THE ENGLISHMAN'S ADVENTURE.
A STORY OF VALENCIA.
In a fine summer night in the latter half of the seventeenth century, (the day and year are immaterial,) Clarence Landon, a handsome and high-spirited young Englishman, who had been passing some time in the south of Spain, was standing on the banks of the Guadalquiver, in the environs of the ancient city of Valencia, watching with anxious eyes the fading sails of a small felucca, just visible in the golden rays of the rising moon, as, catching a breath of the freshening western breeze, they bore the light craft out upon the blue bosom of the Mediterranean. Though the scene was one of surpassing beauty, though the air was balmy, and came to his brow laden with the fragrance of the orange, the myrtle, and the rose, the expression of the young man's face was melancholy in the extreme.
"Too late!" he muttered to himself; "too late! It is hard, after having ventured so much for them, that I should have been baffled in my attempt to escape with them. However, they are safe and happy. If this breeze holds, they will soon pass Cape St. Martin. Dear Estella, how I value this pledge of your friendship and gratitude."
And the young man, after raising to his lips a small diamond star, attached to a golden chain, deposited the trinket in his bosom, and then, with a parting glance at the distant vessel, turned homewards in the direction of the city gates.
Absorbed in his own reflections, he did not notice that his footsteps were dogged by a tall figure, muffled in a black cloak, which pursued him in the moonlight, like his shadow, and left him only when he entered his posada.
Landon spent some time in his room in reading and arranging letters and papers; and when the clock of a neighboring cathedral sounded the hour of eleven, threw himself upon his bed without undressing, and was soon asleep. From a disturbed and unrefreshing slumber, crowded with vexatious visions, he was suddenly and rudely roused by a rough hand laid upon his shoulder. He started upright in bed, and gazed around him with astonishment. His chamber was filled by half a dozen sinister-looking men, robed entirely in black, in whom he recognized, not without a shudder, the dreaded familiars of the Holy Office, the officials of the Inquisitorial Tribune. His first impulse was to grope for his arms; but his sword and pistols had been removed. A rough voice bade him arise and follow, and he had no choice but to obey the mandate. Preceded and followed by the familiars, who were all armed, as he judged by the clash of steel that attended each footstep, though no weapons were apparent, he descended the staircase, came out upon the street, and was conducted through many a winding lane and passage to a low-browed arch, which opened into the basement story of a huge embattled building, that rose like a fortress before him. The conductor of the band halted here, and knocking thrice upon an oaken door, studded with huge iron nails, it was opened silently, and the party entered a dark, subterranean passage of stone, lighted only by a smoky cresset lamp swinging in a recess.
After passing through this corridor, Landon was conducted into a huge vaulted hall, dimly illuminated by the branches of an iron chandelier, by whose light he discovered in front of him a raised platform, on which were seated three men, robed in black, while before them, at a table, sat two others, similarly attired, with writing implements before them. On the platform was planted a huge banner, the blazon on the folds of which was a wooden cross, flanked by a branch of olive and a naked sword, the motto being, "Exurge, Domine, et judica causam tuam." Rise, Lord, and judge thy cause. It wanted neither this formidable standard, nor the implements of torture scattered around, to convince the young Englishman that he stood in the halls of the Inquisition.
After being permitted to stand some time before the judges, that his mind might be impressed with the terrors of the place, the principal Inquisitor addressed him, demanding his name.
"Clarence Landon," was the reply.
"Your birthplace?"
"London, England."
"Your age?"
"Twenty-five years."
"Occupation?"
"I am a gentleman of fortune, with no pursuit but that of knowledge and pleasure."
"You are accused," said the judge, "of having aided and abetted a countryman of yours, named Walter Hamilton, in seducing and carrying off Estella Martinez, a lady of a noble house, and a sister of St. Ursula. How say you, guilty or not guilty?"
"I am not guilty—I am not capable of the infamy with which you charge me."
"He refuses to confess," said the judge, turning to a familiar, the sworn tormentor. "We must try the question. Sanchez, is the rack prepared?"
