Beauvallet (23 page)

The attack was renewed again next day, by Don Diego now, curbing his anger. He pressed marriage on his cousin, hinted his father might intercede for El Beauvallet,
besought her to wed him at once, and trust to his good offices to help Beauvallet.

These were blundering tactics; Dominica curled her lip at them and him. Well she knew that once his identity was proved no power under the sun could save Beauvallet. The Holy Inquisition would step in and claim him; it was not necessary for Don Diego to tell her that she would see her lover burned at the stake. She knew it, had faced the horror squarely, and would not now change colour. Desperate need lent her courage, and agility of mind. She never hesitated, never blanched, could still laugh her scorn. ‘This is very kind, cousin!’ she said tauntingly. ‘And if the unfortunate gentleman were indeed Beauvallet and beloved of me no doubt I should avail myself of your offer.’ Oh, but her tongue had a sting in it still! She watched him flush, and bite his lip. She curtseyed. ‘But I have no interest in the Chevalier de Guise, my good cousin, and I doubt he does not stand in need of my help.’

He took her wrist and shook it. ‘You think you hoodwink me? You think I do not know that fellow for what he is? Well, you shall see him burn!’

She smiled disdainfully. ‘Shall I so? I think it is you, my cousin, who will know yourself for a fool before many days are out. Loose my wrist. You will get nothing by this usage.’

He left her, sought out his mother. He was in a fret, biting his nails; he flew out upon her coolness, and was urgent with her to have the girl away at once.

Dona Beatrice regarded him blandly. She seemed amused by his agitation, and set her finger at the root of it. ‘One would say, my dear Diego, that you went in considerable fear of this Englishman.’

‘I do not fear any man, señora, but this devil –’ He crossed himself. ‘There's witchcraft at work! You have not talked with Perinat. He tells me – in league with the devil, señora! What,
could he have come otherwise into Spain, or sunk so many good ships of ours? We know El Draque to employ evil arts, and this man was trained under him.’

‘Witchcraft?’ said Dona Beatrice. Her shoulders shook. ‘I wonder if his arts will bring him off from that prison?’

‘You speak very lightly, señora. You cannot appreciate the dangers of our situation. While that man is alive, and my cousin still a maid, we may not know a moment's peace! At any time he might even be released! Have you thought of that? Perinat has little credit; his word may not serve against the fiend's papers. What, are we to have him loose amongst us, and you’ll sit smiling?’

‘I was never more in smiling humour,’ she remarked. ‘To see you so disturbed, my son! I owe the pirate a debt of gratitude, it seems. And you were within an ace of biting your glove in his face!’

‘And would do so still!’ he said sharply. ‘Make no mistake, señora, if he and I stand up together with a sword apiece I shall know what to do. If I fear aught it is his wiles, his devilish cunning! A man may not fight against witchcraft. Horrible sin! Deadly danger!’ Again he crossed himself.

‘Do you look to see him waft off Dominica in a cloud of smoke?’ she inquired. ‘I find you ridiculous, Don Diego.’

‘Maybe, maybe. It is easy to sit contemptuous, señora, but you have had no dealings with the man.’

‘I have had some pretty traffic with him. He is a very bold rogue, and I had ever a fondness for such men. Moreover’ – her fan waved rhythmically – ‘I like the merry look he has. A proper man, when all is said. I shall be sorry if I hear he comes not off.’

‘You will be sorry!’ he ejaculated. ‘Oh, señora, will you lead my cousin to him, and say “God bless you, pirate, take my niece?”’

‘You are a fool to ask me,’ said his mother composedly. ‘I dare say I am as much his enemy as you are, but I have this gift,
my son, that I can respect my foes. You may conjure up what nightmares of witchcraft you please; I shall not be in a heat for that. I am sure the man would laugh if he could hear you.’

He pounced on that. ‘Yes, señora, yes! And will you tell me that it is not Satan who prompts him to laugh? Will you tell me that a mere man laughs as this warlock does when he faces death, and sees the dead all about him? Perinat could tell a tale!’

