XXIX.
A Friend at Court
"I have a soul and body that exact A comfortable care in many ways."--R. Browning
Don Juan's peril was extreme. Well known as he was to many of theimprisoned Lutherans, it seemed a desperate chance that, amongst thenumerous confessions wrung from them, no mention of his name shouldoccur. He knew himself deeply implicated in the crime for which theywere suffering--the one unpardonable crime in the eyes of Rome.Moreover, unlike his brother, whose temperament would have led him toavoid danger by every lawful means, he was by nature brave even torashness, and bold even to recklessness. It was his custom to wear hisheart on his lips; and though of late stern necessity had taught him toconceal what he thought, it was neither his inclination nor his habit todisguise what he felt. Probably, not even his desire to aid Carloswould have prevented his compromising himself by some rash word or deed,had not the soft hand of Dona Beatriz, strong in its weakness, held himback from destruction. Not for one instant could he forget her terriblevow. With this for ever before his eyes, it is little marvel if he waswilling to do anything, to bear anything--ay, almost to feignanything--rather than involve her he loved in a fate inconceivablyhorrible.
And--alas for the brave, honest-hearted, truthful Don Juan Alvarez!--itwas often necessary to feign. If he meant to remain in Seville, and toavoid the dungeons of the Inquisition, he must obviate--orremove--suspicion by protesting, both by word and action, his devotionto the Catholic Church, and his hatred of heresy.
Could he stoop to this? Gradually, and more and more, as each day'semergency made it more and more necessary, he did stoop to it. He toldhimself it was all for his brother's sake. And though such a line ofconduct was intensely repugnant to his character, it was not contrary tohis principles. To conceal an opinion is one thing, to deny a friendquite another. And while Carlos had found a Friend, Juan had onlyembraced an opinion.
He himself would have said that he had found Truth--had devoted himselfto the cause of Freedom. But where were truth and freedom now, with allthe bright anticipations of their ultimate triumph which he had beenwont to indulge? As far as his native land was concerned (and it mustbe owned that his mental eye scarcely reached beyond "the Spains"), asingle day had blotted out his glowing visions for ever. Almost at thesame moment, and as if by some secret preconcerted signal, the leadingProtestants in Seville, in Valladolid, all over the kingdom, had beenarrested and thrown into prison. Swiftly, silently, with the utmostorder and regularity, had the whole thing been accomplished. Every namethat Juan had heard Carlos mention with admiration and sympathy was nowthe name of a helpless captive. The Reformed Church of Spain existed nolonger, or existed only in dungeons.
In what quarter the storm had first arisen, that burst so suddenly uponthe community of the faithful, Don Juan never knew. It is probable theHoly Office had long been silently watching its prey, waiting for themoment of action to arrive. In Seville, it is said, a spy had been setupon some of Losada's congregation, who revealed their meeting to theInquisitors. While in Valladolid, the foul treachery of the wife of oneof the Protestants furnished the Holy Office with the means of bringingher husband and his friends to the stake.
Don Juan, whose young heart had lately beat so high with hope, now bowedhis head in despair. And despairing of freedom, he lost his confidencein truth also. In opinion he was still a decided Lutheran. He acceptedevery doctrine of the Reformed as against the Roman Catholic creed. Butthe hold he once had upon these doctrines as living realities wasslackened. He did not doubt that justification by faith was ascriptural dogma, but he did not think it necessary to die for it.Compared with the tremendous interest of the fate of Carlos and theperil of Beatriz, and amidst his desperate struggles to aid the one andshield the other, doctrinal questions grew pale and faint to him.
Nor had he yet learned to throw himself, in utter weakness, upon astrength greater than his own, and a love that knows no limits. He didnot feel his weakness: he felt strong, in the strength of a brave heartstruggling against cruel wrong; strong to resist, and, if it might be,to conquer his fate.
At first he cherished a hope that his brother was not actually in thesecret dungeons of the Inquisition. For so great was the number of thecaptives, that the public gaols of the city and the convent prisons werefull of them; and some had to be lodged even in private houses. AsCarlos had been one of the last arrested, there seemed reason to supposethat he might be amongst those thus accommodated; in which case it wouldbe much easier both to communicate with him, and to alleviate his fate,than if he were within the gloomy walls of the Triana; there might be,moreover, the possibility of forming some plan for his deliverance.
But Juan's diligent and persevering search resulted at last in theconviction that his brother was in the "Santa Casa" itself. Thisconviction sent a chill to his heart. He shuddered to think of hispresent suffering, whilst he feared the worst for the future, supposingthat the Inquisitors would take care to lodge in their own especialfortress those whom they esteemed the most heinous transgressors.
