Beauvallet (22 page)

‘Enough of that!’ Again Noveli intervened. ‘This is for other interrogation than yours, Don Diego. Hold your peace, I command you! If we do you an injustice, Chevalier, I hope you will be kind enough only to laugh at us.’

‘You may be sure of it, señor,’ said Sir Nicholas. ‘We shall all laugh.’ Again his glance flitted to Dominica's face. ‘Let no one be ill at ease. This affair will have a happy ending, don’t doubt it.’ There came a stir by the door, and the clank of spurred heels. ‘Aha, the guard! Now by my faith you count El Beauvallet a dangerous fellow! As I live, the Guards of the Castile, and a round dozen of them!’

He was surrounded. The lieutenant, who wore a face of incredulous wonder, bowed stiffly. ‘Señor, I regret, I must ask you for your sword.’ It was presented him, hilt foremost. ‘Señor, be good enough to go with us.’

‘With the greatest pleasure on earth, Señor lieutenant,’ said Beauvallet. He looked towards the Andalusian. ‘Don Juan, it seems I may have to forego my game of
trucos
with you tomorrow, and maybe some other engagements I had made. Accept my apologies. But all the other engagements that I have for later dates shall certainly be kept. Señor, lead on!’

He went out, close-guarded, but his voice echoed still in Dominica's ears: ‘The engagements that I have for later dates shall certainly be kept… shall certainly be kept.’

Fifteen

J
oshua Dimmock, prowling in the shadows outside the Casa Noveli, saw enough, and more than enough to set him fingering his dagger. Certain, it itched to be out, but ‘Yarely, my man, yarely,’ Joshua cautioned himself. ‘One man at large is better than two caged.’

It was his habit to lurk near whatever house Sir Nicholas stayed in. He was laughed at for his pains, but laid a finger to his nose. ‘I look for trouble,’ quoth Joshua Dimmock. ‘I don’t wait to have it brought to my notice.’

It seemed he had good reason. The gentleman who went running out to fetch in the
ginetes
from the barracks hard by little knew how nearly he ran on death. The dagger was out, a wicked blade, long and razor-edged; Joshua, guessing from the sound of turmoil within what evil fate hard chanced, guessed also this flying gentleman's errand. To stab him where the neck joined the shoulder would be easy enough. Ay, and then what? Joshua put up his dagger, snatched so instinctively from its sheath. No way to get Sir Nicholas off, that.

He bethought him that he had maybe let his mind jump at conclusions; drew farther into the shadows, and waited. He saw the
ginetes
come; they passed so close he might have touched
one. They went into the house, and came out again soon with Sir Nicholas Beauvallet in their midst.

‘Ay, I beagled it out well enough,’ Joshua muttered. ‘Now what?’ He saw Sir Nicholas walking briskly between his guards, heard him say something to the lieutenant, and laugh. ‘He goes fleering to death!’ groaned Joshua. ‘Mocker, mocker! Will you not look your fate in the face and know yourself sped at last? But this is to tax idle circumstance.’ He pulled himself together. ‘Up, mother-wit! No time for mourning, this.’ He peered towards the open door of the house, where two lackeys stood talking excitedly together. ‘I see the first step of my way. Now to sound these hildings.’ He withdrew a little way, came out from the shadow of the wall, and went towards the Casa Noveli at a brisk trot. ‘What's here?’ he cried out. ‘Guards at your place! Who was’t? Strange doings!’ He became the epitome of curiosity, and got his answer.

‘
Madre de Dios!
’ one of the lackeys said. ‘They say it is the pirate, El Beauvallet!’

‘Jesu!’ Joshua fell back, and crossed himself. ‘That fine gentleman? Do you make a jest of me? How should such a thing be, pray you?’

The first man shook his head hopelessly; it was his companion who answered, as he prepared to go indoors. ‘Why, there's Admiral Perinat within, foaming like a mad dog.’ He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. ‘He it was who cried out on the Chevalier.’

Joshua wanted no more. The lackeys went in, remembering their duties; Joshua went speeding towards the Puerta del Sol.

He was in time; no guards had come yet to the Rising Sun to ransack his master's baggage. He slipped in at the back entrance, waited for a cook-maid's back to be turned, and so got him upstairs unseen.

