University of Virginia Library

SCENE SECOND.
Gobin and Boviedo.

The Count of Osma left the gloomy apartment of
the invalid. A few moments afterward, a horseman,
disguised so as to defeat the closest scrutiny, rode forth
from the palace yard, and galloped in the direction of
the eastern gate. He soon arrived in sight of the
barrier, and, answering the distant challenge of the
sentinel, rode up, and was about to demand to see the
officer of the guard, when a noise of clamorous voices
without the gate, in altercation with the soldier within,
both surprised him and excited his curiosity. He listened
an instant, and thought he detected the voice of
Boviedo, his disgraced trumpeter.

“By the valour of an Aragonese trumpeter! by
the fear of an Aragonese knock o' the head wi' an
Aragonese fist, let me in, thou coward! Dost thou
fear two men will take thy city, that thou guardest the
gate o't so closely? Wilt thou keep two cavaliers
standing without to be scalped by the heathenish salvages?
Let down thy bars and admit us, thou son of a
Philistine's daughter.”

“Thou mayst hammer with thy tongue till day-dawn,
Signor Boviedo. All men know the governor
hath disgraced thee for suffering thyself to be discomfited
with the loss of horse and colours,” replied the
soldier. “Get in as thou didst get out.”

“I did get out when the gates were open for the
soldiers to go forth to gather the dead slain by the

enemy. Touching my disgrace, it hath been wiped
away, inasmuch as I have won another steed at the
sword's point.”

“Thy sword's point should be stuck i' thy throat
for that lie,” said a harsh voice, which the count recognised
as Gobin's; “he got him grazing i' the field after
the fight, gossip o' the inside there; and he caught
him only by climbing a tree, and letting himself down
upon his back, to keep clear of his heels and teeth.
Marry come up! he did win him like a true man.”

“Friend Gobin, dost thou vilify thy friend, that hath
escaped with thee from yonder heathenish salvages,
that would ha' made broth o' our bones?” said Boviedo,
in an under tone. “Let me lie, so I but get in at the
gate by it, and hold thy peace. When I get restored
to mine office again, I will remember thee.”

“Let gossip Boviedo in, cousin,” said Gobin, aloud,
“and he will teach thee marvels! He will tell thee
the art o' lying till thou art black i' the face, and then
lying thyself white again! He will prove to thee how
that a soldier's valour lieth in his wind, and he of the
king's army who is the most valiant is his trumpeter.
Then playing thee a tune for an ensample o' his own
wind, marry! will he make thee believe he is the most
valorous man in Spain! But bid him defend himself
wi' his sword, and he will cry peccavi, and show thee
naught but an arrant Aragonese coward hath been
this braggadocio.”

“Ho, signor! what is this uproar?” demanded
Osma of the captain of the post, who now made his
appearance from the guardroom.

“I know not, my lord,” answered the officer, instantly
by the voice recognising the commander-in-chief;
“'tis but some idle conference with some paysans without
and my soldiers.”

“See if there be more than two, and, if not, admit
them.”

The officer surveyed them through a slide in the
side of the gate, and then, turning to the chief, said,

“There be but two men, signor, both mounted upon
one steed.”

“Dost thou know either of them?”

“One is the trumpeter Boviedo, and the other, by
his motley dress, is the natural I have seen in the town.”

“Let them in.”

The gate was immediately thrown open, and Boviedo
and Gobin, both mounted astride a sorry-looking
animal, were admitted within the barrier.

“How now, sirrah! what means this mummery?”
demanded Osma of his quondam trumpeter, with more
of a smile than a frown.

“High and mighty excellency,” answered Boviedo,
who had evidently lost both fat and wind in his exile
from the presence of his master, whose presence he
now hailed with the proud confidence of one who has
achieved a praiseworthy deed, and feels satisfied with
his own conduct, “it was by thy just displeasure that I
was dismissed from thy service, until I had recovered
by mine own valour a steed for that of which I was
so feloniously despoiled. Behold me mounted upon a
charger won by mine own prowess from the enemy!
Lo! this saddle! is it not of the fashion of the courreur
du bois? Lo! this bridle of hide! is it not like
the bridle of the enemy? Dost thou not see the evil
eye and hang-dog look of the animal himself? Doth
he not bear himself as if he knew he were i' the presence
of the governor his master hath rebelled against?”

“What is the end of this, sirrah?” demanded the
count.

“The end o' it, cousin Spain, should be hemp! He
hath stolen a horse, and sweareth he hath won him.
He deserveth hanging, and, were I thou, gossip, I'd
bid these knaves here, with harquebuses to their shoulders,
swing him to the gate-arch. He hath been lying
all his life, an' it were a mercy to let him hang i' his
death.”

“Thou art a merry knave,” said the governor;
“and, now it bethinks me, I have somewhat against
thee. Didst thou not take service with me, and the
next day run away?”

“I did fear, if I stayed with thee longer, thou

wouldst discover my wisdom, and think me a councillor
in disguise, and so have me tried and shot.”

“Thou art a shrewd knave. Perez,” he said to the
officer of the guard, “place this jester under gentle
arrest until morning, and then give him his liberty. I
am going forth a while, and his knowledge of my absence
may work mischief. Boviedo, remain thou in
the guardhouse till morning, and then go to the palace
and be reinstated in thy office! Let me forth,
capitano, and see that no one passes either out or in, on
any pretence, during my absence. Good-evening to
thee, fair jester. It grieves me to put thee under
guard, but Perez hath both wine and viands to amuse
thee withal, though, by'r lady! I doubt much if thou
wilt find here gold or silver flagon to purloin.”

With this quiet allusion to Gobin's former peccadilloes,
the count sallied from the gate, and, putting
spurs to his horse, was soon riding at a round rate in
the direction of the forest.