In the midst of reviving hope, father Sampayo returned from Rome with the Pope’s order to the Senate of Venice for an immediate and private interview with their prisoner.
A bright sunbeam shone through the window of Sebastian’s chamber, on the face of old Sampayo, as he entered where Sebastian and Kara Aziek sat expecting him; a brighter beam, for it emanated from a comforted heart, was there also.
Sebastian run forward to welcome him;Sampayo whispered a benediction, and dropt a joyful tear over the hand of Kara Aziek, as he feebly grasped it within his. “This is a happy or a sad hour to me, as my Liege shall chuse to make it!” said Sampayo, slowly seating his exhausted frame. “I come back charged with an important mission: the fate of this dear lady, your own fate, honored Sire! the lives and comforts of millions are now in your hands, a single word will destroy or save all.”
Kara Aziek looked on him with an anxiety which suspended her breath and her pulsation: Sebastian already guessed the mission of Sampayo. “Say on!” he cried, with a steady voice, “I am prepared to hear you with attention and singleness of heart.—It is of God and our conscience, that we are about to speak.”
There was something so impressive in the tone of his last words, and so much of truth and dignity on his brow, that father Sampayo’s looks took an impression of stilldeeper interest, and dropping on his knees, the old man raised his hoary head and withered hands towards him, while earnestly repeating.
“Ere I begin my mission, let me, Sire! charge you on my knees, to put from you all obstinate prejudice, all proud presumption—all vain desire of men’s praises for a seeming contempt of temporal things! avow conviction and repentance if they touch your heart, and be content to suffer a short odium from heretics, for the sake of your eternal salvation, and for the worldly prosperity of Portugal. Let the example of the pious Henry of France sustain your courage. I am come to invite you back to the arms of our indulgent father; he empowers me to exhort and to instruct you. If my humble endeavours may avail, he promises to command every catholic Prince to concur in demanding the restitution of Portugal: so must Philip yield up the crown, and your sceptre pass into your royal hand in peace.No sword will be drawn, no blood shed, no families divided by civil dispute, no fortunes ruined. Europe will behold the long-exiled Sebastian calmly retake his seat amongst her monarchs, and universal gladness will follow.”
Sampayo stopt, and Sebastian raised him kindly from the ground; but the lofty smile with which he did so, answered the fearful inquiry of Kara Aziek’s eyes: that smile spoke to her of a heavenly crown, not a temporal one, and half-raised, half-sunk her trembling spirit. She seated herself near her husband, while he placed himself in an attitude of attention, requesting the venerable priest to continue his discourse.
All that zeal, and affection, and ability, can inspire in support of a weak cause, was urged by father Sampayo: sincerely professing the doctrines of Rome, he understood and explained them better than any other man, but his explanations were unsatisfactory, his reasonings barred bymysteries; he talked eloquently, but he talked in vain, for he convinced not his hearers.
After frequent pauses, and as frequent renewals of the important theme, his powers were exhausted, and he awaited the reply of Sebastian. The latter gave him a long look, full of gratitude and esteem, and pressing the hand of Kara Aziek as it rested trembling on his, he thus addressed him.
“It is not my aim to change or to disturb the opinions of one who stands on the brink of time, and whose holy life, and sincerity, though in error, may redeem his creed: I have but to assure you father, on the solemn word of an accountable man, that my heart has not yet been shaken, nor my understanding momentarily enlightened by a single argument adduced in support of papal Christianity. I feel and I believe that the reformed religion of Luther approaches much nearer to the pure doctrines of our blessed Redeemer, and as such I will profess it unto death.
“If the recovery of my rights is to depend upon my abjuration of my principles, I may say at once, “My kingdom is not of this world.” Father! I fear not the censure of men, I court not their applause; but the voice of God and of my conscience resounds from the depths of this heart, warning me not to betray my everlasting soul for a perishable honour.”
He now turned his softened eyes upon his wife, and went on. “I presume not to read the decrees of Providence; whatever be the cup presented me by the divine hand, shall we not drink it my Aziek? aye, drink it together!—Does not thy virtuous spirit make the same covenant with that of him who has known no joy on earth without thee, and almost fears there would be none for him in heaven if he had not thee to share it.”
Aziek replied in whispered sighs upon her bosom, where she threw herself, oppressed to agony: she exulted in the magnanimity of her Sebastian; she shared his ardours, but she foresaw the price that must be paid for the immortal crown he preferred to that of earth, and some human weakness enfeebled without subduing her.
Sebastian knew her thoughts, and prized her heroism the more, from seeing the tenderness with which it had to struggle. Father Sampayo was plunged in sorrow; his arguments were now succeeded by lamentations and entreaties; he wept, he prayed, but his tears only served to make Sebastian regret without altering his resolution.
Day passed unheeded in this painful contest, till at length the confessor was obliged to quit the prison. “This hope then is over,” he said, preparing to withdraw, “your obstinacy, sire, is to be the signal for our great superior’s pronouncing you once more an impostor, and excommunicating all who appear in yourdefence. He persists in declaring that the true Don Sebastian was the elect of God, and could not fall into such accursed heresy. I have now no further hopes; all rests on the good offices of your protestant allies. May the blessed virgin and the saints intercede for your darkened soul! may a miracle restore you! perhaps these aged eyes will never more behold you till we wake together in—another world.”—The good man’s voice faltered as he uttered the last words, for he dared not say in Paradise, since he addressed a heretic.
Sebastian bent his knee to receive his benediction, and Kara Aziek partook in the affecting farewel. Sampayo embraced and blessed them together, then hastened out of the apartment.
The past scene would have dwelt long on their hearts, had not the father, as he departed, drawn a packet from his vest, and put it into the hand of Aziek; the writing was unknown to her, but openingit, she glanced over these words: “A confidential servant of the Duchess Medina Sidonia has ventured to entrust the enclosed to father Sampayo; he has been long in Venice anxiously seeking some safe method of transmitting it according to his instructions.”
Every shew of composure and self-command vanished at this moment from the countenances of Kara Aziek and Sebastian; they tore open the letter, they ran over it together with swelling hearts and frequent exclamations of joy; its contents were indeed balm to their tortured minds.
The Duchess wrote to assure them of her inviolable fidelity to the secret of their daughter’s birth, and to promise her continued protection to the amiable girl through any change of fortune; she told them that Blanche’s real parents had never yet been guessed at even by Paula, the wife of Gaspar, for whose infant son the Duke of Braganza had sent into Sicily,proclaiming his intention of repaying to the child the timely service of his father.
