 | MERCEDES OF CASTILE. Mercedes of Castile, or, The voyage to Cathay |  |
1. MERCEDES OF CASTILE.
CHAPTER I.
And a voice at the gate, which said —
“That the Cid Ruy Diez, the Campeador,
Was there in his arms array'd.' ”—
Mrs. Hemans.
Whether we take the pictures of the inimitable Cervantes,
or of that scarcely less meritorious author from
whom Le Sage has borrowed his immortal tale, for our
guides; whether we confide in the graver legends of history,
or put our trust in the accounts of modern travellers,
the time has scarcely ever existed when the inns of Spain
were good, or the roads safe. These are two of the blessings
of civilization which the people of the peninsula would
really seem destined never to attain; for, in all ages, we
hear, or have heard, of wrongs done the traveller equally by
the robber and the host. If such are the facts to-day, such
also were the facts in the middle of the fifteenth century,
the period to which we desire to carry back the reader in
imagination.
At the commencement of the month of October, in the
year of our Lord 1469, John of Trastamara reigned in
Aragon, holding his court at a place called Zaragosa, a
town lying on the Ebro, the name of which is supposed to
be a corruption of Cæsar Augustus, and a city that has
become celebrated in our own times, under the more Anglicised
term of Saragossa, for its deeds in arms. John of
to the nomenclature of kings, John II., was one of the
most sagacious monarchs of his age; but he had become
impoverished by many conflicts with the turbulent, or, as it
may be more courtly to say, the liberty-loving Catalonians;
had frequently enough to do to maintain his seat on the
throne; possessed a party-coloured empire that included
within its sway, besides his native Aragon, with its dependencies
of Valencia and Catalonia, Sicily and the Balearic
Islands, with some very questionable rights in Navarre.
By the will of his elder brother and predecessor, the crown
of Naples had descended to an illegitimate son of the latter,
else would that kingdom have been added to the list. The
King of Aragon had seen a long and troubled reign, and,
at this very moment, his treasury was nearly exhausted, by
his efforts to subdue the truculent Catalans, though he was
nearer a triumph than he could then foresee, his competitor,
the Duke of Lorraine, dying suddenly, only two short
months after the precise period chosen for the commencement
of our tale. But it is denied to man to look into the
future, and on the 9th of the month just mentioned, the ingenuity
of the royal treasurer was most sorely taxed, there
having arisen an unexpected demand for a considerable
sum of money, at the very moment that the army was
about to disband itself for the want of pay, and the public
coffers contained only the very moderate sum of three hundred
Enriques, or Henrys; a gold coin named after a previous
monarch, and which had a value not far from that of
the modern ducat, or our own quarter eagle. The matter,
however, was too pressing to be deferred, and even the
objects of the war were considered as secondary to those
connected with this suddenly conceived, and more private
enterprise. Councils were held, money-dealers were cajoled
or frightened, and the confidents of the court were
very manifestly in a state of great and earnest excitement.
At length, the time of preparation appeared to be passed,
and the instant of action arrived. Curiosity was relieved,
and the citizens of Saragossa were permitted to know that
their sovereign was about to send a solemn embassy, on
matters of high moment, to his neighbour, kinsman, and
ally, the monarch of Castile. In 1469, Henry, also of
under the title of Henry IV. He was the grandson, in the
male line, of the brother of John II.'s father, and consequently,
a first-cousin, once removed, of the monarch of
Aragon. Notwithstanding this affinity, and the strong
family interests that might be supposed to unite them, it required
many friendly embassies to preserve the peace between
the two monarchs; and the announcement of that
which was about to depart, produced more satisfaction
than wonder in the streets of the town.
