“I say,” said Pedro, decidedly, “that the scheme is a foolish one. What is the good of plunging Portugal into a rash war with a prince who is a tolerable neighbour, as times go? I give my voice against it.”
“If it is done,” said Dom Joao, “it must be by the force of the whole country. No smaller expedition could have a chance. If Fernando had seen anything of warfare, even his hot head could make no such proposal.”
“I do not rest on my own judgment, my brother,” said Fernando, gently. “Enrique’s experience is beyond dispute.”
“Enrique once tried to take Gibraltar,” said Joao, referring to a rash attempt of Enrique’s youth, “and took me with him.”
“When you were glad enough to go,” said Enrique, smiling.
“Ay, but since then I have grown wiser. Look you here. Your ardour runs away with you, and Fernando knows nought of the matter. Tangier would be a hard nut to crack, and he could not bear the campaign needful for taking it.”
“You have no right so to put me aside,” exclaimed Fernando; then checked himself. “Pardon me, I am hasty. I think indeed little enough of my own powers. I do but wish to devote my uselessness to the service of Holy Church.”
“Holy Church would take the will for the deed!” said Joao, with a contemptuous good nature which was hard to bear. He was very fond of Fernando, but his practical and less tender nature had less sympathy for him than any of the others. Fernando coloured, but said nothing; and Duarte, with an elder’s authority, said—
“The wishes of our brothers, Enrique and Fernando, and their opinions, have due weights I give way to them so far that I shall lay this matter before the Council of Portugal, when all may speak their mind. But, my brothers, let not our difference of opinion bring the first cloud between us.”
“Nay,” said Fernando, with rather a painful smile, “Joao does but prove the truth of my complaint, that I have hitherto been the idle one among you. But we have taken enough of the king’s time. I would but ask him to forgive me for urging my wishes on him.”