that inall the wide world there was no heart that would break for _him_.
"Dona Beatriz," he said gently.
She started, and half turned, a bright flush mounting to her cheek.
"You are writing to my brother."
"And how know you that, Senor Don Carlos?" asked the young lady, with alittle innocent affectation.
But Carlos, standing face to face with terrible realities, pushed asideher pretty arts, as one hastening to succour a dying man might pushaside a branch of wild roses that impeded his path.
"I most earnestly request of you, senora, to convey to him a messagefrom me."
"And wherefore can you not write to him yourself, Senor Licentiate?"
"Is it possible, senora, that you know not what has happened?"
"Vaya, vaya, Don Carlos! how you startle one.--Do you mean thesehorrible arrests?"
Carlos found that a few strong, plain words were absolutely necessary inorder to make Beatrix understand his brother's peril. She had listenedhitherto to Don Juan's extracts from Scripture, and the arguments andexhortations founded thereon, conscious, indeed, that these were secretswhich should be jealously guarded, yet unconscious that they were whatthe Church and the world branded as heresy. Consequently, although sheheard of the arrest of Losada and his friends with vague regret andapprehension, she was far from distinctly associating the crime forwhich they suffered with the name dearest to her heart. She was stillvery young; and she had not thought much--she had only loved. And sheblindly followed him she loved, without caring to ask whither he wasgoing himself, or whither he was leading her. When at last Carlos madeher comprehend that it was for reading the Scriptures, and talking ofjustification by faith alone, that Losada was thrown into the dungeonsof the Triana, a thrilling cry of anguish broke from her lips.
"Hush, senora!" said Carlos; and for once his voice was stern. "If evenyour little black foot-page heard that cry, it might ruin all."
But Beatrix was unused to self-control. Another cry followed, and therewere symptoms of hysterical tears and laughter. Carlos tried a morepotent spell.
"Hush, senora!" he repeated. "We must be strong and silent, if we areto save Don Juan."
She looked piteously up at him, repeating, "Save Don Juan?"
"Yes, senora. Listen to me. _You_, at least, are a good Catholic. Youhave not compromised yourself in any way: you say your angelus; you makeyour vows; you bring flowers to Our Lady's shrine. _You_ are safe."
She turned round and faced him--her cheek dyed crimson, and her eyesflashing,--
"I am safe! Is that all you have to say? Who cares for that? What is_my_ life worth?"
"Patience, dear senora! Your safety aids in securing his. Listen.--Youare writing to him. Tell him of the arrests; for hear of them he must.Use the language about heresy which will occur to you, but which--Godhelp me!--I could not use. Then pass from the subject. Write aughtelse that comes to your mind; but before closing your letter, say that Iam well in mind and body, and would be heartily recommended to him. Addthat I most earnestly request of him, for our common good and the betterarrangement of our affairs, not to return to Seville, but to remain atNuera. He will understand that. Lay your own commands upon him--your_commands_, remember, senora--to the same effect."
"I will do all that.--But here come my aunt and cousins."
It was true. Already the porter had opened for them the gloomy outergate; and now the gilt and filagreed inner door was thrown open also,and the returning family party filled the court. They were talkingtogether; not quite so gaily as usual, but still eagerly enough. DonaSancha soon drew near to Beatrix, and began to rally her upon heroccupation, threatening playfully to carry away and read the unfinishedletter. No one addressed a word to Carlos; but that might have beenmere accident.
It was, however, scarcely accidental that his aunt, as she passed him onher way to an inner room, drew her mantilla closer round her, lest itsdeep lace fringe might touch his clothing. Shortly afterwards DonaSancha dropped her fan. According to custom, Carlos stooped for it, andhanded it to her with a bow. The young lady took it mechanically, but
almost immediately dropped it again with a look of scorn, as if pollutedby its touch. Its delicate carved ivory, the work of Moorish hands, layin fragments on the marble floor; and from that moment Carlos knew thathe was under the ban, that he stood alone amidst his uncle'shousehold--a suspected and degraded man.
