BOOK I
DON JOHN OF AUSTRIA
Like a flock of frightened sparrows the children of Leganés arrived that afternoon at Ana de Medina's door, just as the bells were ringing for vespers. Ana's son Jeromín was the first to get there, with his big blue eyes staring and his beautiful golden hair thrown back. But there was good cause for all this, and twenty shrill voices hastened to explain it to Ana, who, startled, came to the door distaff in hand, and a scolding on her lips.
There was no school in Getafe that afternoon; the sun had stricken down Sancha Apelza, the master's wife, while working on the farm of the Comunero, and she was to receive the last sacraments that night. The children from Leganés were coming back to the village, playing as usual by the way at Moors and Christians. Jeromín always insisted on this, and never would play at Comuneros, or at being Padilla, Adelentado or Bishop Acuña, all recent and popular heroes. He said it was enough for him to be Jeromín and to pretend to cut off the heads of Moors. He entrenched himself in the Canon's well as if it were a castle on a rock, and Pedro Verde defended the orchard of Maricuernos opposite, declaring it to be the Vega of Granada. Jeromín gave the word "Santiago," and from both sides, like bullets from an arquebus, came lumps of soft earth. At this inopportune moment, while the battle was raging along the road from Madrid bordering the orchard of Maricuernos, four mules appeared, harnessed in pairs withlong traces to what seemed to be a little wooden house, with two tiny windows and four big wheels. A man was riding the foremost mule on the off side, and another was seated on the roof of the house, guiding the mules with a long stick. Through one of the windows a very fat man with grey moustaches and a pointed beard, could be seen, sitting inside. Four well-armed horsemen and two baggage-mules escorted the unwieldy vehicle. The children were frightened at the sight of this extraordinary machine, such as they had never seen before, but curiosity overcame their fear and they all grouped themselves, very silent, in the orchard of Maricuernos to see it pass closer. The boys' terror increased when they realised that the heavy machine was halting in front of them, and the fat gentleman, putting his head out of window, was asking them very politely whether the Emperor's former guitar-player, Francis Massy, who had married Ana de Medina, a native of the village, still lived there.
The boys began to giggle and look at each other, not daring to answer, stir or even take off their caps as a mark of respect. The fat man repeated the question two or three times very politely and kindly, till at last Pedro Verde, who was eleven years old, and had been twice to Pinto, and had seen the cavalcade of Ruy Gómez de Silva from afar, made up his mind to answer, his mouth dry with fear and keeping his cap on, that the musician Francisquin, as they called him, had died some years previously, but that his widow Ana de Medina still lived there and that her son Jeromín, was one of those present. This Pedro demonstrated by seizing Jeromín by the neck of his doublet and pulling him forward. For the fat man to hear this, look at Jeromín and stretch his arms out of the window as if to seize him and drag him into the coach was only the work of a second. But it took the children, terrified at the old man's behaviour, even less time to scamper up the hill towards the village as if they had legions of devils at their heels. The gentleman called to them to stop. The escort also called out. But the children, spurred on by fright, ran harder and harder up the hilllike hunted hares, until they stopped at the threshold of Ana de Medina where we met them.
The widow's face fell when she heard all this, and she drew Jeromín towards her as if she wished to hide him in her woollen skirt. She asked the boys several questions, but they all answered together, and all she could make out was that a fat gentleman had wished to carry off Jeromín in a little house on wheels.
Ana, worried, went back into her house and sent a message by Pedro Verde to ask the priest to come and see her, the cleric Bautista Vela, who served the parish for D. Alonso de Rojas, chaplain to His Majesty in the Royal Chapel at Granada at that time. Bautista Vela tarried too long; by the time he arrived at Ana's house he could no longer be there alone. Round the corner of the street came the whole population of the village, surrounding with wonder the vehicle in which the fat man came. He sat smiling, greeting some and of others asking the way to Ana's house, which a hundred hands pointed out to him, while he continued to look out of the window as if this house was the goal of his journey.
The hubbub made Ana come to her door, with Jeromín clinging to her skirts. The coach, the like of which was never seen before, stopped in front of her; the gentleman greeted her politely, and the widow could not therefore do otherwise than offer him hospitality in a peasant's homely way.
The gentleman then got out, and Ana conducted him to her parlour, which was also her kitchen, clean certainly and with room for twenty people in the chimney corner on the rough stone seats placed on either side.
Invited by the widow, who seemed to be afraid to be alone with the stranger, Bautista Vela entered also, followed by Jeromín, recovered from his fear, but still full of wonder and looking the visitor up and down as if he were the bearer of good or evil fortune. The fat man was about sixty, but his extraordinary corpulency neither destroyed the activity of his limbs nor the charm of his manners. He spoke with a soft, low, kindly voice with a marked Flemish accent, andnot like the haughty man of war so common at that time. Everything in him betokened the obsequious courtier, accustomed to the yoke of powerful masters. Very courteously he told the widow who he was, the object of his visit, and what he hoped and wished from her. His name was Charles Prevost, a servant of the Emperor, who had come to Castille on his own business, but had also brought a special and secret message for her from Adrian du Bois, valet to the Emperor, and therefore his fellow-servant.
