Fair Margaret

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"Very well, I will swear," he said, and he kissed the crucifix and threw
it down, "You can stop here and rule my house in Granada, and I will do
you no mischief, nor trouble you in any way. But if you come out of
Granada, then we cross swords."

"You mean that you intend to leave this city? Then, here is paper and
ink. Be so good as to sign an order to the stewards of your estates,
within the territories of the Moorish king, to pay all their revenue to
me during your absence, and to your servants to obey me in everything."

"It is easy to see that you were brought up in the house of a Jew
merchant," said Morella, biting the pen and considering this woman who,
whether she were hawk or pigeon, knew so well how to feather her nest.
"Well, if I grant you this position and these revenues, will you leave
me alone and cease to press other claims upon me?"

Now Betty, bethinking her of those papers that Inez had carried away
with her, and that Castell and Margaret would know well how to use them
if there were need, bethinking her also that if she pushed him too far
at the beginning she might die suddenly as folk sometimes did in
Granada, answered:

"It is much to ask of a deluded woman, but I still have some pride, and
will not thrust myself in where it seems I am not wanted. Therefore, so
be it. Till you seek me or send for me, I will not seek you so long as
you keep your bargain. Now write the paper, sign it, and call in your
secretaries to witness the signature."

"In whose favour must I word it?" he asked.

"In that of the Marquessa of Morella," she answered, and he, seeing a
loophole in the words, obeyed her, since if she were not his wife this
writing would have no value.

Somehow he must be rid of this woman. Of course he might cause her to be
killed; but even in Granada people could not kill one to whom they had
seemed to be just married without questions being asked. Moreover, Betty
had friends, and he had enemies who would certainly ask them if she
vanished away. No, he would sign the paper and fight the case
afterwards, for he had no time to lose. Margaret had slipped away from
him, and if once she escaped from Spain he knew that he would never see
her more. For aught he knew, she might already have escaped or be
married to Peter Brome. The very thought of it filled him with madness.
There had been a conspiracy against him; he was outwitted, robbed,
befooled. Well, hope still remained--and vengeance. He could still fight
Peter, and perhaps kill him. He could hand over Castell, the Jew, to the
Inquisition. He could find a way to deal with the priest Henriques and
the woman Inez, and, perhaps, if fortune favoured him he could get
Margaret back into his power.

Oh! yes, he would sign anything if only thereby he was set at liberty
and freed for a while from this servant who called herself his wife,
this strong-minded, strong-bodied, clever Englishwoman, of whom he had
thought to make a tool, and who had made a tool of him.

So Betty dictated and he wrote: yes, it had come to this--she dictated
and he wrote, and signed too. The order was comprehensive. It gave power
to the most honourable Marquessa of Morella to act for him, her husband,
in all things during his absence from Granada. It commanded that all
rents and profits due to him should be paid to her, and that all his
servants and dependants should obey her as though she were himself, and
that her receipt should be as good as his receipt.

When the paper was written, and Betty had spelt it over carefully to see
that there was no omission or mistake, she unlocked the door, struck
upon the gong, and summoned the secretaries to witness their lord's
signature to a settlement. Presently they came, bowing, and offering
many felicitations, which to himself Morella vowed he would remember
against them.

"I have to go a journey," he said. "Witness my signature to this
document, which provides for the carrying on of my household and the
disposal of my property during my absence."

They stared and bowed.

"Read it aloud first," said Betty, "so that my lord and husband may be
sure that there is no mistake."

One of them obeyed, but before ever he had finished the furious Morella
shouted to them from the bed:

"Have done and witness, then go, order me horses and an escort, for I
ride at once."

So they witnessed in a great hurry, and left the room. Betty left with
them, holding the paper in her hand, and when she reached the large hall
where the household were gathered waiting to greet their lord, she
commanded one of the secretaries to read it out to all of them, also to
translate it into the Moorish tongue that every one might understand.
Then she hid it away with the marriage lines, and, seating herself in
the midst of the household, ordered them to prepare to receive the most
noble marquis.

They had not long to wait, for presently he came out of the room like a
bull into the arena, whereon Betty rose and curtseyed to him, and at her
word all his servants bowed themselves down in the Eastern fashion. For
a moment he paused, again like the bull when he sees the picadors and is
about to charge. Then he thought better of it, and, with a muttered
curse, strode past them.

