Captain from Castile (74 page)

"You know," remarked Pedro, "that I am the kinsman and friend of Don Juan Alonso de Guzman, Duke of Medina Sidonia, and that the Duke has a long arm. He will not let the killing of his servant go unpunished, whoever is guilty. Also the Duke de Be jar backs General Cortes, whose representative I am. These are bigger men than Diego de Silva; they make safer patrons. Let us discuss matters."

Leaving his position behind the turnkey, Pedro once more drew up a chair.

"I take it," he went on, "that you are a poor, industrious man, with no special affection for de Silva beyond the money he pays you?"

"Yes, Your Grace. I have a large family."

"No doubt. Every rascal has a large family. Well, it happens that I am much richer than de Silva and, when it comes to my neck, I could perhaps use your services. Suppose tomorrow you should tell him the truth: that I did not drink the wine and remained up all night, so that with the best will in the world you were unable to murder me. You would lose nothing by that, eh?—except a mere one hundred pesos, especially as I would pay you double."

For the first time, the man's face relaxed; his eyes lighted up; he beamed.

"Ah, Your Grace makes a new man of me. I kiss your noble feet. I would let myself be cut into small pieces for the sake of your lordship."

462

I

"Gracias. But now in addition, if you were assured of pardon and patronage, it might be worth your head's weight in gold to give testimony regarding tonight's attempt."

The turnkey pondered. "What assurance have I— "

''My word of honor. Think, homhre, if it came to the point, I could denounce you and have you put to the question."

The other nodded. "Captain de Vargas, I am your servant."

"And you will give testimony against this Tito el Fiero?"

"Not that, Your Grace. I might as well die now as later, for death would be certain. But I will point out others who could be forced to confess."

"A kindly thought," murmured de Vargas, fighting down his nausea at the fellow. "As for other testimony regarding the man Stufiiga—"

"Anything," agreed the turnkey, "anything Your Grace desires. I have a lively fancy."

"Restrain it, Seiior Carcelero. Keep to the truth if I call on you."

The fellow grinned. "Yes, your lordship, but I shall not understate it."

When Pedro released him from the chair, he kneeled and fawned over his new patron's hand. "Your Grace can count on me."

In reply, de Vargas lifted the pouch of gold which he had recovered from the turnkey and counted him out fifty pesos.

"A hundred and fifty more if you know what side your bread's buttered on. If you don't know, it will go hard with you."

"I have learned that. Your Magnificence."

Pedro saw him out with relief. Then, having made a pile of various articles in front of the door, so arranged that if anyone entered the noise would awake him, he stretched out on the bed.

But for a long time he remained open-eyed. Disgust at the assassin he had been dealing with mingled with the dread of tomorrow. He lay mapping out his defense, but suddenly another thought struck him. Not defense; he had nothing to defend. Everything turned on de Silva. It was not a matter of principle, but of personality. Expose him, and he had won. But the exposure had to be complete, immediately convincing, and final. Had he enough evidence at his disposal for this? No, not obvious, crushing evidence. Perhaps by luck, perhaps if he took a gambler's chance . . .

All at once he awoke to find sunlight in the room. The ordeal was close. Tomorrow had become today.

In the combination dining and audience hall of the palace, Charles of Austria that day followed the custom of the time by dining in public. He sat before an ample table with various covered dishes before him. At his back stood the table staff, which comprised two doctors of medicine, a court buffoon, and an assortment of pages under the direction of a steward. In front of him and around, at a respectful distance, lining the walls, was ranged the court, a mingling of Spaniards, Flemings, and Germans, whose deferential eyes rested on the plume of the Emperor's hat and on every movement of his jaws.

Businesslike in everything, Charles paid no attention at all to these onlookers. Dinner was a serious matter, to be got through efficiently and without small talk. The buffoon stood behind him as an article of court furniture, a depressed buffoon whose services were seldom called on.

The Emperor, having taken his place, cut a slice of bread into squares, each large enough for one bite. The pages removed the covers from one dish after the other (they all contained meat, fish, or fowl) and His Majesty nodded or shook his head as the whim of appetite directed. When he nodded, the pages stepped back, while the Emperor drew the dish towards him, stuck in his knife for what carving was necessary, then, raising the dish beneath his chin, used his fingers to eat with.