The man addressed was a brawny, muscular ruffian, with a livid and forbidding countenance, whose dark eyes sparkled with pleasure as he bowed assent to the interrogation.
"Hold!" cried Landon. "The truth can no longer harm any but myself; and though you may inflict death upon me, you shall not enjoy the fiendish satisfaction of mutilating my limbs with your horrid enginery. I did aid Hamilton, not indeed in ruining an injured maiden, but in rescuing from the thraldom she abhorred a lovely lady whom Providence formed to make the happiness of an honorable man. By this time Estella is a happy bride."
"Her joys will be shortened," said the inquisitor, frowning. "They cannot long elude the power of Rodrigo d'Almonte, at once judge of the Holy Office and governor of Valencia."
"Moderate your transports, governor," replied the Englishman, boldly; "the fugitives are beyond your reach. This very night a swift-winged felucca bore them away from these accursed shores, to a land of liberty and happiness."
The brow of Rodrigo grew black as night.
"Insolent!" he answered; "you have outraged and set at naught the authority of church and state; your life shall pay the forfeit."
"Be it so," replied Landon, folding his arms; "but let me tell you, that for every drop of blood shed, my country will demand a life. The cross of St. George protects the meanest subject of the English crown."
Rodrigo d'Almonte made no reply, but waving his hand, Landon was removed from the tribunal and thrown into a dungeon on the same floor with the hall of torture.
Towards the close of a sultry summer day, the narrow streets of Valencia wore an aspect of unusual activity and life, filled, as they were, with representatives of every class of citizens. The tide of human beings seemed to be setting in one direction, towards a plaza, or square, in the centre. The Alameda was deserted by its fashionable promenaders; and young and old—all, indeed, who were not bedridden—were at length congregated in the square. The attraction was soon explained; for in the centre of the plaza was seen a lofty platform of wood, on which was erected a stout stake or pillar, to which was affixed an iron chain and ring. Around this were heaped, to the height of several feet, huge fagots of dry wood, ready for the torch. A large body of men-at-arms kept the crowd back from a large open space around the platform. These preparations were made, so the popular rumor ran, for the punishment of a young Englishman, who had aided a Spanish nun in the violation of her vows.
The numerous bells of the city were tolling heavily; and at length, after the patience of the populace had been nearly exhausted, the head of a column of men, marching in slow time, was seen to enter upon the plaza. First came the governor's guard, their steel caps and cuirasses and halberds polished like silver. After these, walked the officials of the Inquisition, and some friars of the order of St. Dominic, surrounding the unfortunate Landon, who wore the corazo, or pointed cap, upon his head, and the san benito, a robe painted all over with flames and devils, typifying the awful fate which awaited him. He ascended the scaffold with a firm step, while the cortége ranged themselves around it; and the governor of Valencia, mounted on a splendid barbed charger, and wearing his inquisitorial robes over his military uniform, rode into the square, amid the vivas of the crowd and the presented arms of the troops, and made a sign for the ceremony to proceed.
As an officer, appointed for the purpose, was about to read the sentence, a great tumult arose in the square, and attracted the attention of all the spectators.
"What is the meaning of this, Alvarez?" asked the governor, addressing one of his lieutenants.
"The people, please your excellency, have got hold of Isaac, the rich Jew, and insist on his beholding the august spectacle of the auto da fe."
"The unbelieving dog has never liked these brave shows," answered the governor, with a grim smile, "since his well-beloved brother, Issachar, expiated his heresy on this spot in the great auto, when we burned twenty of his tribe before the king. Beshrew my heart! he abuses my clemency in permitting him to hold house and gold here in Valencia. He shall behold the execution! Make room there, and drag him into the heart of the hollow square."
The cruel order was obeyed; and the old Jew, who was a mild and venerable-looking man, was forced into the centre of the plaza, whence he could have a full view of the horrid scene about to be enacted.