Ten minutes later, for the third time within twenty-four hours, horses
galloped from the palace and through the Seville gate.

"Friends," said Betty in her awkward Spanish, when she knew that he had
gone, "a sad thing has happened to my husband, the marquis. The woman
Inez, whom it seems he trusted very much, has departed, stealing a
treasure that he valued above everything on earth, and so I, his
new-made wife, am left desolate while he tries to find her."

CHAPTER XX

ISABELLA OF SPAIN

On the afternoon following his first visit, Castell's agent, Bernaldez,
arrived again at the prison of the Hermandad at Seville accompanied by a
tailor, a woman, and a chest full of clothes. The governor ordered these
two persons to wait while the garments were searched under his own eye,
but Bernaldez he permitted to be led at once to the prisoners. As soon
as he was with them he said:

"Your marquis has been married fast enough."

"How do you know that?" asked Castell.

"From the woman Inez, who arrived with the priest last night, and gave
me the certificates of his union with Betty Dene signed by himself. I
have not brought them with me lest I should be searched, when they might
have been taken away; but Inez has come disguised as a sempstress, so
show no surprise when you see her, if she is admitted. Perhaps she will
be able to tell the Dona Margaret something of what passed if she is
allowed to fit her robes alone. After that she must lie hidden for fear
of the vengeance of Morella; but I shall know where to put my hand upon
her if she is wanted. You will all of you be brought before the queen
to-morrow, and then I, who shall be there, will produce the writings."
Scarcely were the words out of his mouth when the governor appeared, and
with him the tailor and Inez, who curtseyed and glanced at Margaret out
of the corners of her soft eyes, looking at them all as though with
curiosity, like one who had never seen or heard of them before.

When the dresses had been produced, Margaret asked whether she might be
allowed to try them on with the woman in her own chamber, as she had not
been measured for them.

The governor answered that as both the sempstress and the robes had been
searched, there was no objection, so the two of them retired--Inez, with
her arms full of garments.

"Tell me all about it," whispered Margaret as soon as the door was
closed. "I die to hear your story."

So, while she fitted the clothes, since in that place they could never
be sure but that they were watched through some secret loophole, Inez,
with her mouth full of aloe thorns, which those of the trade used as
pins, told her everything down to the time of her escape from Granada.
When she came to that part of the tale where the false bride had lifted
her veil and kissed the bridegroom, Margaret gasped in her amaze.

"Oh! how could she do it?" she said, "I should have fainted first."

"She has a good courage, that Betty--turn to the light, please,
Senora--I could not have acted better myself--I think it is a little
high on the left shoulder. He never guessed a thing, the besotted fool,
and that was before I gave him the wine, for he wasn't likely to guess
much afterwards. Did the senora say it was tight under the arm? Well,
perhaps a little, but this stuff stretches. What I want to know is, what
happened afterwards? Your cousin is the bull that I put my money on: I
believe she will clear the ring. A woman with a nerve of steel; had I as
much I should have been the Marchioness of Morella long ago, or there
would be another marquis by now. There, the sit of the skirt is perfect;
the senora's beautiful figure looks more beautiful in it than ever.
Well, whoever lives will learn all about it, and it is no use worrying.
Meanwhile, Bernaldez has paid me the money--and a handsome sum too--so
you needn't thank me. I only worked for hire--and hate. Now I am going
to lie low, as I don't want to get my throat cut, but he can find me if
I am really needed.

"The priest? Oh, he is safe enough. We made him sign a receipt for his
cash. Also, I believe that he has got his post as a secretary to the
Inquisition, and began his duties at once as they were short-handed,
torturing Jews and heretics, you know, and stealing their goods, both of
which occupations will exactly suit him. I rode with him all the way to
Seville, and he tried to make love to me, the slimy knave, but I paid
him out," and Inez smiled at some pleasant recollection. "Still, I did
not quarrel with him outright, as he may come in useful. Who knows?
There's the governor calling me. One moment, Excellency, only
one moment!

"Yes, Senora, with those few alterations the dress will be perfect. You
shall have it back tonight without fail, and I can cut the others that
you have been pleased to order from the same pattern. Oh! I thank you,
Senora, you are too good to a poor girl, and," in a whisper, "the
Mother of God have you in her guard, and send that Peter has improved in
his love making!" and, half hidden in garments, Inez bowed herself out
of the room through the door which the governor had already opened.

