Chapter 24 The Hounds of God by Rafael Sabatini
RECOGNITION
The Auto de Fé was over. The reconciled had been re-conducted to the Holy House, where, upon the morrow, measures would be taken for the enforcement of the penances to which they were sentenced. The condemned had been hurried away to the meadows by the river, beyond the walls. There, at La Dehesa, beside the swirling Tagus, in view of the smiling countryside beyond the river, that lovely peaceful amphitheatre enclosed by hills, a great white cross had been reared as the symbol of mercy. About it were the stakes, the faggots piled, and there, Christi nomine invocato, the work of the Faith was brought to an end in smoke and ashes. The crowd had followed to attend the closing scene of that great show, and was again kept within bounds by a stout barricade guarded by men-at-arms. But the majority of those who had taken active part in the Auto had returned with the reconciled to the Holy House.
The Cardinal-Archbishop was back in his palace, disrobing, his mind at peace at last so far as his nephew was concerned. The course which he had advocated to Frey Juan Arrenzuelo had in the end been adopted. Don Pedro had been sentenced upon the depositions of Frey Luis. He was condemned to pay a fine of a thousand ducats into the treasury of the Holy Office and to attend Mass barefoot, clad only in his shirt, and with a rope about his neck, every day for a month in the Cathedral of Toledo, at the end of which his offence would be accounted purged and absolution and reinstatement would follow.
The case against the woman might now proceed strictly in accordance with inquisitorial duty and inquisitorial practice, and either as a witch or merely as a heretic, she would undoubtedly be burnt when they came to hold the next Auto de Fé. That, thought the Cardinal, was no longer a matter of sufficient importance to cause him any preoccupation.
But in this conclusion he was proven hasty. Within half an hour of his return to the palace, Frey Juan Arrenzuelo came in agitation to seek him.
He brought news that already Frey Luis Salcedo was protesting openly against the order observed, which he denounced as an illegality. The sentence upon Don Pedro, Frey Luis was asserting, had been based upon matters which must remain presumptions until established by the condemnation of the woman as a witch. He desired to know, demanded to know, what course would be adopted if torture should fail to wring from the woman the necessary admission of her necromantic practices.
Arrenzuelo had sought to pacify him with the reminder that he might well wait until the situation which he feared arose; at present all his protests were in the realm of speculation.
"The realm of speculation!" Frey Luis had laughed. "Was it not in the realm of speculation that sentence was passed upon Don Pedro, so as to enable him to escape the graver punishment which may yet be his due?"
He had said this in the presence of a considerable audience in the Holy House, and it was impossible not to perceive the threat which he implied, and also the fact that his zeal and vehemence had impressed many of those who overheard him into sympathy with his views.
The Cardinal was deeply annoyed. But he was wise enough to put aside annoyance which could not serve him in dealing with one who was supported by right. He considered deeply for some moments, saying no word to betray his real chagrin.
At last he permitted himself a smile of much gentleness and some craft.
"Word comes to me from Segovia that the Inquisitor of the Faith there is so ill that a successor must be appointed. I shall confer the appointment on Frey Luis Salcedo to-day. His zeal and rigid honesty would seem eminently to qualify him. He shall leave for Segovia at once."
But the suggestion in which the Cardinal conceived that he had found the solution of his difficulty had the effect of visibly terrifying Frey Juan.
"He will see in that an attempt to remove an awkward testifier to the truth, an attempt to bribe him into silence. He will become a devastating flame of righteous anger which nothing afterwards will quench."
The Cardinal perceived the truth of this, and stared blankly. All, then, was to be rendered vain by this impetuous friar unless torture should wring the requisite confession from the woman. That was now his only hope.
A secretary entered, unbidden, at that moment. Irritably the Cardinal waved him away.
"Not now! Not now! You interrupt us."
"On the King's business, Eminence." And in answer to the Cardinal's change of countenance, the secretary informed him that alguaziles of the Holy Office had brought in a man who excused himself for bearing arms in such a place at such a time on the ground that he was a messenger from the King with a letter for the Inquisitor General, which he was to deliver in person.
Still travel-stained, haggard, and unshaven, Sir Gervase was introduced, a man worn almost to the last strand of endurance. His eyes, blood-injected from sleeplessness, seemed to have receded into his head; they shone with an unnatural glassy brightness amid the dark shadows that surrounded them. He lurched in his step as he now advanced.
The Cardinal, a humane man, observed these signs. "You have ridden hard, sir," he said between question and assertion.
Sir Gervase bowed, and presented his letter. The Cardinal took it.
"Give him a seat, Pablo. He is in no case to stand."
Gratefully the Englishman slid into the chair to which the Cardinal waved him and which the secretary advanced invitingly.
His Eminence broke the royal seal. As he read, the cloud of care lifted from his brow. The eyes which he raised to look across the top of the royal parchment at Frey Juan were alight with relief, almost with laughter.
"Heaven, I think, has intervened," he said, and passed the sheet to the Dominican. "The woman is abstracted from the care of the Holy Office by royal command. She need preoccupy us no further."
But Frey Juan Arrenzuelo frowned as he read. The woman might not be a witch, but she was still a heretic and a soul to be saved, and he resented this royal intervention in what he accounted the affairs of God. At another time the Inquisitor General would have shared that just resentment, and would not have relinquished this heretic without a struggle and a stern reminder to his Majesty that he intervened at his peril in matters of the Faith. But at present the command came so opportunely to solve all difficulties, to rescue the Inquisitor General even from a possible accusation of nepotism, that as he pondered it, His Eminence smiled. Before that smile, so placid and beatific, Frey Jaun bowed his head, and stifled the protests which were rising to his lips.