Here the courteous Fleming made a pause and, slightly raising his voice and accentuating his words, added that this business had been urgently recommended to him by the very high and mighty gentleman Luis Méndez Quijada, Steward to the invincible Cæsar Charles V.
Hearing the name of Cæsar all bowed their heads in token of respect, and on hearing that of Quijada the cleric and the widow exchanged a rapid glance of fear and suspicion. Jeromín, calmer than the rest, sat on a high stool, swinging his legs and never taking his eyes off the stranger, as if he were trying to decipher in that round red face some problem which he was turning over and over in his baby mind.
Charles Prevost pointed to the child as if its presence were an obstacle, so the widow took Jeromín by the arm and shut him up in a room, telling him to wait there. Meanwhile Prevost had produced a paper carefully wrapped up in two covers of linen, which he held out to the widow folded in four. As she could not read, shrugging her shoulders she passed it in her turn to Bautista Vela, who, very much astonished, unfolded the letter and slowly and solemnly read as follows:
"I, Francis Massy, musician to His Majesty, and Ana de Medina, my wife, know and confess that we have taken and received a son of Señor Adrian de Bois, valet to His Majesty, which we did by his wish, and he prayed us to take and bring him up like our own son, and not to tell anyone whose son he was, as Señor Adrian did not wish that by this means his wife or anyone else should know or hear of him. For thisreason I, Francis Massy, and Ana de Medina, my wife, and our son Diego de Medina, swear and promise to the said Señor Adrian not to tell or declare to any living person whose this child is, but to say that it is mine, until Señor Adrian sends someone with this letter or the said Señor Adrian comes in person.
"And because Señor Adrian wishes to keep the matter secret, he has begged me to do him the favour of taking charge of this child, which my wife and I willingly do and acknowledge to have received from the said Señor Adrian 100 crowns which he gave me for the journey, for taking the child, for a horse and clothes, and keep for one year that is to say that the year is counted from the 1st day of August of this present year 1550. For which I hold myself content and paid for this year, as it is the truth. I sign my name to it, I and my wife, but as she cannot write I begged Oger Bodarce to sign her name for her. And the said Señor Adrian shall give me 50 ducats each year for the keep of the child. Dated, Brussels, 13th of June, 1550."
A long silence followed the reading of this letter; and when Ana de Medina understood that the hour had arrived for giving up the child she had looked upon as her son, she burst into tears and between her sobs said that she perfectly recognised this document to be genuine from end to end. She had done as she had sworn, and would act in the same way in the future, and give up the child to whoever was sent to fetch him; but for God's sake and Our Lady's and a multitude of saints, let him stay until seed-time, so that there should be time to make him some new clothes and render him more presentable. Bautista Vela seemed also touched, and timidly added his entreaties to those of the widow.
But the Fleming, with roundabout reasonings and kindly, comforting words, showed all the same his absolute determination to leave the next day at daybreak, taking Jeromín with him. Then, in a long talk and by clever questions, he let the widow and the priest know how very displeased the powerful Luis Quijada would be when hefound the state of absolute mental neglect in which the boy had lived all these years, as he was healthy in body and appeared to be so also in mind; but it was clear that he knew nothing except how to run about the country shooting at birds with his crossbow and arrows, nor had he had other lessons than those of the sacristan Francis Fernandez, and those just lately in the school in Getafe. The blame for this fell on Bautista Vela, because he had written from time to time to Luis Quijada that he was seeing that the boy's education was cared for and that it was not that of a little peasant.
At this the priest and the widow were silent, knowing they were in the wrong, the more so as more than once the idea had occurred to them that Jeromín was not the son of Adrian de Bois, from whose hands they had received the child, but of Luis Quijada, Steward to Cæsar and one of his greatest lords. And their idea, which no doubt Prevost also shared, was confirmed when the supper-hour arrived and he ordered that the table should be set with the silver and service he had brought in his baggage, and, seating Jeromín in the place of honour, himself served the meal and waited.
Jeromín let himself be waited on without showing any diffidence or surprise, as if all his life he had been used to such attentions. But when he saw Ana de Medina remaining by the fire and helping to pass the plates, without daring to come to the table, he said, without looking at anyone, in a tone which might be a question, or a request or an order, "Isn't she going to have any supper?" This made the widow burst again into sobs and lamentations, and the boy bit his lips to restrain the tears which filled his eyes. We cannot be certain whether Jeromín slept that night or not, but it is certain that no one had to rouse him the next morning, and the first light of dawn found him already awake, dressed in his best clothes, with his fair hair covered by the picturesque "monterilla." He twice kissed Ana de Medina at the door, and then turned back and kissed her a third and fourth time. But he did not shed a tear or say a word, nor did his face change, though it was paler than usual.
