A Castle in Spain Part 14

At this singular rejoinder to his question the Carlist chief looked somewhat amazed.

"My name?" said he, with a sneer. "Never mind what it is. What are you? Who are you? What the devil do you mean by coming here?"

"Give your name and rank," persisted the priest, in the same tone as before, "and beware how you trifle with one who may be your master.

Who gave you authority to occupy this post?"

"Master?--authority?" cried the Carlist chief, with an oath, which was followed by a laugh. "Who is my master? I never saw him. Here, you fellows!" he cried, to some of his gang who stood near, "take this fellow off--take him inside. Let me see--take him to the lower dungeons, and let him see who is master here!"

At this a score of stout ruffians came forward to obey the order. But the priest remained as cool as before. He simply drew forth a paper, and looking round upon the ruffians, he said, in a quiet voice,

"Keep back, you fellows, and take care what you do! I'm the Cure of Santa Cruz."

At that formidable name the whole band stopped short, mute and awe-struck; for it was no common name which he had thus announced. It was a name which already had been trumpeted over the world, and in Spain had gained a baleful renown--a name which belonged to one who was known as the right arm of Don Carlos, one who was known as the beau ideal of the Spanish character, surpa.s.sing all others in splendid audacity and merciless cruelty; lavish generosity and bitterest hate; magnificent daring and narrowest fanaticism. At once chivalrous and cruel, pious and pitiless, brave and bigoted, meek and merciless, the Cure of Santa Cruz had embodied in himself all that was brightest and darkest in the Spanish character, and his name had become a word to conjure by--a word of power like that of Garibaldi in Italy, Schamyl in Circa.s.sia, or Stonewall Jackson in America. And thus when these ruffians heard that name it worked upon them like a spell, and they stood still, awe-struck and mute. Even the Carlist chief was compelled to own its power, although, perhaps, he would not have felt by any means inclined to submit to that potent spell had he not seen its effect upon his followers.

"I don't believe it," he growled.

"You do believe it," said the priest, fiercely: "you know it.

Besides, I hold here the mandate of the King;" and he brandished the paper, shouting at the same time, "Viva el Rey!" at which all the men caught up the same cry and shouted in unison.

The priest smiled a good-natured, amiable, forgiving smile.

"After all," said he, in a milder voice, "it is well for you to be cautious. I approve of this rough reception: it is soldierlike. It shows that you are true to the King. But read this. Give me something to eat and drink, and then I will tell you my errand."

With these words he handed the paper to the Carlist chief, who took it somewhat sulkily, and read as follows:

"_Head-quarters, Vera, August 23d, 1873.

"To all officers of the army, and to all good and loyal subjects, greeting: Receive and respect our friend and lieutenant the Cure of Santa Cruz, who bears this, and is engaged in a special mission in our service. CARLOS_."

On reading this the Carlist chief drew a long breath, looked around upon his followers, elevated his eyebrows, and finally turned to the priest.

"What do you want?" he asked, in no very courteous manner.

"Nothing," said the priest. "Not one single thing from you but--breakfast. Don't be alarmed. I haven't come in here to interfere with you at all. My business is elsewhere. Do you understand me?"

The priest gave him a glance which was meant to convey more than the words expressed. At this the whole manner of the Carlist chief underwent a change. He at once dropped all his sourness and gloom.

"Do you mean it?" he asked, eagerly.

The priest nodded.

"Certainly."

"Then," cried the Carlist, "you're right welcome, and I hope you'll not mind what's happened. We have to be cautious, you know, and suspicious."

"My dear friend, I a.s.sure you I shouldn't have troubled you at all, only I'm starving."

"Then I swear you shall have the best breakfast in all Spain. Come in; come in. Come, in the name of Heaven, and I'll give you a breakfast that will last you for a week."

With these words the Carlist chief led the way inside, and the priest followed.

It was the lower story of the central building, or keep, and was constructed, in the most ma.s.sive manner, out of vast blocks of rough-hewn stone. The apartment was about fifty feet in length, twenty-five in width, and twelve in height. On either side there were openings into chambers or pa.s.sage-ways. The roof was vaulted, and at the farther end of the apartment there was a stairway constructed of the same cyclopean stones as the rest of the edifice. All the stone-work here visible had the same ponderous character, and seemed formed to last for many centuries to come.

Around the sides of this lower hall were suspended arms and accoutrements. There were also rude ma.s.sive benches, upon which were flung rugs and blankets. Here and there were little groups, not only of men, but also of women and children. On the left side there was an enormous chimney, which was large enough for a separate chamber. In this a fire was burning, and a woman was attending to the cooking of a savory stew. An aromatic smell of coffee was diffusing itself through the atmosphere; and this was surrounded and intermingled with the stronger and ranker, though less pungent, odors of the stew aforesaid.

The priest flung himself carelessly into a seat near a ma.s.sive oaken table, and the Carlist chief took a seat beside him. The priest questioned the chief very closely as to his doings, and the disposition of his people through the country, while the chief surveyed the priest furtively and cautiously.

At last he said, abruptly,

"You were on the train yesterday."

"I was," replied the priest, coolly.

"Why did you not tell me who you were?"

"What a question to ask!" said the priest. "Don't you understand?

When _I_ am out I don't want any one to know or suspect. I did not choose to tell even you. Why should I? I didn't know you."

"But you lost your purse," said the chief, in rather a humble voice.

"And was there much in it?" asked the Priest.

The chief laughed.

Breakfast now followed, and of this the priest partook heartily. Then he started up.

"I must make haste," said he, "and continue my journey; but as I am going into out-of-the-way places, I shall have to ask you for some supplies."

This request was very cheerfully granted, loaves and cold meats being furnished from the Carlist larder. These the priest put into a wallet, and thus equipped, he was ready for the march.

"_Adios_," said he, "n.o.ble captain, till we meet again."

"_Adios_," said the chief.

The priest then shook hands with his entertainer and turned away.

Leaving the castle, he walked down the slope for some distance, until at length he reached the skirts of the forest. Turning round here, he stood looking back cautiously, till he felt convinced that he had not been followed, and was not observed. He now plunged into the forest, and worked his way along until he came to the chasm and found the path before mentioned. Down this he went on his way back to the tower.

CHAPTER XI.

HOW THE FIRST PRIEST VANISHES, AND ANOTHER PRIEST APPEARS UPON THE SCENE.

As the priest emerged from the brushwood at the top of the path, he suddenly found himself face to face with the lady. She had come through the opening, and was standing outside waiting there, breathless, her hands clasped, and her eyes set in a fixed and eager gaze of vigilant outlook and of terrified apprehension. As she recognized the priest, her whole expression changed; her face flushed, her eyes grew moist with tears of joy, her lips quivered.