CHAPTER XI

Jeromín never saw the Emperor near again; though from afar he did so in the garden, on the terrace, and sometimes in the church. On many of these occasions the Emperor also saw him, and then the boy felt the strange, earnest glance fixed upon him.

Neither did Doña Magdalena go again to visit the Emperor, but she had daily received signs of his favour, by the visits of authorised persons or by tactful presents. It was seldom that a day passed without the Emperor sending her some dish from his table, and no convoy of meat, preserves, fruit or sweetmeats arrived at Yuste without a substantial portion being reserved for her, which was sent with messages of the greatest kindness. These presents were as useful as honourable, since there was a great scarcity of provisions in Cuacos, and what was obtainable was not very good. On the 30th of August, 1558, Jeromín saw the Emperor for the last time. The child was wandering about in the garden at Yuste with his crossbow and arrows, as he did sometimes by Quijada's own wish in his play-hours. The day was cold for summer in that part of the world, and although the glare from the sun was great on the terraces, the Emperor caused himself to be taken to the west one, and ordered that dinner should be brought there. Hidden in the orange grove that was in front of it Jeromín watched him for a long time.

Luis Quijada and a groom of the chamber named Guillermo Van Male were serving him, on a little table made on purpose, which fixed on to the Emperor's chair. Van Male presented the dishes, Quijada carved them, and four servants brought and took away the courses. D. Mattys was absent; he should have inspected the viands,but was away in Jarandilla. The confessor, Fr. Juan de Regla, was standing before the Emperor, austere and grave as one of Zurbarán's Carthusians, reading as usual a chapter from St. Bernard.

The Emperor ate little and without appetite, and then, in spite of the glare and against the wishes of Quijada, he composed himself there to take his short siesta. He was awakened by the arrival of Garcilaso de la Vega, who came from Flanders to treat with the Dowager-Queen of Hungary to induce her to return to govern the States. The conversation lasted for more than an hour, and at four o'clock the Emperor blew his golden whistle, complaining of a severe headache. A change had come over him and he was shivering. They put him to bed at once, and when the doctor came back that night from Jarandilla, where the Emperor had sent him to see the Conde de Oropesa, he was not pleased with the Emperor's looks. Nor could he have been so himself, as that night he expressed to Quijada his wish to add a codicil to the will he had made in Brussels on the 8th of June, 1554.

This desire did not frighten Quijada, as the Emperor had often expressed the same wish before; but the continued fever, delirium and collapse did alarm him, and on the 1st of September he wrote to the Princess Juana, begging her to send as quickly as possible Queen Maria's old doctor, Corneille Baersdorp, who was staying with her at Cigales.

The Emperor felt himself sick unto death, and confessed and communicated on the 3rd of September, fearing some new and mortal seizure would take him unawares. Dr. Corneille arrived from Cigales on the 8th, as did also Garcilaso de la Vega, bringing the welcome news that Queen Maria had accepted the government of the Flemish States. The Emperor, however, did not wish to see him until he had signed the codicil, which he did on the 9th.

He conferred a long time the next day with Garcilaso and the last joy of his life was knowing that his sister, Doña Maria, had, at last, given in to what he so much desired. He asked with great interest for the "Regente"Figueroa, and the Archbishop of Toledo, Fr. Bartolomé de Carranza, who had come from Flanders with Garcilaso, and was expected at Yuste. He then learnt that the "Regente" was ill at Medina del Campo, and that the Archbishop, knowing nothing of the Emperor's illness, had gone to Cigales to confer, by Philip II's wish, with Queen Maria, and was coming to Yuste from there.

This conversation tired the Emperor very much, and it was the last time that he worried about the things of this world. On the 19th the doctors found him so much worse that they spoke to Quijada about the necessity of administering Extreme Unction. Quijada looked angry on hearing this, as he was one of those men of violent character who always show their sorrow by becoming cross and disagreeable, and he told them not to leave off feeling the Emperor's pulse, and to put it off until the last moment. This last moment seemed to have arrived at nine o'clock that night, and the steward summoned Fr. Juan de Regla and three other monks in a great hurry. He went to the Emperor first and said, "Your Majesty has twice asked for Extreme Unction. If you please, it is here, as your Majesty has health and sense to receive and enjoy it." The Emperor replied, "Yes, and let it be at once." The curtains of his bed were then drawn, and Fr. Juan de Regla gave him Extreme Unction, aided by three of the principal monks in the convent. The next morning, the 20th, the dying man somewhat rallied, and at eight o'clock ordered everyone to leave his room except Luis Quijada.

He was already almost without strength and was propped up by pillows. On account of the heat he could only bear a shirt and a thin silk quilt which covered him to his chest. Sadly Luis Quijada knelt at his pillow, and the Emperor, in a feeble voice but with all his senses, talked for half an hour. Here are his exact words as the same Luis Quijada wrote them to Philip II in his letter of the 30th of September, 1558:

"Tuesday, before receiving the Holy Sacrament, he called me and sent away his confessor and the rest, and I kneeling down, he said, 'Luis Quijada, I see I am ending little by little: for which I give much thanks toGod, because it is His Will. You will tell the King, my son, to take care of these servants in general, those that have served me here until death, and that he should use Gilaone (Guillerno Wykesloot, the barber) as he wishes, and order that in this house no guests should be allowed to enter.' What he said about his wishes for me I do not care to say, being an interested party. Also he wished me to say other things to Y.M. which I will tell you when God brings me to Y.M. Please God it may be with the happiness all desire."

In this last conversation that the Emperor had with Quijada he left a strange remembrance to Jeromín. He commissioned his steward after his death to give to the child Jeromín, as his property and for his use, the old mule which he rode on, the blind pony he had kept, and the little mule that with the other two animals formed all his stud.