He did swift work there. Doublets, hose, boots, shirts were flung from the chest by the window, some of them
stowed away pell-mell into a pack, the rest left to lie on the floor.

‘Here we play the knavish servant,’ Joshua encouraged himself. ‘What it is to have a head on one's shoulders!’ He found Sir Nicholas’ strong-box, and forced it open with the point of his dagger. ‘Ay, thus it goes. We take the money, and some few papers we may need, and leave the box to tell of our thieving. Ha, what's this?’ He unfolded the Chevalier de Guise's pass. ‘Softly, Joshua, that should be found, for I think we have no more need of it, and it may very easily help Sir Nicholas. We must be supposed to have searched in vain for it.’ He looked round him, saw a loose mandilion he had pulled out of the cupboard, and caught it up. ‘In the pocket, I believe. Lie there then, and I hope they may find you.’ He tucked the pass into an inner pocket, and hung the coat up at the back of the cupboard. ‘Ay, we sought it, and found it not. It may serve you yet, master.’ He came away from the cupboard. ‘Cheerly, Joshua! all will be well yet. Now to stow these clothes away.’ He packed as much of Sir Nicholas’ raiment as he could carry with him, hid the jewels about his own person, and nipped out to get such of his own traps as he should need. Still there came no sound of guards approaching to seize Beauvallet's papers. Joshua spied from the window, listened, heard only the voice of a tapster below, and drew in again to finish his work. Two neat bundles stood ready upon the floor, but this did not seem to be enough for Joshua Dimmock. He went to work to create more havoc, and succeeded very fairly. A small chest he had emptied he chose to lock, and then break open. He tossed an old doublet into it, a pair of stocks, a riding boot. ‘Ay, that is the way it goes. The naughty knave to rifle his master's chest! Master, you may live to thank God you have me for your servant yet.’ He stood back, and surveyed the litter. ‘A rare gallimaufry, by my faith! What more? God's light! The sword!’
He slapped his forehead, and darted to unearth the weapon from the depths of the cupboard in the wall. Out it came, that blade from the hand of Ferrara, delicate, flexible, with straight quillons, and a knuckle-bow of two shell shapes, chased with gold. ‘
My bite is sure!
’ quoth Joshua. ‘I warrant me!’

Downstairs the inn was quiet, for it was late into the evening now. Joshua might have got away with none to see his flight, but chose instead to stumble into the sleepy tapster. He executed a well-feigned start, and let fly a French oath. ‘
Sang-dieu!
’ A ducat was pressed into the tapster's hand. ‘You do not see me,’ said Joshua. ‘Eh?’

‘I see you very plainly,’ said the tapster, agape.

‘That is not how it runs. Look you!’ He took the tapster's ear between finger and thumb, and whispered. ‘Word's brought my master's clapped up. Do you take me now? Well, he will be free soon enough, I suppose, but I’ll not be here to see it.’ He looked slyly. ‘There's a little farm in Picardy, and a rare wench to be won – if a man had the means.’ He patted the money-bags slung about his waist; indeed he fairly staggered under the weight of them. ‘I don’t let opportunity slip, mother of God!’

The tapster was bemused. He twisted his ear free. ‘What's this? Your master clapped up?’

‘Some idle talk of his being El Beauvallet. Ho-ho, a very likely tale! Think I, it's some enemy has put this on him, for he's known the length and breadth of France for a Guise. But these are not matters for me. I’m for the Frontier, and a good riddance to a bad master!’

The tapster was left to blink after him. He shook his head, making nothing of all this mysterious talk, and yawned, and wondered what o’clock it might be. Joshua got clear away while he was still wondering.

There was one other who was concerned in this capture, one who had also a part to play, and was warily mindful of it. The
party at Noveli's house broke up swiftly, but not before many guests had crowded round Dona Dominica to hear what she might have to say.

In her heart was despair, for the hawk was snared, but she could still do what she might to aid him. Courage mounted; she set to fanning herself, and forced her pale lips into a smile of incredulity. ‘Señors, I have no more to say than what I have said. If this man is El Beauvallet he is changed indeed since last I saw him. I grant you a like colouring, but for the rest –
Madre de Dios
, if you but knew the pirate, and had heard his abominable Spanish!’ She tinkled a laugh, became aware of her aunt close beside her, and turned. ‘Well, señora, your poor Chevalier is fallen upon an evil hour indeed!’ She sank her voice. ‘Perinat –’ She looked significantly, and touched her forehead. ‘Ever since he lost his ship he has been – strange in the head on this one subject.’ She nodded wisely.