Henry of Castile, though he reigned over broader and
richer peninsular territories, than his relative of Aragon,
had his cares and troubles, also. He had been twice married,
having repudiated his first consort, Blanche of Aragon,
to wed Joanna of Portugal, a princess of a levity of
character so marked, as not only to bring great scandal
on the court generally, but to throw so much distrust on
the birth of her only child, a daughter, as to push discontent
to disaffection, and eventually to deprive the infant
itself of the rights of royalty. Henry's father, like himself,
had been twice married, and the issue of the second
union was a son and a daughter, Alfonso and Isabella; the
latter becoming subsequently illustrious, under the double
titles of the Queen of Castile, and of the Catholic. The
luxurious impotency of Henry, as a monarch, had driven
a portion of his subjects into open rebellion. Three years
preceding that selected for our opening, his brother Alfonso
had been proclaimed king in his stead, and a civil war had
raged throughout his provinces. This war had been recently
terminated by the death of Alfonso, when the peace
of the kingdom was temporarily restored by a treaty, in
which Henry consented to the setting aside of his own
daughter—or rather of the daughter of Joanna of Portugal
—and to the recognition of his half-sister Isabella, as the
rightful heiress of the throne. The last concession was the
result of dire necessity, and, as might have been expected,
it led to many secret and violent measures, with a view to
defeat its objects. Among the other expedients adopted by
the king, or it might be better to say, by his favourites, the
inaction and indolence of the self-indulgent but kindhearted
prince being proverbial, with a view to counteract
were various schemes to control her will, and guide
her policy, by giving her hand, first to a subject, with a
view to reduce her power, and subsequently to various
foreign princes, who were thought to be more or less suited
to the furthrance of such schemes. Just at this moment,
indeed, the marriage of the princess was one of the greatest
objects of Spanish prudence. The son of the King of Aragon
was one of the suitors for the hand of Isabella, and
most of those who heard of the intended departure of the
embassy, naturally enough believed that the mission had
some connection with that great stroke of Aragonese policy.
Isabella had the reputation of learning, modesty, discretion,
piety and beauty, besides being the acknowledged
heiress of so enviable a crown; and there were many competitors
for her hand. Among them were to be ranked
French, English and Portuguese princes, besides him of
Aragon to whom we have already alluded. Different favourites
supported different pretenders, struggling to effect
their several purposes by the usual intrigues of courtiers
and partisans; while the royal maiden, herself, who was
the object of so much competition and rivalry, observed a
discreet and womanly decorum, even while firmly bent on
indulging her most womanly and dearest sentiments. Her
brother, the king, was in the south, pursuing his pleasures,
and, long accustomed to dwell in comparative solitude, the
princess was earnestly occupied in arranging her own
affairs, in a way that she believed would most conduce to
her own happiness. After several attempts to entrap her
person, from which she had only escaped by the prompt
succour of the forces of her friends, she had taken refuge
in Leon, in the capital of which province, or kingdom as it
was sometimes called, Valladolid, she temporarily took up
her abode. As Henry, however, still remained in the vicinity
of Granada, it is in that direction we must look for
the route taken by the embassy.
The cortège left Saragossa, by one of the southern gates,
early in the morning of a glorious autumnal day. There
was the usual escort of lances, for this the troubled state
of the country demanded; bearded nobles well mailed, for
few, who offered an inducement to the plunderer, ventured
sumpter mules, and a host of those who, by their guise,
were half menials and half soldiers. The gallant display
drew crowds after the horses' heels, and, together with
some prayers for success, a vast deal of crude and shallow
conjecture, as is still the practice with the uninstructed and
gossiping, was lavished on the probable objects and results
of the journey. But curiosity has its limits, and even the
gossip occasionally grows weary; and by the time the sun
was setting, most of the multitude had already forgotten to
think and speak of the parade of the morning. As the
night drew on, however, the late pageant was still the subject
of discourse between two soldiers, who belonged to the
guard of the western gate, or that which opened on the
road to the province of Burgos. These worthies were loitering
away the hours, in the listless manner common to
men on watch, and the spirit of discussion and of critical
censure had survived the thoughts and bustle of the day.
“If Don Alonso de Carbajal thinketh to ride far in that
guise,” observed the elder of the two idlers, “he would do
well to look sharp to his followers, for the army of Aragon
never sent forth a more scurvily-appointed guard than that
he hath this day led through the southern gate, notwithstanding
the glitter of housings, and the clangour of trumpets.
We could have furnished lances from Valencia more
befitting a king's embassy, I tell thee, Diego; ay, and worthier
knights to lead them, than these of Aragon. But if
the king is content, it ill becomes soldiers, like thee and
me, to be dissatisfied.”