At midday the Archbishop of Toledo, Fr. Bartolomé de Carranza, arrived in Yuste, a robust old man with a loud, disagreeable voice, and long, ill-kept white hair. He rode on a white mule, and was wrapped in a brown garment over his Dominican habit, and over that wore a crumpled cloak with a magnificent pectoral cross, a present from Mary Tudor, Queen of England. His enormous suite followed him to Cuacos, but he came alone to Yuste with the Dominicans who accompanied him, Fr. Pedro de Sotomayor and Fr. Diego Jiménez. The Archbishop knelt when he reached the Emperor's bedside and kissed his hand. The dying man looked at him for a long time without speaking, and then ordered that a chair should be given him, and asked for news of the King, his son, whom the Archbishop had left in Flanders; but after a few words the Emperor interrupted him abruptly, and ordered him to go and rest in his inn. Charles mistrusted the Archbishop because the first suspicions had come to his ears of that heresy which shortly landed the unlucky old man in prison, persecuted by some, defended by others, and discussed by all, even to our times.

So the Archbishop went to dine in Luis Quijada's houseat Cuacos, where Doña Magdalena was awaiting him. The grave condition of the Emperor had made a great sensation in the village; the whole neighbourhood was to be found in the street, making a cordon from Yuste to the church of the place, where continual prayer was offered before the Blessed Sacrament.

Doña Magdalena and Jeromín never rested; since dawn messengers had never ceased coming from Yuste with news, and since the same hour the noble lady came and went from the oratory, where she prayed and wept, to the parlour, where she received the messengers and made preparations for the arrival of the Archbishop, whom she expected from minute to minute. Jeromín, nervous and trembling, could not keep still for an instant; at times he wanted to cry, at others to shut himself up in the oratory with Doña Magdalena and pray, or to dash off to Yuste, and, if it were by main force, to reach the Emperor's room and gaze once more on that pallid face, its snowy beard surrounding it like a fringe of silver. The boy had never seen death, or heard it alluded to except as happening on the field of battle, and it seemed to him like killing by treason that so great an Emperor should die in his bed, and that to annihilate so glorious an existence, thunder and lightning and stars would be necessary, that the elements should war together and the whole earth be convulsed.

At four o'clock the Archbishop arranged with his suite to return to Yuste, and then an idea occurred to Jeromín. Without saying a word to anyone, he saddled the little Roman mule himself and went to the convent among the Archbishop's following. His presence surprised no one, as he was thought to be Luis Quijada's page, and without any difficulty he went to the black hung room next to the chamber where the Emperor lay dying. He found several monks there, the prelate, Juan de Ávila, the Conde de Oropesa, D. Francisco de Toledo, his brother, and Diego de Toledo, uncle to both.

Luis Quijada hastened to meet the Archbishop and came face to face with Jeromín. The great heart of the steward seemed to come into his mouth and even his eyes to moistenwhen he saw him. With much love and kindness he came towards the frightened child, and drawing him out of the room, begged him to go back to Cuacos to the side of Doña Magdalena. The boy obeyed without a word, hanging his head and casting a look at the room where his hero was dying. He saw nothing; the black curtains were drawn, and between them could only be seen the foot of the enormous bed and, over the crippled limbs, the black silk coverlid. But he could hear the difficult breathing of the dying man.

When Jeromín returned, overcome, to Cuacos, he found Doña Magdalena in the oratory, saying the prayers for the dying, again and again, with her ladies and servants. He knelt in a corner amongst them, and there remained for hours and hours. At ten o'clock sleep, that invincible friend of children, overcame him, and obliged Doña Magdalena to put him, dressed as he was, in her own bed, promising to wake him at the supreme moment. The lady sat at the head of the bed leaning against it, inside the curtains, telling her beads. Jeromín slept uneasily, with a sad expression on his little white face, heaving deep sighs. Doña Magdalena looked at him, anxious also and astonished. All at once, for the first time a strong suspicion crossed her mind; she stopped praying, looking earnestly at the child, and leant over him as if to kiss his forehead, and then kissed his little hands.

At this moment the big bell of Yuste tolled solemnly in the silent night. Doña Magdalena sat up frightened and stretched out her neck to listen, with her hands joined. Another bell tolled and then another. There was no doubt, it was the passing bell. Doña Magdalena hesitated for a moment, and then gently woke the sleeping child. Clinging to her neck he asked, terrified, "Is he dead?" "Pray, my son, pray," she answered.

And, linked together, they prayed the psalm of the dead, "Out of the deep I call."

CHAPTER XII

The grief of Luis Quijada at the death of the Cæsar was so great that the anonymous monk of Yuste, who was an eyewitness of all these events, writes as follows: "It happened that the Archbishop having left with the other lords, as I have said above, to write to the King, our Lord, about the death of his father, there remained in the room where the body of the dead Emperor lay, the three men beloved by H.M., the Marqués de Miraval, Luis Quijada and Martin Gastelbú (Gazletu), who did and said such things in their sorrow for the death of H.M. that those who did not know them might have judged them wrongly. They shouted, they cried, they beat their hands and their heads against the walls, they seemed beside themselves, and so they were, at seeing their lord die, who had brought them to such honours, and whom they so tenderly loved; they said much in praise of Cæsar, referring to his virtues. Such were their cries and shouts that they woke all the household of H.M., and all behaved in the same manner, till they were turned out of the room where four monks remained, who embalmed the body, as I said above." This excess of sorrow no doubt produced a certain nervous irritation in Luis Quijada, and made him harder and more severe than ever for a long while, and perhaps also less prudent. Only as regards Jeromín he seemed just the contrary, not by his care and vigilance, for they could not have been greater than before, but by showing the affection and regard which he had kept hidden.

