Now I return to the beach at Viana, on which I stood after having quitted the fleet--yet still, ere I go on, I must put you in the way of knowing how it comes about that for companion I have Señor Juan Belmonte, who at this moment is making his way into what proved to be a very filthy town in search of lodgings for us for the night. And this is how it came about:
When it was decided finally that I should part from the British squadron on the day they cleared out--they intending to anchor over night outside of Vigo bay and to send forward some frigates scouting ere going on their way to England--I made mention to Belmonte that such was my intention. Also I asked him--I finding of him in his cabin, where he was reading a Spanish book of love verses--what he meant to do with himself, since, if he did not leave the ship when, or before, I did, he would be forced to accept Sir George's invitation to proceed to England with him.
"Oh, my friend!" he said, with ever the soft, gentle smile upon his handsome features, "my friend and conqueror"--for so he had taken to terming me--"I want no terrible journey to England in these great fierce ships of war. Tell me, tell me,amígo mio, what you are going to do yourself. Your plans! Your plans!"
"My plans," I said, seeing no reason why I should not divulge them to him, since it was impossible he could do me any hurt, even if so inclined, which I thought not very likely, "are simple ones. I go ashore at Viana, find a horse--one will carry me part of the journey, then I can get another--and so, by God's will, get to the end, to my destination."
"But the destination. The destination. Where is it? Tell me that."
"The destination is Flanders, the seat of the present war. I am a soldier. My place is there."
"Aye, aye," he replied. "I know. You have told me. Your service is not with these ships nor their soldiers, but with others--a great army, far north."
"That is it," I said.
"And you will travel all that way--mean to travel--alone!"
"I must," I said, "if I intend to get there. There is no other way."
"Take me with you!" he exclaimed, suddenly, springing impetuously to his feet from the chair in which he sat. "Take me with you! I will be a good companion--amuse you, sing to you, wile away the long hours, stand by your side. If necessary," yet he said this a little slower, and with more hesitation, as I thought, "fight with you."
Now, putting all other objections which rose to my mind away for the moment, this last utterance of his did not recommend him very strongly to me. "Fight for me, indeed!" I thought. "A fine fighter this would be!--a youth who had turned pale at seeing a dead man or two floating by in the water after the battle, or at hearing the shriek of a wounded one as we rowed past him on our way to theRoyal Sovereign!"
However, aloud I said:
"Señor Belmonte, I fear it cannot be as you desire. The road will be hard and rough, the journey long; there will be little opportunity for singing and jiggettings. Moreover, death will always be more or less in the air. If, in Spain or France, I am discovered--nay, even suspected of being what I am, an English soldier--'twill be short shrift for me. I shall be deemed a spy, and shot, or hung to the nearest tree. Take, therefore, my counsel at once, and follow it. Go you to England in this ship, as the admiral invites you. That way you will be safe and easy."
"No, no, no," he answered. "I will not; I will not. I will go with you. I like you," he said, with a most friendly glance. "If--if you go alone--if we part here--we shall never meet again. That shall not be. I am resolved. And--and--only let me go, and I will be so good! I promise. Will not sing a note--will--see there!" and, like a petulant boy as he was, he seized his viol d'amore, which hung on a nail in the cabin, and dashed it to the floor, while, a moment later, he would have stamped his foot into it had I not stopped him. "Yes, I will break it all to pieces. Since it offends you, I will never strike another note on it, nor will I ever sing again--not in your hearing, at least--though I have known some who liked well enough to hear me play--and sing, too."
"Juan," I said, not knowing in the least why his impassioned grief moved me so much as to address him thus familiarly, which I had never done before, "it offends me not at all; instead, I have often listened gratefully to the music of your voice and viol. But now--now--on such a journey as I go it would be out of place, even if you were there, which you must not be."
"I must. I must. I must," he answered. "I will. You called me Juan just now--ah! you are my friend, or you would not speak thus. Oh!" he went on, and now he clutched my arm and gazed fervently into my face, "do not refuse. And see, think, Mervan," pronouncing my name thus, and in a tone that would have moved a marble heart, "I shall be no trouble to you. I can ride, oh! like a devil when I choose--I have ridden with the Mestizos and natives in the isles--and I can use a pistol or petronel, also a sword. See," and he whipped his rapier off the bed where it was a-lying, drew it from its sheath impetuously, as he did everything, and began making pass after pass through the open door of the cabin into the gangway. "I know what to do. Also, remember, I can speak Spanish when we are in Spain--pass for a Spaniard if 'tis necessary--and--and--and----" he broke off, "if you will not take me with you, why, then, I will follow you; track you like a shadow, sleep like a dog outside the inn in which you lie warm and snug; ay! even though you beat me and drive me away for doing so."
Again and still again I resisted, yet 'twas hard to do; for, though I had spoken against his singings and playings, and kept ever before my eyes the stern remembrance of my duty, which was to make my way straight to my goal and crash through all impediments, I could not but reflect that this bright, joyous lad by my side would help to cheer many a lonely hour and many a gloomy mile. Yet again I spoke against the project, putting such thoughts aside.
