XXXIV.
Fray Sebastian's Trouble.
"Now, with fainting frame, With soul just lingering on the flight begun, To bind for thee its last dim thoughts in one, I bless thee. Peace be on thy noble head. Years of bright fame, when I am with the dead! I bid this prayer survive me, and retain Its power again to bless thee, and again. Thou hast been gathered into my dark fate Too much; too long for my sake desolate Hath been thine exiled youth; but now take back From dying hands thy freedom."--Hemans
It was late in August. All day long the sky had been molten fire, andthe earth brass. Every one had dozed away the sultry noontide hours inthe coolest recesses of dwellings made to exclude heat, as ours toexclude cold. But when at last the sun sank in flame beneath thehorizon, people began to creep out languidly to woo the refreshment ofthe evening breeze.
The beautiful gardens of the Triana were still deserted, save by twopersons. One of these, a young lad--we beg pardon, a younggentleman--of fifteen or sixteen, sat, or rather reclined, by theriver-side, eating slices from an enormous melon, which he cut with asmall silver-hilted dagger. A plumed cap, and a gay velvet jerkin linedwith satin, had been thrown aside for coolness' sake, and lay near himon the ground; so that his present dress consisted merely of a mass ofthe finest white holland, delicately starched and frilled, velvet hosen,long silk stockings, and fashionable square-toed shoes. Curls ofscented hair were thrown back from a face beautiful as that of a girl,but bold and insolent in its expression as that of a spoiled andmischievous boy.
The other person was seated in the arbour mentioned once before, with abook in his hand, of which, however, he did not in the course of an hourturn over a single leaf. A look of chronic discontent and dejection hadreplaced the good-humoured smiles of Fray Sebastian Gomez. Everythingwas wrong with the poor Franciscan now. Even the delicacies of hispatron's table ceased to please him; and he, in his turn, was fastceasing to please his patron. How could it be otherwise, when he hadlost not only his happy art of indirect ingenious flattery, but hispower to be commonly agreeable or amusing? No more poems--not so muchas the briefest sonnet--on the suppression of heresy were to be had fromhim; and he was fast becoming incapable of turning a jest or telling astory.
It is said that idiots often manifest peculiar pain and terror at thesound of music, because it awakens within them faint stirrings of thathigher life from which God's mysterious dispensation has shut them out.And it is true that the first stirrings of higher life usually come toall of us with pain and terror. Moreover, if we do not crush them out,but cherish and foster them, they are very apt to take away thebrightness and pleasantness of the old lower life altogether, and tomake it seem worthless and distasteful.
A new and higher life had begun for Fray Sebastian. It was not hisconscience that was quickened, only his heart. Hitherto he had chieflycared for himself. He was a good-natured man, in the ordinaryacceptation of the term; yet no sympathy for others had ever spoiled hisappetite or hindered his digestion. But for the past three months hehad been feeling as he had not felt since he clung weeping to the motherwho left him in the parlour of the Franciscan convent--a child of eightyears old. The patient suffering face of the young prisoner in theTriana had laid upon him a spell that he could not break.
To say that he would have done anything in his power to save Don Carlos,is to say little. Willingly would he have lived for a month on blackbread and brackish water, if that could have even mitigated his fate.But the very intensity of his desire to help him was fast making himincapable of rendering him the smallest service. Munebraga's flattererand favourite might possibly, by dint of the utmost self-possession andthe most adroit management, have accomplished some little good. But FraySebastian was now consciously forfeiting even the miserable fragment ofpower that had once been his. He thought himself like the salt that hadlost its savour, and was fit neither for the land nor yet for thedunghill.
Absorbed in his mournful reflections, he continued unconscious of thepresence of such an important personage as Don Alonzo de Munebraga, theLord Vice-Inquisitor's favourite page. At length, however, he was madeaware of the fact by a loud angry shout, "Off with you, varlets, scum ofthe people! How dare you put your accursed fishing-smack to shore in mylord's garden, and under his very eyes?"
Fray Sebastian looked up, and saw no fishing-boat, but a decent coveredbarge, from which, in spite of the page's remonstrance, two persons werelanding: an elderly female clad in deep mourning, and her attendant,apparently a tradesman's apprentice, or serving-man.
