CHAPTER XIII.
THE FESTA AT SEVILLE.
And now, Gerald, that you have made your arrangements for the secondhalf of the plan, how are you going to set about the first? because yousaid that you intended to give Donna Inez the option of flying with youor remaining with her father."
"So I do still. Before I make any attempt to carry her off I shallfirst learn whether she is willing to run the risks."
"But how are you going to set about it? You may be quite sure that shenever goes outside the garden without having her duenna with her. Ifthere is a chapel close by, doubtless she will go there once a day; andit seems to me that this would be the best chance of speaking to her,for I do not see how you can possibly introduce yourself into thegrounds."
"That would be quite out of the question, in daylight at any rate,Geoffrey. I do not suppose she ever goes beyond the terrace by thehouse. But if I could communicate with her she might slip out for a fewminutes after dark, when the old lady happened to be taking a nap. Thequestion is how to get a letter into her hands."
"I think I might manage that, Gerald. It is not likely that the duennaever happened to notice me. I might therefore put on any sort ofdisguise as a beggar and take my place on the road as she goes tochapel, and somehow or other get your note into her hand. I have hoardSpanish girls are very quick at acting upon the smallest sign, and if Ican manage to catch her eye for a moment she may probably be ingeniousenough to afford me an opportunity of passing the note to her."
"That might be done," Gerald agreed. "We will at once get disguises. Iwill dress myself as an old soldier, with one arm in a sling and apatch over my eye; you dress up in somewhat the same fashion as asailor boy. It is about twelve miles from here to Ribaldo's place. Wecan walk that easily enough, dress ourselves up within a mile or two ofthe place, and then go on and reconnoitre the ground."
"I should advise you to write your note before you start; it may bethat some unexpected opportunity for handing it to her may presentitself."
"I will do that; but let us sally out first and pick up two suits atsome dealer in old clothes. There will be sure to be two or three ofthese in the poorer quarter."
The disguises were procured without difficulty, and putting them in asmall wallet they started before noon on their walk. In four hours theyreached the boundary of the Marquis of Ribaldo's estate. Going into awood they assumed the disguises, packed their own clothes in a wallet,and hid this away in a clump of bushes. Then they again started-GeraldBurke with his arm in a sling and Geoffrey limping along with the aidof a thick stick he had cut in the wood.
On arriving at the village, a quarter of a mile from the gates of themansion, they went into a small wine-shop and called for two measuresof the cheapest wine and a loaf of bread. Here they sat for some time,listening to the conversation of the peasants who frequented thewine-shop. Sometimes a question was asked of the wayfarers. Geraldreplied, for his companion's Spanish although fluent was not goodenough to pass as that of a native. He replied to the question as towhere they had received their hurts that they were survivors of theArmada, and grumbled that it was hard indeed that men who had fought inthe Netherlands and had done their duty to their country should beturned adrift to starve.
"We have enough to pay for our supper and a night's lodging," he said,"but where we are going to take our meal tomorrow is more than I cansay, unless we can meet with some charitable people."
"If you take your place by the roadside to-morrow morning," one of thepeasants said, "you may obtain charity from Donna Inez de Ribaldo. Shecomes every morning to mass here; and they say she has a kind heart,which is more than men give her father the marquis the credit ofpossessing. We have not many poor round here, for at this time of yearall hands are employed in the vineyards, therefore there is the morechance of your obtaining a little help."
"Thank you; I will take your advice," Gerald said. "I suppose she issure to come?"
"She is sure enough; she never misses when she is staying here."
That night the friends slept on a bundle of straw in an outhouse behindthe wine-shop, and arranged everything; and upon the following morningtook their seats by the roadside near the village. The bell of thechapel was already sounding, and in a few minutes they saw two ladiesapproaching, followed at a very short distance by a serving-man. Theyhad agreed that the great patch over Gerald's eye, aided by the falsemoustachios, so completely disguised his appearance that they need haveno fear of his being recognized; and it was therefore decided he shoulddo the talking. As Donna Inez came up he commenced calling out: "Havepity, gracious ladies, upon two broken-down soldiers. We have gonethrough all the dangers and hardships of the terrible voyage of thegreat Armada. We served in the ship _San Josef_ and are nowbroken-down, and have no means of earning our living."
