“The memory of my murdered father.”
“So be it. Let heaven’s darkness fall on thee if thou dost break thy word.”
Part III.—The Pardon.
Charles the Fifth was not unforgiving, not even inclined to be harsh; and no one ever disputed his bravery. When he was intriguing for his election as emperor—the election which made him the great emperor, Charles the Fifth—Castille was full of plots to oppose his plans, nay, to take his life; and at the head of these conspiracies was Ernani and Don Ruy.
On the very night when the electors were to assemble to decide on the choice of an emperor, the king heard that this most formidable band of conspirators, formidable because its members were moved by personal hate, were to meet in the subterraneous catacombs of Aquisgrana, the royal open burying-place.
The king fearlessly determined to be present at this traitorous assembly, and to crush it at its work. Soldiers were posted about the cavern; the king himself remained concealed in the tomb of one of his ancestors, and the hour of the meeting was close at hand. The king had given orders that if he were elected emperor, cannon should roar from the castle-walls, and that thereupon the lords of the court should present themselves at the cavern, that they might see how a great king treated rebels and traitors. Charles also commanded that the Donna Elvira should be conducted to the gloomy spot.
As the conspirators slowly gathered in the wide central space of the catacombs, no sounds were heard but those they themselves made.
Creeping—creeping guiltily, they came, and stood in a whispering throng. Then came the casting for a regicide: he on whom the lot fell was to slay the king.
There was a little rustling of papers, and then one slip was taken from the heap, brought quickly to the light of a lantern, and the name upon it read.