Fray Sebastian knew well how many distracted petitioners daily soughtaccess to Munebraga, to plead (alas, how vainly!) for the lives ofparents, husbands, sons, or daughters. This was doubtless one of them.He heard her plead, "For the love of Heaven, dear young gentleman,hinder me not. Have you a mother? My only son lies--"
"Out upon thee, woman!" interrupted the page; "and the foul fiend takethee and thy only son together."
"Hush, Don Alonzo!" Fray Sebastian interposed, coming forward towardsthe spot; and perhaps for the first time in his life there was somethinglike dignity in his tone and manner. "You must be aware, senora," hesaid, turning to the woman, "that the right of using this landing-placeis restricted to my lord's household. You will be admitted at the gateof the Triana, if you present yourself at a proper hour."
"Alas! good father, once and again have I sought admission to my lord'spresence. I am the unhappy mother of Luis D'Abrego, he who used topaint and illuminate the church missals so beautifully. More than ayear agone they tore him from me, and carried him away to yonder tower,and since then, so help me the good God, never a word of him have Iheard. Whether he is living or dead, this day I know not."
"Oh, a Lutheran dog! Serve him right," cried the page. "I hope theyhave put him on the pulley."
Fray Sebastian turned suddenly, and dealt the lad a stinging blow on theside of his face. To the latest hour of his life this act of passionremained incomprehensible to himself. He could only ascribe it to thedirect agency of the evil one. "I was tempted by the Devil," he wouldsay with a sigh. "Vade retro me, Satana."
Crimson to the roots of his perfumed hair, the boy sought his dagger."Vile caitiff! beggarly trencher-scraping Franciscan!" he cried, "youshall repent of this."
But apparently changing his mind the next moment, he allowed the daggerto drop from his hand, and snatching up his jerkin, ran at full speedtowards the house.
Fray Sebastian crossed himself, and gazed after him bewildered; hisunwonted passion dying as suddenly as it had flamed up, and giving placeto fear.
Meanwhile the mother of Abrego, to whom it did not occur that the buffetbestowed on the page could have any serious consequences, resumed herpleadings. "Your reverence seems to have a heart that can feel for theunhappy," she said. "For Heaven's sake refuse not the prayer of themost unhappy woman in the world. Only let me see his lordship--let methrow myself at his feet and tell him the whole truth. My poor lad hadnothing at all to do with the Lutherans; he was a good, true Christian,and an old one, like all his family."
"Nay, nay, my good woman; I fear I can do nothing to help you. And Ientreat of you to leave this place, else some of my lord's household aresure to come and compel you. Ay, there they are."
It was true enough. Don Alonzo, as he ran through the porch, shouted tothe numerous idle attendants who were lounging about, and some of themimmediately rushed out into the garden.
In justice to Fray Sebastian, it must be recorded, that before heconsulted for his personal safety, he led the poor woman back to thebarge, and saw her depart in it. Then he made good his own retreat,going straight to the lodging of Don Juan Alvarez.
He found Juan lying asleep on a settle. The day was hot; he had nothingto do; and, moreover, the fiery energy of his southern blood was dashedby the southern taint of occasional torpor. Starting up suddenly, andseeing Fray Sebastian standing before him
with a look of terror, heasked in alarm, "Any tidings, Fray? Speak--tell me quickly."
"None, Senor Don Juan. But I must leave this place at once." And thefriar briefly narrated the scene that had just taken place, addingmournfully, "Ay de mi! I cannot tell what came over me--_me_, themildest-tempered man in all the Spains!"
"And what of all that?" asked Juan rather contemptuously. "I see nothingto regret, save that you did not give the insolent lad what he deserved,a sound beating."
"But, Senor Don Juan, you don't understand," gasped the poor friar. "Imust fly immediately. If I stay here over to-night I shall find myselfbefore the morning--_there_." And with a significant gesture he pointedto the grim fortress that loomed above them.
"Nonsense. They cannot suspect a man of heresy, even _de levi_,[#] forboxing the ear of an impudent serving-lad."
[#] Lightly.
"Ay, and can they not, your worship? Do you not know that the gardenerof the Triana has lain for many a weary month in one of those dismalcells; and all for the grave offence of snatching a reed out of the handof one of my lord's lackeys so roughly as to make it bleed?"[#]
[#] A fact.