For three days very solemn services were celebrated in Yuste, and Luis Quijada presided over everything, dressed in a cloak of black baize and a mourning hood whichalmost completely hid his face. During all these days Jeromín was at his side, also dressed in a cloak and hood which only left uncovered those blue eyes which saw and scrutinised everything. "It certainly astonished us," wrote the nameless monk of Yuste, "how he had the strength to remain standing so long."

It happened that on the first day of these services Quijada saw the page of the Marqués de Miraval bring a chair for his master into the church, and ordered him to take it out. The page answered that his master was ill, and that it was necessary for him to take it in. To which Quijada replied, "Then let him stop outside; I will not allow anyone to be seated before the Emperor, my Lord, alive or dead."

Jeromín asked Quijada if he might have the Emperor's parrot and one of the kittens, the other having died a short time before, and with real pleasure Luis Quijada brought them to Cuacos and placed them in the child's care, until they were claimed by Princess Juana, who had been notified of their existence. And such weight had this august "Zapirón"[3]with the austere steward that in a letter to the Secretary of State, Juan Vázguez, he adds this curious postscript, "This letter was written two days ago, and as I had much to do, and as I wished to wait till they had all gone, I did not send it. To-day they have finished taking out all his baggage. Your Honour will forgive the paper being cut, because the devil of a kitten upset the inkpot on the other sheet."

Luis Quijada stayed in Cuacos until the end of November, as it took all that time to finish the arduous task of arranging the Emperor's house, making inventories, sending away servants, settling accounts, and paying debts. Doña Magdalena took this opportunity of going with Jeromín to the sanctuary of Our Lady of Guadaloupe, which was not far off. While she was away something happened which surprised and displeased Quijada, though he had had warning of it a long time back.

It was that none of the many personages who stayed with him in Cuacos, or the monks of the convent who oftencame there, or any of the thousand people who, for one reason or another, arrived there during the stay of the Emperor, could fail to notice the attractive little figure of Jeromín, which had so much native charm, or the strange position that he occupied in the Quijada household. Many suppositions were formed and many remarks were made, and so serious were some, and to such exalted circles did others reach, that one day, when Quijada least expected it, he received a letter from the Secretary of State, Juan Vázguez, writing on behalf of Princess Juana, asking him bluntly if it were true that the Emperor had left a natural son, who had been for years in his care, because H.M. wished to provide for him, if such were the case. Quijada was much perturbed at this very important question, and hastened to answer Juan Vázguez on the 18th of October. "Regarding what your Honour says about the boy in my charge, it is true that a friend entrusted him to me years ago, but there is no reason to think that he is H.M.'s son, as your Honour says has been put about here, for neither in his will, a copy of which he had and made Gastelu read in his presence to us, his confessor and me, nor in the codicil which he afterwards made, is there mention of this, and this being so I do not know what more I can answer."

Not content with this, Quijada wrote from Cuacos, as if to put himself right with his unknown correspondent in Flanders, the only person to whom he mentioned anything about Jeromín. "Twenty days after the death of H.M., Juan Vázguez wrote to me from the Very Serene Princess that I should tell her if it were true that I had in my charge a child, wishing to make me understand that it was said to be H.M.'s, and that I should tell her secretly or publicly if it were so, because, if true, she would endeavour to fulfil any wishes left regarding him. To which I answered that I had the boy of a gentleman, a friend of mine, who had given him to me years ago, and that H.M. having mentioned him neither in his will nor in the codicil, there was reason enough for treating it as nonsense, and that I did not know what else to answer publicly or privately."

Juan Vázguez returned to the charge, and the steward, who was already put out, answered, alluding to the secretary's erroneous idea, in spite of Quijada's assurance to the contrary, that the Emperor, months before, was arranging the house of the Archbishop in Alcalá to go there, and to leave Yuste. "It certainly appears to me that your Honour goes on about this boy as if it were as certain as that H.M. was arranging the house in Alcalá so as to go there. Will your Honour ask the agent the value of, and what I said to him about, a certain annuity that I wish to purchase for this child?"

But as Quijada when passing Valladolid on his way to Villagarcia found on all sides the same rumour, of which Vázguez had sent him the echo, and was annoyed by direct and indirect questions, he wrote this time without circumlocution to the unknown Flemish correspondent, who was none other than His Catholic Majesty, King Philip II:

"I find all that concerns the person Y.M. knows that I have in my care, so public here, that I am frightened, and still more so by the particulars I hear. I am alarmed lest the Very Serene Princess should press me to tell her what I know, which I am not at liberty to do. I have decided to be silent and not to answer more than I did the first time, as I told Y.M. from Yuste. H.H. is so gracious that up to now she has said no word to me; so I shall answer no one who asks more than that I am ignorant of what people say; but I am also aware that the Very Serene Princess almost certainly knows the truth, from what I hear. But H.M.'s wish, as you know, was that it should be kept secret until your coming, and that afterwards what Y.M. commands should be done. I have made no more demonstration than in the Emperor's lifetime; but I am very careful that he should learn and be taught the things necessary for his age and his rank, since it is very important that every pains should be taken with him because of the way in which he was brought up before he came under my charge. So I thought that I had better advise Y.M. of what was happening and of the Emperor's intentions, so that Y.M. should understand and say whatyour wishes are. Also he has had, these ten days, a very severe double tertian fever; but blessed be God! when I came yesterday from my house, it had left him and he was out of danger."