But the indignities to which he had been subjected aroused a latent spark of fire even in the soul of the aged Hebrew. He lifted up his voice and cried aloud:—
"Spaniards! Christians! are ye men, or are ye brutes? Fear ye not the vengeance of Heaven, when ye enact deeds that would make the savage blush? Think ye that Heaven will long withhold its vengeance from atrocities that cry aloud to it night and day—that the innocent blood ye have spilt will sink, unavenged, into the earth? Fear and tremble, for the hour of wrath and woe is at hand!"
The energy and eloquence with which he spoke sent a strange thrill of terror through the crowd. The governor, alone insensible to fear, shouted from his saddle:—
"Tremble for yourself, Isaac! for, by the rood! if you dare question the justice of the Holy Office, you shall share the fate of yonder prisoner."
"I fear not the wrath of man," replied the Jew; "fear you the wrath of Heaven!"
And at this moment, as if in vindication of his words, a heavy clap of thunder, that shook the city like the discharge of a park of artillery, broke upon the ear; and one of those sudden storms, so common in southerly latitudes, rolled up its dark masses of clouds, and the light of day was suddenly quenched, as in an eclipse. Vivid flashes of lightning lit the upturned and terror-stricken faces of the cowering multitude. At the same time, the wind howled fiercely through the streets that debouched upon the plaza, and tore the plumage that waved and tossed upon the helmets of the soldiery.
"Executioner!" roared the governor, whose high, stern tones of military command were heard above the roar of the sudden tornado, "do your duty! Set fire to the fagots!"
The order was obeyed; the torch was applied, and already a quivering, lurid flame shot up at the feet of the luckless Landon, when the storm burst forth with ungovernable fury. The scaffolding was blown down, the fragments scattered, and the rain, descending in torrents, instantly quenched both torch and fagot. The vast crowd was thrown into utter confusion; the terrified horses of the cavalry plunged madly among the footmen; hundreds fell and were trampled under foot; and prayers, shrieks, and imprecations filled the darkened air.
Landon was unhurt amid the wreck of the sacrificial pyre. A ray of hope shot up in his heart. Scrambling out of the ruins, unobserved and unpursued, he fled down the nearest lane with the utmost speed. Anxious to obtain shelter, he, without even a thought, climbed a garden wall; once within which he was safe, for a moment, from pursuit. Rushing through a shaded alley of the garden, he found himself at the door of a large and splendid house. Almost without a hope of finding it yield, he tried the handle, and the door opened. Silently and swiftly he ascended a large, stone staircase, and took refuge in the first apartment which he found before him. A beautiful young girl, the only occupant of the room, starting at the fearful apparition of a stranger flying for his life, in the robe of the san benito, fell upon her knees and crossed herself repeatedly, as her dark eyes were fixed in terror on the intruder.
"Lady!" cried Landon, "for the love of that Being whom we both worship, though in a different form, take pity on a wretched fellow-being. Save me! save me!"
"You are accursed and condemned," she answered, rising and recoiling.
"I am! I am!—but you know my offence. If you ever loved yourself, you know how to pardon it. Think of the horrid fate which awaits me, if you are pitiless."
The lady paused and reflected, Landon watching the expression of her countenance with the most intense anxiety. At length her brow cleared up; there was an expression of sweetness about her rosy lips that revived hope in the heart of the fugitive.
"I will save you if I can," she answered.
"Heaven's best blessing on you for the word!" exclaimed the Englishman.
"But you have come to a dangerous place for shelter and safety," she continued, sadly. "Do you know whose house this is? It is the dwelling of my father, Don Rodrigo d'Almonte, the governor of Valencia."
Landon started back in terror, but he instantly recovered from that feeling.
"You, then," he said, "are Donna Florinda, in praise of whose beauty and goodness all Valencia is eloquent. I feel that I am safe in your hands."
"I will never betray you," said the lady. "You are safe here. It is my bed chamber," she continued, blushing; "but I resign it to you—sure, from your countenance, that you are a cavalier of honor, who will never give me cause to repent of the step."
"Be sure of that."