"Child," I said, "you do not know, do not understand. Our--my--path will be beset with dangers.Iknow what I am doing, what lies before me. Listen, Juan. 'Tis more than like that I shall never reach Flanders, never ride with my old troops again, never more feel a comrade's hand clasped in mine; may perish by the wayside, have my throat cut in some lonely inn, be shot in the back, taken as a spy. Yet 'tis my duty. I am a soldier and a man; you are----"
"Yes?" with an inward catching of the breath, a flash from the dark eyes.
"A boy; a lad; also, you say, well enough to do, with a long and happy life before you, no call upon you to fling that life away. Juan, it must not be."
"It shall," he said, leaning forward toward me. "It shall; I swear it by my dead mother's memory. Boy! Lad, you say. So be it. Yet with the will and determination of a hundred men. To-morrow, Mervan, to-night, to-day, if I can get a boat to the great ship out there, I visit the admiral and ask him to put me ashore with you. And he will do it. Great as he is, in command over all you English here, I have a power within," and he struck his breast with his hands, "a power over him which will force him to do as I wish. Do you dare me--challenge me?"
"No," I answered quietly, though in truth somewhat amazed at his words, while still remembering the strange deference Sir George had shown all along to the youth. "I dare to say you may prevail--with him."
"Aye--with him!" and now he laughed a little, showing the small pearly white teeth, somewhat. "With him! I understand. But you mean not with you also. Yet, with you, too, I shall prevail. I will follow you till you give me leave to keep ever by your side. Remember, if I am not Spanish, I have lived in Spain's dependencies. I can be very Spanish when I choose," and again he laughed, and again the white teeth glistened beneath the scarlet lips.
"If," I said, scarce knowing or understanding what power was influencing me, making me a puppet in this youth's hands--yet still a yielding one!--"the admiral gives his consent to put you ashore, then I----"
"Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes, Mervan?" he interposed quickly.
"Then I will not withhold mine. Come with me if you choose--remember, 'tis at your own risk."
In a moment his whole face was transfigured with joy. Seeing that joy, I deemed myself almost a brute to have ever tried to drive him away from me, although I had endeavoured to do so as much for his own safety as my own. He laughed and muttered little pleased expressions in Spanish which I neither understood nor am capable of setting down here; almost I thought he would Have flung his arms around my neck and embraced me. Indeed, it seemed as though he were about to do so, but, suddenly recollecting himself, desisted--perhaps because he knew that to us English such demonstrations were not palatable.
And now I have to tell how Sir George placed no obstruction in the way, allowing him to go ashore with me; yet, when he heard that we were to travel together the look upon his face was one of extreme gravity, almost of sternness. Also, he maintained a deep silence for a moment or two after I had told him such was to be the case, and sat with his eyes fixed on me as though he were endeavouring to read my very inmost thoughts. But at last he said quietly, and with even more than usual of that reserve which characterised him:
"You have found out nothing about this young man yet, Mr. Crespin, then?--know nothing more about him than you have known from the first? Um?"
"I know nothing more, sir."
Again he paused awhile, then spoke once more, with the slightest perceptible shrug of his shoulders as he did so:
"Very well. 'Tis your affair, not mine. You are not under my command, but that of the Earl of Marlborough. You must do as seems best to you. Yet have a care what you are about." Then he leant forward toward me, and said: "Mr. Crespin, you have done extremely well--have gained a high place in our esteem. When his Lordship reads what the Duke of Ormond and myself have to say about you, you will find your promotion very rapid, I think. Do not, I beseech of you--do not imperil it in any way; do not be led away into jeopardising the bright future, the brilliant career, that is before you. Run on no rock, avoid every shoal that may avert your successful course."
"Sir," said, "I am a soldier with many unknown dangers before me. This boy can add nothing to their number. Yet, sir, for your gracious consideration for me I am deeply grateful."
Still he regarded me, saying nothing for a moment or so, then spoke again:
"Dangers!" he said--"the dangers every honest soldier or sailor encounters in his calling are nothing; they are our portion; must be avoided, if may be; if not, must be accepted. And he who falls in the battle has naught to repine at--at least he falls honourably, leaves a clean memory behind."
"Sir!"
"But there are other dangers that are worse than shot, or steel--or death! Many a brave soldier and sailor has gone under from other causes than these. Mr. Crespin, I say no more--have, perhaps, said too much, were it not that you have strangely interested me." Then, abruptly, he went on, and as though with the intention of forbidding any more remarks on that subject: "Captain Hardy shall be instructed to send you both ashore on the morning after we go out. Here are some papers from the duke and myself to the Earl of Marlborough. Be careful of them; they relate to you alone. I--we--hope they will assist you to go far."
I bowed and murmured my thanks, for which he observed there was no necessity whatever, then gave me his hand and said:
"Farewell, Mr. Crespin; we may not meet again. I wish you all you can desire for yourself. Farewell."
But he uttered no further word of warning of any kind, and so let me go away from him wondering blindly what it was he knew of this young man; wondering above all what it was against which he covertly put me on my guard.
Later on--though not for some time to come--I knew and understood.