Gerald had somewhat altered his natural voice while speaking, butGeoffrey was watching Donna Inez closely, and saw her start when hebegan to speak; and when he said they had been on board the _San Josef_a flush of colour came across her face.
"We must relieve these poor men," she said to the duenna; "it ispitiful to see them in such a state."
"We know not that their tale is true," the duenna replied sharply."Every beggar in our days pretends to be a broken-down soldier."
At this moment Donna Inez happened to glance at Geoffrey, who raisedhis hand to his face and permitted a corner of a letter to bemomentarily seen.
"An impostor!" Gerald cried in a loud voice. "To think that I,suffering from my terrible wounds, should be taken as an impostor," andwith a hideous yell he tumbled down as if in a fit, and rolled over andover on the ground towards the duenna.
Seized with alarm at his approach, she turned and ran a few pacesbackward. As she did so Geoffrey stepped up to Inez and held out thenote, which she took and concealed instantly in her dress.
"There is nothing to be alarmed at," she cried to the duenna. "The poorman is doubtless in a fit. Here, my poor fellow, get aid for yourcomrade," and taking out her purse she handed a dollar to Geoffrey, andthen joining the duenna proceeded on her way.
Geoffrey knelt beside his prostrate companion and appeared to beendeavouring to restore him, until the ladies and their servant wereout of sight.
GEOFFREY GIVES INEZ HER LOVER'S NOTE]
"That was well managed," Gerald Burke said, sitting up as soon as aturn of the road hid them from view. "Now we shall have our answerto-morrow. Thank goodness there is no occasion for us to remain anylonger in these garments!"
They went to the wood and resumed their usual attire, and then walkedto a large village some four miles away, and putting up at theprincipal inn remained there until early the next morning; then theywalked back to the village they had left on the previous day and postedthemselves in a thicket by the roadside, so that they could seepassers-by without being themselves observed.
"My fate will soon be decided now," Gerald said. "Will she wear a whiteflower or not?"
"I am pretty sure that she will," Geoffrey said. "She would not havestarted and coloured when she recognized your voice if she did not loveyou. I do not think you need be under much uneasiness on that score."
In half an hour the ladies again came along, followed as before bytheir servants. Donna Inez wore a bunch of white flowers in her dress.
"There is my answer," Gerald said. "Thank heaven! she loves me, and isready to fly with me, and will steal out some time after dark to meetme in the garden."
As there was no occasion for him to stay longer, Geoffrey returned tothe village where they slept the night before, and accounted for hiscompanion's absence by saying that he had been detained on business andwould probably not return until late at night, as he would not be ableto see the person with whom he had affairs to transact until late. Itwas past ten o'clock when Gerald Burke returned.
"It is all arranged, Geoffrey. I hid in the garden close by the terraceas soon as it became dark. An hour later she came out and saunteredalong the terrace until I softly called her name; then
she came to me.She loves me with all her heart, and is ready to share my fate whateverit may be. Her father only two days ago had ordered her to prepare forher marriage with Don Philip, and she was in despair until sherecognized my voice yesterday morning. She is going with her father toa grand festa at Seville next Wednesday. They will stop there twonights--the one before the festa and the one after. I told her that Icould not say yet whether I should make the attempt to carry her off onher journey or after her return here, as that must depend uponcircumstances. At any rate, that gives us plenty of time to prepare ourplans. To-morrow we will hire horses and ride to Seville, and I willthere arrange with one of my friends at the Irish College to performthe ceremony. However, we will talk it all over to-morrow as we ride. Ifeel as sleepy as a dog now after the day's excitement."
Upon the road next day they agreed that if possible they would manageto get Inez away in Seville itself. Owing to the large number of peoplewho would be attracted there to witness the grand procession and highmass at the cathedral, the streets would be crowded, and it might bepossible for Inez to slip away from those with her. If this could bemanaged it would be greatly preferable to the employment of the men tocarry her off by force. Therefore they agreed that the band should beposted so that the party could be intercepted on its way back; but thatthis should be a last resource, and that if possible Inez should becarried off in Seville itself.