"Swear it," she said, "upon this trinket, which my father took from your person in the hall of the Inquisition."
Landon took from Florinda's hand the diamond star given him by Estella, and thus mysteriously restored, and pressed it to his lips.
"By this talisman," he said, "by this token, which I prize so highly, I pledge myself not to abuse your confidence, but to repay the priceless service you render me by a life of gratitude."
"You may remain here, then, for the present," said Florinda, "till I can think what can be done for you."
"If I can only make my way to the house of the English ambassador," replied Landon, "I think I can count upon my safety."
Donna Florinda, after lighting a lamp, (for it was now nightfall,) and setting upon a table some wine and fruit, left the chamber, locking the door behind her.
Descending to the garden, she went directly to a secluded arbor, embowered in foliage, at no great distance from the house.
"Cesareo!" she whispered.
A young cavalier, who was concealed in the arbor, instantly advanced, and clasped her in his arms.
"Dear Florinda," he cried, "I feared that you would disappoint me. But we have yet some happy moments to pass together."
"Not a moment, Cesareo," replied the lady; "my father will soon return. I come to beg you to retire instantly, and await another opportunity of meeting."
"You are anxious to get rid of me!" replied the cavalier.
"Not so; my father will soon return, and he will be sure to inquire for me directly."
"Well, then," said the lover, "if it must be so, go you to the house, and leave me the solitary pleasure of watching the window of the room gladdened by your presence."
"No, no, Cesareo," cried Florinda, in terror, "that must not be."
As she said this, her eyes were instinctively turned to the window of her room, and Cesareo's followed the same direction. The shadow of Landon's figure, as it passed between the lamp and the window, was seen defined distinctly on the curtain.
"By Heaven!" cried Cesareo, "there is a man in your bed chamber!"
"My father!" said Florinda.
"You told me in your last breath that he had not returned. You are playing me false, Florinda. You have a lover, and a favored one."
"No, no!" cried the agonized girl. "It is nothing, believe me—trust not appearances. I will explain all."
But at this moment the distant clang of trumpets and kettledrums was heard, announcing the governor's return.
"I must begone!" cried Florinda; "believe me, I am faithful;" and with these words she fled into the house.
"The dream is over!" said Cesareo. "But I will have vengeance on my rival;" and he left the garden, muttering curses, and grasping the cross hilt of his sword.
Florinda flew to her chamber.
"Fly!" she cried to Landon. "I have sheltered you at the risk of my reputation—my father is returning, and you must leave this house. A jealous lover may denounce me, and both of us be ruined forever. Farewell; climb the wall at the back of the garden, and take refuge in the next house. I will still watch over you."
Landon obeyed, and made his escape from the governor's garden just as Don Rodrigo was entering his court yard. He crossed another small garden, and entered a small house at the extremity, the door of which was unbarred, and again found refuge in a room on the first floor, where he concealed himself behind a screen.
He had not been here long before he heard footsteps entering the room, and the voices of two persons in conversation, one of whom was evidently a female, and the other an old man.
"Dear father!" said the female, "I am rejoiced to see that you are returned. You never go forth in this city that you do not leave me trembling for your safety."
"I have passed through much peril, Miriam," replied the man. "Snares and violence have beset my path. I went to carry the gold and the silver I had promised to Jacob, the goldsmith, when, lo! I was beset by the ungodly rabble."
"Dear father!"
"Yea! and they dragged me to their place of skulls—even to their accursed Golgotha, where the blood of mine only brother was drunken by the ravening flames, and where thirty of our brethren perished because they believed in the God of Abraham, and of Isaac, and of Jacob."
"And did they force you to witness the auto da fe?"
"They brought me to the place, Miriam—but there the spirit of prophecy descended upon me, and I lifted up my voice and denounced their abominations, even as the prophet of old did the iniquities of the Egyptian king. And lo! Miriam, there was a miracle wrought. The voice of Heaven spake in thunder to rebuke their impious bloodthirstiness. The floodgates of heaven were opened, and the rain descended in mighty torrents, and quenched the Moloch fires kindled by the Christians. And a great wind arose, and the scaffold was destroyed, and the goodly youth that stood thereupon was saved from the death of fire as the multitude were scattered."