Renewed vows of friendship, repeated exhortations to hope and patience, and trust in Providence, concluded the letter of the Duchess; that of Blanche, though filled with expressions of filial sorrow and love, happily convinced her parents that she knew not the worst of their destiny, but was encouraged to hope beyond probability or present prospect.
Sweet were the tears that now stole down the cheeks of these illustrious sufferers! they beheld the writing of their child, they believed her out of the reach of their misfortunes, and their misfortunes ceased to afflict or to affright them.
The consolation afforded by this unforeseen blessing, together with the inward satisfaction of having sacrificed interest to principle, spread a cheering light through their hitherto dreary prison, they were comforted and revived; and patient in joy as in sorrow, they cheerfully resigned themselves to await the good time of heaven.
While all within the prison was peace, all without was confusion and indecision; every day messages and noble persons arrived from different states, to know the fate of the extraordinary man whom the Portuguese called their King. The friends of Sebastian zealously disseminated their belief of his identity; the partizans of Philip and of Rome as hotly proclaimed his falsehood. Venice herself knew not how to act; she began to tremble for the consequences of her rash union with Spain, and to listen with troubled attention to the remonstrances of France, England, and the States-General. The city was now crowded with foreigners of various ranks and ages, daily besieging the Senate with alternate reproach and solicitation.
In the midst of this tumult, Don Christopher of Crato, arrived from the court of London with a threatening letter from the English Queen. She demanded apublic trial of the pretended impostor, menacing Venice and Spain with immediate destruction if they refused compliance. The terror of a British fleet decided the irresolution of the Venetians, and summoning a full senate, they consented to hear their royal prisoner.
It was in vain that the Portuguese lords prayed permission to be present at this examination, in order to compare him with their own recollection of the unfortunate Sebastian. The Seigniory alleged that the Portuguese were all too desirous of believing the impostor to give an impartial testimony, and that by questioning him on the events of his life, they were more certain to detect him in contradictions.
Venice yet feared and hoped much from Philip, whose ambassador alternately threatened and caressed her; and armed with assertions which Morosini’s communications enabled him to fulminate, he now made one of the assembly, proudlypronouncing himself the umpire, since he had frequently seen the real Don Sebastian in his palace of Ribera.
It was midnight, and cold December, when Valdorno came to conduct Sebastian into the presence of the senators: Sebastian wished never more to lose sight of Kara Aziek, and with an air of high authority that would not be denied, he persisted in making her his companion.
A solemn expectancy sat on the faces of the numerous senators who with the Doge, habited in their most imposing habits, formed a semi-circle in the grand hall of the senate-house. One massy branch of lights threw a sullen gleam over the more sullen crowd: no sound was heard amongst them, as the great doors were opened, and Don Sebastian appeared, advancing between Kara Aziek and Signor Valdorno. He paused when he had passed the threshold, and cast an undaunted look around the hall.
The King of Portugal was now at thatperiod of life, when manly beauty assumes a character of majesty, and awes rather than wins: the bright colours of youth were no longer on his cheek, nor its luxuriant fulness on his limbs, but his countenance was splendid still, for the fire of his eyes was unextinguished. He looked
“Not lessThan archangel ruined.”
“Not lessThan archangel ruined.”
“Not lessThan archangel ruined.”
By his side stood the gentle Aziek, with loveliness faded, not obliterated; graces so lightly touched by the hand of time, and so interestingly mixed with looks of unresisting sweetness, that she appeared born to contrast the severe dignity of Sebastian. But there was a modest nobleness in her air that seemed as if love had copied the object beloved, and made her worthy of it.
At the first sight of these august sufferers, murmurs of shame and admiration ran through the assembly. Sebastian advanced to the Castilian ambassador, whom his eagle glance had singled out, andstopping before him, said in a high voice, “Here is one that should know me. Sir! whom say you I am?”
The Spaniard who had half-discredited, half-believed the existence of Don Sebastian, now amazed into perfect conviction, turned pale, and the acknowledgment was bursting from his lips, when recollecting himself, he turned aside, and said coldly, “I know you not.”
“We have sent for you, Stranger!” interrupted the Doge, as he saw Sebastian hastening to speak, “not to question others, but to answer for yourself, we are met here, without prejudice or partiality, to decide between you and the most Christian King Philip III. of Spain, Portugal, and the Indies. I charge you answer truly to the questions that shall be put to you.”
“As an honest man desirous to have his truth apparent to all the world, I am ready to answer you,” replied Sebastian, “I will forget awhile that I am a King—aye Lords! a King: (he added, seeing them look strangely at each other,) there are some amongst you that know I am so. Woe unto them, sons of Judas! have they not betrayed me with the kiss of friendship?”
Signor Morosini drew back at this expression, and averted his head; the Doge proceeded to speak.
“How comes it, that you have thus long suffered the kingdom of Portugal to be enjoyed by the sovereigns of Spain, if confident that you were its lawful possessor?”
“Because I had not any direct promise of support from other Princes, and abhorred the thought of plunging my people into war.”
“Where have you passed the long period of twenty years which has elapsed since the battle of Alcazar? and how comes it that you are the husband of a Moorish woman?”
“Part of that period has been spent inBarbary, part in Persia, the remainder in Brazil. You ask me how it comes that I am the husband of a Moorish woman, I answer, because I loved her, I owed her eternal gratitude, and she deserved both sentiments.”
“What say you to the well-known fact of Don Sebastian’s body having been found in a suit of green armour on the field of Alcazar?”
“I reply, that it was the body of some other person. Near the cave of Abensallah, a Moorish hermit, who dwelt among the mountains of Benzeroel, my armour will be found buried under a plane tree; the royal insignia are on it; since Spain and Morocco are at peace, I challenge you to have it sought for.”
“How comes it, that having passed this long period, first in Mahometan countries, and lastly in a Catholic one, that you should profess doctrines known only to a few miserable European states?”
“I was instructed in them by the Moorishproselyte of an English slave; I heard, and examined, and believed.”
“Enough!” exclaimed the Doge, “now hear what you are said to be. A Calabrian impostor: we have inquired, and heard of a strange person bearing the name of Marco Tullo Cattizone, who abode some time at Messina, and him thou art. This woman is—I know not what;—thy lawful wife is the servant of the Duchess Medina Sidonia, and is now in this city ready to swear to thee as her husband.”