* * * * * * * * *
I found Juan--after the sails of the boat from thePembrokehad faded into little white specks upon the surface of the water, until they looked no bigger than the flash made by seagull's wing--found him outside the one and only inn of this small town, lolling against the doorpost--made dirty and greasy with the shoulders of countless Algarvian peasants--and amusing himself by trying to make a group of ragged children understand the pure Spanish he was speaking to them.
Then, as he saw me crossing the filthy street, he came over to meet me--never heeding the splashing of mud administered to the handsome long boots which he had now upon his legs, though he was dainty, too, in his ways--and began telling me of what arrangements he had already made for our journey.
"First,mío amigo," he said, joyously, "about the horses. Two are already in command. One, a big bony creature which is for you, Mervan, because you also are big and stalwart, and require something grand to carry you--while for me there is a jennet with, oh! such a fiery eye and a way of biting at everything near it. But have no fear! Once I am on its back, andpor Diôs!it will do as I want, not as it wants."
I laughed, then asked if these animals were to be our own.
"Oh, yes, our own," he said. "Our very own. I have bought them--they are ours. And, if they break down--yours, I think, must surely do so--why, we will turn them loose into the nearest wood, and--buy some more."
"At this rate we shall spend some money ere we strike Flanders," I said.
"Ho! Ho! Money--who cares for money! I have plenty, enough for you and me, too. We will travel comfortably,mon ami; have the best of everything. Plenty of money, and--and, Mervan, do you know, if it was not for one of the most accursed villains who ever trod the face of the earth, I should be so rich that--that--oh! it is impossible to say. Mervan," catching at my arm with that boyish impetuosity of his which ever fascinated me; "you are English, therefore you know all the English, I suppose. In Jamaica and Hispaniola and all the other islands we know everybody. Mervan, who is, or where is, James Eaton?"
"James Eaton!" I exclaimed, with a laugh at his innocent supposition that we were all acquainted with each other in England as they are in the Indies; yet 'tis true that he could not know that our capital city alone had so vast and incredible a population as half a million souls! "James Eaton! Who and what is he? An officer? If so, I might, perhaps, know, or get to know, something of him."
"An officer? Oh! yes,por Diôs!he is an officer--has been once. But not such as you or those brave ones we have just parted from. An officer.Corpo di Bacco!A villain,vagamundo, Mervan--afilibustier--what the English call in the islands a damned pirate."
"Humph!" I said. "A friend of yours? Eh, Juan?"
"A friend of mine? Ho! Yes. Mon Dieu! He is a friend. Wait--when we are in England you shall see how much I love my friend. Oh, yes! You shall see. When I take him by his beard and thrust this through his black heart," and he touched the quillon of the sword by his side as he spoke.
"And is he the villain who has stolen your wealth?" I asked, as we entered now the door of the inn, I nearly falling backward from the horrible odours which greeted my nostrils when we did so.
"He is the villain. Oh! 'tis a story. Such a story. You shall hear. But not now--not now. Now we will eat and drink and be gay."
"But," I said, my curiosity much aroused, "if he has stolen your wealth how comes it you are rich, as you say? Have you two fortunes--two sources of wealth?"
"Yes," he replied, with his bright, sweet smile. "Two fortunes--the one he stole, the other--but no matter for fortunes now. I have enough and plenty for myself--and, Mervan, for you if you want it. Plenty."
"I, too, have enough for present wants," I said. "Quite enough."
"Bueno.Bueno," he said. "Then all is well. And now to eat, drink and be gay until to-morrow. Then away, away, away to Flanders--anywhere, so long as we are together. Joy to-day, work and travel to-morrow. But, Mervan," and once more he placed his hand supplicatingly on my arm. "Forgive. Forgive me. I--I have brought the viol d'amore."
We were English gentlemen furnished with passports to enable us to travel through Spain--which might not be difficult, since there were likely to be as many English troops in that country as there were French, while one-half of the inhabitants wavered in their espousals of either us and Austria or Louis and Philip.
That, at least, was what wemeant to giveout if anyone in Portugal--and in Viana especially--should make it their business to ask us any questions, which, however, was not very likely to be the case; for, in this miserable hole--and miserable it was beyond all thought--there were none who could have any possible right to so ask us of our affairs, there being no consul of any country whatever in the place--and, for the rest, we were English. That was enough; we were English, come ashore from that great fleet whose deeds of the last few weeks had spread consternation for leagues around and on either side of Vigo, and whose topmasts were now very plainly visible a mile or so out from the shore; topsails, too, which would be conspicuous enough to all in Viana for another day or so, until the scouts returned with their news; and before this fleet had disappeared we should be gone, too--on our road to Spain, to France, to Flanders.
That road was already decided on--we were poring over the chart now upstairs in the sleeping room Juan had secured for me, he having another one for himself on the opposite side of the corridor--poring over it by the light of an oil lamp and the flames cast by a bright cork-wood fire which we had caused to be lit, since 'twas already very cold, it being now November.