On reaching Seville they put up at an inn. Gerald at once proceeded tothe Irish College. Here he inquired for a young priest, who had been anear neighbour of his in Ireland and a great friend of his boyhood. Hewas, he knew, about to return home. He found that he was at the momentaway from Seville, having gone to supply the place of a village curewho had been taken suddenly ill. This village was situated, he wastold, some six miles south-east of the town. It was already late in theafternoon, but time was precious; and Gerald, hiring a fresh horse,rode out at once to the village. His friend was delighted to see him,for they had not met since Gerald passed through Seville on his way tojoin the Armada at Cadiz, and the young priest had not heard whether hehad escaped the perils of the voyage.
"It is lucky you have come, Gerald," he said when the first greetingswere over, "for I am going to return to Ireland in a fortnight's time.I am already appointed to a charge near Cork, and am to sail in aBristol ship which is expected in Cadiz about that time. Is there anychance of my meeting you there?"
"An excellent chance, Denis, though my route is not as clearly markedout as yours is. I wish to heaven that I could go by the same ship. Andthat leads to what I have come to see you about," and he then told hisfriend the service he wished him to render.
"It is rather a serious business, Gerald; and a nice scrape I shouldget in if it were found out that I had solemnized the marriage of ayoung lady under age without the consent of her father, and that fathera powerful nobleman. However, I am not the man to fail you at a pinch,and if matters are well managed there is not much risk of its beingfound out that I had a hand in it until I am well away, and once inIreland no one is likely to make any great fuss over my having united arunaway pair in Spain. Besides, if you and the young lady have made upyour minds to run away, it is evidently necessary that you should bemarried at once; so my conscience is perfectly clear in the business.And now, what is your plan?"
"The only part of my plan that is settled is to bring her here andmarry her. After that I shall have horses ready, and we will ride byunfrequented roads to Malaga or some other port and take a passage in aship sailing say to Italy, for there is no chance of getting a vesselhence to England. Once in Italy there will be no difficulty in gettinga passage to England. I have with me a young Englishman, as staunch afriend as one can need. I need not tell you all about how I becameacquainted with him; but he is as anxious to get out of Spain as I am,and that is saying no little."
"It seems rather a vague plan, Gerald. There is sure to be a great hueand cry as soon as the young lady is found to be missing. The marquisis a man of great influence, and the authorities will use every effortto enable him to discover her."
"You see, Denis, they will have no reason for supposing that I have hadany hand in the matter, and therefore no special watch will be set atthe ports. The duenna for her own sake is not likely to say a wordabout any passages she may have observed between us at Madrid, and sheis unaware that there have been any communications with her since."
"I suppose you will at once put on disguises, Gerald."
"Yes, that will of course be the first thing."
"If you dress her as a young peasant woman of the better class andyourself as a small cultivator, I will mention to my servant that I amexpecting my newly-married niece and her husband to stay with me for afew days. The old woman will have no idea that I, an Irishman, wouldnot have a Spanish niece, and indeed I do not suppose that she has anyidea that I am not a Spaniard. I will open the church myself andperform the service late in the evening, so that no one will be awareof what is going on. Of course I can put up your friend too. Then youcan stay quietly here as long as you like."
"That will do admirably, Denis; but I think we had best go on the nextmorning," Gerald said, "although it will be a day or two before thereis anything like an organized pursuit. It will be supposed that she isin Seville, and inquiries will at first be confined to that town. Ifshe leaves a note behind saying that she is determined even to take theveil rather than marry the man her father has chosen for her, that willcause additional delay. It will be supposed that she is concealed inthe house of some friend, or that she has sought a refuge in a nunnery,and at any rate there is not likely to be any search over the countryfor some days, especially as her father will naturally be anxious thatwhat he will consider an act of rebellion on the part of his daughtershall not become publicly known."
"All this, of course, is if we succeed in getting her clear away duringthe fete. If we have to fall back on the other plan I was talking ofand carry her off by force on the way home, the search will beimmediate and general. In that case nothing could be better than yourplan that we should stop here quietly for a few days with you. Theywill be searching for a band of robbers and will not dream of makinginquiry for the missing girl in a quiet village like this."