“Peace!” exclaimed Sebastian, with a voice of thunder, and throwing his arm round Kara Aziek with a look of protection. At that moment his eye caught Morosini’s, and the tide of resentment turned: it was evident that he was the informer, since after their first meeting, Sebastian had directed Giuseppe to address his letters to Cattizone at Messina, and doubtless having supposed that he bore that name, they had confounded him with Gaspar, and discovering his wife, whoconcluding him to be her husband, without intending to abet falsehood, was beguiled into doing so.
Sebastian briefly stated these circumstances, adding, “of his evidence I am deprived by the most cruel misfortune; my faithful follower is no more; but his dying words attest my truth, and the noble Braganza is prepared to repeat them. Let this woman you speak of, be brought hither; she will quickly acknowledge that I am not her husband. If I am a Calabrian, bring forward those who know my birth and lineage.—You have state papers signed by Don Sebastian’s name, compare these signatures with my hand writing now. Question me on the secret articles of our various negociations; if you find me falter in my answers, then brand me with imposture. Let my person be compared with the description of Don Sebastian’s: shew me to my Portuguese, they will know the voice and the features of their King, though time and sorrowhave marked me with their heaviest print: if my own people deny me, then let disgrace and death light on me and mine.”
Sebastian concluded, and seeing that his last words had taken the colour from Kara Aziek’s cheek, he gave her such a smile as might in calmer times have transported her to fall upon his neck in an ecstacy of delight: but now, it redoubled her anguish, by heightening her love, and she remained wildly gazing on the men who had the fate of her husband in their hands.
A sharp debate ensued amongst the Venetians. Some, moved by the interesting softness of Kara Aziek, were forward to espouse the cause of her husband, insisting on the equity of complying with his demands. Some, awed into admiration of Sebastian, feared to maintain the assertion of his imposture, but excused their conduct on the plea of his apostacy: others, denounced him in the same breath as an impostor, an apostate, a magician,calling for his instant delivery into the hands of Rome, or of the Inquisition. All questioned him with perplexing varieties of inquiries, which he compelled himself to satisfy.
The Castillian grew clamorous; and at each convincing explanation, called out, “He is an impious sorcerer!”
But the senate, though far from unanimously believing this superstitious assertion of their ally’s envoy, were too much afraid of papal power, and of protestant indignation, to take a decisive part on either side: they deemed it best to steer the middle course, and getting rid of Sebastian without providing for his protection, leave him to his fate in the midst of Philip’s adherents.
They commanded their prisoner to withdraw, and leave them to deliberate on the nature of the decision they were about to pronounce. Sebastian retired with Kara Aziek.
In a vacant anti-chamber, attended only by Signor Valdorno, whom respectful pity kept silent, they sat awaiting the moment of their recal. The tumult of sharp debate still reached them from the senate hall: at each noisy burst, the blood retreated yet further into the heart of Kara Aziek; her lips, her cheeks, her very eyes were pale: violent tremblings alone gave to her death-like figure any semblance of life. She sat with one hand closely grasping that of Sebastian, who continued in low and tender tones to chide such apprehension.
He felt the King in his breast, and he could not conceive the possibility of being doomed to leave the world denied and reviled.
At length a person appeared at the door, Sebastian arose, but Kara Aziek hung on his arm unable to raise her sinking frame. That moment was come in which their fate was to be pronounced!Scarcely could Valdorno support her on his stronger arm, as they followed Sebastian into the council room.
The Doge was standing.—“Stranger!” he said, “he to whom you applied for acknowledgment of your bold pretensions, the ambassador of our noble ally, Philip of Spain, solemnly assures us, that your features are unknown to him: we may not therefore, examine you further: to do so, would be to insult the honour of a great sovereign, in the person of his representative. We leave you at liberty to seek other investigation: and as we acknowledge no other King of Portugal, besides Philip III. of Spain, we command him who usurps that title, to depart this city within three days, on pain of perpetual imprisonment.”
The Doge reseated himself, and with a shriek of joy, Kara Aziek fell lifeless at the feet of her husband. Signor Valdorno hastened to raise her in his arms: Sebastian cast on her a look of sadtenderness, but attempted not to remove her from Valdorno. He turned to the assembly, and viewing them with an undaunted and indignant air, that struck conviction of his royal dignity to every soul, he said aloud, “Once more I tell you, I am Sebastian King of Portugal. I go, with God’s help, to prove this assertion on the war-fields of my country, since thus he wills it.”
He vouchsafed no glance to Morosini, but passing his arm round Kara Aziek, with Valdorno’s aid, carried her forth. A gondola was provided for their conveyance to the lodgings of Don Juan De Castro: Kara Aziek recovered her senses at the movement of the boat, and then so many powerful emotions (joy relapsing into fear, gratitude suddenly checked by remembrance of former evils, love for her husband, and indignation at his false friends) shook her frame, that she evidently trembled on the verge of death and madness.
Sebastian succeeded in beseeching her to let this agitation subside, ere she mixed in a scene likely to increase it still more; it was long past midnight, and as they entered De Castro’s house, he resigned her into the care of a female domestic, whom they encountered in the hall, desiring her to conduct the exhausted lady to a place where she might take rest.
Having disposed of her who demanded all his care, Sebastian preceded the courteous Valdorno into a saloon filled with a numerous concourse of friends and strangers, and glaringly lighted. He advanced with his usual kingly port into the centre of them, and stopped there without speaking: Don Juan De Castro fell back amazed at the figure he saw before him.
De Castro retained the vivid image of a young and smiling warrior, gallantly attired, bright with health, and happiness, and conscious power; he now saw a man in the autumn of life, negligently habited, darkened by foreign suns, wasted with many cares, dimmed by long experience of this world’s uncertainty and emptiness. He scarcely knew how to trust his sight: but as Sebastian, observing his trouble, and conjecturing its cause, mournfully smiled, Juan precipitated himself at his feet, exclaiming, “My King, my King!”
That well-remembered smile was decisive: at the same instant, several other persons cast themselves on the ground, proclaiming the person they beheld, to be their King.
Eyes, that had never wept before, now flowed in sympathy with the Portuguese and their persecuted sovereign: Sebastian’s full heart overflowed at every side; and calling each friend by their name, he turned from one to the other, alternately embracing and raising them to his bosom.
When they were standing around him, he cast a look over the circle, and seeing them variously habited, most of themin disguises, which were assumed for the purpose of dispatch on their different missions, some in the fashion of France, some in that of England, some in that of Holland, others as pilgrims, a few as mendicants; he smiled pensively again, and said with a heavy sigh, “So many sorts!”—
The sad grace with which he spoke, once more touched every heart, and renewing their exclamations, the Portuguese crowded about him to kiss his hands and his garments.
