University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.
ENNUYÉ IN THE OLD PALACE.

“FATHER, holy father! — and by my sword, as belted
knight, Olmedo, I call thee so in love and honor, —
I have heard thee talk in learned phrase about the saints,
and quote the sayings of monks, mere makers of books,
which I will swear are for the most part dust, or, at
least, not half so well preserved as the bones of their
scribblers, — I say I have thus heard thee talk and quote for
hours at a time, until I have come to think thy store of
knowledge is but jargon of that kind. Shake thy head!
Jargon, I say a second time.”

“It is knowledge that leadeth to righteousness. Bien
quisto! Thou wouldst do well to study it,” replied the
padre, curtly.

A mocking smile curled the red-haired lip of the cavalier.
“Knowledge truly! I recollect hearing the Señor Hernan
once speak of thee. He said thou wert to him a magazine,
full of learning precious as breadstuffs.”

“Right, my son! Breadstuffs for the souls of sinners
irreverent as —”

“Out with it!”

“As thou.”

“Picaro! Only last night thou didst absolve me, and,
by the Palmerins, I have just told my beads!”

“I think I have heard of the Palmerins,” said the priest,
gravely; “indeed, I am certain of it; but I never heard
of them as things to swear by before. Hast thou a license
as coiner of oaths?”

“Cierto, father, thou dost remind me of my first purpose;
which was to test thy knowledge of matters, both ancient
and serious, outside of what thou callest the sermons of the
schoolmen. And I will not take thee at disadvantage. O
no! If I would play fairly with the vilest heathen, and
slay him with none but an honest trick of the sword, surely
I cannot less with thee.”

“Slay me!”

“That will I, — in a bout at dialectics. I will be fair, I
say. I will begin by taking thee in a field which every
knight hath traversed, if, perchance, he hath advanced so far
in clerkliness as to read, — a field divided between heralds,
troubadours, and poets, and not forbidden to monks; with
which thou shouldst be well acquainted, seeing that, of late
days at least, thou hast been more prone to knightly than
saintly association!”

“Santa Maria!” said Olmedo, crossing himself. “It is
our nature to be prone to things sinful.”

“I smell the cloister in thy words. Have at thee! Stay
thy steps.”

The two had been pacing the roof of the palace during the
foregoing passage. Both stopped now, and Alvarado said,
“Firstly, — nay, I will none of that; numbering the heads
of a discourse is a priestly trick. To begin, by my conscience!
— ho, father, that oath offends thee not, for it is the
Señor Hernan's, and by him thou art thyself always ready
to swear.”

“If thou wouldst not get lost in a confusion of ideas, to
thy purpose quickly.”

“Thank thee. Who was Amadis de Gaul?”

“Hero of the oldest Spanish poem.”

“Right!” said the knight, stroking his beard. “And
who was Oriana?”

“Heroine of the same story; more particularly, daughter
of Lisuarte, King of England.”

“Thou didst reprove me for swearing by the Palmerins;
who were they?”

“Famous knights, who founded chivalry by going about
slaying dragons, working charities, and overthrowing armies
of heathen, for the Mother's sake.”

“Excellently answered, by my troth! I will have to lead
thee into deeper water. Pass we the stories of Ruy Diaz,
and Del Carpio, and Pelayo. I will even grant that thou
hast heard of Hernan Gonzales; but canst thou tell in how
many ballads his prowess hath been sung?”

Olmedo was silent.

“Already!” cried Alvarado, exultant. “Already! By
the cross on my sword, I have heard of thirty. But to proceed.
Omitting Roland, and Roncesvalles, and the brethren
of the Round Table, canst thou tell me of the Seven Lords
of Lares?”

“No. But there is a Lord of whom I can tell thee, and
of whom it will be far more profitable for thee to inquire.”

“I knew a minstrel — a rare fellow — who had a wondrous
voice and memory, and who sang fifteen songs all
about the Lords of Lares; and he told me there were as
many more. O, for the time of the true chivalry, when our
Spanish people were song-lovers, and honor was of higher
esteem than gold! In one respect, Olmedo, I am more
Moslem than Christian.”

The padre crossed himself.

“Mahomet — so saith history — taught his warriors that
Paradise lieth in the shade of crossing scimitars, — as unlike
thy doctrine as a stone is unlike a plum. Picaro! It
pleaseth me; it hardeneth the heart and grip; it is more
inspiring than clarions and drums.”

Olmedo looked into the blue eyes of the knight, now unusually
bright, and said, “Thou didst jest at my knowledge;
now I ask thee, son, is it not better to have a mind full of
saintly lore than one which nothing holds but swords and
lances and high-bred steeds? What dost thou know but
war?”

“The taste of good wine,” said Alvarado, seriously; “and
by Sta. Agnes, holy father, I would I had my canteen full;
the smoke from these dens is turning me into a Dutch sausage.
Look to the towers of yon temple, — the great one
just before us. How the clouds ascending from them poison
the morning air! When my sword is at the throats of the
fire-keepers, Heaven help me to slay them!”