D. Philip was grateful for this loyalty in Quijada, and answered with his own hand that the secret should be strictly kept, as the deceased Emperor had wished, until he himself arrived in Spain, which would be very shortly; but Quijada was not to be alarmed by the rumours as the fact was already public in Flanders. To the will that the Emperor had made in Brussels was added a sealed note with this superscription in his own writing: "No one is to open this writing but the Prince my son, and failing him, my grandson D. Carlos; and failing him, he or she who should be my heir according to my will, when it is opened."

Inside the envelope was the following declaration, signed by the Emperor and sealed with his private seal:

"Besides what is contained in my will, I say and declare, that while I was in Germany, after I was widowed, I had by an unmarried woman, a natural son called Jeromín, and my intention has been and is, for various reasons which lead me to this decision, that he shall be well guided, that of his free and spontaneous will he shall take the habit in some community of reformed friars if he inclines to it without any urging or force whatever. But if he cannot be thus guided and would rather follow the secular life, it is my wish and command that he should be given an income in the usual way each year of from 20,000 to 30,000 ducats from the Kingdom of Naples, apportioning to him places and vassals with the said income. All this, the appointing of the aforesaid and the amount of the income aforesaid shall be as the Prince, my son, thinks best, to whom I commend it; and failing him, as it appears best to my grandson, the Infante D. Carlos, or to the other person who, according to this my will, should be my heir at the time it is opened. And if the said Jeromín is not then already placed in the state I desire, he shall enjoy the said income and places all the days of his life, and after him hisheirs and legitimate successors and descendants, and whatever calling the said Jeromín shall embrace, I charge the said Prince, my son, and my grandson and whoever should be my heir, as I have said, when this my will is opened, that they shall honour it and cause it to be honoured, and pay him the respect that is seemly, and that they shall cause to be kept, fulfilled and executed all that is contained in this writing. The which I sign with my name and hand, and close and seal it with my little private seal, and it is to be kept and put into effect as a clause of my aforesaid will. Done in Brussels the 6th of June, 1564. Son or grandson, or whoever at the time that this my will and writing is opened, and according to it is my heir, if you do not know where Jeromín is, you may learn it from Adrian, a groom of my chamber, or, in case of his death, from Oger, the porter of my chamber, in order that you may act towards him according to the above."

To this very important declaration was added a duplicate of the writing signed by Francisco de Massy and Ana de Medina, which had served Carlo Prevost to reclaim Jeromín at Leganés four years before.

CHAPTER XIII

Jeromín quickly recovered from his fever, and the happy, peaceful, regular life flowed on at Villagarcia as before the disturbing interlude of Yuste and Cuacos. Luis Quijada faithfully kept the Emperor's secret, according to Philip's commands, and the very existence of Jeromín, once more shut up behind the walls of Villagarcia, seemed completely forgotten.

But there is no accounting for the memory of an inquisitive woman, however discreet and prudent she may be, and if few outdid the Governess of Spain, Princess Juana, in virtue, prudence and discretion, few had more curiosity, or better means of gratifying it at their command.

As no one had found out from Luis Quijada who Jeromín really was, it occurred to her that she might obtain the information from Doña Magdalena, and with this object in view she sent a missive to Villagarcia about the 15th of May, begging her to come to see the Auto and to bring the boy she had with her, in the disguise in which he lived.

The Auto to which the Princess Juana alluded was the celebrated Auto da Fe which took place in Valladolid on the 21st of May, 1559, at which Dr. Augustin Cazalla and thirty of his heretic disciples were condemned. This Lutheran conspiracy had been discovered many months before during the lifetime of the Emperor, who had urged and begged Doña Juana and the Inspector-General D. Fernando de Valdés, Archbishop of Seville, to mete out prompt and severe punishment to the offenders.

There lived then in Valladolid, at No. 13 of the Street of the Silversmiths, a certain Juan García, a silversmith by trade. For some time his wife had noticed that he wasabsent-minded and irritable, and that he pretended to go to bed early and then went out again. Being a brave, decided woman, she disguised herself one night and followed him, supposing some intrigue. When Juan García reached the street now called after Dr. Cazalla, he at once knocked at the door of a house between what are now cavalry barracks and the old apothecary's shop in the Square of St. Michel. The door was opened with great caution, and the woman distinctly heard a password which seemed to be "Chinela," and Juan García answered "Cazalla," on which the door opened and he went in. The wife remained spellbound, and her astonishment grew as she noticed that, singly and by twos, men and women came from both ends of the street. The same ceremony took place, and they disappeared into the mysterious house, which was none other than that of Doña Leonora de Vibero, mother of Dr. Cazalla. Being, as we have said, a resolute woman, on seeing a very devout woman (the Juana Sánchez who afterwards committed suicide in the prison of the Inquisition by cutting her throat with scissors) approaching, she followed secretly, gave the password, and entered behind Sánchez into a large, ill-lighted room, where she saw and heard Dr. Cazalla explain to more than seventy people the doctrines of the Lutherans which he had brought back from Germany. She understood at once that she was in a conventicle of heretics, and horrified, but not losing her presence of mind, she left quietly and the same morning informed her confessor of all that she had seen and heard. Whether he was infected with the same doctrines or did not much believe the woman, he only told her not to worry over the matter. However, the same day she warned the Grand Inquisitor himself, and put the threads of the plot into his hands. Following them with much prudence and precaution, he found the plot so widespread that when in prison Cazalla rightly said, "If they had waited four months to persecute us, we should have been as numerous as they are, if six months, we should have done for them as they have for us." The affair made a great stir throughout Spain, and it is calculated that 200,000people flocked to Valladolid to be present at the Auto da Fe, which was to take place as the crowning act of the drama on Trinity Sunday, the 21st May, 1559.

