“Holy Virgin, what is this!”
MORE THAN ONE CHECKMATED.
The game of chess was now over. Don Guzman had beaten Ruy Lopez—his triumph was complete, and he rose, saying to Calavarez—
“I am ready to meet the wishes of my king, as becomes one who has never swerved from his allegiance to him. My God, may this deed of foul injustice fall only upon him who has been the instigator of it, but may my blood never call down vengeance upon my king. I blame him not for my untimely fate.”
The executioner was now preparing the block, while Ruy Lopez, kneeling in a corner, and hiding his face in his mantle, recited the Office for the Dying.
Calavarez laid his hand on the duke’s shoulder to remove his ruff. Don Guzman drew back.
“Touch not a Guzman with aught belonging to thee, save this ax!” said he, and tearing off the collar, he placed his head upon the block. “Now strike,” added he; “I am ready!”
The executioner raised the ax, and all would have been over, when shouts, and the noise of hasty steps, and a confused murmur of voices, arrested the arm of Calavarez.
The door was flung open, and D’Ossuna threw himself between the victim and the executioner.
“We are in time!”