The whole village was at the door, the children in the front row, Christians and Moors all mixed up, filled with awe and envy at seeing him in the seat of honour in the little house on wheels which had frightened them so much the day before.
Then Jeromín asked the widow for his crossbow, so she brought the roughly made plaything with which he had acquired such wonderful dexterity, and he gave it to his enemy of the battles, Pedro Verde, saying shortly, "Keep it."
All the neighbours accompanied the coach to the outskirts of the village, and the children much farther, also Ana de Medina, crying out and begging that they would not take away her Jeromín, but would give her back her son.
He did not stir inside the coach, or put out his head, but remained so quiet with his eyes shut that the Fleming began to think he was asleep. But at the last turn, passing the orchard of Maricuernos, at the place where the Hermitage de los Angeles was afterwards erected, Jeromín's little hand could be seen out of the window, making last signs to his playfellows and to the humble woman who had brought him up.
CHAPTER II
Jeromín went from one surprise to another, seeing pass, for the first time before his eyes, lands and mountains, villages, castles, and people who were not like those of Leganés or anything he had imagined. Charles Prevost answered his doubts and questions with real and kindly anxiety to enlighten him, now explaining curious things, now making instructive remarks which opened new and wide horizons before the boy's virgin mind. But in spite of the Fleming's kindness, which sometimes seemed natural and at other times only courtly manners which had become a second nature, the child's innate sharpness showed him that Prevost always hid him from the gaze of the people; that he never explained in inns and on the road who the boy was, or where he was taking him, which Jeromín himself did not in the least know either. This restrained the natural open character of the boy and armed him with a certain reserve, which without being sulky was a want of confidence, the offspring, no doubt, of offended dignity.
They arrived at Valladolid one May morning, between the 12th and 14th, at midday. Not to attract attention to his conveyance, Charles Prevost got out and entered by the small gate of Balboa and went on foot holding Jeromín by the hand.
Great animation and movement reigned in the streets, because at the moment the big suites of Grandees, gentlemen, servants and armed men who were to accompany the Prince of the Asturias, D. Philip, on his famous expedition to England were in Valladolid, and no doubt for this reason Charles Prevost chose back streets by which to reach a convent of barefooted friars. They evidentlyexpected him here, for without more words than politeness demanded the Fleming handed the boy over to the Prior, a venerable old man, and left without saying anything further, promising Jeromín to fetch him in a few days.
The little boy was frightened at finding himself alone among these austere figures, whom he saw for the first time, and who seemed, therefore, strange and terrifying. With precocious self-command, however, he disguised his feelings, and the brothers were so kind to him that after the first day he got used to them and wandered about the cloisters and the orchard as he might have done at Leganés. The Prior told off a young, cheerful brother to keep him company and wait on him, and gave him a little crossbow that he might gratify his love of shooting at little birds in the orchard. In a few days they brought him much fine white linen and three suits, made like a peasant's but of fine cloth and beautifully trimmed, from Charles Prevost. Jeromín wanted to try them on at once, as he was nice about his dress and rather vain, for which there was excuse. He was strong, well made and extremely agile; his skin was white, although burnt by the sun of Leganés; he had big, clear blue eyes, soft fair hair, and his whole person was so graceful, high and noble, that seeing him in his ordinary clothes he looked like a little prince dressed up as a peasant.
He arrayed himself in his new clothes at once, and that same afternoon an adventure befell him in the orchard which made a deep impression on his childish imagination. The orchard was very large and extremely shady, and crossed in all directions by rows of trees.
Tired with running about, Jeromín threw himself at the foot of a pear tree, with his crossbow by his side; in front of him stretched a line of the same trees, from one side of the low cloister to the big stew-pond where the trout were kept.
Very soon Jeromín saw two very important personages who were conversing amiably, leaving the cloisters and coming towards him. One was the Prior of the convent, a bent old man, who leant on his wooden crutch at eachstep. The other was a great gentleman of not more than forty, spare, with a bright complexion, a hooked nose, piercing eyes, and a long, carefully tended beard which fell on his chest. He wore a doublet of black velvet, slashed with satin, an old-fashioned cap of the same with a black feather, and fine buckskin gloves which he carried loose in one hand. He had the Prior on his right hand, and was listening to him with great respect, bowing his proud head towards him, at other times answering him vehemently, hitting one hand with the gloves that he carried in the other.
Jeromín, frightened, wanted to hide, but it was too late, and he had to remain crouching under his pear tree hoping not to be seen. However, the Prior espied him from afar, and at once began a strange manœuvre, which made the boy wonder; continuing to talk he moved forward little by little so as to put himself between Jeromín and the gentleman, who passed by without noticing the presence of the little boy. He then saw that when the Prior arrived at the stew-pond he secretly gave an order to a lay brother, and soon after the young brother came and took him out of the orchard by back paths, and shut him up in his cell without saying anything or giving any reasons.
Jeromín understood that they did not wish him to meet the great personage, and this fixed the hooked nose and long beard so firmly in his memory that, having seen them for only a brief instant, he was able to recognise him years afterwards at a supreme moment.