Alvarado then took the tassels of the cord around the good
man's waist, and pulled him forward. “Come briskly,
father! This roof is all the field left us for exercise; and
much do I fear that we will dream many times of green
meadows before we see them again.” Half dragging him,
the knight lengthened his strides. “Step longer, father!
Thou dost mince the pace, like a woman.”

“Hands off, irreverent!” cried the padre, holding back.
“My feet are not iron-shod, like thine.”

“What! Didst thou not climb the mountains on the
way hither barefooted? And dost now growl at these tiles?
Last night Sandoval shod his mare, the gay Motilla, with
silver, which he swore was cheaper, if not better, than iron.
When next we take a morning trot, like this, cierto, I will
borrow two of the precious shoes for thee.”

Olmedo's gown, of coarse, black woollen serge, was not a

garment a Greek, preparing for a race, would have chosen;
the long skirts hampered his legs; he stumbled, and would
have fallen, but for his tormentor.

“Stay thee, father! Hast been drinking? Not here
shouldst thou kneel unless in prayer; and for that, bethink
thee, house-tops are for none but Jews.” And the rough
knight laughed heartily. “Nay, talking will tire thee,” he
continued. “Take breath first. If my shield were at hand,
I would fan thee. Or wouldst thou prefer to sit? or better
still, to lie down? Do so, if thou wouldst truly oblige
me; for, by my conscience, as Cortes sweareth, I have not
done testing thy knowledge of worthy things outside the
convent libraries. I will take thee into a new field, and ask
of the Moorish lays; for, as thou shouldst know, if thou
dost not, they have had their minstrels and heroes as fanciful
and valiant as infidels ever were; in truth, but little inferior
to the best of old Castile.”

Olmedo attempted to speak.

“Open not thy mouth, father, except to breathe. I will
talk until thy tire is over. I was on the Moors. A fine
race they were, bating always their religion. Of their songs,
thou hast probably heard that mournful roundelay, the Loves
of Gazul and Abindarraez; probably listened to Tales of the
Arabian Nights, or to verses celebrating the tournaments in
the Bivarrambla. Certainly, thou hast heard recitals of the
rencontres, scimitar in hand, between the Zegris and Abencerrages.
By Sta. Agnes! they have had warriors fit for the
noblest songs. At least, father, thou knowest —” He stopped
abruptly, while a lad mounted the roof and approached them,
cap in hand.

“Excellent Señor, so it please thee, my master hath somewhat
to say to thee in his chamber below. And” — crossing
himself to Olmedo — “if the holy father will remember
me in his next prayer, I will tell him that Bernal Diaz is
looking for him.”

“Doth thy master want me also?”

“That is Diaz's massage.”

“What can be in the wind now?” asked Alvarado, musingly.

“Hadst thou asked me that question —”

“Couldst thou have answered? Take the chance! What
doth thy master intend?”

“Look, Don Pedro, and thou, good father,” replied the
page; “look to the top of yon pile so ridiculously called a
temple of —”

“Speak it, as thou lovest me,” cried Alvarado.

“Wilt thou pronounce it after me?”

“That will I; though, cierto, I will not promise my horse
if I fail.”

“Huitzilpotchli,” said the boy, slowly.

“The saints defend us!” exclaimed the knight, crossing
himself. “Where didst thou get so foul a name?”

“Of the Doña Marina. Well, the Señor Hernan, my
master, designeth visiting those towers, and seeing what horrors
they hold.”

Olmedo's countenance became unusually grave. “Holy
Mother, keep his temper in check, that nothing rash be
done!”

Alvarado received the news differently. “Thou art a good
boy, Orteguilla,” he said. “I owe thee a ducat. Remind
me of the debt when next thou seest me with gold. Espiritu
Santo! Now will I take the rust out of my knees, and the
dull out of my head, and the spite from my stomach! Now
will I give my sword, that hath hungered so long, to surfeit
on the heart-eaters! Bien Quisto! What jargon didst thou
use a moment ago when speaking of the temple?”

“Huitzilpotchli,” said the boy, laughing.

“Murrain take the idol, if only for his name's sake!
Come; we shall have a good time.”

The knight turned to descend. Orteguilla caught him by
the mantle. “A word, Don Pedro.”

“Picaro! A thousand of them, quickly!”

“Thou didst promise me a ducat —”

“Truly, and thou shalt have it. Only wait till the division
cometh, and thy master saith to me, `Take thy share.'”

“Thou hearest, father?”

“How! Dost doubt me?”

The boy stepped back. “No. Alvarado's promise is good
against the world. But dost thou not think the Señor Hernan
will attack the temple?”

“Cierto, with horse, foot, guns, Tlascalans, and all.”

“He goeth merely on a visit, and by invitation of Montezuma,
the king.”

Olmedo's face relaxed, and he rubbed his hands; but the
captain said, dismally, “By invitation! Picaro! Instead
of the ducat, that for thy news!” And he struck open-handedly
at the page, but with such good-will that the
latter gave him wide margin the rest of the day.