Alphonzo determined to put a stop to the thing in the way things were put a stop to in those days. Accompanied by three of his informers he flew to Coimbra. Iñez threw herself at his feet and pleaded so piteously for her life that the old king relented. He had not the heart to kill her. He turned away and as he withdrew, he let fall some expressions of impatience at his own weakness, which proved enough for the ruffians who were with him. They went back and plunged their daggers in the bosom of Iñez.
The rage of Pedro knew no bounds. He revolted against his father, and Portugal was devastated by civil war. At last, reflecting that he was heir to that kingdom, he made peace and became so calm that it was thought he had forgotten Iñez.
His father died and Pedro ascended the throne of Portugal. His first purpose was to lay hand on the murderers of Iñez. They had fled into Castile. He sent an envoy to Pedro-the-cruel claiming them; and the latter, not hindered by the obvious justice of the claim, gave them up, that is two of them; the third had escaped into Aragon beyond the reach of either Pedro. The two surrendered were put to death. Then to rehabilitate the memory of Iñez Pedro, with the bishop of Guarda by his side, publicly proclaimed the marriage. The body of Iñez was exhumed and the ceremony of coronation performed. A crown was placed upon her brow, and the whole court with Ferdinand son of Constance at the head, passed before her and kneeled and made obeisance as to a living queen. A gorgeous funeral followed, and the remains of Iñez were conveyed to the royal sepulchre of Alcobaca. Often, say the chronicles, did Pedro go there to weep at the tomb of his beloved wife; and he lies by her side now.
Such is the history of Iñez de Castro.
To return to Pedro of Castile.
The battle of Poictiers brought about a lull in the war between England and France, and Bertrand Du Guesclin was out of employment. He afterwards rose to be constable of France, but at this time he was a sort of contractor for military work to be paid for in silver and gold; and we shall see that he was not the only knight of high renown who bargained for pay. The implements he used were chiefly the Free-Companions, a class of combatants half soldier half robber that I have already described in my essay on the Captivity.
Henry of Trastamara proposed to Bertrand to unite their resources, march into Castile and dethrone Pedro. The knight accepted the offer. He hung his banner on the outward wall, and the Free-Companions came flocking to it like crows to a carcass. But where was the money to come from? the Free-Companions would not fight without pay. So Bertrand made a speech to them. He told them they were soldiers not thieves, and that it was more respectable to aid their brother-in-arms Henry of Trastamara to conquer a kingdom than to be robbing on the highway. He appealed too to their religious sensibilities, for in the middle ages religion mingled with everything, and was invoked to sanction all purposes good or bad. He bade them trust in Providence for their pay, and reminded them that they must now and then do some good work in order to give the devil the slip in the end.
The wholesome creed of good works prevailed at that epoch: justification by faith was hanging back, waiting for Luther; and there was none of this modern nonsense about there being no devil. These fellows knew there was one, and that he had cloven hoofs, a pronged tail and horns. Some of them had seen him, and if you called the fact in question, were ready to vouch for it with broad-sword or halberd at your choice. It is an historical error that Saint Dunstan and some other gentlemen of the cloth were the only persons who saw the devil in the dark ages.
Du Guesclin’s eloquence prevailed. The men caught the spirit of their chieftain, and flung up their caps and shouted Long live Henry of Trastamara! Glory be to God on high! The hosanna was in token of their repentance and of their resolution to do their marauding for the present as soldiers. The knave of hearts himself was not more contrite when he brought back those tarts and vowed he’d steal no more.
They set out for Spain. It occurred to them on the way, that it would be a pious duty to stop at Avignon and ask the blessing of the pope.