By God, whispered the court, it was marvelous how cleanly His Caesarean Majesty managed his victuals.

When he was thirsty, a motion of his hand brought one of the doctors with a silver flagon and a crystal cup. Charles then emptied the cup without stopping, but he restricted himself to three in the course of a meal.

The fine tapestries on the walls, and the still finer tapestry of satins, jewels, and brocades furnished by the courtiers, made a brilliant setting. Silence reigned except for the movement of the pages and now and then the cracking of a bone or a chicken wing.

Sometimes, though rarely, Charles's absorbed gaze wandered from his meat, resting an instant on one person or another; but the blue eyes revealed nothing. Today he noticed a tall figure he had never seen before, an elderly, black-clad man, straight and lean as a rapier, with a scornful lower lip and a hawk nose. He was evidently someone of distinction, for he was standing by the side of Don Inigo de Velasco,

464

\

Constable of Castile. Charles at that time did not know the Spanish nobility half so well as he knew his Flemings and Germans. After glancing once or twice at the gentleman, he beckoned a page and asked in a low voice who it was.

"Your Caesarean Majesty, I believe it is the famous knight, Don Francisco de Vargas, about whom so much is told from the Italian wars. They say he was the bosom friend of the Great Captain."

"So!" said Charles, returning to his fowl, and the page dropped back.

After dinner, quill toothpicks were presented to the Emperor, who made careful use of them. He then rose, and the table was immediately removed, so that the dining hall became an audience room.

It was noticed that when my lord Constable approached with Don Francisco, His Majesty turned aside. It was noticed too that he pointedly overlooked the Senores Montejo and Puertocarrero when they bowed before him. And on the other hand, when he had seated liimself in one of the window recesses, it was noticed that he chatted pleasantly with the Bishop of Burgos and Diego de Silva.

"We'll be meeting soon, gentlemen," said Charles. "I believe we're to have the pleasure of inspecting this young pirate, de Vargas, eh? Au revoir!"

Shrewd courtiers gravitated toward the happy recipients of the imperial smile. Although superficially trifling, these were important events. The warfare of years, the future of New Spain, might depend on them.

Today Charles cut short the usual hour of audience and of hearing petitions. Being informed by the Grand Chancellor Gattinara that a certain prisoner summoned by His Majesty was being held at his orders outside, the Emperor rose from the window seat and took his purposeful way out between lines of bowing gentlemen.

"You'll admit my lord de Burgos and Senor de Silva to the cabinet," he told Gattinara. "Have the prisoner brought in."

"One word, sire," the other cautioned.

"Yes?"

"Keep an open mind. Much depends on it."

"Indeed, Monseigneur?" returned Charles stiffly. "What depends on it?"

"Justice, Your Majesty—and perhaps an empire."

As an indication that he was a prisoner rather than for any practical reason, Pedro wore light arm fetters when he was introduced into the imperial cabinet. The two halberdiers in front of him stood aside, and

he saw for the first time the King in whose service he had spent the past four years. The sight was not disillusioning, for Charles looked royal. At the moment the Emperor's eyes were cold as blue granite.

Then Pedro saw the lithe, poised figure of de Silva on the Emperor's left, and it took him an instant to overcome the convulsive tenseness that passed through him. The burly, truculent-looking churchman in purple, whom he rightly conjectured to be the Bishop of Burgos, interested him less, as did the lord who stood at the Emperor's right.

The halberdiers retired to the door; Pedro dropped to one knee.

"You may advance, Pedro de Vargas," said Charles, and when the prisoner stood in front of him, he added, "It is not our custom to examine rebels before their trial—we leave them to their judges—but in this case I could not resist looking at a man who has involved himself in so many crimes."

Though Pedro kept his eyes carefully turned away, he was still aware of de Silva's triumphant smile. But he answered levelly, "If my crimes have procured me the attention of Your gracious Majestv', I cannot regret them, all the more as they were committed for Your Majesty's service."

"God bless me!" Charles exclaimed. "You do not disappoint us. You steal a shipload of gold supposedly addressed to us and have the brass to claim that the theft was for our service."