He engaged a lodging in the Triana suburb, which the river, spanned by abridge of boats, separated from the city. There were several reasonsfor this choice of residence; but by far the greatest was, that thosewho lingered beneath the walls of the grim old castle could sometimessee, behind its grated windows, spectral faces raised to catch the fewscanty gleams of daylight which fell to their lot. Long weary hours didJuan watch there, hoping to recognize the face he loved. But always invain.
When he went into the city, it was sometimes for other purposes than tovisit Dona Beatriz. It was as often to seek the precincts of themagnificent Cathedral, and to pace up and down that terrace whosemassive truncated pillars, raised when the Romans founded a heathentemple on the spot, had stood throughout the long ages of Moslemdomination. Now the place was consecrated to Christian worship, and yetit was put to no hallowed use. Rich merchants, in many a varying garb,that told of different nations, trod the stately colonnade, and boughtand sold and made bargains there. For in those days (strange as seemsto us the irreverence of the so-called "ages of faith") that terrace wasthe royal exchange of Seville, then a mercantile city of greatimportance. Don Juan Alvarez diligently resorted thither, and held manya close and earnest conversation with a keen-eyed, hawk-nosed Jew, whomhe met there.
Isaac Osorio, or more properly, Isaac ben Osorio, was a notoriousmoney-lender, who had often "obliged" Don Manuel's sons, not unfairlyrequiring heavy interest to counter-balance the hazardous nature of hisinvestments. Callings branded as unlawful are apt to prove particularlygainful. The Jew was willing to "oblige" Don Juan also, upon certainconditions. He was not by any means ignorant of the purpose for whichhis money was needed. Of course he was himself a Christian in name, fornone other would have been permitted to live upon Spanish ground. Butby what wrongs, tortures, agonies worse than death, he and those likehim had been forced to accept Christian baptism, will never be knownuntil Christ comes again to judge the false Church that has slanderedhim. Will it be nothing in his sight that millions of the souls forwhom he died have been driven to hate his Name--that Name so unutterablyprecious?
Osorio derived grim satisfaction from the thought that the Christianswere now imprisoning, torturing, burning each other. It reminded him ofthe grand old days in his people's history, when the Lord of hosts waswont to stretch forth his mighty arm and trouble the armies of thealiens, turning every man's hand against his brother. Let the Gentilesbite and devour one another, the child of Abraham could look upon theirquarrels with calm indifference. But if he had any sympathy, it was forthe weaker side. He was rather disposed to help a Christian youth whowas trying to save his brother from the same cruel fangs in which somany sons of Israel had writhed and struggled. Don Juan, therefore,found him accommodating, and even lenient. From time to time headvanced to him considerable sums, first upon the jewels he brought withhim from Nuera, a
nd then, alas! upon his patrimony itself.
Not without a keen pang did Juan thus mortgage the inheritance of hisfathers. But he began to realize the bitter truth that a flight fromSpain, and a new career in some foreign land, would eventually be theonly course open to him--if indeed he escaped with life.
Nor would the armies of Spain henceforth be more free to him than hersoil. Fortunately, the necessity for rejoining his regiment had notarisen. For the brief war in which he served was over now; and as thepromised captaincy had not yet been assigned to him, he was at libertyfor the present to remain at home.
He largely bribed the head-gaoler of the inquisitorial prison, besidessupplying him liberally with necessaries and comforts for his brother'suse. Caspar Benevidio bore the worst of characters, both for crueltyand avarice; still, Juan had no resource but to trust implicitly to hishonour, in the hope that at least some portion of what he gave would beallowed to reach the prisoner. But not a single gleam of informationabout him could be gained from Benevidio, who, like all other servantsof the Inquisition, was bound by a solemn oath to reveal nothing thatpassed within its walls.
He also bribed some of the attendants and satellites of the all-powerfulInquisitor, Munebraga. It was his desire to obtain a personal interviewwith the great man himself, that he might have the opportunity of tryingthe intercession of Don Dinero, to whose advances he was known to be notaltogether obdurate.
For the purpose of soliciting an audience, he repaired one evening tothe splendid gardens belonging to the Triana, to await the Inquisitor,who was expected shortly to return from a sail for pleasure on theGuadalquivir. He was sick at heart of the gorgeous tropical plants thatsurrounded him, of the myrtle-blossoms that were showered on his path;of all that told of the hateful pomp and luxury in which the persecutorlived, while his victims pined unpitied in loathsome dungeons. Yetneither by word, look, nor sign dared he betray the rage that wasgnawing his heart.