"Well, we will leave that open, Gerald. I shall let it be known thatyou are expected, and whenever you arrive you will be welcome."
As soon as the point was arranged Gerald again mounted his horse andreturned to Seville. There upon the following morning he engaged alodging for the three days of the festa in a quiet house in theoutskirts of the town, and they then proceeded to purchase the variousarticles necessary for their disguise and that of Inez. The nextmorning they started on their return to Jeres. Here Gerald madearrangements with the band to meet him in a wood on the road to Cadizat eight in the morning on the day following the termination of thefesta at Seville. One of the party was to proceed on that day to thehouse among the hills they had fixed upon as their hiding-place, and toget provisions and everything requisite for the reception of theircaptive. They received another five crowns each, the remaining fifteenwas to be paid them as soon as they arrived with their captive at thehouse.
The party remained in ignorance as to the age and sex of the personthey were to carry off, and had little curiosity as to the point, asthey regarded this but a small adventure in comparison to the lucrativeschemes in which they were afterwards to be sharers.
These arrangements made, Gerald and Geoffrey returned to Seville, andreached that city on the eve of the commencement of the festa, and tookup their abode at the lodging they had hired. On the following morningthey posted themselves in the street by which the party they expectedwould arrive. Both were attired in quiet citizen dress, and Geraldretained his formidable moustachios and bushy eyebrows.
In two or three hours a coach accompanied by four lackeys on horsebackcame up the street, and they saw that it contained the Marquis ofRibaldo, his daughter, and her duenna. They followed a short distancebehind it until it entered the courtya
rd of a stately mansion, whichthey learnt on inquiry from a passer-by belonged to the Duke ofSottomayor. The streets were already crowded with people in holidayattire, the church bells were ringing, and flags and decorations of allkinds waved along the route that was to be followed by the greatprocession. The house did not stand on this line, and it was necessarytherefore for its inmates to pass through the crowd either to thecathedral or to the balcony of the house from which they might intendto view the procession pass.
Half an hour after the arrival of the coach, the marquis and hisdaughter, accompanied by Don Philip de Sottomayor, sallied out,escorted by six armed lackeys, and took their way towards thecathedral. They had, however, arrived very late, and the crowd hadalready gathered so densely that even the efforts of the lackeys andthe angry commands of the marquis and Don Philip failed to enable themto make a passage. Very slowly indeed they advanced some distance intothe crowd, but each moment their progress became slower. Gerald andGeoffrey had fallen in behind them and advanced with them as theyworked themselves in the crowd.
Angry at what they considered the impertinence of the people forrefusing to make way for them, the nobles pressed forward and engagedin an angry controversy with those in front, who urged, and truly, thatit was simply impossible for them to make a way, so wedged in were theyby the people on all sides. The crowd, neither knowing nor caring whowere those who thus wished to take precedence of the first comers,began to jeer and laugh at the angry nobles, and when these threatenedto use force threatened in return.
As soon as her father had left her side, Gerald, who was immediatelybehind Inez, whispered in her ear, "Now is the time, Inez. Go with myfriend; I will occupy the old woman."
"Keep close to me, senora, and pretend that you are ill," Geoffrey saidto her, and without hesitation Inez turned and followed him, drawingher mantilla more closely over her face.
"Let us pass, friends," Geoffrey said as he elbowed his way throughthose standing behind them, "the lady needs air," and by vigorousefforts he presently arrived at the outskirts of the crowd, and struckoff with his charge in the direction of their lodging. "Gerald Burkewill follow us as soon as he can get out," he said. "Everything isprepared for you, senora, and all arrangements made."
"Who are you, sir?" the girl asked. "I do not recall your face, and yetI seem to have seen it before."
"I am English, senora, and am a friend of Gerald Burke's. When inMadrid I was disguised as his servant; for as an Englishman and aheretic it would have gone hard with me had I been detected."