We had resolved, however, that the great high road to France would not be the very best, perhaps, for our purpose--the road which, passing through Portugal into Spain at Miranda and Tuy, runs through Valladolid and Burgos up to Bayonne and France, for these towns were in the kingdoms of Leon and Castile, and here all were, we learnt, for Philip and France; but we knew also that with other parts of Spain it was no so. Away on the eastern shores, Catalonia and Valencia had declared for Charles of Austria and the allies. Nearer to where we were, namely, in Galicia, above Portugal, they wavered. Yet 'twas said now that they inclined toward us, perhaps because Vigo is in Galicia and, therefore, they had had a taste of how we could be either good friend or fateful foe. Certainly we had shown we could well be the latter!
"Yes," I said to Juan, my finger on the chart; "this way will be our road. Across the frontier where the Minho divides the two countries, then up its banks to Lugo, and so through the Asturias to Biscay and Bayonne. That is our way, and, after all, 'tis not much farther than t'other. And safer, too. If Galicia leans to us, so may the Asturians. If not, we shall be no worse off than if we traversed Leon, Castile and Navarre."
"Vogue la galère!" cried the boy, who generally varied his exclamations from Spanish to French and French to English--whichever came uppermost--"I care nothing. We shall be together,mio amigo; that's enough for me."
"Together for a time," I put in; "for a time. Remember, once we reach Flanders--if we ever do--which is more than doubtful--my service claims me. 'Tis war there, hard knocks and buffets for me--for you the first sloop or vessel of any sort that will run you over to the English coast."
"Oh, la, la!" said Juan, "'tis not come yet. We have a month, at least, together, and perhaps even then we will not part. This great soldier, this fierce captain you speak of, this English lord who contends with France--perhaps he will let me fight too. Give me--what is it you call it?--a pair of colours. Then we could fight side by side, Mervan, could we not?"
I nodded and muttered: "Perhaps," though in truth I thought nothing was more unlikely. In some way I had come to have none too great an opinion of the youth's courage or capacity for fighting, remembering how he had paled, nay, almost shuddered, at the sight of those poor dead ones floating in Vigo harbour; while for the "pair of colours"--well, there was plenty of interest being made on all sides by those of influence in England to obtain such things for their own kith and kin. There would be mighty little chance for this young stripling to be received into any regiment. Therefore I went on with our plans, saying, as I still glanced at the chart:
"That must be the road. And from Lugo across the mountains to Baos, then to Elcampo, and so to Bilbao up to Bayonne. That is the way."
"To Lugo," he repeated, meditatively. "To Lugo. Humph! To Lugo. That is the way they went, you know--Chateaurenault and his captains--when they fled from you."
Now I started when he said this, for I had, indeed, forgotten the slight rumour I had heard to that effect--forgotten it amidst all the excitement of the stirring times that had followed the battle and the taking of the galleons. Yet now the fact was recalled to my mind, I did not let it alter my determination, and after a moment's reflection, I said:
"Still it matters not. They will not have gone that way for the same reason that we shall go it. On their road to France! Chateaurenault will not stay there, but rather push on to Paris to give an account of his defeat--make the best excuses he can to his master. Nor will he come back--an he does, he will find nothing here. His ships are sunk or being carried to England, and 'tis so with the galleons that are not themselves at the bottom of the ocean. 'Tis very well. To-morrow we set out for Lugo, take the first step on our road."
And on the morrow we did set out--amidst, perhaps, as disagreeable circumstances as could be the case.
For when we rose early the snow was falling in thick flakes; also 'twas driven into our faces by a stiff northeasterly wind which brought it down from the Cantabrian mountains, and soon our breasts were covered with a layer of it which we had much ado to prevent from freezing on them, and could only accomplish by frequent buffets. Yet we were not cold, neither, since our horses were still able to trot beneath it--for as yet it lay not upon the roads, and we could thus keep ourselves warm. Yet, withal, we made some ten leagues that day--the animals under us proving far better than might with reason have been expected, judging by their lean and sorry appearance--and arrived ere nightfall at a small village--yet walled and fortified, because it lies close on to the Spanish frontier--called Valenza. And here we rested for the night, finding, however, at first great difficulty in being permitted to get into it, and, next, an equal trouble in obtaining lodgings in the one inn of the place.
Also we learnt that it behooved us to be very careful when we set out next day, or we might find it impossible to enter Spain, which now lay close at hand, and separated only by the Minho from this place; or, being in, might find it hard to go forward.
"For," said the host, a filthy, unkempt creature who looked as though he were more accustomed to attending to cattle in their sheds than to human beings, but who by great good fortune was able to speak broken French, "at Tuy, where you must pass into Spain, they are rigourous now as to papers, letting none enter who are not properly provided.Basto!'tis not a week ago that one went forward who was passed through with difficulty. And a Spaniard, too, though from the Indies."
"From the Indies!" exclaimed Juan, with impetuosity. "From the Indies! Why, so am I and--and this señor," looking at me, "both from the Indies. Therefore, we can pass also, I should suppose."
"Oh, for that," answered the man, "I know not. Yet this old man went through, somehow. He had come up from the south--from Cadiz, as I think, or Cartagena, or the Sierras--in a great coach and four, travelled as a prince, had good provisions with him, and ho!--he gave me to taste of it!--some strong waters that made me feel like a prince, too, though the good God knows I am none!" and he cast his eyes round the filthy room into which we had been shown. "Also, he had his papers all regular; also," and here he gave a glance at us of unspeakable cunning, "he was generous and open-handed. That spared him much trouble."