Amongst this groupe he distinguished the Fathers Texere and Sampayo, De Brito, who had last seen him on the field of Alcazar, when they fought together in defence of the royal standard, Mascaranhas, his favorite attendant, and a tall fair young man, whose countenance was peculiar from its expression.
Sebastian fixed his eyes on this last, with extreme earnestness; the colour fluctuated on the young man’s cheek;“Is it not a kinsman I behold in you, young sir!” he said kindly, “Don Christopher of Crato, I think.”
Don Christopher answered by a painful blush; Sebastian resumed, and his heart yearned towards him as he spoke, “You resemble your father in complexion; God grant you grace to resemble your grandfather in deeds!”
“The infant Don Louis is the only parent I wish to remember,” replied Don Christopher, dropping his eyes, while a deeper dye covered his face.
Sebastian’s eyes were still rivetted on him; for now he recalled that dreadful hour, when he had seen this young man a child in the cradle at Xabregas, and remembered anguish seized him with a transient pang. “Where is his father!” he whispered to Don Juan. “He is dead, my liege, at Florence.” Sebastian gave a sigh to their former attachment, then turning with animation to those around, said—
“Which of you will compare this wreck of Sebastian, with what the proud vessel was, in her day of brave appointment? Care may have furrowed this once smooth brow, but nothing could obliterate these well known marks.” As he spoke, he lifted aside his hair, and shewed a deep scar above the right eyebrow, which had been caused in his earliest youth, by an accident in hunting.
“Here De Brito! is the memorial of a wound you saw me receive, on the most fatal of days,” and bending his head, he displayed another large cut above the forehead itself. “This body is flesh, not iron, on which a man may grave what he pleases, yet these marks are accidental; what I am about to shew, were imprinted on me by the hand of nature.”
He now pushed down his cloak, and baring one shoulder, discovered on the exceedingly white skin, a singular mole resembling a dark seal or coin: at the same time he extricated his left foot fromits sandal, and shewed another curious mark, well remembered by all his familiar associates.
At these convincing evidences, those who secretly wavered between doubt and belief, uttered a cry of gladness, and again the tumultuous murmurs of joy and sorrow (for how could such recognition be made otherwise?) ran through the crowd.
While the King was answering the many questions which followed this complete conviction, and thanking the surrounding strangers for their generous sympathy, Father Texere came forward, leading in his hand a monk in the vigour of life, tall and commanding, on whose acute brow were stamped energy and ability: “Sire!” he said, “suffer me to claim your notice for this excellent person, who of all men present, has sacrificed the most for your sake: it is now some months since he added his powerful support to our party.”
“What is he, good Texere? to whom stand I indebted for the zeal you will find me warm to acknowledge?”
“To Father Chrysostom, the most distinguished follower of our holy Faith. He lately filled the office of almoner and confessor to the Viceroy of Portugal, but struck by the recital of your story by Caspar Ribeiro, and indignant at that atrocious act which brought Ribeiro to the grave, he abandoned his high situation, resigned the revenues and honours granted him by the Marquis Castel Rodrigo, and having travelled through these countries at the peril of his life, boldly declaring your existence wherever he went, and rousing the people to demand their King, he has reached Venice, and become the most zealous for your Majesty’s enlargement.
“On his eloquence we depend for reconciling his holiness to your espousal of the new doctrines. Father Chrysostom isunimpeachable in his own profession, and what he sanctions, no devout catholic may venture to question. Sampayo and myself fail of surmounting the religious prejudice which opposes you, Sire! for they accuse me of being a Lutheran in my heart, and Sampayo of being too little careful for the salvation of others.
“Deign then to accept the services of Father Chrysostom, and to admit him into the number of your chosen servants.”
Sebastian extended his hand towards the lofty-looking Chrysostom, who received it with respect, and the calm aspect of a man that is actuated rather by reflection and principle, than by any enthusiastic impulse. His thoughtful looks, his temperate words, his unimpassioned manner, when connected with the knowledge of his ardent actions, made Sebastian muse on the contrast between this sacrificing friend and the selfish Morosini.
How different, thought he, look truthand falsehood; or rather, how different does a steady and an unstable character express the same feelings!
When Sebastian had urged many inquiries to Chrysostom respecting the Braganza family, and the situation of Portugal, some of the Portuguese would have learned from him the particulars of his own exile, but sadness shaded his countenance, and praying them to forbear awhile, since the relation of his adventures must painfully revive the memory of early error, he proceeded to learn the state of his affairs at foreign courts, fixing on fit operations for the future.
The unsettled posture of Holland forbade him to seek that asylum there, which he purposed seeking somewhere; (an asylum was necessary to rest in till Portugal should proclaim him, and his allies fulfil their engagements of furnishing him with men and money.) England was beginning to dread a change, for Essex wasfallen into disgrace, Elizabeth, grown so capricious with age and jealousy, that she changed her humour every hour, and no longer listened to the solicitations for Don Sebastian, since her favourite was not nigh to urge them. France was the only country that opened her arms to the fugitive.
The King, deeply interested in depressing the house of Austria, and convinced of Sebastian’s identity, from the representations of others, had empowered Don Christopher to offer the persecuted monarch an honourable asylum. It was to his court that Sebastian resolved to direct his steps: while he hastened thither to join the army which Henry offered to raise, [if swelled by succours from any other Prince;] Sampayo and his companions were to return into Portugal, and proclaim their sovereign; Braganza was to seize on the national fleet and the treasury: two acts less difficult than they appeared, owing to the devotion of thesailors to Don Sebastian’s memory, and the extreme weakness of the Spanish garrisons.
Sebastian reckoned not on Castillian assistance; he did not even permit himself to name his friends of Medina Sidonia; for he justly concluded, that although he might trust implicitly where his own safety alone was implicated, he should rigidly abstain from all imprudence when it might endanger another.
He found that the Duke of Medina Sidonia had been suspected of having favoured his cause, and had been strictly sifted by the minister of Philip; but as no proof appeared of his knowing the stranger in any other character than that of a Portuguese from Brazil, to whom his wife had shewn attention out of regard to her brother’s memory, he was dismissed with nothing more than a severe warning.