"Your Majesty prejudges the case," put in Gattinara.

"There's no prejudging about it. Do our port officers not witness that this man dug up a great weight of gold in their presence and bore it away despite them, claiming it belonged to him? What more do you want?"

"The simple formality, sire, of allowing Captain de Vargas to speak in his own defense."

"Well then, speak up, sirrah Captain."

"Your Majesty, I told the truth. The gold was mine."

"Eh hien, voila!" Charles growled. "You have it from his own lips."

"As to Your Majesty's gold, in the amount of four hundred thousand pesos," de Vargas continued, "it is where I left it on landing. It awaits Your Majesty's orders."

A different note sounded in the Emperor's voice. "Four hundred thousand pesos! Where?"

"At the friary of La Rabida. In the charge of Fray Tomas, Father Superior."

Pedro hoped for an effect and not in vain. De Silva's smile was gone.

"Four hundred thousand in gold?" Charles repeated.

An abrupt laugh cut off Pedro's answer. "Your Majesty," de Silva remarked, "may I venture a humble caution? I hope this gold exists; but as yet it exists only on the word of a man whose effrontery Your Majesty himself has pointed out. How long will it take to learn from La Rabida that de Vargas left no gold there? At least two weeks. And in that time, from my experience with this gentleman, much can happen."

Pedro smiled. "Very true, sir. Only it will not take two weeks to learn the truth from La Rabida. It will take no more than two minutes."

"How so?" demanded Charles.

"I believe my father, Don Francisco, is at court today. He has a document from La Rabida touching the matter in hand, also a letter on the same point from General Cortes addressed to Your Majesty. From my experience with Seiior de Silva, I would not venture to keep such papers on my own person lest they should be mislaid."

At another time, the Emperor might have reproved this attack on a man he favored, but at the moment he was much too interested in the document from La Rabida.

"Call Don Francisco," he ordered.

The old knight entered with the dignified carriage that he maintained always. He did not look unduly impressed—indeed, he would have walked down a church aisle toward the high altar more humbly than he now approached Charles of Austria—but at the same time his bearing showed reverence.

The young Emperor, embarrassed that he had slighted him in the audience room, now impulsively rose.

"Welcome at court, Don Francisco. I have long wanted to see the good knight and servant of my grandfather, the friend of Gonsalvo de Cordoba. I regret that you come on so serious an occasion, but I would have you know that, whatever the charges against your son, they reflect nothing against you."

The other bowed over the outstretched hand. "If I do not kneel, sire, it is because of Ravenna. As for my son, I wish I had no more serious crimes than his on my own soul. But, however that may be, we stand together in all things, even in Your Majesty's displeasure."

Then, drawing out the papers he had received, he presented them.

"Have I permission to take my leave?"

"Nay, stay here, sir. We may have need of you."

Charles had already opened Fray Tomas's receipt and was glancing through it.

''Look, Gattinara, the seal of the friary. Thirty-five chests, said to contain gold in the weight of four hundred thousand pesos. Let's see what the man Cortes adds to this."

And he tore open the letter from Coyoacan, his eyes racing along the closely written pages.

"Here's news. The city with the long name—fallen . . . The entire country in Spanish hands ... A continent . . . (The fellow writes well, my lord Chancellor. I was struck by his other letter. The Caesar touch.) . . . Yes, thirty-five hundredweight cases of gold bars to be left at La Rabida . . . Equaling the royal fifth of a certain treasure discovered by Captain Pedro de Vargas plus three additional tenths donated in lovang devotion by the Colony of Villa Rica. Therefore, a half . . . Said Captain de Vargas retaining two fifths. . . . Ma foi, you're a rich man, sir . . . Well, the letter jumps with Fray Tomas's receipt. But why, in God's name, de Vargas, did you not notify us of this? Why was it necessary to put you under arrest in order to secure information of such importance? Is it not treasonable negligence?"

"No, sire. I had no sooner reached Seville when a messenger was dispatched by His Grace of Medina Sidonia. The message stated that I brought important news and a contribution from Mexico; that I was proceeding to Valladolid via Jaen to wait upon Your Majesty who had but then landed at Santander. The Duke will vouch for this."