"Perhaps 'twill spare us, too!" again exclaimed Juan. "We can also be generous and open-handed."
"It will do much. Yet the papers! The papers! Have you the papers?"
Now, we had no papers whatsoever that would stand us in such stead; therefore, when we were alone together in the room which was to be ours, and in which there were two miserable, dirty-looking beds, side by side, covered with sheepskins for coverlets--and perhaps for blankets, too!--we fell to discussing what must be done; for it was at once plain and easy to see that at Tuy we should never get through. I had no papers nor passports whatever, while Juan bore about him only those which proved that he was a subject of England.
"Yet," said he, "they knew not that on boardLa Sacra Familia, and, because I could speak Spanish as well as they, deemed me a Spaniard. I wonder if I could get through that way."
"Youmight, possibly," I replied. "I am sure I never should. The Spanish which I know is scarce good enough for that."
"'Tis true," he said, reflectively--"true enough. Yet, you have the French. See, Mervan, here is an idea. I am a Spaniard and you are a Frenchman, for the moment. Both countries are sworn friends now as regards their government, if not their people. Why should not we be travelling together as natives of those lands?"
"An we were," I answered, "we should not be without passports. Remember, we come to them from Portugal; therefore, to have gotten into Portugal as either Spanish man or Frenchman, we should have wanted papers; and we have none. Consequently, the first question asked us will be, How got we into Portugal? Then what reply shall we make? That we came from the English fleet, which has just destroyed their galleons? That will scarce do, Juan, for our purpose, I think."
Acknowledging such to be the case, Juan sat himself down on the dirty bed and began to ponder.
"At least we will not be whipped," he muttered, "and at the outset, too. Mervan, we must find another road somehow, or, better still--there must be some part of the frontier which runs the northern length of this miserable land, and which is unguarded. Can we not get across without any road? Up one side of a mountain and down another, and so--into Spain!"
"'Tis that I have thought of. Yet there are the horses--also a river to cross. And, as luck will have it, the mountains hereabouts are none too high nor dense with woods, nor do they run from east to west, but rather south and north. Such as there are, you can see from this window," and I pointed in the swift, on-coming darkness of the November evening to where they could be seen across the river, their summits low, and over them a rusty rime-blurred moon rising.
Then I went on:
"Juan, we must tempt the landlord with some of thatlargessewhich the old man who came in the coach seems to have distributed so lavishly--only, he has bestowed it on the Spanish side--ours must begin here. Come, let us go and see what can be done with him."
"But what to do?" the boy said, looking at me with his strange eyes full of intelligence and perhaps anxiety.
"This: there must be some way of traversing the river when there is no town on either side--if the worst came to the worst we could swim it on our horses at night."
"On such a night as this!" exclaimed Juan, shuddering and glancing out through the uncurtained window at the flakes of snow which still fell. "It would be death," he whispered, shuddering again.
"You are easily appalled," I said, speaking coldly to him for the first time since our acquaintance. "Yet, remember, I warned you of what you might expect in such an expedition as this. You would have done better to accept the admiral's offer. A cabin in thePembrokewould have been a lady's withdrawing room in contrast to what we may have to encounter."
"Forgive me. Forgive," he hastened to say pleadingly. "Indeed, indeed, Mervan, I am bold and no coward--but, remember, I am of the tropic south, and 'tis the cold of the river that appalls me--not fear for my life. Like many of our clime, I can sooner face death than discomfort."
"There will be enough facing of both ere we have done--that is, if we ever get farther than here," I said, almost contemptuously.
"So be it," he exclaimed, springing to his feet and evidently bitterly hurt by my tone. Indeed, 'twas very evident he was, since the tears stood in his eyes. "So be it. We face it! Now," and he rapped the table between us as though to emphasise his words, "continue your plans, make your suggestions, bid me swim rivers, cross mountains, plunge into icy streams or burning houses, and see if I flinch or draw back again. Only--only," and his voice sank to its usual soft tones, "do not be angry with me."
That it was impossible to be angry with him long I felt, nor, for some unexplained reason, could I despise him for his evident objection to discomfort--the discomfort which would arise from so trifling a thing--to me, a cuirassier--as swimming one's horse across a river on a winter night. And, as my contempt, such as it was, vanished at once at his plea to me not to be angry with him, I exclaimed:
"At worst it shall be made as light for you as may be, since you are only a boy after all! And if that worst comes," I continued, in a good natured, bantering way, which caused the tears to disappear and the smiles to return, which brought back to my mind a song my good old father used to sing about "Sunshine after Rain"--"if that worst comes, why, I will swim the river with you on my back, and your jennet shall swim by my horse's side. Now, for the landlord!"