"And lives he, father?"
"I fear not," answered the old man, sadly. "For if he were not crushed by the falling scaffold, yet verily the cruel swords of the troopers and the men-at-arms must have sought out his young life."
At this moment, Landon stepped from his concealment.
"No, my friends," said he, "I yet live to thank Heaven for its providential care. I have even found a friend in the household of my bitter enemy, for Donna Florinda d'Almonte sheltered me, and commended me to your roof."
He now had time to scan the persons of his hosts. The elder, Isaac, the Jew, was, as we described him on his appearance in the plaza, a man of venerable appearance, with a mild and noble countenance, wearing the long beard and flowing robes of his race. His daughter, Miriam, had the commanding beauty, the dark eyes, the flowing hair, and the bold features of the daughters of Israel. She was richly clad in robes of silk, and many a jewel of price gleamed in the raven tresses of her hair.
"Thou art safe beneath this roof," said the Hebrew, "for Donna Florinda, though the daughter of the man of tiger blood, hath yet befriended us and ours, and for her sake as well as for thine, thou art welcome."
Landon thanked his new friends for their hospitable pledges.
"I would fain," said the old Hebrew, "give thee garments more fitting than the accursed robe that wraps thy youthful limbs. But of a truth I have none of Spanish fashion, and the Jewish gabardine is almost as fatal to the wearer as the robe of the san benito."
"Here comes Reuben," said Miriam. "Welcome home, dear brother."
A handsome youth of sixteen entered at this moment, and saluted his father, his sister, and the stranger. He bore a bundle in his arms.
"I was charged," he said, "by the lady Florinda, to bear this packet to the stranger I should find here. It contains a Spanish dress. She bid me say," he continued, addressing Landon, "that when you have put on these habiliments, you can repair with me to the governor's garden at midnight. The waiting maid and confidant will conduct you through the house to the street, and once there you can make your way to the English ambassador's."
After thanking the youthful messenger, Landon was shown to an apartment, where he was left alone to change his dress. Donna Florinda had supplied him with a plain but handsome cavalier's suit, including mantle, hat, and plume, and in addition to these, a good sword. Landon hailed this latter gift with joy, and buckled the belt with trembling eagerness. He drew the weapon, and found it to be a Toledo blade of the best temper. He kissed the sword with ecstasy.
"Welcome!" he cried, "old friend! With you I can cut through odds, and at least sell my life dearly, if I fall again into the hands of the Philistines."
Returning to his new friends, he sat down to a hearty meal which they had prepared for him, and to which he did an Englishman's justice. At the hour of twelve, his young friend Reuben signified his readiness to accompany him on his adventure.
"Farewell!" he cried; "I owe you a debt that nothing can repay. But believe me that your kindness will always dwell in the heart of Clarence Landon."
Reuben and the Englishman were soon in the governor's garden. It was pitch dark, and they advanced cautiously, groping their way. All at once Landon stumbled against some person.
"Is it you, Reuben?" said he, in a low tone.
But he was instantly grasped by the throat. Dealing his unknown assailant a blow with his clinched hand, which made him release his hold, the Englishman instantly drew his sword and threw himself on guard. His steel was crossed by another blade, and a fierce encounter ensued, the combatants being practised swordsmen, and guided, in the dark, by what swordsmen term the "perception of the blade." Reuben had made his escape, and gone to inform his father of this new disaster. The struggle was brief, for the antagonist of Landon, closing at the peril of his life, and being a man of herculean strength, wrested the sword from the Englishman's grasp, and held him at his mercy.
"Now, dog!" whispered the victor, "have you any thing to offer why I should not take your life as a minion of the tyrant Rodrigo?"
"I scorn to ask my life of an unknown assassin," replied Landon; "but I am no minion of Rodrigo's, and I was even now seeking to escape his clutches."
