Prince Rupert, the Buccaneer

by Charles John Cutcliffe Wright Hyne

The dark man leaped to his feet and beat the table a blow with his fist. For the moment he was inarticulate with rage. But the two older men who sat on the bench had respect for the dignity of their office, and they leaned forward, and in whispers did what they could to pacify him. He had a struggle with his passion, and looked as though he could have struck either of them for their interference; the monk also came forward, significantly raising his crucifix, as though to show that they were assembled there for the purposes of their Church alone; and presently with an angry scowl he sank back again on to the bench, and nodded impatient assent to the whispers.

But if ever the thirst for a cruel vengeance showed in a man's face it shone from the dark Inquisitor's then.

He nodded his head at the prisoners. "Presently," he said, and looked towards the curtain, which defaced one side of the room, with an eye that was ravenous in its hunger.

"It would be affectation to misunderstand you, Señor," said Rupert in his grand manner. "Presently you will torture me as few men have been tortured before, just to appease your private spite—you that dare not meet me face to face with a sword in your fingers. Your Church should be proud of so doughty a champion, though in God's truth I fear you are forgetting this minute that there is such a thing as a Church."

The Inquisitor winced as though he had been struck, and the dark flush died from his face. He let his eyes droop to the table before him, and kept them there sunk in thought. His face worked with the violence of his feelings. The judgment chamber was steeped in an intolerable silence.

Twice the older men who sat beside him on the bench brought their grey beards to his ear, and whispered. But impatiently he waved them aside. The monk in the russet gown watched him narrowly as though he could read the tumult of his thoughts, and at last, as though to lead them in the path he would wish, kissed his crucifix and reverently placed it on the table beneath the Inquisitor's twitching face.

The man sprung back as though it had stung him, and his face still worked in silence. But at last he spoke. "You are right, father. And you have saved me from a deadly sin. I am not fitted to be an Inquisitor, and after to-day I resign my office. But for now I am still here, and justice remains to be done, and the honour of the holy Church vindicated. Prisoners," he cried, turning to the two before him, "you shall not be put to the question after our usual methods. From your own lips I will judge you and give sentence. Again, I ask, Are you heretics?"

Prince Rupert shrugged his shoulders. "Señor," he said, "you are somewhat wearisome. I have answered that question once already in the affirmative. We both happen to be gentlemen; if you had been one also, you would have known that our honour would forbid us to make change so suddenly."

The dark Inquisitor bit his lip. It was clear that he had quite a mind to flare out afresh. But with a violent effort he controlled himself. The two older men leaned towards him, with evident intention of lending their advice. But impatiently he waved them aside and turned a livid face on the prisoners.

"Be it so," he said. "You shall be judged on that confession. The personal insult avails nothing here either in mitigation or addition to your sentences. Your contumacy is proved beyond doubt, and this Holy Office casts you forthwith from its tender care."