Upon this information Sebastian remarked in such terms that no one present guessed him at all in correspondence withMedina; and restraining his anxiety to learn, if possible, whether his daughter had been alarmingly noticed, he returned to the subject of his departure from Venice. No doubts could be entertained of the republic’s willingness to further in secret, Philip’s aim of getting his rival into his power, and this conviction rendered extreme precaution indispensible. By the influence of Philip’s ambassadors, all the passages into France and Germany were closed against them; wherever Sebastian went openly, he must expect to be seized as a subject of Spain, being pronounced a Calabrian. (Calabria now forming part of its Italian possessions.) Father Chrysostom therefore proposed that their numerous party should separate, and by different parcels, and different ways, seek their different places of destination. He offered to risk himself through Italy, with Don Sebastian alone, provided he would assume the disguise of a monk, and travel under that character to a freeport, where they might embark for France.
This advice, after some consideration, met with general concurrence; it was agreed that the King, with Aziek and their prudent guide, should pass first to Chiozzi; from thence through Ferrara to Florence, so to Leghorn, and finally take ship for Marseilles. Such of his Portuguese as chose to join him on his route might rendezvous at Florence, where they were not likely to be known or stayed, and they might then proceed all together to Marseilles.
Upon this arrangement the consultation ended, and leaving their well-beloved monarch to the care of Juan De Castro and of Don Christopher; the several Portuguese repaired to their respective lodgings, wishing the morning soon to appear, since they were permitted to return at noon, in order to be introduced to their Queen.
The next day re-assembled the friends of Sebastian. Kara Aziek entered theapartment where they met, with extreme emotion, so much had she to look back upon with horror, so much to look forward to with anxiety! yet gratitude and joy were in her bosom, and on her countenance.
She presented herself to the Portuguese with a timid grace, (as if beseeching them to love her for their sovereign’s sake) her gentle demeanor won all their hearts, and when the separate nobles repeated their oaths of fidelity to Sebastian, thanks, mixed with tears and smiles, heightened the interest excited by her beauty.
Juan De Castro had undertaken the task of conveying letters to his cousin Medina Sidonia, and to Blanche; this prospect gladdened the mother’s spirit, and she now entered into discourse of their momentous departure with cheerful courage.
The assembly separated before dusk, and at night-fall, attired as pilgrims, with Father Chrysostom in his monk’s habit,Kara Aziek and Sebastian took their eventful departure from Venice.
The speed with which they journeyed induced them to hope that they should reach Florence (where Don Christopher and De Castro were gone to await them) ere suspicion of their route could arise. The Venetians concluded that Sebastian’s escape would, if possible be made to England, and of course the Castillian ambassador’s search after him would be directed to the shores of the Adriatic; this idea was what determined Chrysostom to take the route of Tuscany.
Daywas just breaking when the travellers reached the gates of Florence.
“We are now safe!” exclaimed Father Chrysostom, “here ends our toil.”
“Not absolutely,” replied Sebastian, looking gladly around him, “till I rest these weary limbs in Portugal, my fatigues cannot be said to cease.”
“But we are almost safe,” whispered Aziek, “beyond the Venetian territory we may breathe and dismiss apprehension.”
Chrysostom turned on her as she spoke, and his dark grey eyes assumed an expression that made her recoil; ere she recovered from the strange alarm they struck into her, he had seized a hand of each,and bringing them through the gates which were just opening, stopped before a party of military.
“Here ends our toil!” he repeated, in an altered, triumphant, and ferocious tone, “Soldiers sieze this Calabrian! my duty is done!”
Sebastian was instantly surrounded by a band of armed men, who drawing their swords at the same moment with a horrid noise, which drew forth a shriek from Kara Aziek, flashed them before him with menacing attitudes.
Sebastian stood root-bound in their circle, his eyes fixed with amazement on the perfidious Chrysostom: stunned by so atrocious a perfidy, his faculties were for awhile overpowered: at length bursting into such a tempest of rage as had been long unknown to him, he called out, “Traitor! fear you not that heaven’s bolt will fall and strike you?”
“Bridle this madness, impostor or apostate!” (whichever name you affectmost) replied the stern friar, “I fear no bolts; I look rather for the mantle of Elisha! Chrysostom might indeed have dreaded divine judgment, had he acted with the inconsistency of his reprobate brethren. Your damnable creed is my abhorrence: whoever you are, for that creed I would burn you at the stake, did I rule in Spain. My stratagem has succeeded; I have secured to myself the gratitude of the whole church; and may every pernicious heretic thus run into the snare of destruction!”
“And may every—— but no, I will not curse,” exclaimed Sebastian, interrupting his own fierce transport. “God will avenge.”
“Thy ways are hard to understand, O Father all-powerful! teach me to adore and to submit.”
His head fell on his breast at the last words, and he remained so awefully wrapt in meditation that he saw not Kara Aziek fall at the feet of Chrysostom, and wildlyembrace his knees. Her supplicating voice first awakened him: he recovered himself with a smile almost divine, and tenderly raising her, said calmly, “kneel not there, my beloved! forget not that we are in the hands of God as well as man; ifhecommands to spare, who shall destroy?”
Aziek answered but with low and grievous groans, while she continued to hang upon him; and he, motioning for the soldiers to take him where they would, prepared to follow them.
More confounded by this majestic acquiescence, than by the fiercest violence, Chrysostom stood with a troubled look: “Is this hypocrisy! or what is it?” he exclaimed.
“It is Christian submission,” returned Sebastian, not deigning to turn his eyes on him. The friar made an effort to resume himself: “Rather say, coward consciousness of base desert! cease to profanethe name of our Redeemer, by uniting it with the accursed doctrines you profess: your miserable imposture is over: you also, madam, may queen it no longer, or if you will still appeal to some tribunal, prepare yourselves for answering at the great judgment-seat of Heaven.”
Chrysostom’s withering eyes were levelled at both his victims; he stood with his arm extended in the attitude of denunciation, and every lineament of his gigantic figure seemed to grow in power and malignity. Kara Aziek shuddered, turned deathly pale, and closing her eyes, suffered her head to fall back upon the shoulder of her Lord.
Sebastian earnestly gazed on the man before him: “Of what stuff art thou formed?” he said, “art thou man, or devil? is it avarice, or ambition, or hellish bigotry, that has prompted thee to a deed like this? O! blind to the merciful and faithful character of him thou professest to follow! thinkest thou that he will reward thee for perjury and lies? study his doctrines better.”
“Away with him!” cried Chrysostom, “the revilings of reprobate souls, are the testimonies of the saints—my glory is his opprobrium.”
The soldiers now hurried their prisoner forward, who (suffered to hold her in his arms from whom he trusted nothing but death would hereafter divide him) still retained a gleam of comfort to illuminate future days of darkest misery.