‘I make no doubt he could,’ agreed Dona Beatrice. ‘I pray I may not have to hear him. I would stake my life all the magic this man uses is the magic of courage, and the arts you and others such as you have endowed him with. He takes a galleon: witchcraft! you cry. He sacks a town: more witchcraft! He comes into Spain on an errand of romance: foulest witchcraft of all! swear you. Well, I will tell you what I think, and I believe I am not a fool. He is English, therefore a little mad; he is a lover, therefore reckless. If he laughs it is because he is of those sort of men who will laugh though they die for it. There is all his magic.’ She yawned. ‘I dare say he will laugh as he goes to the stake, as I fear he will go. You fatigue me, Don Diego, and put me out of all patience with myself that I bore a fool.’

‘Very well, señora,’ he said hotly. ‘It's very well! But will you take my cousin into the country?’

‘Certainly,’ she said.

‘At once, señora, with what speed you can make!’

She raised her eyelids momentarily. ‘I shall leave Madrid for Vasconosa on Tuesday, as we have concerted, my son.’

‘Folly!’ he cried, and took a turn about the room.

She lay back upon the day-bed, completely at her ease. ‘Do you think so?’ she said mildly. ‘Maybe I see more clearly. All Madrid knows that I leave for Vasconosa on Tuesday. What do you suppose Madrid would think if I was off in a sudden start? There is only one thing that can make me put forward my
departure, and that is the coming of Tobar. Pray you go harry your father with those fears and spare me.’ She shut her eyes as though she would go off into a doze.

He checked, pondered it, and said grudgingly: ‘I had not thought of that.’

‘No,’ she said, not troubling to open her eyes. ‘You lack the habit of thought, I believe. I wish you would leave me; you disturb my
siesta
to no purpose that I can see.’

‘I pray you may not be disturbed by anything more disastrous than my presence, señora!’ he said. ‘You choose to sneer and think yourself wiser than us all, but I will tell you this! – I shall warn my father if that devil escapes from his prison he must send the King's men hot-foot after him to Vasconosa!’

‘By all means,’ agreed the lady. ‘Go and warn him at once.’

Sixteen

U
pon the morning following the strange arrest king Philip was disturbed at his orisons by a secretary made over-bold by the amazing news. He must needs, forget ful of time and place, blurt out to his master that El Beauvallet was taken prisoner. King Philip made no sign at all, but went on with his prayers.

The secretary flushed scarlet and drew back. King Philip finished his prayers and went his stately way to his cabinet.

He sat down at his desk there, placed his gouty foot upon the velvet stool, and pondered a document. A note was laboriously written in the margin. King Philip laid down his quill and raised his hooded eyes to the secretary. ‘You said something,’ he stated, and folded his hands tranquilly before him.

Vasquez, still discomposed, told the news baldly. ‘Sire, El Beauvallet was captured at the house of Noveli last night!’

Philip thought it over for a moment. ‘That is not possible,’ he said at last. ‘Explain yourself.’

The tale came tumbling out then, garbled, of course, but sufficiently arresting. Vasquez had it from Admiral Perinat that the Chevalier de Guise was none other than El Beauvallet, the terrible pirate. The Chevalier, then, was laid by the heels, and there were men in the ante-chamber craving an audience with his Majesty.

Philip blinked once, but seemed unmoved. ‘The Chevalier de Guise,’ he said slowly. ‘His papers were in order,’ he announced heavily. He looked calmly at Vasquez. ‘Does he admit it?’ he inquired.

‘No, sire, I believe not. I believe – I am sure – he sent at once to the French Ambassador to demand his protection. But Don Maxia de Perinat –’

Philip looked at his folded hands. ‘Perinat is a bungler,’ he said. ‘One who blunders once may blunder twice. This seems to me a foolish tale. I will see M. de Lauvinière.’

The French Ambassador came in a moment later, unhurriedly, and made his bow. His countenance was a little troubled, but he made no haste to come to his business. Compliments passed, an idle word on some idle matter. At length Philip said: ‘You have come upon some urgent business, señor. Let me hear it.’

The Ambassador bowed again. ‘I have come upon the strange business of the arrest of the Chevalier de Guise, sire,’ he said, and paused as though he hardly knew how to proceed.