It was not wonderful. His intimacy with the monks of San Isodro, hisfriendship with Don Juan Ponce de Leon, and with the physician Losada,were all well-known facts. Moreover, had he not taught at the Collegeof Doctrine, under the direct patronage of Fernando de San Juan, anotherof the victims. And there were other indications of his tendencies whichcould scarcely escape notice, once the suspicions of those who livedunder the same roof with him were awakened.
For a time he stood silent, watching his uncle's countenance, andmarking the frown that contracted his brow whenever his eye turnedtowards him. But when Don Manuel passed into a smaller saloon thatopened upon the court, Carlos followed him boldly.
They stood face to face, but could hardly see each other. The room wasdarkness, save for a few struggling moonbeams.
"Senor my uncle," said Carlos, "I fear my presence here is displeasingto you."
Don Manuel paused before replying.
"Nephew," he said at length, "you have been lamentably imprudent. Thesaints grant you have been no worse."
A moment of strong emotion will sometimes bring out in a man's facecharacteristic lineaments of his family, in calmer seasons not traceablethere. Thus it is with features of the soul. It was not the gentletimid Don Carlos who spoke now, it was Alvarez de Santillanos y Menaya.There was both pride and courage in his tone.
"If it has been my misfortune to offend my honoured uncle, to whom I oweso many benefits, I am sorry, though I cannot charge myself with anyfault. But I should be faulty indeed were I to prolong my stay in ahouse where I am no longer what, thanks to your kindness, senor myuncle, I have ever been hitherto, a welcome guest." Having spoken thus,he turned to go.
"Stay, young fool!" cried Don Manuel, who thought the better of him forhis proud words. They raised him, in his estimation, from a mark forhis scorn to a legitimate object for his indignation. "There spoke yourfather's voice. But I tell you, for all that, you shall not quit theshelter of my roof."
"I thank you."
"You may spare the pains. I ask you not, for I prefer to remain inignorance, to what perilous and fool-hardy lengths your intimacy withheretics may have gone. Without being a Qualificator of heresy myself,I can tell that you smell of the fire. And indeed, young man, were youanything less than Alvarez de Menaya, I would hardly scorch my ownfingers to hold you out of it. The Devil--to whom, in spite of all yourfair appearances, I fear you belong--might take care of his own. Butsince truth is the daughter of God, you shall have it from my lips. Andthe plain truth is, that I have no desire to hear every cur dog inSeville barking at me and mine; nor to see our ancient and honourablename dragged through the mire and filth of the streets."
"I have never disgraced that name."
"Have I not said that I desire no protestations from you? Whatever myprivate opinion may be, it stands upon our family honour to hold thatyours is still unstained. Therefore, not from love, as I tell youplainly, but from motives that may perchance prove stronger in the end,I and mine extend to you our protection. I am a good Catholic, afaithful son of Mother Church; but I freely confess I am no hero of theFaith, to offer up upon its shrine those that bear my own name. Ipretend not to such heights of sanctity, not I." And Don Manuelshrugged his shoulders.
"I entreat of you, senor my uncle, to allow me to explain--"
Don Manuel waved his hand with a forbidding gesture. "None of thyexplanations for me," he said. "I am no silly cock, to scratch till Ifind the knife. Dangerous secrets had best be let alone. This I willsay, however, that of all the contemptible follies of these evil times,this last one of heresy is the worst. If a man _will_ lose his soul, inthe name of common sense let him lose it for fine houses, broad lands, aduke's title, an archbishop's coffers, or something else good at leastin this world. But to give all up, and to gain nothing, save fire hereand fire again hereafter! It is sheer, blank idiocy."
"I _have_ gained something," said Carlos firmly. "I have gained atreasure worth more than all I risk, more than life itself."