The loathsomeness of the dungeon into which they were thrust, was a melancholy earnest of their intended treatment: but Sebastian complained not; and all devoted to the hard task of detaining the flitting soul of his Aziek, in its feeble tenement, he passed a weary day without learning to what fate he was doomed.
His thoughts were less employed upon personal sufferings, than with amazedconsideration of the black treachery of him whom the Portuguese had so incautiously trusted; and many were the censures he passed on them for their credulity.
But in truth Sebastian blamed them unjustly: hypocrisy is the only evil that walks unseen “by man and angels;” and father Chrysostom was a hypocrite even to himself: he could cajole and cheat his own soul.
While his thoughts were in reality fixed upon earthly distinctions, he believed they were solely turned towards heavenly ones. He fasted, he prayed, he mortified his affections and his senses; he distributed alms, he visited sufferers, he arrayed his body in “sackcloth and ashes,” and he persuaded himself that he did all this from love and zeal for our divine master. But it was the praise of men he coveted, rather than the approbation of conscience; and having early fixed his eyes on thetriple crown, he placed not his foot except where the step promised to lead towards that envied object.
His advancement had been gradual and sure: now it was likely to prove more rapid. In his quality of confessor to the Portuguese viceroy, he speedily heard of Sebastian’s re-appearance, and of the alarm which the success of his various agents spread through the Spanish court. Rodrigo acknowledged that it was Philip’s earnest wish to have the pretender at his mercy; and upon this acknowledgment Chrysostom suddenly conceived the bold plan of affecting zeal for the Portuguese monarch, insinuating himself into his confidence, learning who were his secret abettors, and in case the Venetians should not deliver him up to Spain, deceive him into her power by the means described.
His affected renunciation of places and profits, together with a shew of hot persecution from the Spanish and papal court,warranted the friends of Sebastian in their fatal dependance on his superior talents: he obtained his victim; and secure of the Duke of Tuscany’s concurrence, apprized him of the day and hour at which they should enter the gates of Florence.
Juan De Castro, and Don Christopher, who were already in the city, no sooner heard of their King’s second detention, than aware of the danger which menaced themselves, and conscious that by the captivity or death of his friends, Sebastian’s situation would only be rendered more hopeless, they fled hastily, severally betaking themselves to France and England with entreaties for effectual aid from both those powers.
Meanwhile Sebastian was reconveyed, with the faithful partner of his afflictions, from the Florentine prison, to the nearest sea-port, where being embarked in a Spanish ship of war, and closely kept from the sight of the crew, they set sail for Naples.
Sebastian rarely condescended to question the only person who was allowed to attend him, for the man was cold and savage, and seemed prepared to reply with insults; but on launching again upon that ocean which he had so often traversed under such variety of fortune, he one day broke silence, and asked whither they were going to take him. “To the prison Del Ovo, for life,”—was all the answer of his attendant, as he shut and bolted the cabin door.
Sebastian and Kara Aziek turned their eyes on each other: they needed not speech to understand what was passing in each others hearts: their daughter’s fate alone occupied every feeling.
“Ah, if I could be assured that her innocent life would be spared, her days pass in peace,” exclaimed Kara Aziek, “my soul would find rest: I could bound my little remnant of happiness with the walls of my Sebastian’s prison, or I could die with thee, my husband—die gladly.” Shebent her face on his neck to hide her gushing tears, as she thought of their perishing together.
Sebastian regarded her tenderly: “I do believe it, my Aziek! cherish this angel resignation; and since it seems Heaven’s will, that the sins and the errors of thy husband should descend upon thy guiltless head, O let me hope, that with so grievous an addition to my burthen as that conviction, Heaven will be satisfied, and spare me the pang of having caused my child’s wretchedness.”
To combat this painful and incessant throe of self-condemnation, Kara Aziek now roused up her fortitude with her love, and while she exhorted him to remember that human sufferings are much more frequently promised to the favorites of God, as trials and perfecters, than as penalties and punishments, her own spirit was elevated and comforted, and she suddenly appeared endowed with supernatural strength.
Resigned to bear, because humble and confiding, no voice of lamentation was heard from the chamber of Sebastian and Kara Aziek. Their dignified stillness, with their gentle and unresisting looks, sometimes moved even the rough fellow who supplied them with food to murmur as he left them, “I shall be sorry to hear that they come to harm.”
Sebastian could take no other advantage of this compassion, than that of winning from his attendant the name of the Neapolitan Viceroy. He learnt with pleasure that it was the Count of Lemos, a very old and worthy Spaniard, who had been nobly entertained at the Portuguese court by Don Sebastian, and had more than once bravely hazarded advice to him on important subjects, when his own courtiers shrunk from the delicate task.
From a nobleman of this character, both Sebastian and Kara Aziek now ventured to hope for at least an amelioration of their destiny; and with something like satisfaction beheld their vessel cast anchor in the bay of Naples. They were speedily conveyed to the castle Del Ovo, a dark and fearful fortress, now become a prison for criminals. At sight of the narrow dungeon, without any other furniture than straw, Kara Aziek’s looks betrayed the sudden horror with which she was seized, “Is it here we are to linger out our lives?” she exclaimed, sorrowfully.
“I have no instructions to confine you,” observed the man who had conducted them, “indeed I never heard of any other prisoner than this gentleman, so you must be content to abide somewhere else.”
He attempted to take her hand to lead her out, but Kara Aziek sprang back, and Sebastian advanced to deprecate the heaviest of their misfortunes. The man urged his orders to confine the pretended Calabrian in a solitary dungeon; Kara Aziek still resisted, she clung to her husband, wildly exclaiming:
“Kill me—kill me—tear this poor frame to atoms—still will I remain here.—Surely no force can take me away, if I am resolved to die beside him.”
Wrung to torture by her frenzy, Sebastian earnestly sued for permission to detain her. The man’s inclinations were in favour of compliance, but his life might have been risked by yielding, and promising to urge their suit in the morning to the Viceroy’s secretary, he reluctantly repeated his orders.
The arguments and soothings of Sebastian, rather than the explanation and peremptory behests of the gaoler, allayed the ravings of Kara Aziek; suddenly she grew calm, started from the ground, and as if alarmed lest her obstinacy might endanger her husband’s safety, she cried out, “Now, now I am ready to go!”—a convulsive embrace was exchanged between her and Sebastian, and the next moment the door of the dungeon closed and divided them.
“No further!” said she, in a low hurried voice, as the man would have led her from the spot, “Here is my bed this night—every night—here will I live till he is restored to me again—force me not from this sad lodging, if you have love or pity in your heart—I cannot get back to him—I may but hear his steps and his sighs, and know that he is near me.—Alas! is that too much of consolation?”