Luis Quijada was party to all this, as he had been sent by the Emperor from Yuste to the Princess and the Inquisitor to urge the swift and severe punishment of the heretics. As a man of his time, a fervent Spanish Catholic and a politician educated in Germany, Quijada thought that only severe warnings would stop Protestantism from entering Spain, and with it the breaking up of the kingdom and probably the end of the monarchy. So it appeared to him a good lesson for Jeromín to go to the Auto da Fe, and he insisted that Doña Magdalena should accept the invitation of the Princess and go to Valladolid with the child and his niece, Doña Mariana de Ulloa, heiress of his brother, the Marqués de la Mota, who was at Villagarcia at that time.

So Doña Magdalena set out with her niece and with the retainers suitable to such illustrious ladies, and arrived very early on the morning of the 20th of May, the day before the Auto. They lodged in the house of the Conde de Miranda, and to avoid tiresome visits and awkward questions, the prudent lady sent Jeromín out and about the streets all day to see the preparations for the ceremony with her squire Juan Galarza. Jeromín went off delighted, and certainly nothing was ever seen like the streets of Valladolid on that 20th day of May. So thronged were they with people that it was hardly possible for the familiars of the Holy Office, who ever since the morning had been making the usual proclamation, to force their way through the crowd. The familiars went on horseback, emblems of their office in their hands, preceded and followed by "alguaciles," and surrounded by criers who announced at the street corners the two usual proclamations, the first forbidding from that moment until the next day the use of arms defensive or offensive under the pain of excommunication and the confiscation of the said arms. Equally was prohibited by the second proclamation, from that time until one hour after the executions, thecirculation of carriages, or litters, chairs, horses, or mules in the streets where the procession was to pass, or in the Plaza Mayor, where was the scaffold.

To prevent people entering the square there was a double row of guards. The finishing touches were being given to the enormous scaffold where the Auto was to be held, that is to say the reading of the evidence and the sentences, the only part of the function at which the Court and the more refined portion of the public were present. Away beyond the gates guards were also keeping a space on the Great, or Parade, Ground called the "Quemadero," or the place of burning. To execute the sentences fifteen small platforms were being made for an equal number of prisoners. These platforms were very small and rested on the faggots which were to make the fire, and above them rose a stake with its pillory, like a modern one. To this the prisoner was tied and killed before being burnt, as they were not burnt alive except in rare cases of blasphemy and impenitence. The whole way from the Campo Grande to the Plaza Mayor; and from there to the street of Pedro Barrueco, now called Bishop Street, where stood the prisons and houses of the Holy Office, there was not a corner or square without seats covered in black, for which the enormous prices of 12, 13, and even 15 reales were paid. In all the squares and at many of the cross roads pulpits also were erected, covered in black, where every order of friars preached each day to the enormous crowd which never ceased moving, all in mourning, all sad, very similar in appearance to the scene which used to be general, and still is common, in many places in Spain on Good Friday. The official mourning, the real compunction of some, and the affected piety of others covered the indifference of the many, and gave to the whole concourse an appearance of sadness, even of terror, well in keeping with the terrible scene which was to be enacted. At four o'clock the sermons ceased, and in the streets, windows and balconies the crowd grew greater. The traditional procession called "of the Green Cross" began to leave the chapel. First walked all the religious communities of Valladolid and its neighbourhood,the friars two by two, holding lighted wax torches. Then the commissaries, clerks and familiars of the Holy Office, then the high officers of the Tribunal, with the secretaries, mayor and attorney-general, all carrying lighted candles. Last of all this immense procession, a Dominican friar carried under a canopy of black velvet a great cross of green wood covered with crape. The choirs of the chapel intoned the hymnVexilla regis prodeunt, which all the people answered, alternating the verses. At the street corners from time to time the voice of some friar was to be heard, imploring Heaven in vehement language to grant repentance to the prisoners, which the people answered with ejaculations, groans and prayers. It was rumoured that among the fifty condemned men only one, the Bachelor of Arts, Herreruelos, remained obstinate and impenitent.

The procession passed slowly and solemnly through the principal streets, and late at night found its way back to the Plaza Mayor, where the scaffold was now finished. Then was prepared an altar on which the Green Cross was solemnly placed with twelve lighted wax candles. Four Dominican monks and a company of halberdiers were to watch it all night.

CHAPTER XIV

While Jeromín was going about the streets of Valladolid with more amusement than astonishment or compunction, Doña Magdalena was congratulating herself on having sent him away from the house.

Shortly after her arrival she received a polite message from Doña Leonor Mascareñes, lady to Princess Juana, announcing that at half-past three in the afternoon she would visit her in the name of H.H. the Very Serene Princess Governess, and would have the honour of kissing hands in her name. Doña Magdalena replied with the pompous courtesy of those times, that all hours would be good to receive so signal a favour, and that she, Doña Leonor's humble servant, returned the honour, kissing her hands on her knees.

At the hour fixed, and with courtly punctuality, Doña Leonor arrived with her ladies, pages and squires. She came on foot, as sedan-chairs were forbidden by the proclamation, and in mourning, as the circumstances demanded, with a cloth skirt in Castillian fashion, a crape shawl, gloves and very high black clogs. Doña Leonor was already past sixty, of a great Portuguese family, and for her virtues, merits and talents was rightly one of the most respected ladies of the Court. She had come to Spain as one of the ladies of the Empress Isabel, wife of the defunct Emperor Charles V, then was governess to Philip II, and afterwards to Prince Carlos, who was committed to her care by the same Philip II with these notable words, "This child has no mother; be his as you were mine."

Photo Casa Thomas, BarcelonaDOÑA LEONOR DE MASCAREÑASFrom her portrait by Sir Antonio More

Doña Magdalena descended to receive her with all the household at the foot of the staircase, and here the ladies exchanged the first courtesies. Doña Magdalena conducted her to the parlour, and then wished to give her a high seat, while she sat on the carpet; but Doña Leonor would not consent to this, and tried also to sit on the floor. Each went on insisting that the other should have the high seat and the other kept on refusing it, until, after this battle of politeness, both ladies remained seated on great cushions of equal height.