"If there was light here," said the stranger, "I could see whether you lied, friend, by your looks. You may be palming off a tale upon me. How did you propose to escape Rodrigo?"
"By making my way through his house," answered Landon.
"A likely tale. How are you to gain access to his house?"
"A waiting maid was to let me in."
"Well, I'll test your veracity. I have your life in my hands. You are unarmed; I have rapier and dagger. The experiment costs me nothing."
"It would be idle in me to interrogate you," said Landon; "it would be idle to ask who you are."
"I will answer you frankly," replied the stranger; "I am one of those freebooters whose fortunes are their swords. If I were in Rodrigo's power, my life would not be worth five minutes' purchase; and yet I am seeking him to-night."
"You speak in riddles."
"Perhaps; but be silent now, if you value your life, and follow me."
The stranger, still retaining a firm grasp upon the luckless Landon, approached a door which led into the governor's house, showing, in their progress, a perfect acquaintance with the labyrinthian alleys of the garden. They halted, and a female voice spoke in a whisper, saying, "Here's the key."
The stranger grasped it, and dragging Landon into the house, instantly locked the door behind him. A dark lantern was placed on the floor of the corridor; the stranger told Landon to take this up, and precede him up stairs. Landon obeyed, the stranger following close behind, and giving him whispered directions as to his course.
Having reached a certain door, the stranger took the light and entered a chamber, followed by the wondering Englishman. The walls of the room were heavily draped, and upon a huge bed the governor of Valencia was reclining, buried in a deep slumber.
"He sleeps!" whispered the stranger in the ear of Landon; "he sleeps, as if he had never shed blood—as if the head of my brother had never fallen on the block by the hand of his bloody executioner. He will soon sleep sounder."
"What mean you?" asked Landon.
"Wait and see," was the reply.
The stranger cautiously lifted the light in his left hand, bending over the sleeper, while with his right he drew a broad, sharp poniard from his belt, and raised it in the act to strike. But just as it was descending, Landon caught the assassin's arm, and shouted in his loudest tones,—
"Don Rodrigo, wake!"
"Baffled!" cried the ruffian, with an oath. "You shall pay with your life for interfering."
The governor sprang from his bed in time to witness the deadly struggle between Landon and the midnight assassin. It was short and decisive, for as the robber was aiming a blow at his antagonist, the latter changed the direction, and it was buried to the hilt in his own heart. He fell, and died without a groan. The noise of the struggle had aroused the household, and the servants came pouring into the room with lights, accompanied by Donna Florinda, who was agonized with terror.
"Dear father!" she cried, rushing into the governor's arms, "what does this mean?"
"It means," replied Don Rodrigo, "that this ruffian, who had sworn to take my life because I had condemned his brother to death for manifold misdeeds, has been slain in the attempt by this young man."
"And do you recognize your generous savior?" exclaimed the daughter. "Behold! it is the young Englishman you condemned to perish at the stake. O father!" And she explained the manner in which Landon had been enabled to save the governor's life.
"Young man," said the governor, addressing Landon with deep emotion, "a mightier Power than the hand of man is visible in this. For the life you have saved I will repay you in the same manner. I insure you a full and free pardon, and you shall not have it to say that Don Rodrigo d'Almonte, bad as he has been represented, was a monster of ingratitude."
And he kept his word. Landon soon after set sail for England, in company with the Hebrew family who had sheltered him, and there, in due time, was united to the lovely Miriam, with whose beauty he had been impressed on first sight. In England, he rejoined Hamilton and his Spanish bride, to secure whose happiness he had perilled his own life; and he always preserved Estella's diamond star as a memorial of his adventures in Valencia. Soon after his arrival he received a letter from Donna Florinda, announcing her marriage to Cesareo, whose jealousy had been so signally excited by Landon's shadow on the window curtain. When Don Rodrigo died, he was buried with all the honors due to a soldier, a governor, and an eminent member of that mild and benevolent institution, the Spanish Inquisition.