The bitter tears which flowed down her cheeks, and the sorrowful wringing of her hands, presented so moving a picture, that the Neapolitan said kindly, “Well, stay here then, I will surely get you admitted in the morning—what shall I bring you to sleep on?”
“O no sleep—no sleep”—she replied, with joyful wildness, “I will wake to bless you and to pray for him.” She lightly seated herself on the stone floor while speaking, and leaning her head against the door of Sebastian’s cell, remained drinking in at her ear each breath he drew.
Frequently did she long to speak and tell him she was near; but then conscious that the idea of her being alone and unprotected in an open passage, exposed to the insults of the wandering guards, and doomed to rest only on a damp pavement, would overbalance the satisfaction of hearing her voice, she checked the wish, and relapsed into stillness.
Morning was far advanced when Stephano appeared; he had been to the secretary and had returned successful. At this intimation, which Kara Aziek demanded even while he was afar off, she uttered a cry of transport; it was answered by the voice of Sebastian from within, “Kind heaven! my Aziek, art thou here again so soon?”
“I have been here the whole night; I would not leave thy door.” While Aziek was speaking, Stephano unlocked the dungeon, and she flew into the melancholy, grateful embrace of her husband.
It seemed as if Providence had allottedthem this temporary privation only to make them sensible, that while undivided, they had no right to abandon themselves to despair. Kara Aziek with overflowing thankfulness acknowledged this truth, and promised henceforth to grieve no more.—Stephano passed his hands across his eyes, and replied to some anxious inquiries of Sebastian.
As it was the most earnest wish of the King to be seen by the Count of Lemos, he learnt with regret that Lemos was then lying ill of a dangerous disorder, which devolved his duties upon Sossa, the next nobleman to him in rank and civil honours. This information was indeed unwelcome; however, Stephano promised to inquire regularly after the Viceroy’s health, and to discover whenever his Excellency was in a state to hear of business.
“I am heartily sorry,” he added, “to be forced to deal hardly with you and this sweet lady: whatever you be, King or poor Calabrian, you seem to love yourwife, so I would fain make you both comfortable. But the Auditor-General (he that commands now) has charged me to keep you very strictly; and since your wife insists on sharing your prison, she is to be served with bread and water like yourself. I am heartily sorry for it, Sir, but I must do my duty.”
Sebastian bowed in token of reply, for his emotion choaked him as he gazed on the heavenly smile which shone through the tears of Aziek; that smile said how little she regarded the pains and privations of the body—and at that moment he loved her dearer than ever, for never had her unrivalled attachment been so perfectly displayed.
Stephano withdrew, leaving the husband and the wife to seek consolation in the possession of each other’s attachment.
On the fifth morning, Sebastian was surprised by the appearance of the Auditor-General with his secretaries, who entering his cell, regarded him some time withsevere scrutiny. “I am come hither,” said he, “to ask you for the first and last time, whether you persist in your imposture? if you abjure your crime, and consent to make public confession of it before all men, I am commissioned by our sovereign, Philip III. to promise you life and liberty: but if you continue thus to maintain a falsehood, you will either be left to linger out your days on bread and water, or perish at once by the hands of the executioner. What is your reply?”
Sebastian turned on him a look of exceeding majesty: “I disclaim your authority with that of your master, for I am his equal and his kinsman: let him do with me as he will, I will still call God to witness that I am that self-same Sebastian King of Portugal, who in the year 1578, passed into Africa against the Moors; and the very same, who to augment the name and the power of the Christians, put his life to the hazard, together with that of twenty thousandbrave men, whom his criminal obstinacy devoted to slaughter. I am that unfortunate Prince, who for the punishment of his sins lost the battle of Alcazar!—this is a truth which I may not deny without endangering my immortal soul. Deal with me as you are commanded, I will continue to utter the same words, in prison or at the stake.”
Sebastian turned from him as he concluded, and awed by his royal manner, the auditor with his notaries (who had taken down the King’s words in writing) departed without further speech.
Day after day now lingered by, and as they passed they cast a deeper gloom over the prospects of Sebastian. The Count Lemos grew worse, and Sossa (naturally of a harsh temper, and devoted to Philip) prohibited the slightest mitigation of suffering to the unfortunate Sebastian.
Not for himself did Sebastian grieve, but for her whose tender heart and delicate frame, were so ill suited to the rigours oftheir destiny. Yet alas! his grief was vain and powerless.
Nearly two weeks had elapsed, when Stephano entered with a glad look, to communicate the news of Count Lemos’s disorder having taken a favourable turn; and to assure Sebastian that his friend the secretary (whose mediation had procured to Kara Aziek the liberty of sharing her husband’s fate) had promised to inform his master, of the peculiar severity with which the alleged Calabrian was treated.
The secretary kept his promise. No sooner was Count Lemos in a situation to investigate business, than he granted Don Sebastian permission to appear before him, and for that purpose had him brought privately to his house.
Neither time nor suffering could wholly deface the rare lineaments of him, who might once have stood forth the model of manly beauty. Lemos was not long of recognising in this interesting strangerthe noble and heart-winning Sebastian: he looked at him with sorrow and surprize; and having questioned him on several matters known only to themselves, he acknowledged himself convinced.
But the old nobleman was too well versed in the character of ambition, to hope that Philip’s persecution arose from a real belief of imposture: he justly thought that his august prisoner was secretly devoted to a lingering death, and thus trusted to his keeping, from the apprehension, that if brought either into Spain or Portugal, his escape would be productive of more immediate danger, or his death exasperate the people into a revolt.
Lemos could only promise what he sincerely meant to perform, a strong testimonial to the truth of Sebastian, and a consequent remonstrance with his royal master: should that fail, he must content himself with watching over the life of his prisoner, and yielding him all the comforts within his power: to permit his escape, a nice sense of honor forbade.
“Whatever be the trust reposed in me, Sire!” he said, “if I accept it, I am bound to hold it inviolate: and as my respect may sweeten your majesty’s hard destiny, to refuse the charge of your person would be only to deliver you up into the hands of a severer guardian.”
Too grateful for any amelioration of his fate, since that of Kara Aziek was inseparable from it, Sebastian urged not a single argument against the opinion of Count Lemos: he bestowed a warm eulogium upon his justice and generosity, and accepted with gladness the offer he made him of future protection.