"What! Is there really a meaning in this madness? Have you and yourfriends a secret?" Don Manuel asked in a gentler voice, and not withoutcuriosity. For he was the child of his age; and had Carlos told himthat the heretics had made the discovery of the philosopher's stone, hewould have seen nothing worthy of disbelief in the statement; he wouldonly have asked him for proofs.
"The knowledge of God in Christ," began Carlos eagerly, "gives me joyand peace--"
"_Is that all?_" cried Don Manuel with an oath. "Fool that I was, toimagine, for half an idle minute, that there might be some grain ofcommon sense still left in your crazy brain! But since it is only aquestion of words and names, and mystical doctrines, I have the honourto wish you good evening, Senor Don Carlos. Only I command you, as youvalue your life, and prefer a residence beneath my roof to a dungeon inthe Triana, to keep your insanity within bounds, and to conduct yourselfso as to avert suspicion. On these conditions we will shelter you.Eventually, if it can be done with safety, we may even ship you out ofthe Spains to some foreign country, where heretics, rogues, and thievesare permitted to go at large." So saying, he left the room.
Carlos was stung to the quick by his contempt; but remembered at lastthat it was a fragment of the true cross (really the first that hadfallen to his lot) given him to wear in honour of his Master.
Sleep would not visit his eyes that night. The next day was theSabbath, a day he had been wont to welcome and enjoy. But never againshould the Reformed Church of Seville meet in the upper room which hadbeen the scene of so much happy intercourse. The next reunion wasappointed for another place, a house not made with hands, eternal in theheavens. Dona Isabella de Baena and Losada were in the dungeons of theTriana. Fray Cassiodoro de Reyna, singularly fortunate, had succeededin making his escape. Fray Constantino, on the other hand, had beenamongst the first arrested; but Carlos went as usual to the Cathedral,where that eloquent voice would never again be heard. A heavy silentgloom, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, seemed to fill thecrowded aisles.
Yet it was there that the first gleam of comfort reached the breakingheart of Carlos. It came to him through the familiar words of the Latinservice, loved from childhood.
He said afterwards to the trembling children of one of the victims,whose desolated home he dared to visit, "For myself, horror took hold ofme. I dared not to think. I scarce dared to pray, save in broken wordsthat were only like cries of pain. The first thing that helped me wasthat grand verse in the Te Deum, chanted by the sweet childish voices ofthe Cathedral choir--'Tu, devicto mortis aculeo, aperuesti credentibusregna coelorum.' Think, dear friends, not death alone, but its sting,its sharpness,--for us and our beloved,--He has overcome, and they andwe in him. The gates of the kingdom of heaven stand open; opened by hishands, and neither men nor fiends can shut them again."
Such words as these did Carlos find opportunity to speak to manybereaved ones, from whom the desire of their eyes had been taken by astroke far more bitter than death. This ministry of love did notgreatly increase his own peril, since the less he deviated from hisordinary habits of life the less suspicion he was likely to awaken. Buthad it been otherwise, he was not now in a position to calculate.Perhaps he was too near heaven; at all events, he had already venturedtoo much for Christ's sake not to be willing, at his call, to venture alittle more.
Meanwhile, the isolation of his position in his uncle's house grewoverpowering. No one reproached him, no one taunted him, not evenGonsalvo. He often longed for some bitter word, ay, though it were acurse, to break the oppressive silence. Every eye looked upon him withhatred and scorn; every hand shrank from the slightest, most accidentalcontact with his. Almost he came to consider hims
elf what all othersconsidered him,--polluted, degraded--under the ban.
Once and again would he have sought escape by flight from an atmospherein which it seemed more and more impossible to breathe. But flightmeant arrest; and arrest, besides its overwhelming terrors for himself,meant the danger of betraying Juan. His uncle and his uncle's family,though they seemed now to scorn and hate him, had promised to save himif they could, and so far he trusted them.
The Spanish Brothers: A Tale of the Sixteenth Century Page 23