Then Doña Magdalena caused a collation of sweetmeats, fruits and drinks to be brought, and offered half a dozen pairs of gloves scented with ambergris to Doña Leonor in a little box.

The first compliments and courtesies over, Doña Leonor spread out her fan so as to exclude the duennas who were at the end of the room beyond the dais, and said in Doña Magdalena's ear, as naturally as possible, that H.H. the Serene Princess would be pleased if she would kindly arrange an opportunity the next day for herto make the acquaintance of her brother.

Doña Magdalena had expected this from the moment of her arrival, and with ingenuous but well-calculated simplicity she told the truth, point by point. That she did not know what H.H. meant. That the child Jeromín, to whom no doubt she alluded, was certainly given into the care of her lord and husband Luis Quijada five years before, as the son of a great friend whose name he could not reveal to her. As was natural (and with noble dignity Doña Magdalena accentuated these words) she had never tried to talk to her husband about the origin of this child, or to allude by a single word to what he had first written to her from Brussels. That various suspicions had at times come into her mind, but that she had been able to stifle them as a Christian, for fear of forming a judgment without any proof, which would doubtless be rash; and as to the rumours which went about during the child's stay at Yuste, she had never listened to them, and certainly had never confirmed them. Here Doña Magdalena ceased speaking, and, as if by mutual consent, the two ladiesfanned themselves in silence for some time. The Portuguese was as good as she was clever, and she needed no more to understand that her exploring expedition was at an end. Her noble nature could appreciate this simple account of Doña Magdalena's, the wife's dignity, the lady's delicacy, and the Christian's absolute rectitude, and her native perspicacity, sharpened by years at Court, made her understand that Doña Magdalena knew no more about Jeromín, nor would it be possible to extract another word beyond what Luis Quijada had told everyone.

However, Doña Leonor wished to fulfil all her mistress's commission, and asked with much delicacy if it would be possible to see the child, because H.H. wished to be prepared, in some degree, for the meeting which was to take place the next day, that surprise or fear should not make her do something imprudent.

Doña Magdalena answered that she was sincerely sorry, but she could not gratify H.H., because the child Jeromín had gone out with a squire to see the procession of the Green Cross, and she did not expect that he would be back in time; but if it would be of service to H.H. she would be careful to let her know as much as was prudent.

It seemed most prudent to Doña Magdalena not to say a word to Jeromín about the occurrence, or prematurely to arouse fantastic or ambitious ideas in his mind which was sleeping peacefully, but to let it rest in quiet and allow the boy's innocence and natural vivacity to inspire them, or as the Divine Majesty should ordain.

All the stars in the sky were shining when Doña Magdalena and her niece left her house, she holding Jeromín by the hand, dressed as a peasant, as the Princess had arranged. The two ladies were covered by ample black shawls which almost hid their faces, and were dressed underneath in mourning, but also with jewels, as was the custom of ladies at Court. Accompanied by very trustworthy servants, and following the same railed-off way as the prisoners, they arrived without much difficulty at the Plaza Mayor, in spite of the great crowds.

It was not yet half-past four in the morning, and alreadyamong the seething mass of humanity there was not an empty spot, except in the centre of the platform, where the prisoners were to be placed, and the passage, or wide balcony, of the Casas Consistoriales, which was reserved for the royalties and their numerous suite. At the extreme end of this passage the Princess had ordered that a good seat should be kept for Doña Magdalena, calculating that, as she must naturally pass by there to get to the throne, she could stop and speak to Doña Magdalena and see the child without attracting too much attention. Doña Magdalena had also made her plans: she made Jeromín sit on the ground between her chair and that of Doña Mariana, and covered his little person completely in the lady's shawl, so that no one passing would notice the presence of the child. Jeromín, very much amused, put out his little head from among the folds of the shawl, and looked between the ironwork of the balcony, asking a thousand questions about what he saw and what he hoped to see. In the centre of the balcony of the Consistory, which ran all along the front, there were two rich canopies of maroon velvet and lace of frosted silver and gold, with two large thrones under them for the Princess Governess and D. Carlos. Right and left the balcony was divided into stands destined for the Councillors, the Chancellory, the University, the Grandees, the ladies of the Palace and the servants of the Princes. In the first of these stands, on the entrance side, was where Jeromín and the two ladies were seated.

In front of the Consistory, and back to back with the convent of San Francisco, the magnificent, high scaffold was raised, enclosed by balustrades and railings. It consisted of two stories, an upper and a lower one, in the form of a triangle. In the centre of the front was the altar, on which the Green Cross had been placed the night before between two tapers of white wax whose light paled before that of the dawn. The four Dominicans and the company of halberdiers were still guarding it. Right and left of the altar there were steps for the condemned and a pulpit for the preacher. The platform underneath was destinedfor the ministers of the Holy Office, and at each end had two tribunes for the reading of the trials and sentences, and another in the middle, but much taller, from which each prisoner heard his sentence read.

From the scaffold ran a sort of enclosure of wood, very similar to those that are used to bring bulls into towns with safety, which stretched to the prisons of the Inquisition, to keep the way clear for the prisoners. The rest of the square was covered with more than two hundred small stands, let to the curious, which at five in the morning already could not hold another person. At this hour the royal guard arrived on foot, opening a path among the packed crowd for the royal suite. First came slowly and solemnly the Council of Castille, then the Grandees, the Constable and Admiral among them, the Marquéses de Astorga and Denia, the Condes de Miranda, Osorno, Nieva, Módica, Sadaña, Monteagudo, Lerma, Ribadeo, and Andrade. D. García de Toledo, tutor to the Prince, the Archbishops of Santiago and Seville, and the Bishops of Palencia and Ciudad Rodrigo, which last was the famous and worthy D. Pedro de la Gasca.