Photo LacostePHILIP II AS A YOUNG MANTitian. Prado Gallery, Madrid
Photo LacostePHILIP II AS A YOUNG MANTitian. Prado Gallery, Madrid
Photo LacostePHILIP II AS A YOUNG MANTitian. Prado Gallery, Madrid
The next day the young brother came into Jeromín's cell looking very pleased, and, as if to make up for the night before, told him that he was going to show him the greatest and bravest soldiers who ever drew sword. With much mystery he took the boy to the sacristy under the church, and showed him a small rose window, which opened half-way up the wall to let in air and sunshine. He made him mount a ladder, and through this sort of peep-hole Jeromín could see one of the narrow, irregular squares which are still so common in Valladolid. The whole square was crowded; not only the windows and balconies, but even the roofs were overflowing with men, women and children, all merry and looking as if they waited for something. And such was the case. Prince Philip was marching to the frontier to receive his widowed sister, the Infanta Juana of Portugal, and from there was going to Corunna to sail for England, and that day, his last in Valladolid, the Prince, with all his suite, was going to attend a service at St. Mary's, and then parade through the streets to take leave of his father's faithful lieges. Jeromín, ignorant of all this, sought in vain the promised soldiers among the crowd. But he had not long to wait. Very soon the silver trumpets of the Archers of the Guard began to be heard. Jeromín gave a jump as if he had received an electric shock, and proudly raised his handsome little face, almost fiercely, like a charger who hears for the first time the martial note of a trumpet. With eyes wide open with wonder and admiration he seemed glued to his window. The brother had mounted too, and was looking at what was happening in the square. Slowly, heavily, like walking towers on their great horses, the hundred Archers of the Guard began to pass six deep, wearing their cloaks of yellow velvet, with stripes of three colours, red, white and yellow, which was the device of the Prince. The trumpets duly gave out slowly their melodious notes. Then followed another hundred of halberdiers of the German Guard wearing the same colours and devices, and then another hundred of the Spanish Guard with their captain the Conde de Feria at their head.
The square burst into joyful cries. The brother got down quickly and wished the boy to do so too; between curiosity to see and fear of falling he clung anxiously to the ladder, but he still had time to look at a handsome, fair young man of twenty-six with his beard cut into a point, who came slowly by himself into the square, and from the back of a beautiful horse, caparisoned with velvet and gold, smiled and bowed to the crowd. On his right, at a respectful distance, Jeromín also saw the gentleman with the hooked nose and long beard who had been the cause of his imprisonment the night before, wearing brilliantorders on his embroidered dark grey doublet and riding a horse with green velvet trappings and a cloth embroidered in silver.
Jeromín could see no more, the brother made him come down. Once on the ground the boy walked up and down the sacristy in a rage, with his little fists clenched, like a lion cub from whom has been taken some dainty morsel. Through the open window he could hear the measured tread of the horses, and the cries of the people greeting the brilliant suite which closed the triumphal march.
He looked at the brother and thought him hideous; he went to the cloister and thought it a horrible place; he thought of the older man with the long beard and of the young one with the short beard, to try and find some defect in them, but could not. What business had these people to prevent him looking at the soldiers?
CHAPTER III
The Infanta Doña Juana arrived in Valladolid as Governess of the Kingdom very soon after D. Philip left, and four days later Charles Prevost came unexpectedly to the convent to fetch Jeromín to continue his journey.
They arrived at Medina de Rioseco in two stages, and slept that night at an inn in the outskirts. The next day, late in the morning, they set out by the main road to Toro, and after half an hour's journey they could descry standing against the horizon of vast plains a great castle, flanked by four towers, a large village, and two churches lying at its feet.
Charles Prevost called the child's attention to it, and pointing to the place said, "That is Villagarcia. You will stay there, but I must go on much farther." Drawing the child towards him, and seating him on his knee, he told him very kindly that he had come to the end of his journey; and that in that castle he would find a great lady who was very good, and who would be a mother to him, and, as such, he was to obey, love and respect her, and profit by the lessons that would be given him, and give a good account of himself in the service of God and the study of letters and arms, and not leave the castle without becoming a learned cleric, a great preaching friar, or a brave soldier, according to the vocation God would give him and the advice of his benefactors.
Jeromín listened to him with astonishment, never taking his beautiful eyes off him. Charles Prevost, who noticed that, as they got nearer to the castle, the child grew more and more uncomfortable and shy, took him again on his knees and told him not to be frightened when he saw thelady, but to greet her with the respect and reverence due to her rank.
They had already reached the castle, which was at the entrance of the village on the Rioseco side. To distract the attention of the child Prevost made him notice the massive towers, the strong turreted walls with loopholes for artillery, and the flag which waved from the tower of homage, announcing to travellers, according to ancient and lordly custom, the presence in the castle of the masters, and the offer of free and safe hospitality to all those who asked for it.
