6. CHAPTER VI.
A day passed, and the night following came the release of Egiza from his dungeon.
His escape from his pursuers has been noted, and we have seen his safe arrival
with Romano at the palace of the archbishop. His appearance was productive
of no little anxiety to the latter, who felt that he was hourly accumulating new toils
around himself, from which nothing but the strong hand and the rapid progress of
desired events could give him extrication. To his nephew, he spoke freely of his
fears.
“You must fly. There is no shelter for you here. Your escape, and the death
of Guisenard, will rouse the rage of the tyrant even more greatly than before, and
he will hunt you in every suspected quarter. My palace will be one of the first
places of suspicion, and you must fly from it this very night.”
“God will keep his own!” exclaimed Romano; “let the holy man resolve for
himself, my father. He hath slain the jailer, and he hath confounded the pursuers;
and he will write the doom upon the walls, yea, in the very face of this Belshazzar;
and the Lord will be his keeper, and he will suffer no harm. Praise be to the
Lord!”
The zealot continued to murmur to himself in broken prayers and praises, but the
archbishop gave them little heed; and though his conduct awakened the wonder of
the prince, yet he was too much filled with his own troubles of mind to dwell long
upon those of another. His reply to Oppas revealed the deep anxiety which possessed
his soul.
“Tell me not of flight, uncle; tell me of nothing but the maiden. What of Cava?
Speak!—answer me that.”
Romano looked up with some bewilderment. Oppas had his own reasons for
concealment of the truth. He replied, evasively:
“Indeed, my son, I know nothing.”
“Speak not to me of flight, then. I leave not Toledo till I see her and know all,
and hear from her own lips whether I dare continue to look upon her with hope,
or”—
He paused and clasped his burning brow with his hands for a moment; then starting
suddenly, he was about to depart.
“Whither wouldst thou go?” demanded the archbishop.
“I know not; I am blind—I am without thought or direction,” was the desperate
reply.
“Nay, then, my son,” said the archbishop, placing his hand tenderly upon the
shoulder of the youth, “let me counsel thee.”
“Restrain him not, father!” exclaimed Romano; “he does the will of a greater
than thou. The spirit of the Lord is upon him, and His hand shall guide his footsteps.
How hath He led him in safety, to the discomfiture of the pursuers. The
fierce man, thirsting for his blood, stood up in the way of the Lord, and I smote
him—even under the fifth rib I smote him, as the Lord had commanded.”
“I must go, uncle,” said Egiza to the archbishop, in a whisper. “I cannot remain
here in safety, and I would not wish to do so. I must seek the palace gardens
this night, since I may best penetrate them now undiscovered by the guards
But I would not have this strange priest to follow or go with me. Thou must divert
his thought—his attention. Do not suffer him to pursue me.”
This did not appear so easy a matter. The zealot seemed to consider himself the
special attendant of the man of God; and when Egiza rose, he rose also—when he
moved, he followed him—and when he spoke, the look of Romano denoted the
watchful regard which he gave to every syllable that was uttered. But the ready
thought of Oppas relieved the prince of his difficulty.
“Command him as thou wilt, my son,” he replied to Egiza, in the same subdued
tones; “he will obey thee. Speak to him with authority; it will the more insure
thee his regard to what thou sayest, for he holds himself, by divine command, to be
thy follower and servant.”
“I will then bid him remain with thee,” said the prince.
“By no means, since it may be that he has been seen in thy prison, and the murder
of the keeper may be traced home to him. If he be found here, suspicion
necessarily touches me, and it behoves me at this moment to be doubly cautious.
Send him rather beyond the walls: stay, come with me while I will find thee a
commission for him. But bid him await thy return here.”
This dialogue was conducted in a whisper. Egiza, as the archbishop counselled
him, bade the zealot await his return. He folded his hands upon his breast, and
howed reverently as he promised to obey.
“As thou wilt, holy brother. To move or to rest, to strike or to spare, even as
thou commandest, am I resolved and ready. They serve not the Lord who serve
Him not according as He wills, and not as they will themselves; and the self-willed
and the stiff-necked He smiteth with the sword. Ay, He smiteth him with a sword
in the moment of his presumption, and his pride is sorely humbled. I will await
thee, holy brother, even as thou commandest; the will of God be done.”
The archbishop, regarding the famished and enfeebled looks of the zealot, inquired
if he needed not food.
“Food! holy father; no! This earthly tabernacle hath need of little, and that
little I already have. My food is the contemplation of the Lord's glories, His mysterious
ways, and His almighty providence In my fastings I have heavenly manna.
The bread which supports me is His blessed love; the drink which refreshes me is
the blood of His atoning grace. Shall I hunger after earthly and low meats, when
such food as this is spread before me? I were most unwise to do so; and the taste
were perverse which could endure the common viands of mortal desire, after such
blessed refreshment.”
“But thou wilt grow weak and weary, my brother, unless thou wilt partake of
this mortal diet. Thy limbs are feeble now—thy face is thin and wan”—
“Feeble, my father! dost thou say? Alas! thou art blind to say so. The
strength is great within me. Thou knowest not the power, under the Father, of
these poor limbs. I smote him—thou shouldst have seen me smite him; though he
had eaten of flesh, and was strong among men, after the common thinking of mankind—yet
I smote him, even as the butcher felleth the ox, with a single blow did I
smite him to the earth. Yet had he eaten in my sight—he and his wife! May the
blessing and the bounty of the Lord be upon her and the child!”—
Egiza shuddered and turned away with a strange sickness, as he listened to these
words. But the fanatic proceeded:
“He had eaten and drunken of earthly food, and he fancied that he was strong.
He refused the Lord—he defied His power—and he perished. But I, who had not
eaten, holy father—if thou wilt believe me—I, who had eaten but of the bitter root,
and drank but of the simple water, for days and weeks—I, whom they call feeble
and thin—with the blessing and strength of the Lord, I smote this strong man who
had fed upon flesh daily and he fell like an infant before my blow. Vainly did he
strive; for though he lifted his arm to avert the blow, and would have grasped my
throat with his extended fingers, yet the arm was palsied and the fingers were stiff,
and they could not seize the flesh upon which they rested. Wonderful, wonderful
is the Lord! He is a God doing wonders!”
The madness of the zealot was evidently increasing in even degree with his fast
increasing feebleness; and anxious though Egiza was to obtain intelligence of Cava,
and thinking indeed of little else, he could not forbear to linger and to listen to the
peculiar idiosyncrasy which Romano's words developed. He little knew how completely
his madness had been the result of that artful management of his uncle, of
which he, too, had been, in another respect, the equally unconscious victim.