“There are many who think, Roderique, that it had been
better to spare the money lavished in this courtly letter-writing,
to pay the brave men who so freely shed their
blood in order to subdue the rebellious Barcelans.”
“This is always the way, boy, between debtor and creditor.
Don John owes you a few maravedis, and you grudge
him every Enriques he spends on his necessities. I am an
older soldier, and have learned the art of paying myself,
when the treasury is too poor to save me the trouble.”
“That might do in a foreign war, when one is battling
against the Moor, for instance; but, after all, these Catalans
are as good Christians as we are ourselves; some of
a countryman as to plunder an Infidel.”
“Easier, by twenty fold; for the one expects it, and, like
all in that unhappy condition, seldom has any thing worth
taking, while the other opens his stores to you as freely as
he does his heart—but who are these, setting forth on the
highway, at this late hour?”
“Fellows that pretend to wealth, by affecting to conceal
it. I'll warrant you, now, Roderique, that there is not
money enough among all those varlets to pay the laquais
that shall serve them their boiled eggs, to-night.”
“By St. Iago, my blessed patron!” whispered one of the
leaders of a small cavaleade, who, with a single companion,
rode a little in advance of the others, as if not particularly
anxious to be too familiar with the rest, and langhing lightly
as he spoke: “Yonder vagabond is nearer the truth than
is comfortable! We may have sufficient among us all to
pay for an olla-podrida and its service, but I much doubt
whether there will be a dobla left, when the journey shall
be once ended.”
A low, but grave rebuke, checked this inconsiderate
mirth; and the party, which consisted of merchants, or
traders, mounted on mules, as was evident by their appearance,
for in that age the different classes were easily recognized
by their attire, halted at the gate. The permission to
quit the town was regular, and the drowsy and consequently
surly gate-keeper slowly undid his bars, in order
that the travellers might pass.
While these necessary movements were going on, the
two soldiers stood a little on one side, coolly scanning the
group, though Spanish gravity prevented them from indulging
openly in an expression of the scorn that they actually
felt for two or three Jews who were among the
traders. The merchants, moreover, were of a better class,
as was evident by a follower or two, who rode in their
train, in the garbs of menials, and who kept at a respectful
distance while their masters paid the light fee that it was
customary to give on passing the gates after night-fall.
One of these menials, capitally mounted on a tall, spirited
mule, happened to place himself so near Diego, during this
could not refrain from having his say.
“Prithee, Pepe,” commenced the soldier, “how many
hundred doblas a year do they pay, in that service of thine,
and how often do they renew that fine leathern doublet?”
The varlet, or follower of the merchant, who was still a
youth, though his vigorous frame and embrowned cheek
denoted equally severe exercise and rude exposure, started
and reddened at this free inquiry, which was enforced by a
hand slapped familiarly on his knee, and such a squeeze of
the leg as denoted the freedom of the camp. The laugh
of Diego probably suppressed a sudden outbreak of anger,
for the soldier was one whose manner indicated too much
good-humour easily to excite resentment.
“Thy gripe is friendly, but somewhat close, comrade,”
the young domestic mildly observed; “and if thou wilt take
a friend's counsel, it will be, never to indulge in too great
familiarity, lest some day it lead to a broken pate.”
“By holy San Pedro! — I should relish”—
It was too late, however; for his masters having proceeded,
the youth pushed a powerful rowel into the flank of
his mule, and the vigorous animal dashed ahead, nearly
upsetting Diego, who was pressing hard on the pommel of
the saddle, by the movement.
“There is mettle in that boy,” exclaimed the good-natured
soldier, as he recovered his feet. “I thought, for
one moment, he was about to favour me with a visitation
of his hand.”
“Thou art wrong—and too much accustomed to be heedless,
Diego,” answered his comrado; “and it had been no
wonder had that youth struck thee to the earth, for the indignity
thou putt'st upon him.”
“Ha! a hireling follower of some cringing Hebrew! —
He dare to strike a blow at a soldier of the king!”
“He may have been a soldier of the king, himself, in
his day. These are times when most of his frame and
muscle are called on to go in harness. I think I have seen
that face before; ay, and that, too, where none of craven
hearts would be apt to go.”