The castle had a fortified gateway which still stands, with a drawbridge over the moat, and another of a later date towards the village with a gentle slope up to it which served as an entrance. Prevost's little Flemish cart went in by this way and entered into a big square courtyard, a real parade ground, which was formed by the two northern towers and the two walls on the east and west, the first precinct of the fortress.
Several grooms came out to receive him, and a grave, bearded squire with his doublet emblazoned with arms and a big sword of the time of the Comunidades. He made Jeromín and the Fleming enter into the second courtyard through heavy iron gates; then they found themselves in another court of elegant proportions, really that of the house. It was formed by two ornamental cloisters, an upper and a lower one, with slender columns, the top one shut in by a balustrade of stone. There was a big well in the middle of the court, with a great chain and two copper buckets, and the rest of the space was covered with little paths and box bushes, except at the foot of the cloisters, where it was paved. From this lower cloister there was a wide staircase of white stone which Jeromín mounted trembling, not realising what was the matter with him. At the first landing he became dazed. A group of people hurried down and became confused before the dazzled eyes of the child, as if they flickered like the rays of the sun which was shining on them—a majestic figure dressed in velvet with things that sparkled—a tall Dominican friar—twoduennas with white caps and black shawls—some women—several men.
Jeromín became giddy and everything swam before his eyes, he only saw that two hands of alabaster were stretched out towards him. The boy, hardly knowing what he was doing, only remembering that Prevost had told him to greet the lady with great respect, fell on his knees, joining his little hands as Ana de Medina had taught him to do before the altar of Our Lady of the Angels.
Then he felt that the velvet arms were embracing him and lifting him up; that a beautiful face was against his, covering it with tears, and that a choked voice said to the friar these historical words: "God be with me and help me, my lord brother! It is a pity that I am not the mother of this angel."
CHAPTER IV
Doña Magdalena de Ulloa, Toledo, Osorio and Quiñones was one of the greatest ladies of the Spanish nobility of the sixteenth century. She was the sister of D. Rodrigo de Ulloa, first Marqués de la Mota, San Cebrián, and the Vega del Condado, and of Doña Maria de Toledo, of the ancient and noble house of the Condes de Luna.
When she was very young God took from her, first her mother, and then her father, and she remained an orphan under the charge of her grandmother, the Condesa de Luna, and after her death under that of her brother, who fulfilled his duties well and sought a wealthy marriage for her by arrangement, after the custom of the time, between the two families. The bridegroom chosen was Luis Méndez Quijada, Manuel de Figueredo and Mendoza, Colonel of the Spanish infantry, Steward to the Emperor Charles V, and Lord of Villagarcia, Villanueva de los Caballeros, and Santofimia, and also of Villamayor in the region of Campos, in right of his mother. The pair did not know each other; Doña Magdalena lived in Toro with her brother, and Luis Quijada followed the Emperor in his wars and journeys, having been his favourite for twenty years. The marriage articles were arranged in Valladolid on the 29th of February, 1549. D. Diego Tabera, Councillor to H.M. and the Inquisition, represented the bride, and the bridegroom was represented by his uncle, the Archbishop of Santiago, D. Pedro Manuel, and by the illustrious gentleman D. Gómez Manrique and D. Pedro Laso de Castilla, Steward to Prince Maximilian, Archduke of Austria.
By these articles the Marqués de la Mota promised to give his sister a fortune of ten million maravedises,paid by 5000 ducats in money, 2000 in jewels, and the rest by an annuity, adding this clause: "Besides the ten 'cuentos' she is to have clothes and apparel and furniture and ornaments for the house, which she has or will have up to the day of the wedding, estimated by two persons on oath." The bridegroom promised for his part tapestry worth 4000 ducats and to endow her with the towns of Villanueva de los Caballeros and Santafimia, which for this purpose he pledged. The marriage was authorised by the Emperor. Luis Quijada sent from Brussels, where he was then living, full powers to his brother Álvaro de Mendoza to marry Doña Magdalena in his name, and this he did in Valladolid on the 27th of November, 1549, adding this clause to the document in his own hand: "And in the name of the said D. Luis Quijada, my brother, for him and as if he himself were present and as a gentleman of noble birth, I do homage once, twice, three times in the presence and under the authority of D. Bernardo de Acuña, Commander of the Order of Santiago, gentleman of noble birth, who through me, and in the said name received him, taking my hand in his according to the law of Spain, that the said Lord Luis Quijada, my brother, shall have and keep and fulfil and pay all that is said and is contained in this writing in good faith, and without deception and without adding or taking away under the penalties which befall and are incurred by gentlemen of noble birth who do not keep their word, faith and homage."
In this strange way marriages were then made, and still more extraordinary is it that they usually turned out as happily as did this one. For when, soon afterwards, Luis Quijada arrived in Valladolid, where his wife went to meet him, they were so attracted to each other, he by her beauty and womanly discretion, she by his generosity and noble bearing, that the Christian love and absolute confidence they then plighted to each other lasted unto death.