Philip waved one hand slightly. ‘Take your time, señor,’ he said kindly. ‘I perceive that you are troubled. You may trust me with your whole mind.’

This was to set the Ambassador at his ease. De Lauvinière, knowing the King of old, inclined his head with a slightly ironic smile. The irony went unnoticed. ‘Sire, the Chevalier has sent, as a subject of France, to claim my protection,’ he said bluntly. ‘I am indeed troubled. I have to understand that he has been arrested on suspicion of being no less a person than Sir Nicholas Beauvallet, the sea-robber. My first impulse, sire, was to laugh at a charge so absurd.’

Philip put his finger-tips together, and over them watched the Ambassador. ‘Continue, señor.’

‘The Chevalier, sire, very naturally denies this. His papers are in order; I cannot find from anything that I hear that there
is any proof to substantiate the charge than Don Maxia de Perinat's word. I have seen Don Maxia, sire, and I must humbly confess that although he speaks as a man altogether convinced, I cannot deem his conviction to be sufficient evidence against the Chevalier. Moreover, sire, it appears that a certain lady who was taken prisoner by this same Beauvallet not so many months ago utterly denies that this man is he.’

‘I had not supposed it possible, señor, that El Beauvallet could be in Spain,’ said Philip calmly. ‘You come to request his release.’

The Ambassador hesitated. ‘Sire, this is a very strange, a very difficult matter,’ he said. ‘It is no part of my desire to act hastily in it.’

‘Rest assured, señor, we shall do nothing without careful consideration,’ Philip said. ‘Do you identify the Chevalier?’

Again there was a momentary hesitation. ‘I cannot do that, sire. I am not over-familiar with the members of the house of Guise; I have never, to my knowledge, met this man. But from what I know of the family I did from the first moment of seeing him suspect that this man might not be what he claimed to be. It is in my mind that the Chevalier de Guise should be a younger man than this, nor can I trace any resemblance to the Guises in his countenance.’

Philip weighed that. ‘It might thus chance, señor,’ he said.

‘Certainly, sire. I may well be mistaken. But upon my first meeting with him I wrote into France to discover more of him. The answer to my letter must be awaited before I can state whether this man is the Chevalier or whether he is not. I have come here today, sire, to request you, very humbly, to be patient a few weeks, to hold your hand, in effect, until I receive the answer to my letter.’

Philip nodded slowly. ‘We shall do nothing unadvisedly,’ he said. ‘We must think on this. You shall hear more of our
decision, señor. Be sure we should be loth to proceed against a subject of our cousin of France.’

‘I have to thank your Majesty for your courtesy,’ de Lauvinière said, and bowed over the King's cold hand. He was ushered out of the cabinet, and passed through the antechamber without delay. Perinat tried to stop him, and shot an eager question, but de Lauvinière answered evasively, and passed on.

The King would not see Don Maxia de Perinat. ‘It does not need for us to listen to Don Maxia,’ he said coldly. ‘He will make his deposition to the Alcalde at a later time. We will give audience to Don Cristobal de Porres.’

Don Cristobal, commander of the Guards of Castile, Governor of the great barracks where Beauvallet was imprisoned, was awaiting the King's pleasure in the anteroom. He was a man of some forty years of age, dark and tall, with a grave countenance and a thin mouth half concealed by his black mustachio and the pointed beard he wore. He came in very promptly, and stood just inside the door, deeply bowing. ‘Sire!’

‘We have sent for you, señor, to inquire into this matter of your prisoner. I do not immediately understand why the
ginetes
were called in.’

‘The Casa Noveli, sire, is hard by the barracks,’ Porres answered. ‘A gentleman came in hot haste with the news that El Beauvallet was captured, and my lieutenant, Cruza, perhaps acted without due reflection. I have held the man in ward against the hearing of your Majesty's pleasure.’

Philip seemed to be satisfied, for he said nothing for a moment or two, but gazed with apparent abstraction before him. Presently he brought his eyes back to Porres’ face, and spoke abruptly. ‘Let search be made in his baggage,’ he said. ‘We shall require you to keep the Chevalier under surveillance, Don Cristobal, until such time as we make known our further
pleasure. If he travels with a Servant –’ he paused. ‘It might be well to interrogate the man.’