At length the shouts of the populace, who thronged the river's side,announced the approach of their idol; for such Munebraga was for thetime. Clad in costly silks and jewels, and surrounded by a brilliantlittle court, composed both of churchmen and laymen, the "LordInquisitor" stepped from his splendid purple-decked barge. Don Juanthrew himself in his way, and modestly requested an audience. Hisbearing, though perfectly respectful, was certainly less obsequious thanthat to which Munebraga had been accustomed of late. So the minister ofthe Holy Office turned from him haughtily, though, as Juan bitterlythought, "his father would have been proud to hold the stirrup formine." "This is no fitting time to talk of business, senor," he said."We are weary to-night, and need repose."
At that moment a Franciscan friar advanced from the group, and with hislowest bow and most reverent manner approached the Inquisitor. "Withthe gracious permission of my very good lord, I shall address myself tothe caballero, and report his errand to your sanctity. I have thehonour of some acquaintance with his Excellency's noble family."
"As you please, Fray," said the voice accustomed to speak the terriblewords that doomed to the rack and the pulley, though no one would havesuspected this from the bland, careless good-nature of its tones. "Butsee that you tarry not so as to lose your supper. Howbeit, there islittle need to caution you, or any other son of St. Francis, againstundue neglecting of the body."
The son of St. Francis made no answer, either because it was not worthwhile, or because those who take the crumbs from the rich man's tablemust ofttimes take his taunts therewith. He disengaged himself from thegroup, and turned towards Juan a broad, good-humoured, not unintelligentface, which his former pupil recognized immediately.
"Fray Sebastian Gomez!" he exclaimed in astonishment
"And very much at the service of my noble Senor Don Juan. Will yourExcellency deign to bear me company for a little time? In yonder walkthere are some rare flowers of rich colouring, which it were worth yourwhile to observe."
They turned into the path he indicated, while the Lord Inquisitor'ssilken train swept towards that half of the Triana where godless luxurybore sway; the other half being consecrated to the twin demon, cruelty.
"Will it please your worship to look at these Indian pinks?" said thefriar. "You will not see that flower elsewhere in all the Spains, savein the royal gardens. His Imperial Majesty brought it first fromTunis."
Juan all but cursed the innocent flowers; but recollected in time thatGod made them, though they belonged to Gonzales de Munebraga. "InHeaven's name, what brings you here, Fray Sebastian?" he interruptedimpatiently. "I thought to see only the black cowls of St. Dominicabout the--the minister of the Holy Office."
"A little more softly, may I implore of your Excellency? Yonder casementis open.--Pues,[#] senor, I am here in the capacity of a guest. Nothingmore."
[#] Well, or well thou.
"Every man to his taste," said Juan, drily, as with a heedless foot hekicked off the beautiful scarlet flower of a rare cactus.
"Have a care, senor and your Excellency; my lord is very proud of hiscactus flowers."
"Then come with me to some spot of God's free earth where we can talktogether, out of sight of him and his possessions."
"Nay, rest content, senor; and untire yourself in this fair arbouroverlooking the river."
"At least, God made the river," said Juan, flinging himself, with a sighof irritation and impatience, on the cushioned seat of the summer-house.
Fray Sebastian seated himself also. "My lord," he began to explain,"has received me with all courtesy, and is good enough to desire mycontinual attendance. The fact is, senor, his reverence is a man ofliterary taste."
Juan allowed himself the solace of a quiet sneer. "Oh, is he? Verycreditable to him, no doubt."
"Especially he is a great lover of the divine art of poesy."
No _genuine_ love of the gentle art, whose great lesson is sympathy, didor could soften the Inquisitor's hard heart. Nor, had his wealth beendoubled, could he have hired one real poet to sing his praise in strainsworthy the ear of posterity. In an atmosphere so cold, the most etherealspirit would have frozen. But it was in his power to buy flattery inrhyme, and it suited his inclination so to do. He liked the trick ofrhyme, at once so easy and so charming in the sonorous Castiliantongue--it was a pleasure of the ear which he keenly appreciated, as hedid also those of the eye and the palate.
"I addressed to him," Fray Sebastian continued with becoming modesty, "alittle effort of my Muse--really a mere trifle--on the suppression ofheresy, comparing the Lord Inquisitor to Michael the archangel, with thedragon beneath his feet. You understand, senor?"
Juan understood so well that it was with difficulty he refrained fromflinging the unlucky rhymester into the river. But of late he hadlearned many a lesson in prudence. Still, his words sounded almostfierce in their angry scorn. "I suppose he gave you in return--a gooddinner."