Notwithstanding that, there came a time when a severe test was put to this mutual confidence. At the end of 1553 or the beginning of 1554 the posts from Flandersbegan to come more frequently than ever to Villagarcia. Luis Quijada was following Charles V in his last campaign against the French, and the husband never lost an opportunity of letting his wife have news of the dangers he ran or the triumphs he gained. She was the first person in Spain to know of the taking of Terouanne and the tower of Hesdin, where Luis Quijada so much distinguished himself, and to her came the first rumours of the return of the Emperor and his projected retirement to a convent.
But among all this news which pleased her as a wife, and added to the lustre of her house, one day there came unexpectedly a letter which plunged her in perplexity. It was the letter which Luis Quijada had written from Brussels, probably in February, 1554, although the date is unknown. Quijada announced to his wife that before long, but after she had heard again, a man who had his entire confidence would present himself at Villagarcia, and that this man would make over to her a child of seven or nine years old, called Jeromín, and he begged her by the love she bore and which she had always shown him to accept the boy as a mother would, and as such to protect and educate him. He also said that the boy was the son of a great friend, whose name he could not reveal, but whose position and prestige he guaranteed. And he added that though the education of Jeromín was to be that of a gentleman, his father did not wish him to dress as such, but to wear the garb of a peasant, in which he would present himself. It was the desire of the father, moreover, that with all gentleness and discretion the child Jeromín should be urged to enter the Church, but not if it were not his vocation or the Divine wish. The reading of this letter produced in the warm heart of Doña Magdalena a first and keen sense of pleasure. She had no children, nor had hopes of ever having any, and through the door, when she least expected it, was coming to her one of God's own little ones, sent by him whom she loved best, her own husband. Doña Magdalena's imagination, spurred on by the charitable anxiety to protect the weak and love the oppressed, made her see Jeromín already in her arms whileLuis Quijada looked on contentedly, smiling at her lovingly and gratefully.
This is what Doña Magdalena felt rather than thought at first, but then came slow, cold reflection, extinguishing with its logic the eagerness of her impulse and giving light with its reasons to the blindness of the senses, tarnishing by its rough contact the smiling work of her imagination, as a heavy shower of rain spoils the wings of a butterfly. And more icy than reflection, who, if cold and severe, is still honourable, came her bastard sister, suspicion, vile suspicion, who undermines and poisons everything and worms her way into the most upright souls. Reason placed this question roughly but frankly before her. Why does not Luis Quijada have enough confidence in you to tell you the name of the father, if he gives the child into your care? And suspicion slipped gently into her bosom this mean reply, "Because who knows but that he is himself the father."
Doña Magdalena had a severe conflict with herself, but her heart was so large that nothing and nobody except her conscience could ever stop her in a generous act, and throwing everything, fears, suspicions and imagined wrongs into the flames of her pure charity, she cried out, "What does it matter where the child comes from, if he is a helpless creature whom God throws into my arms?"
CHAPTER V
The presence of Jeromín in Villagarcia brought a ray of joy to the sombre castle of the Quijadas, which reflected itself on its inhabitants. The merry laugh of a child always enlivens its surroundings, like the song of a bird in a gloomy wood, or a sunbeam piercing a dark cloud.
The retinue of Doña Magdalena consisted of two duennas, Doña Elizabeth and Doña Petronilla de Alderete, both noble widows and first cousins; four maids, of only two of whom are the names preserved, Louisa and the Blonde; two squires, Diego Ruy and Juan Galarza, this last an old noble, a companion-in-arms of Quijada; three pages; a steward, Pedro Vela by name; an accountant called Luis de Valverde, who enjoyed the utmost confidence of the lady. Besides these there was a swarm of cooks, labourers, and grooms, also six of Luis Quijada's old soldiers, who looked after the artillery and armaments of the fortress, unnecessary at the moment as Castille was at peace, but ready in case of need. Doña Magdalena also had two chaplains; one, García de Morales, who lived in the castle, and the other, Guillén Prieto, a very learned doctor of Salamanca, who came to educate Jeromín from Zamora. He lived in the village and also served the chapel of the ancient hermitage of St. Lazarus, which stood on the site where Doña Magdalena afterwards founded the great house of the Society.
The household fell in love with the graceful, childish figure, and each outdid the other in serving and spoiling Jeromín, attracted by the charm of his person and the halo of mystery which surrounded him. He, on his side, with the discernment children have of the love, aversionor indifference they inspire, and the degree of liberty they may take, felt himself loved from the first moment, though not for an instant did he feel, as do the spoilt children of to-day, that he was the master of the house. Between the spoiling and flattery of these good people, and the native pride and self-will of the boy, interposed the stately figure of Doña Magdalena, neither severe nor austere, but smiling and lovingly wise, and for this reason she kept him firmly in a secondary position, in absolute obedience to her, according to Luis Quijada's wish.