“The fellow is a mere varlet, and a younker that has
just escaped from the hands of the women.”
“I'll answer for it, that he hath faced both the Catalan
and the Moor, in his time, young as he may seem. Thou
knowest that the nobles are wont to carry their sons, as
children, early into the fight, that they may learn the deeds
of chivalry betimes.”
“The nobles!” repeated Diego, laughing. “In the name
of all the devils, Roderique, of what art thou thinking, that
thou likenest this knave to a young noble? Dost fancy
him a Guzman, or a Mendoza, in disguise, that thou speakest
thus of chivalry?”
“True—it doth, indeed, seem silly—and yet have I before
met that frown in battle, and heard that sharp, quick
voice, in a rally. By St. Iago de Compostello! I have it!
Harkee, Diego!—a word in thy ear.”
The veteran now led his more youthful comrade aside,
although there was no one near to listen to what he said;
and looking carefully round, to make certain that his words
would not be overheard, he whispered, for a moment, in
Diego's ear.
“Holy Mother of God!” exclaimed the latter, recoiling
quite three paces, in surprise and awe. “Thou canst not
be right, Roderique!”
“I will place my soul's welfare on it,” returned the
other, positively. “Have I not often seen him with his
visor up, and followed him, time and again, to the charge?”
“And he setting forth as a trader's varlet!—Nay, I know
not, but as the servitor of a Jew!”
“Our business, Diego, is to strike without looking into
the quarrel; to look without seeing, and to listen without
hearing. Although his coffers are low, Don John is a good
master, and our anointed king; and so we will prove ourselves
discreet soldiers.”
“But he will never forgive me that gripe of the knee,
and my foolish tongue. I shall never dare meet him again.”
“Humph!—It is not probable thou ever wilt meet him at
the table of the king, and, as for the field, as he is wont to
go first, there will not be much temptation for him to turn
back in order to look at thee.”
“Thou thinkest, then, he will not be apt to know me,
again?”
“If it should prove so, boy, thou need'st not take it in
than they can always meet.”
“The Blessed Maria make thee a true prophet! — else
would I never dare again to appear in the ranks. Were it
a favour I had conferred, I might hope it would be forgotten;
but an indignity sticks long in the memory.”
Here the two soldiers moved away, continuing the discourse
from time to time, although the elder frequently admonished
his loquacious companion of the virtue of discretion.
In the mean time, the travellers pursued their way, with
a diligence that denoted great distrust of the roads, and as
great a desire to get on. They journeyed throughout the
night, nor did there occur any relaxation in their speed,
until the return of the sun exposed them, again, to the observations
of the curious, among whom were thought to be
many emissaries of Henry of Castile, whose agents were
known to be particularly on the alert, along all the roads
that communicated between the capital of Aragon, and Valladolid,
the city in which his royal sister had then, quite
recently, taken refuge. Nothing remarkable occurred, however,
to distinguish this journey from any other of the period.
There was nothing about the appearance of the travellers,
who soon entered the territory of Soria, a province
of Old Castile, where armed parties of the monarch were
active in watching the passes, to attract the attention of
Henry's soldiers; and, as for the more vulgar robber, he
was temporarily driven from the highways by the presence
of those who acted in the name of the prince. As respects
the youth who had given rise to the discourse between the
two soldiers, he rode diligently in the rear of his master, so
long as it pleased the latter to remain in the saddle; and
during the few and brief pauses that occurred in the travelling,
he busied himself, like the other menials, in the duties
of his proper vocation. On the evening of the second
day, however, about an hour after the party had left a hostelrie,
where it had solaced itself with an olla-podrida and
some sour wine, the merry young man who has already
been mentioned, and who still kept his place by the side of
his graver and more aged companion in the van, suddenly
burst into a fit of loud laughter, and, reining in his mule,
he allowed the whole train to pass him, until he found himself
named. The latter cast a severe and rebuking glance
at his reputed master, as he dropped in by his side, and
said, with a sternness that ill comported with their apparent
relations to each other—
“How now, Master Nuñez! what hath called thee from
thy position in the van, to this unseemly familiarity with
the varlets in the rear?”