But Fray Sebastian would not take offence. He answered mildly, "He waspleased to express his approval of my humble effort, and to admit meinto his noble household; where, except my poor exertions to amuse anduntire him by my conversation may be accounted a service, I am of noservice to him whatever."
"So you are clad in purple and fine linen, and fare sumptuously everyday," said Juan, with contempt that he cared not to conceal.
"As to purple and fine linen, senor, I am an unworthy son of St.Francis; and it is well known to your Excellency that by the rules ofour Order not even one scrap of holland---- But you are laughing at me,as you used in old times, Senor Don Juan."
"God knows, I have little heart to laugh. In those old times you speakof, Fray, there was no great love between you and me; and no marvel, forI was a wild and idle lad. But I think you loved my gentle brother, DonCarlos!"
"That I did, senor, as did every one. Has any evil come upon him? St.Francis forbid!"
"Worse evil than I care to name. He lies in yonder tower."
"The blessed Virgin have pity on us!" cried Fray Sebastian, crossinghimself.
"I thought you would have heard of his arrest," Juan continued, sadly.
"I, senor! Never a breath. Holy Saints defend us! How could I, or anyone, dream that a young gentleman of noblest race, well learned, and oftruly pious disposition, would have had the ill luck to fall under sofoul a suspicion? Doubtless it is the work of some personal enemy.And--ah, woe is me! 'the clattering horse-shoe ever wants a nail'--herehave I been naming heresy, 'talking of halters in the house of thehanged?'"
"Hold thy tongue about hanging," said Juan, testily, "and listen to me,if thou canst."
Fray Sebastian indicated, by a respectful gesture, his profoundattention.
"It has been whispered to me that the door of his reverence's heart maybe unlocked by a golden key."
Fray Sebastian assured him this was a foul slander; concluding apanegyric on the purity of the Inquisitor's administration with thewords, "You would forfeit his favour for ever by presuming so far as tooffer a bribe."
"No doubt," answered Juan with a sneer, and a hard, worldly look in hisface that of late was often seen there. "I should deserve to pay thatpenalty were I the fool to approach him with a bow, and, 'Here is apurse of gold for your sanctity.' But 'one take is worth two I giveyou's,' and there is a way of saying 'take' to every man. And I askyou, for old kindness, to show me how to say it to his lordship."
Fray Sebastian pondered. After an interval he said, with somehesitation, "May I venture to inquire, senor, what means you possess ofclearing the character of your noble brother?"
Juan only answered by a sorrowful shake of the head.
Darker and darker grew the friar's sensual but good-natured face.
"His excellent reputation, his brilliant success at college, hisblameless life should tell in his favour," Juan said at length.
"Have you nothing more direct? If not, I fear it is a bad business.But 'silence is called holy,' so I hold my peace. Still, if indeed(which the Saints forbid) he has fallen inadvertently into error, it isa comfort to reflect that there will be little difficulty in reclaiminghim."
Juan made no reply. Did he expect his brother to retract? Did he _wish_him to do it? These were questions he scarcely dared to ask himself.From any reply he could give to them he shrank in shuddering dread.
"He was ever gentle and tractable," Fray Sebastian continued, "andofttimes but too easy to persuade."
Juan rose, took up a stone, and threw it into the river. When thecircles it made in the water had died away, he turned back to the friar."But what can _I_ do for him?" he asked, with an undertone of helplesssadness, touching from the lips of one so strong.
Fray Sebastian put his hand to his forehead, and looked as if he werecomposing another poem. "Let me see, your Excellency. There is mylord's nephew and pet page, Don Alonzo (where he has got the 'Don' Iknow not, but Don Dinero makes many a noble); I dare say it would nothurt the Donzelo's soft white hand to finger a purse of gold ducats, andthose same ducats might help your brother's cause not a little."
"Manage the matter for me, and I will thank you heartily. Gold, to anyextent that will serve _him_, shall be forthcoming; and, my good friend,see that you spare it not."
"Ah, Senor Don Juan, you were always generous."
"My brother's life is at stake," said Juan, softening a little. But thehard look returned as he added, "Those who live in great men's houseshave many expenses, Fray. Always remember that I am your friend, andthat my ducats are very much at your service also."
Fray Sebastian thanked him with his lowest bow. Juan's look changedagain; this time more rapidly. "If it were possible," he added, in low,hurried tones--"if you could only bring me the least word of tidingsfrom him--even one word to say if he lives, if he is well, how he isentreated. Three months it is now since he was taken, and I have heardno more than if they had carried him to his grave."
