Fair Margaret

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"Assuredly," answered Inez, "if a priest married you and he placed the
ring upon your hand and named you wife. Then, when once the words of
blessing have been said, the Pope alone can loose that knot, which may
be risked, for there would be much to explain, and is this a tale that
Morella, a good servant of the Church, would care to take to Rome?"

"It would be a trick," broke in Margaret--"a very ugly trick."

"And what was it he played on me and you?" asked Betty. "Nay, I'll
chance it, and his rage, if only I can be sure that you and Peter will
go free, and your father with you."

"But what of this Inez?" asked Margaret, bewildered.

"She will look after herself," answered Inez. "Perchance, if all goes
well, you will let me ride with you. And now I dare stop no longer, I go
to see your father, the Senor Castell, and if anything can be arranged,
we will talk again. Meanwhile, Dona Margaret, your affianced is nearly
well again at last and sends his heart's love to you, and, I counsel
you, when Morella speaks turn a gentle ear to him."

Then with another deep curtsey she glided to the door, unlocked it, and
left the room.

* * * * *

An hour later Inez was being led by an old Jew, dressed in a Moslem robe
and turban, through one of the most tortuous and crowded parts of
Granada. It would seem that this Jew was known there, for his
appearance, accompanied by a veiled woman, apparently caused no surprise
to those followers of the Prophet that he met, some of whom, indeed,
saluted him with humility.

"These children of Mahomet seem to love you, Father Israel," said Inez.

"Yes, yes, my dear," answered the old fellow with a chuckle; "they owe
me money, that is why, and I am getting it in before the great war comes
with the Spaniards, so they would sweep the streets for me with their
beards--all of which is very good for the plans of our friend yonder.
Ah! he who has crowns in his pocket can put a crown upon his head; there
is nothing that money will not do in Granada. Give me enough of it, and
I will buy his sultana from the king."

"This Castell has plenty?" asked Inez shortly.

"Plenty, and more credit. He is one of the richest men in England. But
why do you ask? He would not think of you, who is too troubled about
other things."

Inez only laughed bitterly, but did not resent the words. Why should
she? It was not worth while.

"I know," she answered, "but I mean to earn some of it all the same,
and I want to be sure that there is enough for all of us."

"There is enough, I have told you there is enough and to spare,"
answered the Hebrew Israel as he tapped on a door in a
dirty-looking wall.

It opened as though by magic, and they crossed a paved patio, or
courtyard, to a house beyond, a tumble-down place of Moorish
architecture.

"Our friend Castell, being in seclusion just now, has hired the cellar
floor," said Israel with a chuckle to Inez, "so be pleased to follow me,
and take care of the rats and beetles."

Then he led her down a rickety stair which opened out of the courtyard
into vaults filled with vats of wine, and, having lit a taper, through
these, shutting and locking sundry doors behind him, to what appeared to
be a very damp wall covered with cobwebs, and situated in a dark corner
of a wine-cave. Here he stopped and tapped again in his peculiar
fashion, whereon a portion of the wall turned outwards on a pivot,
leaving an opening through which they could pass.

"Well managed, isn't it?" chuckled Israel. "Who would think of looking
for an entrance here, especially if he owed the old Jew money? Come in,
my pretty, come in."

Inez followed him into this darksome hole, and the wall closed behind
them. Then, taking her by the arm, he turned first to the right, next to
the left, opened a door with a key which he carried, and, behold, they
stood in a beautifully furnished room well lighted with lamps, for it
seemed to have no windows. "Wait here," he said to Inez, pointing to a
couch on which she sat herself down, "while I fetch my lodger," and he
vanished through some curtains at the end of the room.

Presently these opened again, and Israel reappeared through them with
Castell, dressed now in Moorish robes, and looking somewhat pale from
his confinement underground, but otherwise well enough. Inez rose and
stood before him, throwing back her veil that he might see her face.
Castell searched her for a while with his keen eyes that noted
everything, then said:

"You are the lady with whom I have been in communication through our
friend here, are you not? Prove it to me now by repeating my messages."

Inez obeyed, telling him everything.

"That is right," he said, "but how do I know that I can trust you? I
understand you are, or have been, the lover of this man Morella, and
such an one he might well employ as a spy to bring us all to ruin."