“I crave ten thousand pardons, honest Juan,” returned
the master, still laughing, though he evidently struggled to
repress his mirth, out of respect to the other; “but here
is a calamity befallen us, that outdoes those of the fables
and legends of necromancy and knight-errantry. The
worthy Master Ferreras, yonder, who is so skilful in handling
gold, having passed his whole life in buying and selling
barley and oats, hath actually mislaid the purse, which
it would seem he hath forgotten at the inn we have quitted,
in payment of some very stale bread and rancid oil. I doubt
if there are twenty reals left in the whole party!”
“And is it a matter of jest, Master Nuñez,” returned the
servant, though a slight smile struggled about his mouth,
as if ready to join in his companion's merriment; “that
we are penniless? Thank Heaven! the Burgo of Osma
cannot be very distant; and we may have less occasion for
gold. And now, master of mine, let me command thee to
keep thy proper place in this cavalcade, and not to forget
thyself by such undue familiarity with thy inferiors. I
have no farther need of thee, and therefore hasten back to
Master Ferreras and acquaint him with my sympathy and
grief.”
The young man smiled, though the eye of the pretended
servant was averted, as if he cared to respect his own admonitions;
while the other evidently sought a look of recognition
and favour. In another minute, the usual order
of the journey was resumed.
As the night advanced, and the hour arrived when man
and beast usually betray fatigue, these travellers pushed
their mules the hardest; and about midnight, by dint of
hard pricking, they came under the principal gate of a
small walled town, called Osma, that stood not far from
the boundary of the province of Burgos, though still in that
gate to allow of the freedom, than the young merchant
in advance, dealt sundry blows on it, with his staff, effectually
apprising those within of his presence. It required no
strong pull of the reins to stop the mules of those behind;
but the pretended varlet now pushed ahead, and was about
to assume his place among the principal personages near
the gate, when a heavy stone, hurled from the battlements,
passed so close to his head, as vividly to remind him how
near he might be to making a hasty journey to another
world. A cry arose in the whole party, at this narrow
escape; nor were loud imprecations on the hand that had
cast the missile spared. The youth, himself, seemed the
least disturbed of them all; and though his voice was
sharp and authoritative, as he raised it in remonstrance,
it was neither angry nor alarmed.
“How now!” he said; “is this the way you treat peaceful
travellers; merchants, who come to ask hospitality and
a night's repose at your hands?”
“Merchants and travellers!” growled a voice from above
—“say, rather, spies and agents of King Henry. Who
are ye? Speak promptly, or ye may expect something
sharper than stones, at the next visit.”
“Tell me,” answered the youth, as if disdaining to be
questioned himself—“who holds this borough? Is it not
the noble Count of Treviño?”
“The very same, Señor,” answered he above, with a
mollified tone: “but what can a set of travelling traders
know of His Excellency? and who art thou, that speakest
up as sharply and as proudly as if thou wert a grandee?”
“I am Ferdinand of Trastamara—the Prince of Aragon
—the King of Sicily. Go! bid thy master hasten to the
gate.”
This sudden announcement, which was made in the lofty
manner of one accustomed to implicit obedience, produced
a marked change in the state of affairs. The party at the
gate so far altered their several positions, that the two superior
nobles who had ridden in front, gave place to the
youthful king; while the group of knights made such arrangements
as showed that disguise was dropped, and each
man was now expected to appear in his proper character.
to note the promptitude with which the young cavaliers, in
particular, rose in their saddles, as if casting aside the
lounging mien of grovelling traders, in order to appear
what they really were, men accustomed to the tourney and
the field. On the ramparts the change was equally sudden
and great. All appearance of drowsiness vanished; the
soldiers spoke to each other in suppressed but hurried
voices; and the distant tramp of feet announced that messengers
were dispatched in various directions. Some ten
minutes elapsed in this manner, during which an inferior
officer showed himself on the ramparts, and apologized for
a delay that arose altogether from the force of discipline,
and on no account from any want of respect. At length a
bustle on the wall, with the light of many lanterns, betrayed
the approach of the governor of the town; and the impatience
of the young men below, that had begun to manifest
itself in half-uttered execrations, was put under a more decent
restraint for the occasion.
