CHAPTER NINE.
FREEDOM.
We must return once more to the unhappy Leonor de Cisneros. She wasseated on a rough bench in her dungeon beneath the halls of theInquisition. One gleam of light only was admitted by a small aperture,leading into a courtyard, far above her head.
The gleam fell on her marble countenance, pale as that of one who hasceased to breathe. Her once rich hair, now glistening like snow, hungover her shoulders, while her figure was draped in the dark robe she wasdoomed to wear. Heavy chains hung on her arms, which she could withdifficulty lift to her head, whenever she strove to press her hands uponher burning brow. Even the agony of mind and body which she had enduredhad scarcely dimmed her beauty. Though her eyes had lost their lustre,yet in them was a fixed look of courage and resignation. Now she kneltdown on the cold stones before the stool, and lifted up her manacledhands to heaven, towards which her countenance was turned, earnestlyimploring strength and resolution to withstand the fearful temptationsto which she was exposed. She was not disappointed. While she thusknelt, the door of her dungeon grated on its hinges. Slowly, and notwithout difficulty, she rose from her knees, and stood prepared toreceive her visitor, whoever he might prove to be. She dreaded lest sheshould see the arch-fiend Munebrega; but instead of him, Don Franciscode Vivers stood before her. He advanced a few paces into the vault, andplaced the lantern he bore on a stone shelf projecting from the wall onone side of the cell. He did not speak till the door closed behind him.He then stood before her with his plumed hat held in his hand, keepingstill at the distance of a few paces.
"Dona Leonor," he said, "I come to bid you farewell. The words youspoke to me during my last visits to you sunk deep down in my heart.The glorious truths you explained took root, and have since by God'sgrace been abundantly watered. I obtained a copy of His blessed Word.I sought for instruction from those able to give it, and I am now ready,if it is His will, to add my testimony to the truth by my blood. I wassent here to win you back to life, and to gain you over to the falsefaith of Rome. You have been the cause of my becoming a thoroughProtestant, and being made willing, if called upon, to suffer death--such death, that is, as man is able to inflict upon his fellow-man. YetI am young, and do not desire to die. I have therefore resolved to quitmy country for another land, where I may freely worship God according tothe dictates of my conscience. I knew that you would rejoice to hearthis. I therefore resolved, at every risk, to seek another interviewwith you. Dear lady, you will pardon me for the words I spoke to you onmy former visits. I uttered them in my ignorance. I thought that I wasthus benefiting you, instead of endeavouring to deprive you of that joyunspeakable which is prepared for those who truly love the Lord, and areready to give up all for Him."
"Oh, believe me, Don Francisco, when I say it, I have nothing topardon," replied Dona Leonor. "I rejoice to hear of your determination.Alas! I fear you would not benefit our unhappy countrymen by remainingamong them. The spirit of evil has gained the supremacy; and while hereigns, with the sanguinary inquisitors as his ministers, the truth cannever make progress in the country. Go, then, Don Francisco; myprayers, day and night, will be offered up to the throne of mercy thatyou may be protected from the dangers of your journey, and safely reachthe haven of rest. It is mockery to speak of joy, but such joy as I amnow capable of feeling will be mine when I hear that you have safelyreached your destination. And oh, Don Francisco, pray for me, not thatmy life may be prolonged, but that I may have courage and support in thetrials I may be called upon henceforth to bear; and that it may be God'swill that I may, ere long, be emancipated from my bondage, not to goforth into the world, but to be raised on wings of light to join mymartyred husband, now singing praises with the heavenly choir before thegreat white throne of our loving Father."
"Dona Leonor, your wishes shall ever be a law to me," answered DonFrancisco. "I shall see you no more on earth. Even should I besuccessful in escaping from this unhappy country, I believe that I shallnever again return to it; and even if I did, I should not be permittedto see you. I hear that many Spanish Protestants are assembled atGenoa, among whom are several who were once monks at San Isidoro.Thither I have resolved to bend my steps, that I may worship with them,and gain from them instruction and counsel."
"I thank our Heavenly Father that you have resolved on this step,"answered Leonor, "and I pray that you may be more successful than weremy beloved Herezuelo and myself. Oh, that I had not believed thefalsehoods that were told me before that dreadful day when I last methim on earth! Bitterly have I repented my weakness and want of faith.I should have known that no human power would have induced him to denyhis Lord and Master, even for the sake of saving his life and beingreunited with me. Ah, how weak and faithless was I! but I thank my Godthat, through the influence of the Holy Spirit, I had strength and powergiven me boldly to declare my faith in the truth, even though my sodoing has brought me into this dungeon, and will ere long cast my bodyamid those flames which consumed the mortal frame of my husband. Oh,believe me, Don Francisco, to that day I look forward with eagerness andjoy. My heart will bound with thankfulness when I am told to preparefor going forth to the stake."
