“And the Duke has given me leave, and Don Felipe, too, to go to Palos immediately to see the caravel come in. I knew that it would be so hard for him to stay here when I went to Palos and saw all the people crowding the quays and shores and the caravel come sailing in with my father on the poop.”
“And why,” cried Prince Juan, shaking Diego, “cannot I see that glorious sight as well as you and Don Felipe?”
“Because your Highness is a royal prince,” answered Diego. “Your Highness cannot run about the country as we do. We are not heirs to thrones, we are not so important, and so we have more liberty.”
The door opened, and Father de Deza, tutor to Prince Juan and master of studies, entered. Instantly all sat down and took their books, Prince Juan with the others, but the minds of all were elsewhere speculating upon the glorious discovery, the gain of new worlds for Spain.
It was the way of the Duke to act quickly, and the next day by noon Diego and Don Felipe were starting off with a party consisting of Don Tomaso de Gama, Alonzo de Quintanilla, the Queen’s accountant, and a dozen men-at-arms. De Quintanilla was to make official records of the return of the ship, to take charge of important papers, and carried a letter from Queen Isabella to the Admiral.
As the cavalcade trotted out of the courtyard of the palace, Prince Juan, watching from a window and surrounded by all the pages, wore a melancholy countenance; he longed to be of the travelers. From another window on a level with the heads of Diego and Don Felipe watched Doña Christina and Doña Luisita. The last picture impressed upon Diego’s mind, as he rode out of the courtyard in the cavalcade, was Doña Luisita’s soft and beautiful eyes gazing after him. But his absence was not likely to be longer than eight or ten days, and never did a young man set out on a journey which meant more of hope and happiness than did Diego. The return of his father not only meant the sight of the best and tenderest of fathers returning from a long and hazardous voyage, but it meant a triumph for the Admiral so great that Diego was dazzled as he contemplated it. How insignificant appeared the greatest title by that of the Admiral of the Ocean Seas, Viceroy and Captain-General of all Lands to the Westward! It meant unending fame for the Admiral and splendor for all his descendants. Diego remained silent as they passed through the narrow streets of the town of Barcelona, skirted the harbor, bright in the spring sun, and the blue Mediterranean beyond. Soon they were in the open country. It was the ninth day of March, and the vegetation in the sunny climate of southern Spain was already well advanced. When they struck the highway through the forests there was a faint, delicate green upon the trees, and the sweet and pungent odor of the coming leaves perfumed the air. In the fields the peasants tilled the rich earth and laughed and sang as they toiled.
Don Tomaso was the leader likely to be most popular with youths of the age of Diego and Don Felipe. He rode ahead, trolling in his rich voice the canzonets and popular ballads of the day—all relating to love and war. His famous chestnut horse seemed proud of being bestridden by so superb a horseman, and whinnied with delight and caracoled as they traveled rapidly along the highway. At evening the Daredevil Knight scorned inns and castles, saying:
“Let us sleep like soldiers in our cloaks, and not seek soft beds like ladies and carpet knights.”