“Are the joyful tidings that my people bring me true?”
cried one from the battlements; while a lantern was lowered
from the wall, as if to make a closer inspection of the
party at the gate: “Am I really so honoured, as to receive
a summons from Don Ferdinand of Aragon, at this unusual
hour?”
“Cause thy fellow to turn his lantern more closely on
my countenance,” answered the king, “that thou may'st
make thyself sure. I will cheerfully overlook the disrespect,
Count of Treviño, for the advantage of a more
speedy admission.”
“'T is he!” exclaimed the noble: “I know those royal
features, which bear the lineaments of a long race of kings;
and that voice have I heard, often, rallying the squadrons
of Aragon, in their onsets against the Moors. Let the
trumpets speak up, and proclaim this happy arrival; and
open wide our gates, without delay.”
This order was promptly obeyed, and the youthful king
entered Osma, by sound of trumpet, encircled by a strong
party of men-at-arms, and with half of the awakened and
astonished population at his heels.
It is lucky, my Lord King,” said Don Andres de Cabrera,
at the side of Don Ferdinand, “that we have found
these good lodgings without cost; it being a melancholy
truth, that Master Ferreras hath, negligently enough, mislaid
the only purse there was among us. In such a strait, it
would not have been easy to keep up the character of
thrifty traders, much longer; for, while the knaves higgle
at the price of every thing, they are fond of letting their
gold be seen.”
“Now that we are in thine own Castile, Don Andres,” returned
the king, smiling, “we shall throw ourselves gladly
on thy hospitality, well knowing that thou hast two most
beautiful diamonds always at thy command.”
“I, Sir King! Your Highness is pleased to be merry at
my expense, although I believe it is, just now, the only gratification
I can pay for. My attachment for the Princess
Isabella hath driven me from my lands; and even the humblest
cavalier in the Aragonese army, is not, just now,
poorer than I. What diamonds, therefore, can I command?”
“Report speaketh favourably of the two brilliants that
are set in the face of the Doña Beatriz de Bobadilla; and
I hear they are altogether at thy disposal; or, as much so,
as a noble maiden's inclinations can leave them with a
loyal knight.”
“Ah! my Lord King! if indeed this adventure end as
happily as it commenceth, I may, indeed, look to your royal
favour, for some aid in that matter.”
The king smiled, in his own sedate manner; but the
Count de Treviño pressing nearer to his side, at that moment,
the discourse was changed. That night, Ferdinand
of Aragon slept soundly; but with the dawn, he and his
followers were again in the saddle. The party quitted
Osma, however, in a manner very different from that in
which it had approached its gate. Ferdinand now appeared
as a knight, mounted on a noble Andalusian charger; and
all his followers had still more openly assumed their proper
characters. A strong body of lancers, led by the Count
of Treviño, in person, composed the escort; and on the 9th
of the month, the whole cavalcade reached Dueñas, in
Leon, a place quite near to Valladolid. The disaffected nobles
received as became his high rank and still higher destinies.
Here the more luxurious Castilians had an opportunity
of observing the severe personal discipline by which Don
Ferdinand, at the immature years of eighteen, for he was
scarcely older, had succeeded in hardening his body, and
in stringing his nerves, so as to be equal to any deeds in
arms. His delight was found in the rudest military exercises;
and no knight of Aragon could better direct his
steed in the tourney, or in the field. Like most, of the royal
races of that period, and indeed of this, in despite of the
burning sun under which he dwelt, his native complexion
was brilliant, though it had already become embrowned by
exposure in the chase, and in the martial occupations of his
boyhood. Temperate as a Mussulman, his active and well-proportioned
frame seemed to be early indurating, as if
Providence held him in reserve, for some of its own dispensations
that called for great bodily vigour, as well as for
deep forethought and a vigilant sagacity. During the four
or five days that followed, the noble Castilians who listened
to his discourse, knew not of which most to approve, his
fluent eloquence, or a wariness of thought and expression,
which, while they might have been deemed prematurely
worldly and cold-blooded, were believed to be particular
merits in one destined to control the jarring passions, deep
deceptions, and selfish devices, of men.
| MERCEDES OF CASTILE. Mercedes of Castile, or, The voyage to Cathay | |