Don Francisco stepped forward and raised the manacled hand of thespeaker to his lips. Then, casting one more glance of respect andsorrow at that still lovely countenance before him, he hastened from thecell, drawing his hat over his brow to conceal his agitation; thenwrapping his cloak around him, he took his way through the narrowpassages which led to the vaults, guided by one of the familiars of theInquisition, till he reached the door of an apartment, at which hisguide stopped and knocked. A voice desired him to enter. Don Franciscopassed through the doorway, and stood in the presence of the ArchbishopMunebrega.
"Do you expect to move her, Don Francisco?" asked the Archbishop, eyeinghim narrowly.
"My lord, I do not," answered Don Francisco, firmly; "yet I warn youthat severe treatment will not effect your purpose. For myself, I wouldbeg that I might not be again requested to visit her; but I yet entreatthat her chains may be removed, and that she may be placed in a roomwhere the light of day is allowed to enter, and be supplied with foodsuch as her delicate nature requires."
"Don Francisco, you ask what it may be impossible for me to grant,"answered the Archbishop, again casting a penetrating glance towards him;"but I will make known your request to my coadjutors, and, should theysee fit, it may be granted."
Don Francisco was glad when the interview with the Archbishop came to aclose. He well knew the character of the man with whom he had to deal,and he dreaded lest any word he might incautiously drop should betrayhim. He hurried home. Already he had made every preparation which waspossible for his journey. As the shades of evening drew on he left hishouse, and all the comforts and luxuries it contained, feeling that heshould never return. Keeping his countenance concealed with his cloak,he passed unquestioned through the gates. Now he hurried on at a rapidpace for a league or more from the city. Then, turning on one side, heentered a small wood. He had not gone far when he found, standing underthe trees, two horses, held by a short man in the costume of a muleteer.
"Ah! my friend Julianillo, I knew that I could trust you, and I amthankful that you have not failed me. It is time, if I would save mylife, that I should leave Valladolid. Already the savage Munebregasuspects me, and I have bidden farewell to her for whose sake alone Ishould desire to remain in Spain. I could not bear to see her die; andyet, knowing the savage hearts of her persecutors, and her own firmresolve, I feel sure that, ere long, she will add another to theglorious list of martyrs. She has bidden farewell to the world and herfellow-creatures, and places her trust in One who alone can give herstrength to undergo the trials she may be called upon to endure."
"True, Don Francisco, true," answered Julianillo; "but we must notdelay. A few minutes may make the difference between life and safety,and imprisonment and death. When our brother Don Domingo de Roxasattempted to escape, from a short delay cau
sed by his visit to the nobleDe Seso, he fell into the power of the inquisitors. But you, I trust,are not suspected, and we may in safety gain the borders of Spainwithout impediment. It will be necessary, however, to use caution, andabove all things to trust to no one. There are guards on all the roads,and spies at every inn, ready to entrap the unwary."
Saying this Julianillo held the stirrup while Don Francisco threwhimself into the saddle. He then mounted his own horse, and togetherthey rode out of the wood, and took the road towards the frontier.
Julianillo knew every part of the country. Each highway and everyby-path was as familiar to him as if he had it mapped down before hiseyes. Often and often he had travelled those roads, with his bales ofgoods surrounding the copies of the Bible and the works of Luther andothers, which he had brought across the Pyrenees into Spain. He had, oflate, however, been compelled to give up bringing any more copies ofGod's Word into the country. He had, instead, devoted himself toassisting Protestants to escape from their persecutors. Those who hadtrusted themselves entirely to his care and guidance he had never failedto convey safely to their destination.
Their horses were fresh, and they were thus able to gallop in thegreater part of the night. When morning broke, Valladolid was manymiles behind them. As soon as the horses were rested they againproceeded on their journey. They thus continued till they were within ahalf-day's journey of the frontier.
"We are now approaching the most dangerous part of the road," observedJulianillo to Don Francisco. "It would be safer for you not to appearto be under my guidance. I may possibly be suspected, and as I amwell-known, I should certainly be seized, while you might be allowed tocontinue your journey. But whatever happens, take no notice of me, andlet us appear to be total strangers to each other."
These remarks were made when the travellers were yet some distance fromthe inn where they intended to stop. Julianillo rode on ahead, DonFrancisco following at a distance, so as just to keep him in view.