About nine o'clock on the following morning one of the jailers came to
summon Margaret and her father to be led before the court. Margaret
asked anxiously if the Senor Brome was coming too, but the man replied
that he knew nothing of the Senor Brome, as he was in one of the cells
for dangerous criminals, which he did not serve.

So forth they went, dressed in their new clothes, which were as fine as
money could buy, and in the latest Seville fashion, and were conducted
to the courtyard. Here, to her joy, Margaret saw Peter waiting for them
under guard, and dressed also in the Christian garments which they had
begged might be supplied to him at their cost. She sprang to his side,
none hindering her, and, forgetting her bashfulness, suffered him to
embrace her before them all, asking him how he had fared since they
were parted.

"None too well," answered Peter gloomily, "who did not know if we should
ever meet again; also, my prison is underground, where but little light
comes through a grating, and there are rats in it which will not let a
man sleep, so I must lie awake the most of the night thinking of you.
But where go we now?"

"To be put upon our trial before the queen, I think. Hold my hand and
walk close beside me, but do not stare at me so hard. Is aught wrong
with my dress?"

"Nothing," answered Peter. "I stare because you look so beautiful in
it. Could you not have worn a veil? Doubtless there are more marquises
about this court."

"Only the Moors wear veils, Peter, and now we are Christians again.
Listen--I think that none of them understand English. I have seen Inez,
who asked after you very tenderly--nay, do not blush, it is unseemly in
a man. Have you seen her also? No--well, she escaped from Granada as she
planned, and Betty is married to the marquis."

"It will never hold good," answered Peter shaking his head, "being but a
trick, and I fear that she will pay for it, poor woman! Still, she gave
us a start, though, so far as prisons go, I was better off in Granada
than in that rat-trap."

"Yes," answered Margaret innocently, "you had a garden to walk in there,
had you not? No, don't be angry with me. Do you know what Betty did?"
And she told him of how she had lifted her veil and kissed Morella
without being discovered.

"That isn't so wonderful," said Peter, "since if they are painted up
young women look very much alike in a half-lit room----"

"Or garden?" suggested Margaret.

"What is wonderful," went on Peter, scorning to take note of this
interruption, "is that she could consent to kiss the man at all. The
double-dealing scoundrel! Has Inez told you how he treated her? The very
thought of it makes me ill."

"Well, Peter, he didn't ask you to kiss him, did he? And as for the
wrongs of Inez, though doubtless you know more about them than I do, I
think she has given him an orange for his pomegranate. But look, there
is the Alcazar in front of us. Is it not a splendid castle? You know, it
was built by the Moors."

"I don't care who it was built by," said Peter, "and it looks to me like
any other castle, only larger. All I know about it is that I am to be
tried there for knocking that ruffian on the head--and that perhaps this
is the last we shall see of each other, as probably they will send me to
the galleys, if they don't do worse."

"Oh! say no such thing. I never thought of it; it is not possible!"
answered Margaret, her dark eyes filling with tears.

"Wait till your marquis appears, pleading the case against us, and you
will see what is or is not possible," replied Peter with conviction.
"Still, we have come through some storms, so let us hope for the best."

At that moment they reached the gate of the Alcazar, which they had
approached from their prison through gardens of orange-trees, and
soldiers came up and separated them. Next they were led across a court,
where many people hurried to and fro, into a great marble-columned room
glittering with gold, which was called the Hall of Justice. At the far
end of this place, seated on a throne set upon a richly carpeted dais
and surrounded by lords and counsellors, sat a magnificently attired
lady of middle age. She was blue-eyed and red-haired, with a
fair-skinned, open countenance, but very reserved and quiet in her
demeanour.

"The Queen," muttered the guard, saluting, as did Castell and Peter,
while Margaret curtseyed.

A case had just been tried, and the queen Isabella, after consultation
with her assessors, was delivering judgment in few words and a gentle
voice. As she spoke, her mild blue eyes fell upon Margaret, and, held
it would seem by her beauty, rested on her till they wandered off to the
tall form of Peter and the dark, Jewish-looking Castell by him, at the
sight of whom she frowned a little.