Don Diego made as if to speak, but his mother interposed. ‘I have not been so entertained for many a long day,’ she said. ‘I am for my bed now. I suppose we shall hear more of this in the morning. Come, my dear. Do you follow us, Don Diego?’

He waved them away; he had still much to say, and was burning to say it. ‘Presently, señora. Do not wait upon my coming.’

Dona Beatrice led her niece to make her curtsey to their hostess.

There was a battle to be fought now, harder than the skirmish that had just passed, Dominica knew well. As they jolted homewards in the bumping coach Don Rodriguez was left to talk as he pleased. Dona Beatrice lay back against the cushions, and allowed him to run on. He exclaimed, wondered, surmised to his fidgetty heart's content, and his niece put in a word where she might.

They reached the Casa Carvalho. Dona Beatrice went with her niece up the stairs, and followed her to her chamber.
Dominica had herself well in hand. Now for the battle! now for the setting up of wits against wits!

Dona Beatrice sank down into a chair by the window. ‘So that is it!’ she said, amused. ‘What a daring lover you have, my dear! Yes, I was hoodwinked. I must be getting old.’ She shook her head over it.

‘Heaven, señora, are you too besotted then?’ asked Dominica scornfully.

‘Make no mistake, my dear,’ said Dona Beatrice placidly, ‘I wish him all success. Diego was in a rare taking, was he not. Yes, many of them there had a fine scare tonight. Cry Brava, El Beauvallet! But I think I will have you away into the country.’ She smiled. ‘A very charming romance, my dear. A pity it can come to naught.’

Dominica pressed her hands to her temples. ‘You make my head to reel!’ she complained. ‘I love a pirate? God save you, señora, what next will you put on me?’

Dona Beatrice nodded. ‘Very well played, my dear. You have more head than I gave you credit for. But you need not be so careful now. I have no wish to see your hero perish. No, none whatsoever, I assure you. I have nothing but respect for a man of such daring. I wonder how he contrived to come by those papers of his? It would make a rare tale, I do not doubt. Alack, I am not like to hear it.’ She sighed. ‘But for you, my child – you must be got away with all speed.’

‘Why must I?’ Dominica blinked at her. ‘Am I in peril, señora, because your infamous son accuses me of having a pirate for my lover?’

‘Yes, was it not foolish of him? Madness!’ agreed her aunt. ‘He has no head. Enough, one would say, to bring the familiars of the Inquisition to our house tomorrow. That, my dear, is one reason why you should be got away, and swiftly wed. We shall give the lie to suspicion of heresy against you.
No doubt, if his papers are in order, as I dare say they may be, El Beauvallet will be set at large. Faith, a man who would take his life in his hand right to the heart of Spain might even contrive to snatch you from under my nose! Well, child, all honour to him if he can compass it, but you shall not expect me to lend him my aid.’

‘If his papers are in order,’ Dominica pointed out, ‘he will stand proved to be the man he says he is, so what fear?’

‘Ah, but I too have brain. I see much now that – I confess – was hidden from me before.’ She smoothed the heavy silk of her dress. She was still smiling, still imperturbable. ‘Such a personable man – to be a pirate. I do not blame you at all, my dear. You made rare work of it aboard that ship, did you not? It is all most enlivening. For you I admit a pang or two. It will pass, and you will remember that you have had more romance than comes to most women in this weary world. But we shall leave Madrid. Certainly we shall leave Madrid.’

‘As you please, señora, but you give me no good reasons.’

Dona Beatrice picked up her fan. ‘I will give you one you may perceive to be good, child. If you stay here you may haply be examined. Now I do not want that.’

‘I am very willing, aunt. I can but say what I have said.’

‘King Philip and the Holy Inquisition,’ said her aunt gently, ‘are not nice in their methods of obtaining information. Enough harm has been done already without you becoming suspected to be a heretic.’ She rose, and went with her languid step to the door. ‘We will have you safe married, my dear, and think out some tale against our need. As I see it, my child, you cannot better serve this bold lover of yours than to give the lie in such a way to those who suspect you and him.’