University of Virginia Library

10. X.

This solemn question propounded to the council
called for serious deliberation, at which it was thought
advisable that neither the person whose fate was in suspense
nor his brother should be present. This was signified
to the two, who withdrew, though not together, towards
the gorge of the cave, leaving the discussion unimpeded
by their presence. There, the sturdy Britarmin,
the follower of Pelayo, held the watch, and the advance
of Egiza might have been perilous to that unhappy prince,

but that Pelayo went forward and communed first with
the watchful Bascone. The two brothers kept aloof,
Egiza full of jealousy, and doubtful of the honour of his
brother; and though Pelayo had no such doubt with reference
to him, yet the latter could not so readily forget,
though he might forgive, the unkind words which the
other had spoken.

Meanwhile the council proceeded with its deliberations;
the Lord Aylor hotly urging the instant punishment
of Egiza, who had dared, contrary to all reasonable
expectation, to reject the honour which the council
proposed to bestow upon him. Aylor pointed to innumerable
precedents in the Gothic history to show the
punishments, whether of death or of degradation, which
had been inflicted upon the refractory in such cases;
but his wishes were overruled, and it was finally resolved
that Egiza should be free to depart, in compliance with
his own demand and the solicitations of Pelayo.

But there was yet another question which this decision
necessarily left open. Who was to be their sovereign?
Who was to lead their arms in the absence of
their sovereign? The general voice was at once in favour
of Pelayo in both capacities; but, as much time was
consumed in the discussion, it was deemed proper to give
Egiza at once the freedom which he sought for. It was
argued by Lord Aylor that, though excused from the
penalties accruing to such an offence as his, he was no
longer eligible as their monarch; and his voice was the
first to speak of Pelayo as the proper choice of the
council. This matter was suspended, however, and
orders were given for the princes to reappear. They
came before the assembly with mixed and differing feelings.
The eye of Pelayo was sad and doubtful, while
his face was full of anxiety; but Egiza had resumed all
the dignified bearing of one having the blood royal in
his veins. A calm, cold, haughty countenance he wore,
and his form was raised to its fullest height. When the

decree of the council was repeated to him, which released
him from his nomination, and which consequently
discharged him from all the penalties incurred by his
refusal of it, he made no manner of acknowledgment,
but, with a smile of bitterness upon his brother, he passed
from the cavern even as a gliding shadow. The eyes
of Pelayo watched sadly his retreating form until it was
lost from sight, but his lips uttered not a syllable. He
turned then to the assembly, thanked them for the indulgence
which they had shown to his unhappy brother,
and received in return the appointment of generalissimo
of the forces of Spain, raised or to be raised against
the rebel who had usurped the royal authority.

Meanwhile Egiza made his way from the cavern, and
sprang with a blind fury up the mountains. A desperate
feeling drove him onward, for he felt that he was a
degraded man. He had not suffered look, speech, or
action to denote his agony while in the presence of that
proud assembly. He would have met pride with greater
pride, would have encountered hostility with defiance.
But he had not been permitted this; and, conscious of
his weakness and unresolve, conscious that he fully
merited the award which his brother had averted, he had
not yet the courage to go forward and redeem his error,
and return to his duties. He had not even the consolation
of that morbid sensibility which finds healing in
the hope of vengeance. Upon whom could he wreak
his vengeance? Pelayo? His brother? He was not
mad enough for so criminal a desire; nor could he, in his
secret conscience, be certain that Pelayo was guilty of
the baseness which he yet charged upon him. Still less
satisfied with himself at every moment of thought, he
strove to forbear reflection by the precipitancy of his
flight. In the dimness of the evening light he leaped
forward along the mountain-paths with as much confidence
as if he moved in daylight. Already the cavern
of the conspirators was far behind him. In a little while,

and he should be beyond the reach of his friends, beyond
their recall, and, at every moment, increasing the
difficulties which lay in the path of his return. A careless
desperation impelled him onward; and though the
scalding tears blinded his eyes, with a desperate haste he
rushed to the top of the hill he was ascending, and prepared
in another instant to hurry downward into the vale
below; but he was not so permitted. A spear-point
was upon his breast, and the rude challenge of a soldier
followed.

“Stand! in the king's name.”

“Ha! who's here?” demanded the prince.

“No words!” cried the hoarse voice of Edacer, the
governor of Cordova, “be silent, or you perish. Guide
us instantly and without noise to the cavern, and name
your reward.”

A sudden joy rushed into the heart of Egiza; and
the convictions of his mind and its resolves were equally
instant.

“They shall know me better!” he murmured, internally;
“they shall see that I am true to them, though I
will not lead them.”

He dashed aside the spear of the soldier, and, in the
same moment, wheeled backward upon the path over
which he came, and leaped down into the gorge that lay
in darkness beside it. It was deep enough for concealment,
and not, fortunately, for his injury. A divine instinct
seemed to prompt his movements and to guide
his footsteps, and he hurried onward, unheeding the
search of the soldiers, who were now scattered in hot
pursuit over the hills around him. Their cries were
loud in his ears, their tramplings close behind him; but
he fled onward with a spirit which this new danger had
lightened of some of its most serious afflictions. It gave
him an opportunity of relieving himself of the suspicion
—the worst to the soul of honourable sensibility—of
unfaithfulness to his friends; and this, in that night of
degradation, was a triumph to Egiza!

“I will prepare them for the coming of the enemy,
and, if need be, perish along with them.”

The sounds of his pursuers' footsteps now ceased,
but he heard their increasing cries in the distance. Had
they lost the tracks of his flight? Did they pursue him
no longer? These questions came to him as he fled,
but they did not delay his speed. Once more he entered
the gloomy cavern, where his judges still sat in earnest
deliberation, unconscious of their own approaching
danger.