That case was finished, and other suitors stood up in their turn, but
the queen, waving her hand and still looking at Margaret, bent down and
asked a question of one of the officers of the court, then gave an
order, whereon the officer rising, summoned "John Castell, Margaret
Castell, and Peter Brome, all of England," to appear at the bar and
answer to the charge of murder of one Luiz of Basa, a soldier of the
Holy Hermandad.

At once they were brought forward, and stood in a line in front of the
dais, while the officer began to read the charge against them.

"Stay, friend," interposed the queen, "these accused are the subjects
of our good brother, Henry of England, and may not understand our
language, though one of them, I think"--and she glanced at Castell--"was
not born in England, or at any rate of English blood. Ask them if they
need an interpreter."

The question was put, and all of them answered that they could speak
Spanish, though Peter added that he did so but indifferently.

"You are the knight, I think, who is charged with the commission of this
crime," said Isabella, looking at him.

"Your Majesty, I am not a knight, only a plain esquire, Peter Brome of
Dedham in England. My father was a knight, Sir Peter Brome, but he fell
at my side, fighting for Richard, on Bosworth Field, where I had this
wound," and he pointed to the scar upon his face, "but was not knighted
for my pains."

Isabella smiled a little, then asked:

"And how came you to Spain, Senor Peter Brome?"

"Your Majesty," answered Peter, Margaret helping from time to time when
he did not know the Spanish words, "this lady at my side, the daughter
of the merchant John Castell who stands by her, is my affianced----"

"Then you have won the love of a very beautiful maiden, Senor,"
interrupted the queen; "but proceed."

"She and her cousin, the Senora Dene, were kidnapped in London by one
who I understand is the nephew of the King Ferdinand, and an envoy to
the English court, who passed there as the Senor d'Aguilar, but who in
Spain is the Marquis of Morella."

"Kidnapped! and by Morella!" exclaimed the queen.

"Yes, your Majesty, cozened on board his ship and kidnapped. The Senor
Castell and I followed them, and, boarding their vessel, tried to rescue
them, but were shipwrecked at Motril. The marquis carried them away to
Granada, whither we followed also, I being sorely hurt in the shipwreck.
There, in the palace of the marquis, we have lain prisoners many weeks,
but at length escaped, purposing to come to Seville and seek the
protection of your Majesties. On the road, while we were dressed as
Moors, in which garb we compassed our escape, we were attacked by men
that we thought were bandits, for we had been warned against such evil
people. One of them rudely molested the Dona Margaret, and I cut him
down, and by misfortune killed him, for which manslaughter I am here
before you to-day. Your Majesty, I did not know that he was a soldier of
the Holy Hermandad, and I pray you pardon my offence, which was done in
ignorance, fear, and anger, for we are willing to pay compensation for
this unhappy death."

Now some in the court exclaimed:

"Well spoken, Englishman!"

Then the queen said:

"If all this tale be true, I am not sure that we should blame you over
much, Senor Brome; but how know we that it is true? For instance, you
said that the noble marquis stole two ladies, a deed of which I can
scarcely think him capable. Where then is the other?"

"I believe," answered Peter, "that she is now the wife of the Marquis of
Morella."

"The wife! Who bears witness that she is the wife? He has not advised us
that he was about to marry, as is usual."

Then Bernaldez stood forward, stating his name and occupation, and that
he was a correspondent of the English merchant, John Castell, and
producing the certificate of marriage signed by Morella, Betty, and the
priest Henriques, handed it up to the queen saying that he had received
them in duplicate by a messenger from Granada, and had delivered the
other to the Archbishop of Seville.

The queen, having looked at the paper, passed it to her assessors, who
examined it very carefully, one of them saying that the form was not
usual, and that it might be forged.

The queen thought a little while, then said:

"That is so, and in one way only can we know the truth. Let our warrant
issue summoning before us our cousin, the noble Marquis of Morella, the
Senora Dene, who is said to be his wife, and the priest Henriques of
Motril, who is said to have married them. When they have arrived, all of
them, the king my husband and I will examine into the matter, and, until
then, we will not suffer our minds to be prejudiced by hearing any more
of this cause."