When Don Francisco entered the common room of the inn, Julianillo wasalready there, seated among a number of muleteers and other persons,laughing and joking with them. Don Francisco, on entering, took nonotice of him, but placed himself at an unoccupied part of the longtable, at the other end of the room. The guests were waiting fordinner, and in a short time large dishes of fried beans and pork wereplaced on the table. Don Francisco could with difficulty partake of therough fare put before him. He ordered, however, a flagon of wine, andrequested the host to partake of it, who, nothing loth, accepted hisoffer.
The guests had only just seated themselves when a party of mountedalguazils arrived at the inn, and, having stabled their horses, walkedin to partake of the dinner going forward. Julianillo appeared in noway to be disconcerted. It was an anxious time for Don Francisco, forhe could not help fearing that the alguazils were in search of suspectedpersons.
Having allowed time for the horses to rest, Julianillo started up, andbeginning to sing a well-known comic air, sauntered out of the inntowards the stables. Don Francisco waited till he supposed hiscompanion was on the road, and then, paying his reckoning to thelandlord, begged that his horse might be brought round. Just as he wasmounting, the landlord whispered in his ear--
"Stop not till you have gained the other side of the border, and then benot content till you are many leagues from it."
"I know not what you mean," answered Don Francisco, carelessly; "butsupposing the advice to be of value, I should be truly grateful to youfor it." Saying this he rode quietly through the street of the village.
He had not gone far when he heard the mounted guards who had entered theinn following close behind. Instead of attempting to escape them hedrew in his rein to allow them to come up with him. It was a moment totry the nerves of most men. They, however, rode by, saluting him asthey passed, when they continued at a rapid rate. Fearing, should heshow any inclination to push on, he might be stopped, he continued at aleisurely pace in the direction taken by Julianillo.
In a short time the sound of horses approaching him reached his ears,and he saw the very same party he had met before returning with someoneamong them. As he drew near, great was his grief to recogniseJulianillo. Following the advice given him by that brave man, heapproached the troop with as unconcerned a countenance as he couldassume.
"Who have you got there?" he asked in a calm tone.
"A culprit who has long eluded us, but who has been caught at last, asmany others who now think themselves safe will be ere long," was theanswer.
Anxious as he felt to assist Julianillo, he was well aware of theuselessness of making the attempt; the words he had just heard makinghim more anxious than ever to escape from the country. He thereforerode forward with the same unconcerned air which he had assumed onapproaching the emissaries of the Inquisition. Following the advice ofthe innkeeper, as soon as he was out of sight of the party he put spursto his horse, and ere night closed in he was many leagues within theterritory of France. His adventures were like those of others who madetheir escape from the Inquisition. Being well supplied with money, hehad, however, less difficulty than many others. He ultimately succeededin reaching Genoa. There, though he was at first looked upon withsuspicion, he was soon able to prove the sincerity of his conversion,and was received as a faithful Protestant among the brethren assembledin that city.
Meantime Julianillo was led by his captors to Seville. He was therebrought before the Inquisitors. With undaunted eye and firm countenancehe confronted his judges, who were at the same time his accusers. Hedenied nothing. He was accused of having been one of the chiefinstruments in disseminating the Gospel throughout Spain. He smiledcalmly at the words addressed to him.
"I should indeed be proud to have performed so excellent a work," heanswered; "but those who have far more influence than I possess have hadthat honour. If I brought the Word of Life to those perishing for lackof it, I merely performed the part of the baker's boy who brings theloaves to the door. It depended upon the people whether they would takethe Bread of Life; and if they took it, whether they would feed on it.Hear me, ye ministers of tyranny and falsehood: I glory in declaringthat I believe the only knowledge we possess of the perfect andall-sufficient sacrifice which Christ offered up once for all onCalvary, is that revealed to us in the Bible, and applied to our heartsby the Holy Spirit. I believe that the Pope and priests of Rome areignorant of this great and glorious truth, that `the just shall live byfaith,' and faith alone. In this belief I have now for many yearslived, rejoicing also."
"Silence him! away with him!" cried the inquisitors, in deep and angryvoices. "He is hopelessly contumacious. A speedy death by fire must behis doom."
Julianillo smiled calmly as he heard these words pronounced.
"For many years I have been prepared for this," he answered. "When Iundertook the work in which I have been engaged, I counted the cost. Iknew that I should have a rich reward, and all you can do is to hastenthe time when I am to wear that crown of glory prepared for me in theskies; and, humble though I am, I feel well assured that it is abrilliant and a glorious crown."