The Princess's ladies followed in two rows, all in mourning, but richly adorned with jewels, and behind them, as if presiding over them, the Marqués de Sarria, Lord Steward to the Princess, and Doña Leonor Mascareñes, who was, or was then acting as, Camarera Mayor.

Then came two mace-bearers with golden maces on their shoulders, four kings-at-arms with dalmatics of crimson velvet embroidered, front and back, with the royal arms. The Conde de Buendía with a naked sword, and, immediately behind him, Princess Juana and Prince Carlos; she dressed in a skirt of mourning stripe, shawl and head-dress of black crape, a bodice of satin, white gloves and a black and gold fan in her hand; he with cloak and jacket also striped, woollen stockings, velvet breeches, a cloth cap, sword and gloves. The procession was closed by the royal guard on horseback with drums and fifes.

Photo AndersonINFANTA JUANA OF SPAINBy Sir Antonio More. Prado Gallery, Madrid

In this order the suite entered the Consistory and filed past Doña Magdalena in the passage, each to go to their respective places. The lady stood up to let them pass, hiding her niece with her person. Doña Mariana was sitting with Jeromín on her knees, covered entirely by the shawl. She had told him, to cover this manœuvre, that children were not allowed in this place, and that as soon as the Court had passed she would put him where he would see everything. Jeromín obeyed without any outward sign of suspicion, but remembering, perhaps, his adventures in the convent of Descalzos, where such care had been taken not to let a certain great person see him.

When the Princess passed Doña Magdalena in the narrow passage, she stopped for a moment and held out her hand; the lady kissed it kneeling, then the Princess said quickly and softly, "Where is the wrapped-up one?"

Then Doña Magdalena opened the shawl and Jeromín appeared, cap in hand, the fair hair all untidy from the shawl, and with an attractive look of annoyance on the pretty face which added to his natural charm. A ray of tenderness illuminated the Princess's beautiful face, and, without remembering who she was or where she was, she embraced him, kissing him several times on both cheeks.

Prince Carlos had also stopped, and looked with astonishment at the little peasant his aunt was kissing, but when he saw the Princess make as if she would take the child with her to the throne, he reproved her harshly and angrily, according to his usual bad habit.

Jeromín, on hearing him, abruptly left the Princess, and clinging on to Doña Magdalena's skirt said, much ruffled, "I prefer to stay with my aunt."

The Princess insisted; D. Carlos began again to chide her, and Jeromín, looking him up and down from head to foot, said again with greater firmness, "I prefer to stay with my aunt."

All this took less time to happen than it takes to tell, but it was long enough for many people to understand, and for the gossips to guess the riddle. From one end to the other of the balcony, and then into the square, the news spread that a son of the dead Emperor was there in the Consistory, in one of the Court seats.

CHAPTER XV

The arrival of the prisoners completely distracted everyone's attention, and so absorbed were they that it seemed as if that dense crowd hardly breathed.

Then clearly were heard the bells of the Holy Office, which tolled sadly to announce that the prisoners had started, and the first thing to appear in the square was the parochial cross of Salvador, with a black handle, and two acolytes with candlesticks. Then came two long rows of devout penitents with lighted torches, among whom were noble gentlemen and a few Grandees. Between these two lines, and about thirty paces from the parochial cross, came the Attorney-General of the Holy Office, Jerónimo de Ramírez, carrying the standard of the Holy Inquisition, of crimson damask with the black and white shield of the Order of St. Dominic and the Royal Arms embroidered in gold; on its two extremities these inscriptions could be read:Exsurge Domine, et judica causam tuam—Ad deripiendos inimicos fidei.

Behind the standard followed the prisoners, about a dozen steps one from the other, and guarded each by two familiars of the Holy Office and four soldiers. The first was D. Augustin Cazalla, cleric, preacher and chaplain to His Majesty; a man of about fifty, now weak and shrunken, and stooping forward as if overcome by the weight of his sorrow and shame. He was wearing the ignominious "sanbenito," a sort of chasuble made of yellow baize, with a vivid green cross on the chest; on his head the ignoble "coroza" painted with flames and devils, and a lighted taper of green wax in his hand.

Behind him came in the following order, his brotherFrancisco de Vibero, also a cleric, who did not repent until the last moment, and who was gagged to silence his dreadful blasphemies; their sister Doña Beatriz de Vibero, a devout woman of rare beauty; the master Alonso Pérez, cleric of Palencia, the silversmith Juan García, Cristóbal de Campo, the Bachelor of Arts Antonio Herrezuelo, also gagged, and impenitent to the last, and for this the only one to perish in the flames; Cristóbal de Padilla, a native of Zamora, Doña Catalina de Ortega, widow of the captain Loaysa, the licentiate Calahorra, Alcalde Mayor in the employment of the Bishop, Catalina Román, Isabel Estrada, Juan Velásquez, and Gonzalo Baez, a Portuguese, and not a Lutheran heretic, but a Jew.