Now the governor of the prison stood forward, and asked what was to be
done with the captives until the witnesses could be brought from
Granada. The queen answered that they must remain in his charge, and be
well treated, whereon Peter prayed that he might be given a better cell
with fewer rats and more light. The queen smiled, and said that it
should be so, but added that it would be proper that he should still be
kept apart from the lady to whom he was affianced, who could dwell with
her father. Then, noting the sadness on their faces, she added:

"Yet I think they may meet daily in the garden of the prison."

Margaret curtseyed and thanked her, whereon she said very graciously:

"Come here, Senora, and sit by me a little," and she pointed to a
footstool at her side. "When I have done this business I desire a few
words with you."

So Margaret was brought up upon the dais, and sat down at her Majesty's
left hand upon the broidered footstool, and very fair indeed she looked
placed thus above the crowd, she whose beauty and whose bearing were so
royal; but Castell and Peter were led away back to the prison, though,
seeing so many gay lords about, the latter went unwillingly enough. A
while later, when the cases were finished, the queen dismissed the court
save for certain officers, who stood at a distance, and, turning to
Margaret, said:

"Now, fair maiden, tell me your story, as one woman to another, and do
not fear that anything you say will be made use of at the trial of your
lover, since against you, at any rate at present, no charge is laid.
Say, first, are you really the affianced of that tall gentleman, and has
he really your heart?"

"All of it, your Majesty," answered Margaret, "and we have suffered much
for each other's sake." Then in as few words as she could she told their
tale, while the queen listened earnestly.

"A strange story indeed, and if it be all true, a shameful," she said
when Margaret had finished. "But how comes it that if Morella desired to
force you into marriage, he is now wed to your companion and cousin?
What are you keeping back from me?" and she glanced at her shrewdly.

"Your Majesty," answered Margaret, "I was ashamed to speak the rest, yet
I will trust you and do so, praying your royal forgiveness if you hold
that we, who were in desperate straits, have done what is wrong. My
cousin, Betty Dene, has paid back Morella in his own false gold. He won
her heart and promised to marry her, and at the risk of her own life she
took my place at the altar, thereby securing our escape."

"A brave deed, if a doubtful," said the queen, "though I question
whether such a marriage will be upheld. But that is a matter for the
Church to judge of, and I must speak of it no more. Certainly it is hard
to be angry with any of you. What did you say that Morella promised you
when he asked you to marry him in London?"

"Your Majesty, he promised that he would lift me high, perhaps
even"--and she hesitated--"to that seat in which you sit."

Isabella frowned, then laughed, and said, as she looked her up and down:

"You would fit it well, better than I do in truth. But what else did he
say?"

"Your Majesty, he said that not every one loves the king, his uncle;
that he had many friends who remembered that his father was poisoned by
the father of the king, who was Morella's grandfather; also, that his
mother was a princess of the Moors, and that he might throw in his lot
with theirs, or that there were other ways in which he could gain
his end."

"So, so," said the queen. "Well, though he is such a good son of the
Church, and my lord is so fond of him, I never loved Morella, and I
thank you for your warning. But I must not speak to you of such high
matters, though it seems that some have thought otherwise. Fair
Margaret, have you aught to ask of me?"

"Yes, your Majesty--that you will deal gently with my true love when he
comes before you for trial, remembering that he is hot of head and
strong of arm, and that such knights as he--for knightly is his blood--
cannot brook to see their ladies mishandled by rough men, and the
wrappings that shield them torn from off their bosoms. Also, I pray that
I may be protected from Morella, that he may not be allowed to touch or
even to speak to me, who, for all his rank and splendour, hate him as
though he were some poisoned snake."

"I have said that I must not prejudge your case, you beautiful English
Margaret," the queen answered with a smile, "yet I think that neither of
those things you ask will cause justice to slip the bandage that is
about her eyes. Go, and be at peace. If you have spoken truth to me, as
I am sure you have, and Isabella of Spain can prevent it, the Senor
Brome's punishment shall not be heavy, nor shall the shadow of the
Marquis of Morella, the base-born son of a prince and of some royal
infidel"--these words she spoke with much bitterness--"so much as fall
upon you, though I warn you that my lord the king loves the man, as is
but natural, and will not condemn him lightly. Tell me one thing. This
lover of yours is brave, is he not?"

"Very brave," answered Margaret, smiling.

"And he can ride a horse and hold a lance, can he not, at any rate in
your quarrel?"

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