Doña Magdalena usually ate with the household, according to the custom of the time, and Jeromín sat at her table, below the two duennas and above the squires. Every day she heard mass in her oratory with Jeromín at her side, but she did not give him either a cushion or a seat. On Sundays and feast days the noble dame went with all her household to the parish church of St. Peter, and heard high mass and a sermon from her stall in the chancel, as lady of the place and patroness of the church; as page of honour Jeromín stood at her side, between her stall and the bench of the duennas. Similarly in the parlour, Doña Magdalena often sent for him to hear her duennas reading aloud, while she embroidered for the church, or spun for the poor, or sewed, or mended; but she never gave him more than a cushion, and this far from the dais on which she alone was seated.
Once a day, however, everything was changed, and she forgot the dignity of the great lady in the tenderness of the mother, coming into his room and waking him, dressing him, and combing his hair, he still half asleep with his pretty face in her lap, and his little hands in hers; and making him kneel at her side, she prayed and taught him to pray before a crucifix that she herself had given him.
This crucifix was and is, for it is still preserved in a reliquary at Villagarcia, an object of no great artistic merit, about a palm and a half high without the pedestal. This is its history. Years before the terrible rebellion in the Alpujarras, in one of the warning outbreaks of theMoors, Luis Quijada was skirmishing in the environs of Valencia, before embarking for Tunis. A suspected village was denounced to him, where the Moors were holding secret meetings, and there Quijada went, alone and disguised. He lodged in the house of the informer, and at night saw a bonfire blazing in a Moorish enclosure, which was surrounded by high walls.
He got there as best he could, and in the yard saw a strange sight. As many as sixty Moors were surrounding the fire, with gestures and mien of adoration, but in profound silence. Others entered, carrying, tied to a long reed, a figure of Christ, which they had stolen from a church. All the worship was changed to angry grimaces and shaking of fists, and taking the figure from its bearers, they threw it into the fire.
The thud of the image falling into the flames roused Quijada from the horrible astonishment which paralysed him; and without thinking, which is the way heroic deeds are done, he jumped into the yard, and without other weapon than his sword, set on the Moors, pushing some, upsetting others, wounding many, and making them all take to their heels. When the coast was clear, he threw himself into the fire, among the flames and smoke and hot cinders, searching for the sacred image. He found it at last, half burned, and went out of the door, holding it aloft and calling down vengeance, his sword in his hand, his hair scorched, his clothes burnt, and his face and hands blackened and covered with blood. Doña Magdalena told Jeromín this story, and he asked the first time why they burnt the crucifix. The child listened with his soul in his tear-filled eyes, his mouth contracted, his nostrils dilated, and his little fists clenched, with all the look of a Clodovic in miniature, furious not to have been able with his Gauls to have prevented the theft of the Christ. The lady understood the nobleness of this childish heart, which beat at the sound of that which was great, holy, and brave, and she looked at him for a moment in admiration, and then contented herself by kissing him. But, by the next courier, she asked Quijada's permission to placethe child under the protection of the sacred image. This Quijada readily granted, and the crucifix was moved from the head of his bed, where it was, to Jeromín's, who always kept it with him, calling it afterwards "His Christ of battles," and he died kissing it, invoking its holy name.
CHAPTER VI
Doña Magdalena only allowed Jeromín two days in which to rest from the fatigue of his journey, and to visit the village and castle; the third day, which was a Monday, she made him begin at once to regulate his hours and studies, according to the plans she had prepared. She had given him a room near hers, and the chaplain García de Morales, who was to be his tutor and instructor in religion and Christian doctrine, was lodged on the other side. The chaplain Guillén Prieto was given the care of his secular education, and the noble squire Juan Galarza undertook to instruct him in the theory and use of arms and also in riding.
Doña Magdalena for her part reserved the duty of training him in the love of God and of his neighbour, which she easily did by always showing him the good example of her saintly life, rather than by rules and precepts. Charity was the distinguishing virtue of this great woman, made brighter by her discretion. She thought that the duties of her rank consisted in forwarding God's glory and the good of her neighbour, particularly of her vassals, to whom she felt specially bound by the mere fact of her position. She gave away her ample income, and, later, distributed her fortune, which was not entailed, in this way, to relieve misery and the material wants of the poor, to supply the needs of their souls, and to increase the service of Our Lord and His honour.
In order to further these objects she founded hospitals on her estates and beyond them, in increasing numbers she redeemed captives, and so continuous and copious were her alms, that after her death she was called "God'salmoner." She also founded colleges, schools, missions and catechisings; and was so munificent in what referred to God's service that, not content with raising sumptuous temples, at one time she ordered 500 silver chalices to be made and distributed among poor parishes which did not possess any worthy of the Blessed Sacrament, the object of her special devotion.
Doña Magdalena had ordered her accountant, Luis de Valverde, an honourable old man, to ascertain the wants of the poor of Villagarcia, and to give each one a paper signed by him, setting out what in his opinion was lacking to the bearer.
The poor brought the papers at a special time to Doña Magdalena, which was very early in the morning, not to interfere with their work. She religiously paid them, adding to the alms the balsam of compassion, good advice and respect for misfortune. This was Doña Magdalena's hour of recreation, and she had also chosen it to instil in Jeromín charity and respect towards the poor, which after the fear of God is the first duty of the great and powerful.