These were all condemned to be garrotted and their corpses burnt, and for this reason they had flames painted on their sanbenitos and corozas. Behind them two familiars of the Holy Office carried on a stretcher the shapeless figure of a woman, also dressed with a coroza and sanbenito, the bones of Doña Leonor de Vibero, mother of the Cazallas, exhumed from the monastery of San Benito, to be burnt with her effigy. Behind this first group came, guarded in the same manner, another sixteen prisoners, men and women, condemned to various punishments, but not to death, for which reason they did not wear the corozas or flames on their sanbenitos; the men went bareheaded, and the women with a piece of linen on their head to hide their shame. The most noteworthy among them were D. Pedro Sarmiento, Commander of the Order of Alcantara, and a relation of the Admiral, and his wife Doña Mencia de Figueroa, who had been a lady of the Court; he was condemned to forfeit the robes of his Order and Commandery, to perpetual prison and the sanbenito, with the necessity of hearing mass and a sermon on Sunday, and to communicate on the three great feasts, and forbidden to use silk, gold, silver, horses, and jewels; she was only condemned to perpetual prison and the wearing of the sanbenito.

When Doña Mencia mounted the platform the ladies of the Court burst into tears, and the Princess herself hurriedly left and went inside, wiping her eyes with ahandkerchief. The Marqués de Poza, D. Luis de Rojas, also inspired deep pity, a gay boy, exiled for ever from the Court, and deprived of all the honours of a gentleman; and even more Doña Ana Enriquez, daughter of the Marqués de Alcañices, a girl of great beauty, who was sentenced to leave the platform with sanbenito and taper, to fast for three days, to return with her dress to the prison, and then go free. Such was the repentance and confusion of this lady that, mounting the tribune to hear her sentence, her strength left her, and she would have fallen from the platform, had not a son of the Duque de Gandia, who was there as a devout penitent, supported her.

The prisoners were placed on the steps in the order arranged, those condemned to death separated from the others, and the Auto was begun by a young Dominican brother, of ruddy complexion, and rapid and violent in his marvellous eloquence, mounting the centre pulpit. It was the celebrated Maestro Fr. Melchor Cano, one of the most learned men of his time, and he preached for more than an hour on the text of St. Matthew, "Flee from false prophets, who come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves."

The sermon ended, the Archbishop of Seville, Valdéz, the Inquisitor of Valladolid, Vaca, and his secretary mounted the throne to submit the oath to the Prince and Princess. The Archbishop carried a beautiful cross of gold and jewels, the Inquisitor a missal, and the secretary the form of the oath written on parchment. Standing up, the Prince and Princess, D. Carlos cap in hand, swore by the cross and missal in these words, which the secretary read: "That as Catholic Princes they would defend with all might and life the Catholic faith as held and believed by the Holy Mother Church Apostolic of Rome, and its conservation and increase; that they would give all the necessary favour and help to the Holy Office of the Inquisition and its ministers, that heretics, disturbers of the Christian religion which they professed, should be punished according to the Apostolic decrees and sacred canons, without omission on their part or making any exception." "El Relator"Juan de Ortega then read this same formula to the people from one of the tribunes of the lower platform, crying first three times, "Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!"

And the people, with the vehemence of conviction and the haste of those who have received a warning, answered with one voice, with one cry of fear and conviction, "Yes, we swear."

Then the same "Relator," Juan de Ortega, and the clerk of Toledo, Juan de Vergara, ascended the two tribunes on the platform, and began to read alternately, the trials and convictions of the prisoners beginning with Dr. Cazalla. From a high pulpit each heard his own sentence read, and remained all the time with a lighted taper of green wax in his hand, exposed to public shame. Then it was that Doña Ana de Enriquez nearly fell out of the pulpit overwhelmed with confusion.

At four o'clock in the afternoon the reading was ended. Then the Archbishop of Seville put on his pontifical vestments, and solemnly absolved and restored to the bosom of the Church the sixteen reconciled prisoners, who were then taken back to their respective cells. The other fourteen, who were condemned to death, left at the same time, some walking, others riding on donkeys, to be garrotted, and afterwards burnt on the Parade Ground.

Such was then an Auto da Fe, certainly a sad and sorrowful sight, but still, perhaps not so emotional as the sight of certain trials to which in our day the public flock, not to sanction by their presence the judgment and justice nor as a warning lesson, but greedy to see the seamy side of sorrow and crime. As to the horrible scenes of the "Quemadero" (the burning), no one attended them but those obliged by their office, and a public low and ignorant, no doubt, and for this reason much more blameless than those who nowadays attend our executions, full of unhealthy curiosity or cold indifference. There is no doubt, says the profound thinker Balmes, that, if the doctrine of those who wish to abolish the death penalty should ever become effective, when posterity reads of the executions of our days, they will be as horrified as we are over those of thepast. The gallows, garrotte and the guillotine will be placed on a par with the ancient "Quemaderos."

Tired by the long wait and the dull reading, Jeromín ended by falling asleep, his head leaning against Doña Magdalena's knees, but he woke up in the midst of a strange tumult, of which he was far from knowing that he was the cause. This is how Vander Hammen describes the scene: "At it (the Auto) the greater part of Old Castille was present, and a great number of Andalucians and those from New Castille, and as the news spread about everywhere of the new son of Charles V, a little more and there would have been a serious disaster, as everyone wanted to see him and the guards could not check them.

"The people threw themselves on each other without minding the halberds, javelins or arquebuses. It came to this, that the Conde de Osorno had to carry him in his arms to the Princess's carriage, because everyone liked him. In it the sister took him to the Palace (the house of the Conde de Benavente), followed by a crowd of people, and from there he went back with Doña Magdalena to her Villagarcia."

All the same, Vander Hammen is wrong in what he says about the Princess and other things. The Conde de Osorno did, it is true, take Jeromín and lift him up to show him to the people, but he did not give him into the Princess's charge, nor did she commit the imprudence of taking him with her to the Palace. He gave him into Doña Magdalena's care, from whom he had got separated in the confusion, and this lady took him back the same night to Villagarcia.

The child, frightened by the tumult, whose cause he did not suspect, asked with rather timid anxiety whether the heretics had escaped.

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