"It is a difficult matter, a _very_ difficult matter that you ask of me.Were I a son of St. Dominic, I might indeed accomplish somewhat. Forthe black cowls are everything now. Still, I will do all I can, senor."
"I trust you, Fray. If under cover of seeking his conversion, ofanything, you could but see him."
"Impossible, senor--utterly impossible."
"Why? They sometimes send friars to reason with the--the prisoners."
"Always Dominicans or Jesuits--men well-known and trusted by the Boardof the Inquisition. However, senor, nothing that a man may do shall bewanting on my part. Will not that content your Excellency?"
"_Content_ me? Well, as far as you are concerned, yes. But, in truth,I am haunted day and night by one horrible dread. What if--if theyshould _torture_ him? My gentle brother, frail in mind and body, tenderand sensitive as a woman! Terror and pain would drive him mad." Thelast words were a quick broken whisper. But outward expressions ofemotion with Don Juan were always speedily repressed. Recoveringapparent calmness, he stretched out his hand to Fray Sebastian, saying,with a faint smile, "I have kept you too long from my lord'ssupper-table--pardon me."
"Your Excellency's condescension in conversing with me deserves myprofound gratitude," replied the monk, in true Castilian fashion. Hisresidence at the Inquisitor's Court had certainly improved his manners.
Don Juan gave him his address, and it was agreed that he should call onhim in a few days. Fray Sebastian then offered to bring him on his waythrough the garden and court of that part of the Triana which formed theInquisitor's residence. But Juan declined the favour. He could notanswer for himself when brought face to face with the impious pomp andluxury of the persecutor of the saints. He feared that, by some wildword or deed, he might imperil the cause he had at heart. So he hailed awaterman who was guiding his little boat down the tranquil stream in thewaning light. The boat was soon brought to the place where theInquisitor had landed from his barge; and Juan, after shaking the dustfrom his feet, both literally and metaphorically, sprang into it.
The popular ideal of a persecutor is very far from the truth. At theword there rises before most minds the vision of a lean, pale-faced,fierce-eyed monk, whose frame is worn with fasting, and his scourge redwith his own blood. He is a fanatic--pitiless, passionate,narrow-minded, perhaps half insane--but penetrated to the very core ofhis being with intense zeal for his Church's interest, and prepared inher service both to inflict and to endure all things.
Very unlike this ideal were _most_ of the great persecutors who carriedout the behests of Antichrist. They were generally able men. But theywere pre-eminently men wise in their generation, men _of_ theirgeneration, men who "loved this present world." They gave the Churchthe service of strong hand and skilful brain that she needed; and shegave _them_, in return, "gold, and silver, and precious stones, andpearls; and fine linen, and purple, and silk, and scarlet; and all sweetwood; and all manner of vessels of ivory, and all manner of vessels ofmost precious wood, and of brass, and of iron, and marble; and cinnamon,and odours, and ointment, and frankincense; and wine, and oil, and fineflour, and wheat; and beasts, and sheep, and horses and chariots, andslaves and souls of men." It was for these things, not for abstractideas, not for high places in heaven, that they tortured and murderedthe saints of God. Whilst the cry of the oppressed reached the ears ofthe Most High, those who were "wearing them out" lived in unhallowedluxury, in degrading sensuality. Gonzales de Munebraga was a goodspecimen of the class to which he belonged--he was no exceptional case.
Nor was Fray Sebastian anything but an ordinary character. He wasamiable, good-natured, free from gross vices--what is usually called"well disposed." But he "loved wine and oil," and to obtain what heloved he was willing to become the servant and the flatterer of worsemen than himself, at the terrible risk of sinking to their level.
With all the force of his strong nature, Don Juan Alvarez loathedMunebraga, and scorned Fray Sebastian. Gradually a strange alterationappeared to come over the little book he constantly studied--hisbrother's Spanish Testament. The words of promise, and hope, andcomfort, in which he used to delight, seemed to be
blotted from itspages; while ever more and more those pages were filled with fearfulthreatenings and denunciations of doom--against hypocritical scribes andPharisees, false teachers and wicked high priests--against greatBabylon, the mother of abominations. The peace-breathing, "Father,forgive them, for they know not what they do," grew fainter and morefaint, until at last it faded completely from his memory; while therestood out before him night and day, in characters of fire, "Serpents,generation of vipers, how can ye escape the damnation of hell!"
The Spanish Brothers: A Tale of the Sixteenth Century Page 29