We found that unclean personage a-sitting over a fair good fire, which roared cheerfully up a vast open chimney from the stone floor upon which the logs were, with, by his side, a woman who was blind, as we saw very quickly when she turned eyes on us which were naught but white balls with no pupils to them. And, because we at once perceived that there was no power of sight in those dreadful orbs, I made no more to do, but, slipping of my finger into my waistcoat pocket, pulled out two great gold doubloons--worth more than our guineas--and held them up before him. Then I said in French, and speaking low, because I knew not whether that stricken one might understand or not:
"See, this will pay our addition and more. Now listen. You may equally as well have them as theguarda frontéraat Tuy. Will you?"
He nodded, grasping the pieces--I noticed that he kept them from clinking against each other, perhaps because he wanted not his wife to know that he had gotten them--then put each into a different pocket, and said: "She understands not the French. Speak."
"We have no papers. Listen; we are English! We must cross into Spain, Tell us some other road; put us in the way, and--see--to-morrow morning, these are for you also."
And I took forth two more of the golden coins.
He looked at us a moment, then said: "You--hate--Spain?" Again I nodded.
"So all of us here at Valenza," he went on. "A fierce, cruel neighbor, would trample on us because we are weak. Will seize us yet an England helps not. Crush them--and France--the world's plague! Listen!"
Then, as we bent our heads, he went on: "From here there is a bye-road leads to the river bank; it crosses by a wooden bridge into Spain, a league this side of Melagasso. I will put you in the way in the morning. Once over that bridge, there is a road cut from the rock that mounts two hundred paces. There at the summit is theguarda frontéra. Two men are there, an old and a young one. Kill them, and you are through, leaving no trace behind. Afterward, there is no sign of life for three leagues."
"Kill them!" I exclaimed. "Must that be done?"
"Ay--or silence them. But--killing is best. And--and--the cliff is high, the river runs deep beneath. Cast them in, and you are safe."
"They may see us passing the bridge--killusere we can mount the road."
"Do it in the night," the fellow whispered. "In the night, when all is dark. And 'twill be almost nightfall ere you are there. Do it then."
"There is no other way, no other entrance to Spain?"
"None--without papers."
"Good. It is war time! If it must be, it must."
Another night had come--'twas already dark--and Juan and I sat on our horses in the cork wood, at the end of which we could hear the Minho swirling along beneath the ramshackle bridge that divided Portugal from Spain. And, as good fortune would have it, there was on this, the Portuguese side, noguarda frontérawhatever. Perhaps that poor, impoverished land thought there was naught to guard from ingress, also that nothing would be brought from Spain to them. The traffic set all the other way!
Because there was no need for us to be too soon where we were now; indeed, because 'twas not well that we should be here ere nightfall, the landlord had not awakened me until nine in the morning. And then, on his doing so, I perceived that the other sheepskin-clad bed by my side had not been occupied at all. Wherefore I started up in some considerable fright, calling out to him through the door to know where was my friend, the young señor, whom I had left warming himself at the great fire below over night, and saying that he would follow me to bed ere long.
"Oh! he is below," he replied. "Has passed the night in front of the fire wrapped in his cloak, saying that 'twas there alone he could keep himself from death by the cold. He bids me tell you all is well for your journey, the horses fresh; also there is a good meal awaiting you"; whereon I performed my ablutions, hurried on my garments and rapidly made my way to the public room below.
"Juan," I said, "you should have warned me of your intention of remaining below. This is not good campaigning, nor comradeship. Had I awakened in the night and found you missing, I should have descended to seek for you, fearing that danger had come to you, and 'tis not well for travellers to be aroused unnecessarily from their beds on winter nights. Also we should keep always together. Soldiers--and you have to be one now!--on dangerous service should not separate."
"Forgive," he said, as, it seemed, he was always saying to me, and uttering the words in his accustomed soft, pleading voice. "Forgive. But--oh! Mervan!" pausing a moment as though seeking for some excuse for having deserted me for the night--"oh! Mervan! that bed was so--so filthy and untempting. And the room so cold, when without fire. And it was so warm here. I could not force myself to leave this room."
Remembering what he had said about those who came from the tropics dreading cold and discomfort even more than death, I thought I understood how he should have preferred sleeping here to doing so above. Therefore, I merely said:
"There might be worse beds than that you would not use--may be worse for us ere long. Still, no matter. You slept warm here as I did upstairs. Yet 'tis well I did not waken. Now let us see for breakfast and our departure," and giving a glance at the landlord, who was bringing in a sort of thick soup in which I saw many dried raisins floating, also some eggs and coarse black bread, as well as some chocolate which smelt mighty good and diffused a pleasing aroma through the room, I tapped my waistcoat pocket to remind him of the other doubloons that were in it. And he nodded understandingly.
The journey to where we now stood this evening was as uneventful as though we had been traveling in safety in our own England. The road into which the man had put us in the morning led first of all through countless villages--I have since heard that in all Europe there is no land so thickly sown with villages as this poor one of Portugal--then trailed off into a dense chestnut-fringed track that was no longer a road at all.
And now we knew that we were close unto the spot where our first adventure on the journey, that we hoped might at last bring us to Flanders, must of necessity take place. We were but half an hour's ride from the crazy bridge the man had spoken of as connecting his country with Spain--the bridge on the other side of which was the rocky path, with, at the top of it, the hut in which we should find two Spanishguardas frontérasarmed to the teeth and prepared to bar the way to all who could not show their right to pass.