Before Julianillo could say more he was hurried away from the hall ofthe Inquisition, and thrown into a dark and noisome dungeon, there toremain till the day fixed for the next _auto-da-fe_, at which he was tosuffer the extreme penalty inflicted by the Inquisition. He was amongthose who suffered on the day already described, when Don Carlo de Sesoreceived the crown of martyrdom. Though he boasted of no exalted rankor lineage, yet, bold in the faith, he died as bravely as the mostnoble.
On the morning of the _auto_, addressing his fellow-prisoners, heexclaimed, "Courage, comrades! This is the hour in which we may showourselves valiant soldiers of Jesus Christ. Let us now bear faithfultestimony to His truth before men, and within a few hours we shallreceive the testimony of His approbation before angels, and triumph withHim in heaven."
These words were repeated to the inquisitors, and they, knowing fullwell his courage and d
etermination, ordered him to be gagged, lest, whenmarching forth among the other condemned criminals, he should addressthe multitude, and perhaps gain their sympathy, or induce them to acceptthe truth, for holding which he was condemned to suffer. In spite ofthe gag, he continued by his gestures to encourage his companionscondemned to death with himself; and thus until the flames rose upfiercely around him, he bore witness to the truth, and endeavoured tosupport them to the last.
Meantime the unhappy Leonor de Cisneros lingered on in prison. Everyeffort was made by the inquisitors and their familiars of high and lowdegree to induce her to recant, but she continued contumacious. Onceonly a gleam of satisfaction was seen to pass over her countenance; itwas when a few words, incautiously let drop by one of her visitors,informed her that Don Francisco de Vivers had escaped from Spain, andhad arrived safely at Genoa.
Was it in mercy, because her bigoted persecutors yet hoped that shewould recant, that her life was still spared? or was it because theirvindictive feelings made them unwilling to liberate their captive, andterminate her sufferings by consigning her to that death for which shewaited longingly? Often she exclaimed with the Apostle Paul, in sureand certain hope of the resurrection of the just to happinessunspeakable, "For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain."
Year after year passed by, and still she remained a prisoner in thosedreadful dungeons. She had but numbered twenty-two summers whenconsigned to them, and eight long winters of existence passed afterwardsover her head. During those weary years that heroic woman, with themost perfect constancy, endured insults, torture, starvation, whilecompelled to listen to all the arguments which cunning priests couldadduce to make her change her faith.
At length, once more she stood before the judgment-seat of theinquisitors, among whom the Archbishop Munebrega presided. Did norecollection of that young woman's mother, whom he had once fondlyloved, or thought he loved, cross his mind? Did he not remember DonaLeonor herself, when in her early youth, radiant in beauty, he firstbeheld her, and heard from her lips the startling acknowledgment thatshe believed the simple Word of God and trusted to it? Now she stoodbefore him a pale wan woman, weighed down with grief and physicalsuffering.
Again she was asked if she would recant, and reminded that it was forthe last time.
"Oh, no, no!" she answered, her heart bounding with joy at theannouncement. The captive was to be set free.
Now, in solemn mockery, the inquisitors arose, and pronounced DonaLeonor de Cisneros hopelessly contumacious, and condemned her to theflames.
A bright gleam rested on her countenance as she heard her sentence, butshe uttered not a word, she made not a movement till summoned to returnto her cell.
The 26th of September, 1568, at length arrived. Ere the dawn had brokenin the outer world she rose from her hard pallet. Yet, hard as it was,her slumber had been calm and sweet. She knew not that it was her lastday on earth. Kneeling, she lifted up her hands in prayer. She prayedfor her persecutors. She prayed that the day-star might yet arise overSpain, and the Gospel be preached throughout the length and breadth ofthe land.
The door opened. A harsh voice ordered her to rise from her knees;prayer was not for one whom the Church had excommunicated. She obeyed.A monk, with a savage gleam in his eyes, stood before her. At the doorwere several familiars.
The monk's errand was soon told. He had come to conduct her to thecourtyard where the victims destined to appear in the _auto-da-fe_ werecollecting. The cruelties, the mockeries, the blasphemies of thosehideous spectacles have often been described. All, all, Leonor endured,not only with patience and courage, but with a rejoicing heart. Calmand unmoved she listened to the long sermon poured forth by the Bishopof Zamora, who, from a lofty pulpit, addressed himself both to thevictims and the populace.
When the blasphemous ceremonies were brought to a conclusion, joylighted up her countenance. Firmly she walked to the place ofexecution, and submitted without a murmur to be bound to the stake. Themoment she had longed for had arrived! The flames rose up around her,and her emancipated spirit flew to rejoin her beloved husband, and to befor ever with their Lord.
THE END.
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