This lady got up at sunrise at all times, and at once went to Jeromín's room to wake and dress him. They heard the mass read by García de Morales, and then Jeromín was dispatched to await in the cloisters the arrival of the poor people. He made them sit on two stone benches which ran along the lower cloisters, giving preference to the old and infirm, and then went to tell his aunt, for by this name, according to Quijada's wish, the child began to call Doña Magdalena. "Aunt! There are such a lot of poor," he used to announce.
Then she would come down with two big purses, one filled with silver reales for the poor who were proud and had Valverde's papers, the other one with pence for the ordinary poor who had no papers, to whom she always gave 20 maravedises and upwards. Doña Magdalena collected the papers, and Jeromín gave the money, very respectfully, kissing it first, cap in hand.
One day, however, there came among the poor a verydirty old man from Tordehumos; it disgusted Jeromín to touch his hand, so he let the money fall, as if by accident, and the old man had to pick it up. But Doña Magdalena, guessing the reason, stooped down and picked it up herself, and gave it to the old man, first kissing the dirty hand. Jeromín flushed up to the roots of his hair, and full of shame went on with his task.
Three days afterwards the same old man came again. Jeromín turned crimson on seeing him, intentionally dropped the money, stooped and picked it up, and kneeling humbly down, kissed first the money and then the hand of the old man.
Thus the child profited by and understood the lessons given him, and grew and flourished amid the love and blessings of everyone in the castle. There was only one thing which drew on him scoldings from D. Guillén Prieto and severe remarks from Doña Magdalena—his studies. He could read Spanish fluently, write well in a running hand, and began to stammer in French, which by the express order of Quijada was taught him by a Fleming, who had come to Villagarcia for the purpose, but Latin with its "ibus" and "orum," and Greek with its horrible letters like flies' legs, were uphill work to the boy, which nothing save the wish to please Doña Magdalena and to earn her approbation would have made him undertake. But the boy had made a complete conquest of Juan Galarza. No one, according to him, had a better eye, a steadier hand, or was more quick and agile, or more daring and brave, and at the same time more calm, "and when he got astride either the pony or the Roman mule of my lord D. Álvaro, God rest his soul," wrote the squire to Fr. Domingo de Ulloa, "a devil seems to enter him and make him more merry and active and a greater romp than ever."
And Doña Magdalena said with deep conviction, "Let him grow up and he will be another Luis Quijada, my lord."
Periodically she wrote about these things to Quijada, who passed them on to a mysterious person, whom we shall often meet in the course of this history.
"The person who is in my charge," she wrote about then, "is in good health and to my mind is growing and is a good size for his age. He gets on with his lessons with much difficulty, and he does nothing with so much dislike. He is also learning French, and the few words he knows he pronounces well, though to know it as he should will take more time and practice. What he likes best is to go on horseback riding either with a saddle or bareback, and you will see that he seems as if he would use a lance well, though his strength does not help him yet."
This news must have proved to Luis Quijada and his mysterious correspondent that Jeromín's tastes were not those of a cleric, as his unknown father and Quijada desired they should be. Doña Magdalena had seen it from the first moment with her usual perspicuity. On his arrival at Villagarcia both she and her brother, Fr. Domingo de Ulloa, wished that she should show the boy the castle and its treasures, so as to be able to judge his character from his first impressions. Nothing caused the boy wonder or even surprise. Not the rich Flemish tapestries with which some of the halls were hung, or the sumptuous beds with their columns and canopies; not the plate which shone everywhere, or the embroidered ornaments in the oratory, purposely displayed before his gaze, or the cast-iron stove which had come from Flanders to warm Doña Magdalena's parlour, and which was something then unknown in Spain, and so much prized that it was afterwards taken to Yuste, so that the Emperor himself might make use of it.
The boy looked at everything with the simple indifference of one who has grown up among similar objects, and with high-bred ease that pleased as much as it astonished.
But when he came to the armoury and saw the heavy iron armour, the lances four times as tall as himself, the trophies of shining cuirasses, swords, and shields, the sight of these dread weapons filled him with enthusiasm. He ran about looking at all the details, and at each step stretched out his little hand to touch these wonders, and then drew it back as if he was afraid of hurting them.
Till at last admiration overcoming everything, he stopped before a small suit of very beautiful armour, that Quijada had brought from Italy, which was lying on the ground waiting to be cleaned, and he asked Doña Magdalena's leave to touch it, with all a child's shyness. The lady gladly gave him permission, and with trembling respect, as if he was handling something sacred, he fingered the armour all over, examining the joints, working the visor up and down, and ending by putting his fist into the cuirass. This made a metallic sound, and Jeromín lifted his radiant face towards his protectors with a smile on his lips, and a look in his eyes that showed his character.
The lady, half smiling and half astonished, said to her brother, "Luis Quijada, my lord, will be annoyed. We have here a little soldier and no monk."