"Is it not too late to ask such questions, Senor? If I am not to be
trusted, already you and your people are in the hollow of my hand?"

"Not at all, not at all, my dear," said Israel. "If we see the slightest
cause to doubt you, why, there are many great vats in this place, one of
which, at a pinch, would serve you as a coffin, though it would be a
pity to spoil the good wine."

Inez laughed as she answered:

"Save your wine, and your time too. Morella has cast me off, and I hate
him, and wish to escape from him and rob him of his prize. Also, I
desire money to live on afterwards, and this you must give to me or I
do not stir, or rather the promise of it, for you Jews keep your word,
and I do not ask a maravedi from you until I have played my part."

"And then how many maravedis do you ask, young woman?"

Inez named a sum, at the mention of which both of them opened their
eyes, and old Israel exclaimed drily:

"Surely--surely you must be one of us."

"No," she answered, "but I try to follow your example, and, if I am to
live at all, it shall be in comfort."

"Quite so," said Castell, "we understand. But now tell us, what do you
propose to do for this money?"

"I propose to set you, your daughter, the Dona Margaret, and her lover,
the Senor Brome, safe and free outside the walls of Granada, and to
leave the Marquis of Morella married to another woman."

"What other woman? Yourself?" asked Castell, fixing on this last point
in the programme.

"No, Senor, not for all the wealth of both of you. To your dependent and
your daughter's relative, the handsome Betty."

"How will you manage that?" exclaimed Castell, amazed.

"These cousins are not unlike, Senor, although the link of blood between
them is so thin. Listen now, I will tell you." And she explained the
outlines of her plan.

"A bold scheme enough," said Castell, when she had finished, "but even
if it can be done, would that marriage hold?"

"I think so," answered Inez, "if the priest knew--and he could be
bribed--and the bride knows. But if not, what would it matter, since
Rome alone can decide the question, and long before that is done the
fates of all of us will be settled."

"Rome--or death," said Castell; and Inez read what he was afraid of in
his eyes.

"Your Betty takes her chance," she replied slowly, "as many a one has
done before her with less cause. She is a woman with a mind as strong as
her body. Morella made her love him and promised to marry her. Then he
used her to steal your daughter, and she learned that she had been no
more than a stalking-heifer, from behind which he would net the white
swan. Do you not think, therefore, that she has something to pay him
back, she through whom her beloved mistress and cousin has been brought
into all this trouble? If she wins, she becomes the wife of a grandee of
Spain, a marchioness; and if she loses, well, she has had her fling for
a high stake, and perhaps her revenge. At least she is willing to take
her chance, and, meanwhile, all of you can be gone."

Castell looked doubtfully at the Jew Israel, who stroked his white beard
and said:

"Let the woman set out her scheme. At any rate she is no fool, and it is
worth our hearing, though I fear that at the best it must be costly."

"I can pay," said Castell, and motioned to Inez to proceed.

As yet, however, she had not much more to say, save that they must have
good horses at hand, and send a messenger to Seville, whither the
_Margaret_ had been ordered to proceed, bidding her captain hold his
ship ready to sail at any hour, should they succeed in reaching him.

These things, then, they arranged, and a while later Inez and Israel
departed, the former carrying with her a bag of gold.

That same night Inez sought the priest, Henriques of Motril, in that
hall of Morella's palace which was used as a private chapel, saying that
she desired to speak with him under pretence of making confession, for
they were old friends--or rather enemies.

As it chanced she found the holy father in a very ill humour. It
appeared that Morella also was in a bad humour with Henriques, having
heard that it was he who had possessed himself of the jewels in his
strong-box on the _San Antonio_. Now he insisted upon his surrendering
everything, and swore, moreover, that he would hold him responsible for
all that his people had stolen from the ship, and this because he said
that it was his fault that Peter Brome had escaped the sea and come on
to Granada.

"So, Father," said Inez, "you, who thought yourself rich, are poor
again."

"Yes, my daughter, and that is what chances to those who put their faith
in princes. I have served this marquis well for many years--to my soul's
hurt, I fear me--hoping that he who stands so high in the favour of the
Church would advance me to some great preferment. But instead, what does
he do? He robs me of a few trinkets that, had I not found them, the sea
would have swallowed or some thief would have taken, and declares me his
debtor for the rest, of which I know nothing."