There wore but few people in the streets through which they passed, thewhole population having flocked either to the streets through which theprocession was to pass, or to the cathedral or churches it was to visiton its way. Gerald had told Inez at their interview that, although hehad made arrangements for carrying her off by force on the journey toor from Seville, he should, if possible, take advantage of the crowd atthe function to draw her away from her companions. She had, therefore,put on her thickest lace mantilla, and this now completely covered herface from the view of passers-by. Several times she glanced back.
"Do not be uneasy about him, senora," Geoffrey said. "He will not tryto extricate himself from the crowd until you are discovered to bemissing, as to do so would be to attract attention. As soon as yourloss is discovered he will make his way out, and will then come on atthe top of his speed to the place whither I am conducting you, and Iexpect that we shall find him at the door awaiting us."
A quarter of an hour's walk took them to the lodging, and Inez gave alittle cry of joy as the door was opened to them by Gerald himself.
"The people of the house are all out," he said, after their firstgreeting. "In that room you will find a peasant girl's dress. Dressyourself as quickly as you can; we shall be ready for you in attire tomatch. You had best do up your own things into a bundle, which I willcarry. If they were left here they might, when the news of your beingmissing gets abroad, afford a clue to the manner of your escape. I willtell you all about the arrangements we have made as we go along."
"Have you arranged--" and she hesitated.
"Yes, an Irish priest, who is an old friend of mine, will perform theceremony this evening."
A few minutes later two seeming peasants and a peasant girl issued outfrom the lodging. The two men carried stout sticks with bundles slungover them.
"Be careful of that bundle," Inez said, "for there are all my jewels init. After what you had said I concealed them all about me. They are myfortune, you know. Now, tell me how you got on in the crowd."
"I first pushed rather roughly against the duenna, and then made themost profuse apologies, saying that it was shameful people should crowdso, and that they ought at once to make way for a lady who wasevidently of high rank. This mollified her, and we talked for three orfour minutes; and in the meantime the row in front, caused by yourfather and the lackeys quarrelling with the people, grew louder andlouder. The old lady became much alarmed, and indeed the crowd swayedabout so that she clung to my arm. Suddenly she thought of you, andturning round gave a scream when she found you were missing. 'What isthe matter?' I asked anxiously. 'The young lady with me! She was herebut an instant ago!' (She had forgotten you for fully five minutes.)'What can have become of her?'
"I suggested that no doubt you were close by, but had got separatedfrom her by the pressure of the crowd. However, she began to squall soloudly that the marquis looked round. He was already in a toweringrage, and he asked angrily,' What are you making all this noise about?'and then looking round exclaimed, 'Where is Inez?' 'She was here amoment since!' the old lady exclaimed, 'and now she has got separatedfrom me.' Your father looked in vain among the crowd, and demandedwhether anyone had seen you. Someone said that a lady who was faintinghad made her way out five minutes before. The marquis used some stronglanguage to the old lady, and then informed Don Philip what hadhappened, and made his way back out of the crowd with the aid of thelackeys, and is no doubt inquiring for you in all the houses near; but,as you may imagine, I did not wait. I followed close behind them untilthey were out of the crowd, and then slipped away, and once round thecorner took to my heels and made my way back, and got in two or threeminutes before you arrived."
The two young men talked almost continuously during their walk to thevillage in order to keep up the spirits of Donna Inez, and to preventher from thinking of the strangeness of her position and the perilsthat lay before them before safety could be obtained. Only once shespoke of the future.
"Is it true, Gerald, that there are always storms and rain in yourcountry, and that you never see the sun, for so some of those who werein the Armada have told me?"
"It rains there sometimes, Inez, I am bound to admit; but it is oftenfine, and the sun never burns one up as it does here. I promise you youwill like it, dear, when you once become accustomed to it."
"I do not think I shall," she said, shaking her head; "I am accustomedto the sun, you know. But I would rather be with you even in such anisland as they told me of than in Spain with Don Philip."
The village seemed absolutely deserted when they arrived there, thewhole population having gone over to Seville to take part in the greatfete. Father Denis received his fair visitor with the greatestkindness. "Here, Catherine," he cried to his old servant, "here are thevisitors I told you I expected. It is well that we have the chambersprepared, and that we killed that capon this morning."