"If you will confirm this, Eminence, in your quality as Inquisitor General of the Faith, the prisoner shall be surrendered."
Subtly thus he reminded Cardinal Quiroga that the King transcended his royal and strictly secular authority. Cardinal Quiroga, very grateful for that royal presumption, dictated at once his confirmation to the secretary, signed it, and delivered it to the Inquisitor that he might attach it to the royal letter.
Then he turned his glance again upon Sir Gervase. "Who are you, sir, into whose charge the prisoner is to be consigned?"
Sir Gervase got to his feet, and answered him. He gave his name and announced that he had followed from England with a letter from the Queen.
"An Englishman?" said His Eminence; raising his brows. Here, no doubt, was another heretic, he thought. But he shrugged. After all, the matter was out of his hands, and he was very glad to be rid of it. He had no reason for anything but thankfulness towards this hard-worn messenger.
He offered him refreshment, of which he appeared to stand so sorely in need, whilst the prisoner was being brought from the Holy House. When inquisitorial duty permitted it, there was no more humane gentleman in Spain than this Cardinal-Archbishop of Toledo. Gervase accepted gratefully, having heard Frey Juan dismissed with instructions to send the prisoner at once to the Palace, and Frey Juan's reply that it should be done within the hour, so soon as the necessary formalities were satisfied and record made of the royal command concerning her.
Two familiars of the Holy Office conducted her from her cell. She imagined that she was being led to another of those exasperating audiences that made a mockery of justice. Instead, she found herself conducted across the great hall to the double doors that opened upon the street. The postern was set wide for her by one of the familiars, and she was waved out by the other, who followed.
Before the door stood a mule-litter, which they motioned her to enter. She looked about her, hesitating a moment. People were streaming through this as through other streets in numbers, dispersing after the consummation of the Auto. She desired to know what was intended by her. The novelty of the proceedings filled her with a fresh uneasiness. But having no Spanish it was impossible to ask questions. Being a woman, single-handed, weak and helpless, it was even more idle to attempt resistance. She must wait to ascertain; and meanwhile command such patience as still remained in her.
She entered the litter, the leather curtains were closely drawn, and the mules went off briskly, guided by the man who rode the foremost, and escorted by some others which she had seen drawn up alongside and whose hoofs she now heard clattering beside her.
At last the little cavalcade came to a standstill, the curtains parted again, and she was desired to alight. She found herself before an imposing building in the great square, across which fell now the shadow of the vast Cathedral.
In that shadow the air was chill, and she shivered as she stood there. Then the same familiars ushered her through double gates of wrought iron bearing great gilded escutcheons, each surmounted by a cardinal's hat with its array of tassels. Under a deep archway they came into a quadrangle where the ground was inlaid with mosaics and in the middle of which a fountain played. Across this, at another door, guarded by two splendid men-at-arms in steel and scarlet, the familiars consigned her to a waiting chamberlain in black who bore a wand and about whose neck a chain was hung.
The mystery of it deepened. Had she fallen asleep in her cell, and was she dreaming?
This sleek black gentleman, signed to her to follow him, sand the familiars were left behind. They ascended a wide marble staircase flanked by a massive balustrade, rising from a hall that was hung with costly tapestries which Spain had no doubt filched from Flanders. They passed between two further men-at-arms, standing like statues at the stair-head, and along a corridor, until the chamberlain halted at a door. He opened it, signed to her to enter, bowed as she passed him, and closed the door upon her when she had crossed the threshold.
Understanding nothing, she found herself in a small plain room. Its windows looked out across the courtyard through which she had passed to the opposite wall; whose white surface was aglow in the last rays of the setting sun. A tall-backed chair was standing by a table that was topped with red velvet. Out of this chair a man rose now to startle her.
He turned to face her, and the incredible became the impossible; even when he spoke her name, spoke it on a sob, and came lurching towards her with outheld hands, her brain refused to be seduced by this illusion. And then she was in his arms, she felt them coiled about her, and this ghost—this untidy, grimy, unshaven ghost—was kissing her hair, her eyes, her very lips. He was no ghost, then. He was real. The thought brought her a new terror. She thrust back from him as far as his embrace allowed.
"Gervase! What are you doing here, Gervase?"
"I've come for you," he answered simply.
"You've come for me?" She repeated the words as if they had no meaning.
A smile crossed the man's weary face. His fingers fumbled at the breast of his doublet.
"I had your note," he said.
"My note?"
"The note you sent me to Arwenack, asking me to come to you. See. Here it is." He drew it forth, a very soiled and crumpled scrap. "When I got to Trevanion Chase, you'd gone. So...so I followed; and I'm here to take you home."
"To take me home? Home?" She could almost inhale the perfume of the moors.
"Yes. All is arranged. This Cardinal is very good...The escort waits. We go...Santander, and there Tressilian stays for us with his ship...All arranged."
His senses were swimming, he staggered as he held her, might indeed have fallen but for his hold of her. And then she said words which revived and renewed his strength as not even the Cardinal's wine had been able to do.
"Gervase! You wonderful, wonderful Gervase!"
Her arms tightened about his neck as if she would have choked him.
"I knew you would find it out one day," he said weakly.
THE END