"What preferment did you want, Father? I see that you have one in your
mind."

"Daughter, a friend had written to me from Seville that if I have a
hundred gold doubloons to pay for it, he can secure me the place of a
secretary in the Holy Office where I served before as a familiar until
the marquis made me his chaplain, and gave the benefice of Motril, which
proved worth nothing, and many promises that are worth less. Now those
trinkets would fetch thirty, and I have saved twenty, and came here to
borrow the other fifty from the marquis, to whom I have done so many
good turns--as _you_ know well, Inez. You see the end of that quest,"
and he groaned angrily.

"It is a pity," said Inez thoughtfully, "since those who serve the
Inquisition save many souls, do they not, including their own? For
instance," she added, and the priest winced at the words, "I remember
that they saved the soul of my own sister and would have saved mine, had
I been--what shall I say?--more--more prejudiced. Also, they get a
percentage of the goods of wicked heretics, and so become rich and able
to advance themselves."

"That is so, Inez. It was the chance of a lifetime, especially to one
who, like myself, hates heretics. But why speak of it now when that
cursed, dissolute marquis----" and he checked himself.

Inez looked at him.

"Father," she asked, "if I happen to be able to find you those hundred
gold doubloons, would you do something for me?"

The priest's foxy face lit up.

"I wonder what there is that I would not do, my daughter!"

"Even if it brought you into a quarrel with the marquis?

"Once I was a secretary to the Inquisition of Seville, he would have
more reason to fear me than I him. Aye, and fear me he should, who bear
him no love," answered the priest with a snarl.

"Then listen, Father. I have not made my confession yet; I have not told
you, for instance, that I also hate this marquis, and with good
cause--though perhaps you know that already. But remember that if you
betray me, you will never see those hundred gold doubloons, and some
other holy priest will be appointed secretary at Seville. Also worse
things may happen to you."

"Proceed, my daughter," he said unctuously; "are we not in the
confessional--or near it?"

So she told him all the plot, trusting to the man's avarice and other
matters to protect her, for Inez hated Fray Henriques bitterly, and knew
him from the crown of his shaven head to the soles of his erring feet,
as she had good cause to do. Only she did not tell him whence the money
was to come.

"That does not seem a very difficult matter," he said, when she had
finished. "If a man and a woman, unwed and outside the prohibited
degrees, appear before me to be married, I marry them, and once the ring
has passed and the office is said, married they are till death or the
Pope part them."

"And suppose that the man thinks he is marrying another woman, Father?"

The priest shrugged his shoulders.

"He should know whom he is marrying; that is his affair, not the
Church's or mine. The names need not be spoken too loudly, my daughter."

"But you would give me a writing of the marriage with them set out
plain?"

"Certainly. To you or to anybody else; why should I not?--that is, if I
were sure of this wedding fee."

Inez lifted her hand, and showed beneath it a little pile of ten
doubloons.

"Take them, Father," she said; "they will not be counted in the
contract. There are others where they came from, whereof twenty will be
paid before the marriage, and eighty when I have that writing
at Seville."

He swept up the coins and pocketed them, saying:

"I will trust you, Inez."

"Yes," she answered as she left him, "we must trust each other now--must
we not?--seeing that you have the money, and both our necks are in the
same noose. Be here, Father, to-morrow at the same time, in case I have
more confessions to make, for, alas! this is a sinful world, as you
should know very well."

CHAPTER XVII

THE PLOT

On the morning following these conversations, just after Margaret and
Betty had breakfasted, Inez appeared, and, as before, locked the door
behind her.

"Senoras," she said calmly, "I have arranged that little business of
which I spoke to you yesterday, or at least the first act of the play,
since it remains for you to write the rest. Now I am sent to say that
the noble Marquis of Morella craves leave to see you, Dona Margaret, and
within an hour. So there is no time to lose."

"Tell us what you have done, Inez?" said Margaret.

"I have seen your worshipful father, Dona Margaret; here is the token of
it, which you will do well to destroy when you have read." And she
handed her a slip of paper, whereon was written in her father's writing,
and in English:

"BELOVED DAUGHTER,

"This messenger, who I think may be trusted by you, has made
arrangements with me which she will explain. I approve, though the risk
is great. Your cousin is a brave girl, but, understand, I do not force
her to this dangerous enterprise. She must choose her own road, only I
promise that if she escapes and we live I will not forget her deed. The
messenger will bring me your answer. God be with us all, and farewell.