Yet we were resolved to pass--or leave our bodies there.
"There is," the landlord had said, "a holy stone at the spot where the path leading to the bridge enters the cork wood. You cannot mistake it. Upon that stone is graven the Figure, beneath it an arrow pointing the way to Melagasso. Your path lies to the left and thus to the bridge. God keep you."
We left that stone as he had directed, with one swift glance upward at those blessed features--I noticing Juan crossed himself devoutly--slowly over fallen leaves that lay sodden on the earth beneath their mantle of snow, and over dried branches blown to the earth, our horses trod. And so for a quarter of an hour we pursued our way, while still the night came on swifter and swifter until, at last, we could scarce see each other's forms beneath the thick foliage above our heads.
Yet we heard now that swirling, rushing river--heard its murmur as it swept past its banks, and its deep swish as it rolled over what was doubtless some great boulder stone out in the stream--heard, too, its hum as it glided by the supports of the bridge that we knew was before us. Also, we saw above our heads a light gleaming--a light that we knew must come from the frontiermen's house.
And we had to steal up to where that light twinkled brightly, in what was now the clear, frosty air, since the snow had ceased--indeed, had not fallen all day--and all was clear overhead; to steal up, and then, if might be, make our hasty rush past on our horses' backs, or stay to cross steel and exchange ball with those who barred our way.
"Forward to the bridge!" I whispered to Juan, fearing that even from where we were my voice might be borne on the clear night air up to that height. "Loosen, also, your blade in its sheath! And your pistols, too--are they well primed?"
"Yes," he whispered back, his voice soft and low as a woman's when she murmurs acknowledgment of her love. "Yes."
"You do not fear?"
"I fear nothing--we are together," and, as he spoke, I felt the long, slim, gloved hand touch mine.
A moment later we had left the shadow of the wood; we stood above the sloping bank of the river rushing by; another moment and our horses' feet would be upon the wooden bridge--its creaking quite apparent to our ears as the stream swept under it.
"'Tis God's mercy," I whispered again to him, "that the river is so brawling; otherwise the horses' hoofs upon these boards would be heard as plain as a musket's roar. Ha! I had forgotten!"
"Forgotten what, Mervan?" the gentle voice of Juan whispered back. "Forgotten what?"
"If they should neigh! If there should be any of their kind up there!" and as I spoke, as the thought came to me, I felt as though I myself feared.
"Pray God they do not; yet, if they do, it must be borne." And now I noticed his voice was as firm as though he had experienced a hundred such risks as this we were running. Then he added: "The Indians muffle theirs with their serapes when they draw near a foe. Shall we do that?"
"No," I answered, "'tis too late. Let's on. Yet, remember, at the slowest pace. Thus their hoofs will fall lighter." And again I exclaimed: "Thank God, the river drowns their clatter!"
Yet, a moment later, and I had cause for further rejoicing. From above where that light twinkled there came a sound of singing--a rich, full voice a-trolling of a song, with another voice joining in.
Or was there more than one voice joining in? If so, we might have more than the old man and the young one, of whom the landlord had spoken, to encounter. Almost directly Juan confirmed my dread.
"There are half a dozen there," he said, very calmly. "I know enough of music to recognise that. What to do now?"
"To go on," I answered. "See, we are across the bridge--there is the road--in another moment we shall be ascending the path. Praise heaven, we can ride abreast."
And in that other moment we were riding abreast slowly up that path, the snow that lay on it deadening now the sound of the horses' hoofs, while the voices within helped also to silence them.
"I know the song," Juan whispered--and I marvelled at his calmness--his! the youth's who had been so nervous when there was naught to fear, yet who now, when danger was close upon him, seemed to fear nothing--"have sung it myself. 'Tis 'The Cid's Wedding.'"
"'Twill not be songs about weddings that they will be engaged on," I said, "if any come out of that hut during the next ten minutes; but rather screeches of death--from us or them. Have your sword ready, Juan, also your pistols."
"They are ready," he said. "Yet what to do? Suppose any come forth ere we are past the door, over the frontier. Am I to ride straight through them--are we to do so?"
"Ay. Sit well down in your saddle, give your nag his head, and--if any man impedes your way, stand up in your stirrups, cut down straight at him, or, if yours is not a cutting sword, thrust straight at the breast of--Ha!"
My exclamation--still under my breath, since my caution did not desert me--was caused by what now met our eyes, namely, the opening of some door giving on to the road in front of where the frontier cabin stood; the gleaming forth into that road of a stream of light, and then the coming out from the hut and the mingling of some four or five figures of men in the glare.