That evening Gerald Burke and Inez de Ribaldo were married in thelittle church, Geoffrey Vickars being the only witness. The nextmorning there was a long consultation over their plans. "I could buyyou a cart in the village and a pair of oxen, and you could drive toMalaga," the priest said, "but there would be a difficulty aboutchanging your disguises after you had entered the town. I think thatthe boldest plan will be the safest one. I should propose that youshould ride as a well-to-do trader to Malaga, with your wife behind youon a pillion, and your friend here as your servant. Lost as your wifewas in the crowd at the fete, it will be a long t
ime before the factthat she has fled will be realized. For a day or two the search will beconducted secretly, and only when the house of every friend whom shemight have visited has been searched will the aid of the authorities becalled in, and the poorer quarters, where she might have been carriedby two or three ruffians who may have met her as she emerged in afainting condition, as is supposed, from the crowd, be ransacked. I donot imagine that any search will be made throughout the country roundfor a week at least, by which time you will have reached Malaga, and,if you have good fortune, be on board a ship."
This plan was finally agreed to. Gerald and his friend at once wentover to Seville and purchased the necessary dresses, together with twostrong horses and equipments. It was evening before their return to thevillage. Instead of entering it at once they rode on a mile further,and fastened the horses up in a wood. Gerald would have left them therealone, but Geoffrey insisted on staying with them for the night. "Icare nothing about sleeping in the open air, Gerald, and it would befolly to risk the success of our enterprise upon the chance of no onehappening to come through the wood, and finding the animals before youreturn in the morning. We had a hearty meal at Seville, and I shall dovery well until morning."
Gerald and his wife took leave of the friendly priest at daybreak thenext morning, with the hope that they would very shortly meet inIreland. They left the village before anyone was stirring.
The peasant clothes had been left behind them. Gerald carried twovalises, the one containing the garments in which Inez had fled, theother his own attire-Geoffrey having resumed the dress he had formerlyworn as his servant.
On arriving at the wood the party mounted, and at once proceeded ontheir journey. Four days' travel took them to Malaga, where theyarrived without any adventure whatever. Once or twice they met partiesof rough-looking men; but travelling as they did without baggageanimals, they did not appear promising subjects for robbery, and thedetermined appearance of master and man, each armed with sword andpistols, deterred the fellows from an attempt which promised more hardknocks than plunder.
After putting up at an inn in Malaga, Gerald went down at once to theport to inquire for a vessel bound for Italy. There were three or foursuch vessels in the harbour, and he had no difficulty in arranging fora passage to Naples for himself, his wife, and servant. The vessel wasto sail on the following morning, and it was with a deep feeling ofsatisfaction and relief that they went on board her, and an hour laterwere outside the port.
"It seems marvellous to me," Gerald said, as he looked back upon theslowly-receding town, "that I have managed to carry off my prize withso little difficulty. I had expected to meet with all sorts of dangers,and had I been the peaceful trader I looked, our journey could not bemore uneventful."
"Perhaps you are beginning to think that the prize is not so veryvaluable after all," Inez said, "since you have won it so easily."
"I have not begun to think so yet," Gerald laughed happily. "At anyrate I shall wait until I get you home before such ideas begin to occurto me."
"Directly I get to Ireland," Inez said, "I shall write to my father andtell him that I am married to you, and that I should never have runaway had he not insisted on my marrying a man I hated. I shall, ofcourse, beg him to forgive me; but I fear he never will."
"We must hope that he will, Inez, and that he will ask you to come backto Spain sometimes. I do not care for myself, you know, for as I havetold you my estate in Ireland is amply large enough for my wants; but Ishall be glad, for your sake, that you should be reconciled to him."
Inez shook her head.
"You do not know my father, Gerald. I would never go back to Spainagain--not if he promised to give me his whole fortune. My father neverforgives; and were he to entice me back to Spain, it would be only toshut me up and to obtain a dispensation from Rome annulling themarriage, which he would have no difficulty in doing. No, you have gotme, and will have to keep me for good. I shall never return to Spain,never. Possibly when my father hears from me he may send me over moneyto make me think he has forgiven me, and to induce me some day or otherto come back to visit him, and so get me into his power again; butthat, Gerald, he shall never do."