"J.C."

Margaret read this letter first to herself and then aloud to Betty, and,
having read, tore it into tiny fragments and threw them from the
turret window.

"Speak now," she said; and Inez told her everything.

"Can you trust the priest?" asked Margaret, when she had finished.

"He is a great villain, as I have reason to know; still, I think I can,"
she answered, "while the cabbage is in front of the donkey's nose--I
mean until he has got all the money. Also, he has committed himself by
taking some on account. But before we go further, the question is--does
this lady play?" and she pointed to Betty.

"Yes, I play," said Betty, when she understood everything. "I won't go
back upon my word; there is too much at stake. It is an ugly business
for me, I know well enough, but," she added slowly, setting her firm
mouth, "I have debts to pay all round, and I am no Spanish putty to be
squeezed flat--like some people," and she glanced at the humble-looking
Inez. "So, before all is done, it may be uglier for him."

When she had mastered the meaning of this speech the soft-voiced Inez
lifted her gentle eyes in admiration, and murmured a Spanish proverb as
to what is supposed to occur when Satan encounters Beelzebub in a
high-walled lane. Then, being a lady of resource and experience, the
plot having been finally decided upon, not altogether with Margaret's
approval, who feared for Betty's fate when it should be discovered, Inez
began to instruct them both in various practical expedients, by means of
which the undoubted general resemblance of these cousins might be
heightened and their differences toned down. To this end she promised to
furnish them with certain hair-washes, pigments, and articles
of apparel.

"It is of small use," said Betty, glancing first at herself and then at
the lovely Margaret, "for even if they change skins, who can make the
calf look like the fawn, though they chance to feed in the same meadow?
Still, bring your stuffs and I will do my best; but I think that a thick
veil and a shut mouth will help me more than any of them, also a long
gown to hide my feet."

"Surely they are charming feet," said Inez politely, adding to herself,
"to carry you whither you wish to go." Then she turned to Margaret and
reminded her that the marquis desired to see her, and waited for
her answer.

"I will not meet him alone," said Margaret decidedly.

"That is awkward," answered Inez, "as I think he has words to say to you
which he does not wish others to hear, especially the senora yonder,"
and she nodded towards Betty.

"I will not meet him alone," repeated Margaret.

"Yet, if things are to go forward as we have arranged, you must meet
him, Dona Margaret, and give him that answer which he desires. Well, I
think it can be arranged. The court below is large. Now, while you and
the marquis talk at one end of it, the Senora Betty and I might walk out
of earshot at the other. She needs more instruction in our Spanish
tongue; it would be a good opportunity to begin our lessons."

"But what am I to say to him?" asked Margaret nervously.

"I think," answered Inez, "that you must copy the example of that
wonderful actor, the Senor Peter, and play a part as well as you saw him
do, or even better, if possible."

"It must be a very different part then," replied Margaret, stiffening
visibly at certain recollections.

The gentle Inez smiled as she said:

"Yes, but surely you can seem jealous, for that is natural to us all,
and you can yield by degrees, and you can make a bargain as the price of
yourself in marriage."

"What exact bargain should I make?"

"I think that you shall be securely wed by a priest of your own Church,
and that letters, signed by that priest and announcing the marriage,
shall be delivered to the Archbishop of Seville, and to their Majesties
King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella. Also, of course, you must arrange
that the Senor Brome and your father, the Senor Castell, and your cousin
Betty here shall be escorted safe out of Granada before your marriage,
and that you shall see them pass through the gate beneath your turret
window, swearing that thereafter, at nightfall of the same day, you will
suffer the priest to do his office and make you Morella's wife. By that
time they should be well upon their road, and, after the rite is
celebrated, I will receive the signed papers from the priest and follow
them, leaving the false bride to play her part as best she can."

Again Margaret hesitated; the thing seemed too complicated and full of
danger. But while she thought, a knock came on the door.

"That is to tell me that Morella awaits your answer in the court," said
Inez. "Now, which is it to be? Remember that there is no other chance of
escape for you, or the others, from this guarded town--at least I can
see none."

"I accept," said Margaret hurriedly, "and God help us all, for we shall
need Him."