Now, when this happened, we had progressed up the hillside road two-thirds of the way, so that we were not more than seventy paces, if as much, from where those people were; yet, as I calculated, even at this nearness to them, we might still, if all went well, escape discovery. For we were under the shelter of the shelving rock which reared itself to our left hands, and not out in the middle of the road, which was here somewhat broad; and, therefore, to the darkness of the night was added the still deeper darkness of the rock's obscurity. And, I reflected, 'twas scarce likely any would be coming our way from this party, which was evidently breaking up, since the Portuguese and Spaniards did not, I thought, fraternise very much. 'Twas not very probable any would be returning our way. Consequently, I deemed that we were safe, or almost so; that, soon, some of those in the road would take themselves off, and would leave behind in the hut none but the old man and the young man of whom the landlord had spoken. Nay, more, a glance down the road in the direction of where we were would, in the darkness of the night, reveal nothing of our whereabouts. And I conveyed as much to Juan by a pressure of my hand, yet leaning forward, too, over to his side and whispering:
"All the same, be ready. It may come to a rush. If one of our horses neighs or shakes itself--so much as paws the earth--if a bridle jangles--we are discovered."
And a glance from those bright eyes--I protest, I saw them glisten in the darkness of the starlit night!--told me that he had heard and understood. Told me, also, that he was ready. After that--after those whispered words of mine, that responsive glance of his--we sat as still as statues on our steeds, hardly allowing our breath to issue from our lungs--watching--watching those figures.
God! would they never separate? Would not some depart and the others retire into the cabin and shut the door against the cold wintry night? Offer us the opportunity to make one turn of the wrist on our reins, give one pressure of our knees to the animals' flanks and dash up the remains of the ascent and past the hut ere those within could rush out and send a bullet after us from fusil, gun or musketoon?
At last they gave signs of parting--we heard thebuenas nochesand theadiósissuing from those Spanish throats; we saw two of the men--their forms blurred and magnified in the outstreaming rays of the lamp--clasp each other's hands; we knew that they were saying farewell to one another. And then--curse the buffoon!--and then, when they had even parted and two had turned toward the door to re-enter, and the others had taken their first steps upon the road forward--then, I say, one of these latter turned back, made signs to all the others, and, when he had fixed their attention, began to dance and caper about in the road, imitating for the benefit of his friends, as I supposed, some dance or dancer he had lately seen.
From the lips of my doubtless high-strung companion there came a long-drawn breath; almost I could have sworn I heard the soft murmur of a smothered Spanish oath; and then once more those whom we watched parted from each other--the buffoonery was over, the imitation, if it was such, finished. Again, with laughs and jokes, they broke up and separated.
"Our chance is at hand, at last!" I whispered.
Was it?
The others--those going away--had disappeared round a bend of both rock and road; the two left behind were retiring into their house when, suddenly, the last one stopped, paused a moment, put up his hand to his head as though endeavouring to recall something, then put out his other hand, seemed to grasp a lantern from inside the door, and, slowly, began a moment later to descend the road where we sat our steeds.
And now we were discovered beyond all doubt; in a moment or so he would perceive us; another, and he would challenge us; would shout back to his comrade in the hut--perhaps call loud enough to attract the attention of his departing friends. We should be shot down, our horses probably hamstrung, we brought to earth, prisoners or dead.
"Swords out!" I said to Juan, "and advance. Quick, put your horse to the canter at once; ride past him--over him if need be."
A moment later and we had flashed by the astonished man, the jennet that bore Juan springing up the hill like a cat, my own bony but muscular steed alongside; behind us we heard his roars; an instant after the ping of a bullet whistled by my ears, fired at us by the other one in the hut as we advanced; another moment and he was out in the road, endeavouring to swing a wooden gate, that hung on hinges attached to the cabin, across the road. Also, which was worst of all, we heard answering calls from the men who had gone on ahead--tramplings and shouts--we knew that they were coming back to help.
But we were at the gate now, and still it was not shut, there wanted yet another yard or so ere its catch would meet the socket post, and, shifting my reins into my sword hand, I seized its top bar, endeavouring to bear it back by the combined weight of my horse and myself upon the man striving to shut it.
Then I heard the fellow at the gate call out something of which I understood no word, heard Juan give a reply with--who would have believed it of him at this moment--a mocking laugh; heard the word,Inglese; knew intuitively that he had told them who and what we were, and had defied them.
And also, as I divined all this, I saw that the other men had returned, had reached the gate and were lending their assistance to aid in its being barred against us.
It was war time, as I had said before; I took heart of grace in remembering this, and I set to work to hew my way, even though I killed all who opposed me, toward the distant goal I sought. One brawny Spaniard who, even as he lent his whole weight to the gate, drew forth a huge pistol, I cut down over those bars, he falling all a-heap in the road; another I ran through the shoulder; and I saw the steel of Juan's lighter sword gleam like a streak of lightning betwixt the upper and the second bar; I heard the third man who had come back give a yell of pain as it reached him, while a pistol he had just fired fell to the ground--he falling a moment later on top of it.
And now there was but the original man left at the gate, and still it was not shut! Wherefore I brought the whole strength and power of my body to force it back so that there should be room for us to pass.
Yet, even as I did so, I had to desist, for from behind, I heard Juan shout:
"Mervan, Mervan, help me!" and on looking round I saw that the jennet was riderless. Saw also, that he was down, that the man who had begun to descend the hill was wrestling with him on the ground, and that, as they struggled together, both were rolling over toward the lower part of the precipice or rock side, which hung perpendicularly above the swift flowing river.