"Truly! Now are things come to a strange pass in our free and royalland of Spain! A beggarly upstart, such as this Munebraga, who couldnot, to save himself from the rack, tell you the name of his owngreat-grandfather, drags the sons and brothers--ay, and God help us! thewives and daughters--of our knights and nobles to the dungeon and thestake before our eyes. And it is not enough for him to set his own heelon our necks. His minions--his very grooms and pages--must lord it overus, and woe to him who dares to chastise their insolence. Nathless, Iwould feel it a comfort to make every bone in that urchin's body achesoundly. I have a mind--but this is folly. I believe you are right,Fray. You should go."
"Moreover," said the friar mournfully, "I am doing no good here."
"No one can do good now," returned Juan, in a tone of deep dejection."And to-day the last blow has fallen. The poor woman who showed himkindness, and sometimes told us how he fared, is herself a prisoner."
"What! she has been discovered?"
"Even so: and with those fiends mercy is the greatest of all crimes.The child met me to-day (whether by accident or design, I know not), andtold me, weeping bitterly."
"God help her!"
"Some would gladly endure her punishment if they might commit hercrime," said Don Juan. There was a pause; then he resumed, "I had beenabout to ask you to apply once more to the prior."
Fray Sebastian shook his head. "That were of no use," he said; "for itis certain that my lord the Vice-Inquisitor and the prior have had amisunderstanding about the matter. And the prior, so far from obtainingpermission to deal with him as he desired, is not even allowed to seehim now."
"And yourself?--whither do you mean to go?" asked Juan, rather abruptly.
"In sooth, I know not, senor. I have had no time to think. But go Imust."
"I will tell you what to do. Go to Nuera. There for the present youwill be safe. And if any man inquire your business, you have a fair andready answer. _I_ send you to look after my affairs. Stay; I willwrite by you to Dolores. Poor, true-hearted Dolores!" Don Juan seemedto fall into a reverie, so long did he sit motionless, his face shadedby his hand.
His mournful air, his unwonted listlessness, his attenuated frame--allstruck Fray Sebastian painfully. After musing a while in silence, hesaid at last, very suddenly, "Senor Don Juan!"
Juan looked up.
"Have you ever thought since on the message _he_ sent you by me?"
Don Juan looked as though that question were worse than needless. Wasnot every word of his brother's message burned into his heart? This itwas: "My Ruy, thou hast done all for me that the best of brothers could.Leave me now to God, unto whom I am going quickly, and in peace. Quitthe country as soon as thou canst; and God's best blessings surround thypath and guard thee evermore."
One fact Carlos had most earnestly entreated Fray Sebastian to withholdfrom his brother. Juan must never know that he had endured the horrorsof the Question. The monk would have promised almost anything thatcould bring a glow of pleasure to that pale, patient face. And he hadkept his promise, though at the expense of a few falsehoods, that didnot greatly embarrass his conscience. He had conveyed the impression toDon Juan that it was merely from the effects of his long and cruelimprisonment that his brother was sinking into the only refuge thatremained to him--a quiet grave.
After a pause, he resumed, looking earnestly at Juan--"_He_ wished youto go."
"Do you not know that next month they say there will be--_an Auto_?"
"Yes; but it is not likely--"
They gazed at each other in silence, neither saying what was not likely.
"Any horror is _possible_," said Juan at last. "But no more of this.Until after the Auto, with its chances of _some_ termination to thisdreadful suspense, I stir not from Seville. Now, we must think for you.I know where to find a boat, the owner of which will take you some mileson your way up the river to-night. Then you can hire a horse."
Fray Sebastian groaned. Neither the journey itself, its cause, nor itsmanner were anything but disagreeable to the poor friar. But there wasno help for him. Juan gave him some further directions about his way;then set food and wine before him.
"Eat and drink," he said. "Meanwhile I will secure the boat. When Ireturn, I can write to Dolores."
All was done as he planned; and ere the morning broke, Fray Sebastianwas far on his way to Nuera, with the letter to Dolores stitched intothe lining of his doublet.
The Spanish Brothers: A Tale of the Sixteenth Century Page 34