"And you, Senora Betty?"

"Oh! I made up my mind long ago," answered Betty coolly. "We can only
fail, when we shall be no worse off than before."

"Good. Then play your parts well, both of you. After all, they should
not be so difficult, for the priest is safe, and the marquis will never
scent such a trick as this. Fix the marriage for this day week, as I
have much to think of and make ready," and she went.

* * * * *

Half an hour later Margaret sat under the cool arcade of the marble
court, and with her, Morella, while upon the further side of its
splashing fountain and out of earshot, Betty and Inez walked to and fro
in the shadow.

"You sent for me, Marquis," said Margaret presently, "and, being your
prisoner, I have come because I must. What is your pleasure with me?"

"Dona Margaret," he answered gravely, "can you not guess? Well, I will
tell you, lest you should guess wrong. First, it is to ask your
forgiveness as I have done before, for the many crimes to which my love,
my true love, for you has driven me. This time yesterday I knew well
that I could expect none. To-day I dare to hope that it may be
otherwise."

"Why so, Marquis?"

"Last evening you looked into a certain garden and saw two people
walking there--yonder is one of them," and he nodded towards Inez.
"Shall I go on?"

"No," she answered in a low voice, and passing her hands before her
face. "Only tell me who and what is that woman?" and in her turn she
looked towards Inez.

"Is it necessary?" he asked. "Well, if you wish to know, she is a
Spaniard of good blood who with her sister was taken captive by the
Moors. A certain priest, who took an interest in the sister, brought her
to my notice and I bought her from them; so, as her parents were dead
and she had nowhere else to go, she elected to stay in my house. You
must not judge such things too harshly; they are common here. Also, she
has been very useful to me, being clever, for through her I have
intelligence of many things. Of late, however, she has grown tired of
this life, and wishes to earn her freedom, which I have promised her in
return for certain services, and to leave Granada."

"Was the nursing of my betrothed one of those services, Marquis?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"As you will, Senora. Certainly I forgive her this indiscretion, if at
last she has shown you the truth about that man for whose sake you have
endured so much. Margaret, now that you know him for what he is, say, do
you still cling to him?"

She rose and walked a few steps down the arcade, then came back and
asked:

"Are you any better than this fallen man?"

"I think so, Margaret, for since I knew you I am a risen man; all my old
self is left behind me, I am a new creature, and my sins have been for
you, not against you. Hear me, I beseech you. I stole you away, it is
true, but I have done you no harm, and will do you none. For your sake
also I have spared your father when I had but to make a sign to remove
him from my path. I suffered him to escape from the prison where he was
confined, and I know the place where he thinks himself hidden to-day
among the Jews of Granada. Also, I nursed Peter Brome back to life, when
at any hour I could have let him die, lest afterwards I might have it on
my conscience that, but for my love for you, he might perhaps still be
living. Well, you have seen him as he is, and what say you now? Will you
still reject me? Look on me," and he drew up his tall and stately shape,
"and tell me, am I such a man as a woman should be ashamed to own as
husband? Remember, too, that I have much to give you in this land of
Spain, whereof you shall become one of the greatest ladies, or perhaps
in the future," he added significantly, "even more. War draws near,
Margaret; this city and all its rich territories will fall into the
hands of Spain, and afterwards I shall be their governor, almost
their king."

"And if I refuse?" asked Margaret.

"Then," he answered sternly, "you bide here, and that false lover of
yours bides here, and your father bides here to take the chance of war
as Christian captives with a thousand others who languish in the
dungeons of the Alhambra, while, my mission ended, I go hence to play my
part in battle amongst my peers, as one of the first captains of their
Most Catholic Majesties. Yet it is not to your fears that I would
appeal, but to your heart, for I seek your love and your dear
companionship through life, and, if I can help it, desire to work you
and yours no harm."

"You desire to work them no harm. Then, if I were to fall in with your
humour, would you let them go in safety?--I mean my father and the Senor
Brome and my cousin Betty, whom, if you were as honest as you pretend to
be, you should ask to bide with you as your wife, and not myself."

"The last I cannot do," he answered, flushing. "God knows I meant her no
hurt, and only used her to keep near to and win news of you, thinking
her, to tell truth, somewhat other than she is."

"Are no women honest here in Spain, then, my lord Marquis?"

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