By Lemos’s orders, the royal prisoners were removed into the best chamber of the fortress, where Stephano and his sister were permitted to wait on them. Books, musical instruments, and occasional walks in the garden, under certain restrictions, now lightened their captivity: air andbetter diet quickly restored some bloom to the cheek of Kara Aziek, and the information (which she covertly obtained during the visit of Count Lemos) that the Medina Sidonia family remained undisturbed, brought back some peace to her mind. But anxiety for the ultimate end of their misfortunes, devoured the inmost part of her heart, and like a canker-worm, preyed on the source of life.
It was well for Sebastian that some innocent recreations enlivened his captivity, since the prospect of ever being released, seemed daily less probable. Philip’s answer to Lemos, had been in his usual strain of artful moderation: afraid of exasperating that most respectable of his nobles, into a revolt from his authority, and a public espousal of Don Sebastian’s interests, he deemed it wise to tolerate him in dispensing those indulgencies to the prisoner, which he boldly avowed his intention of always allowing;while at the same time he peremptorily forbade the viceroy to write or to speak to him in defence of an impostor. This title Philip scrupled not to give him, in defiance of the Count’s testimony, being determined to resolve every difficulty into the unreal solution of those days, absolute sorcery.
Several of the Portuguese, who had openly taken part with Sebastian, were outlawed, and their properties confiscated: amongst them were Don Christopher of Crato, and Juan De Castro.
Braganza’s high birth and vast influence alone saved him from feeling the heaviest weight of Spanish resentment: policy taught Philip not to exasperate the Portuguese too much, and Braganza was therefore spared. But in the persons of his retainers he felt the malice of his rival:—Father Sampayo was cast into the cells of the Inquisition on spiritual charges; and had not Texere escaped into England, (where Sir Anthony Shirley for the love he bore his master, granted him an honorable and safe asylum) he too must have groaned in the same dismal prison.
Either by threats or bribes, the Spanish King had allured into his views, nearly all of his courtiers that had been hardy enough to plead for a fair scrutiny of the pretender. Rome had launched her lightnings and terrified France again into silence: and in England, the disastrous fall of Essex, the death of Elizabeth, and the succession of James, had changed its politics, and rendered any expectation of support from that quarter a vain chimera.
To pass their lives in the castle Del Ovo, was therefore the last prospect that remained to Sebastian and to his blameless wife. When our fate appears inevitable, who is it that weakly continues to contend against it? Confiding their daughter’s future happiness to Heaven, and to the Duchess Medina Sidonia, they dried their tears, as they sometimes flowed, whenthinking of their eternal separation, and taught themselves to rejoice in her liberty.
Of the world they now thought only as of a scene on which they should never more appear: they banished its hopes, its fears, its anxieties, and submitting to the divine decree, made their world in each other’s hearts.
Those qualities which had never failed to attract and to attach every one within their influence, still continued to win the affections of whatever persons approached them. Stephano and Baptista privately confessed to their friends, their admiration of the royal sufferers, and their firm belief of Sebastian’s just claim on liberty and dominion: these confidential discourses, spreading from confidant to confidant, at length diffused throughout Naples so lively an interest in the supposed impostor, that Sossa and others of Philip’s party became uneasy, and remonstrated against the indulgence of Count Lemos.
While persisting in his generous lineof conduct, the good Lemos was seized by a return of his disorder, and in a very few days reduced to the brink of the grave: his son, who was just arrived from the Spanish court, and who came hotly zealous for the punishment of him, whom Philip affected to consider a base-born Calabrian, was summoned to the deathbed of his aged parent.
Count Lemos spoke of the prisoner: having listened patiently to the short but violent reply of his son, Lemos raised himself on his pillow, and addressing him with a solemn voice, said, “I am dying, my son! and the words of a dying man may be trusted.—As I hope for mercy and pardon at the judgment seat of Christ, I believe this man whom you call an impostor, to be the true and lawful Sebastian King of Portugal: as such I charge you (should my government devolve on you) treat him nobly; and let no worldly honours tempt you to touch his life, or to connive at the violence ofothers. Friends! you who surround and hear me at this awful moment, I charge you all to testify what I have said, and to bear with it, my dying request to my sovereign master Don Philip: I intreat him for his soul’s sake, to sift this matter more closely.”
Exhausted by this exertion, Count Lemos stopt, and laid his head back upon the pillow:—shortly after he breathed his last, and nothing remained of the venerable old man, but a clay-cold corpse.
This event was a fatal blow to the comparatively happy state of Sebastian and Kara Aziek: they were immediately remanded back to their dungeon by Sossa; for Lemos feared Philip too much to obey his departed father, and compromising with his conscience, by resigning the invidious task into another’s hand, pretended that an excess of filial grief, made him unfit to investigate so momentous a subject.
This severe treatment was followed bya visit from the stern auditor: he came to demand a second time, the outraged King’s reply to his insulting questions. Again Sebastian declared, that were he to live a thousand years, and every hour of that long period to be employed in making the same demand, he could not return any other answer than that he would live and die professing his truth and his wrongs; that he appealed to a public trial in his own dominions; that he protested against the injustice of his kinsman’s proceedings, and would persist in doing so to his last breath.
“Your sentence is then pronounced,” returned Sossa, as he departed, “your obstinacy condemns yourself: our illustrious and long-suffering monarch has condemned you for life to the galleys.”
As the auditor disappeared, Sebastian fixed a fond but sad look on the agitated features of Aziek. “Faint not, my beloved?” he said, “our appointed trials must be bravely borne to the last—everyspecies of oppression and insult are to swell the cup of your Sebastian’s destiny; but remember the bitterness of that mortal draught is short, in comparison with the eternal spring, of which, through God’s grace I hope we shall drink together in Heaven.”
Kara Aziek smiled with a breaking heart, and filled with admiration of her husband’s magnanimity, earnestly prayed for strength to imitate so noble an example.
On the day which removed Sebastian to this new scene of misery, he was led from his prison to be conveyed to the gallies. Lemos and Sossa believed that to shew this compassionated sufferer to the expecting crowd under degrading circumstances, would be a surer antidote to their respect, than if they beheld him brought to public execution: they had therefore decreed that he should be led through the streets of Naples to the port, mounted on the most ignoble of animals,and followed by his faithful Aziek, in the meanest attire.
At the gate of the castle, he beheld multitudes of soldiers and spectators, and a herald holding the ass upon which he was to mount:[A]his countenance was unchanged: he placed himself on the lowly animal with a serene and majestic aspect that might have become a throne; it ennobled his sorry garments, and touched every beholder with respect and pity.