Captain from Castile (77 page)

"We'll halt at Alcazar de San Juan," Pedro decided. "We've broken the back of the road, with sixty leagues behind us. The devil's in it if we don't reach Jaen this time two days hence." His spirits mounting at the thought, he added, "Then, homhreSj you can sleep your heads off —or drink 'em off, if you like."

They covered the two miles to the village and clattered into the courtyard of the fonda Mariana. But Pedro had hardly entered the common room when a voice out of the semi-darkness exclaimed: "Holy saints! My dear boy! What a miracle! How does this happen? What good fortune you are here!" And de Vargas saw a square white beard approaching him through the twilight.

For an instant, even after his eyes had adjusted themselves to the dimness of the room, he hardly recognized the speaker. It was the

Marquis de Carvajal. His beard and hair were disheveled, his clothes disordered; the arms he threw around Pedro trembled.

"Ave Maria!" returned de Vargas, though none too cordially. "That I should find you here, my lord! How is it with Your Grace? What's happened, in the name of God? Your Grace looks distracted."

Carvajal sank to a bench and took a deep breath. "Ah, my son, and who wouldn't look distracted who's been for two hours in momentary fear of death! Fortunately I saw him first and managed to get upstairs, where I lay hidden." The dust on the Marquis's clothes suggested that he had been under a bed. His next remark confirmed the notion. "There was only a plank between me and the devil. Two hours long I had to listen to him. My rascal lackeys ran off; though that was as well, or my livery would have been recognized. I had just taken heart to come down when your horses filled the yard, and I thought he was back."

"But who, por piedad? Who?"

The Marquis shook his head. "I'm no longer equal to these alarms."

"Take me with you, Don Luis. Who are you talking about?"

"Why, my ex-son-in-law, de Silva. May God—"

"De Silva!" Pedro stood rooted. "De Silva?"

"Yes, and may God—"

"Which road did he take, do you know that? We didn't meet him. I say, which road?" And laying no gentle hand on Carvajal's shoulder, Pedro shook him.

"The road to Jaen."

"Jaen?"

"Yes, with fifteen roughs, each of them harder-looking than the next. At first I thought that their object in riding there was to assassinate me or perhaps your father, but that does not seem to be the way of it. I could hear de Silva talking to one whom he called Tito. They will not enter Jaen, being in fear of your father, the Alcalde. They plan to put up at the Rosario. For some reason, they are in fury against the innkeeper, Sancho Lopez, whom they vow to burn at a slow fire and then destroy the inn. They are heading for Granada and the sea."

De Vargas strode to the door. "Cipriano!" he called to the squire, who was busy superintending the stabling of the horses. "Saddle again. We're pushing on."

"Your Excellency, the horses are spent."

"Spent or not, we're riding them. Unpack my armor and help me on with it. See to your own. Let the men look to their weapons. By the mercy of God, Diego de Silva is on the road ahead of us. . . . When did he leave here?" Pedro asked the Marquis.

"An hour ago. I felt too weak to move—"

"An hour ahead of us," Pedro relayed to the squire. "We're no men if we can't cut down that lead. Chances are he'll put up for the night at Herencia three leagues on, and if we watch ourselves we can take him off guard. Remember there's a thousand pesos reward on his head. I'll add another thousand if we catch him."

Davila and the servants sprang into action. They all had taken part in other hunts for de Silva and were hardly less keen than their master. This must have been the reason for the haste from Valladolid, Davila reflected; but he wondered why de Vargas had kept so quiet about it.

Pedro felt a hand on his shoulder: he had forgotten the Marquis.

"But, my boy," quavered Carvajal, "you're not following that devil with but seven men. I told you he had fifteen. Stay here till morning and raise help from the Knights of St. John. They have a commandery here."

"Yes, and let the fellow put more space between us! No. He'll halt at Herencia, but he may not stop there. The mountains begin at that point. If we miss him at Herencia, we may lose track of him. Have no fear, Your Grace, a surprise adds numbers to the attack, as General Cortes used to say."

"And what of me?" Carvajal demanded. "Is this courtesy to leave an old man, abandoned by his servants, in an evil hostel, when the reason I am here is to be of service to you?"

Davila clanked up with Pedro's armor. Pedro lifted his arms to facilitate the fitting of the cuirass.

"Service to me?"

"Of course. As soon as I could drag myself from bed, I set out to lend you my help at court. My word is ever my bond. It is to insure the continuance of your good fortune that I have undertaken this grievous journey. With my constant presence, protection, and advice, you will secure even higher honors than His Majesty has already conferred. Instead of knighthood, perhaps even a marquisate or a county. You have wealth. By skillful management, a proper sum to the proper person—"

"Tighten the gorget, Cipriano," de Vargas directed. "Never take chances on the throat. A lucky thrust there, and the game's up."

"You're not listening," snapped the Marquis.

"On the contrary. Your Grace, I'm all attention. You were saying a bribe here and a tip there under your direction might get me a condado or a marquesado?"

"Yes, we must not stop with knighthood. You should manage your

cards at court to the best advantage. You need a councilor of experience like me. Ah, if it had not been for the cursed gout, I should have been with you sooner, and your affairs would have taken an even better turn."

"No doubt. . . . The pauldrons, good Cipriano."

"Therefore, surely," Carvajal persisted, "you will give me your company this evening. And we shall consider matters: whether I should continue on to Valladolid and there await your return, or whether I shall go back to Jaen under your escort."

"The vambraces, Cipriano."

Carvajal drew himself up. "I am not accustomed to inattention. When you are at leisure, I shall expect to have your ear."

The Marquis reseated himself with great dignity on the bench. The arming proceeded until finally nothing remained to put on but the casque.

"Now have one of the men help you, friend Davila," said Pedro, "and look well to the joints in your harness. We may have hot work, if God gives us luck."

Then, with his casque under one arm, he turned to the Marquis. Actually, so far as Carvajal was concerned, he had reached the breaking point. Did the old timeserver take him for an idiot? Any fool could see through his present maneuver.

Perhaps if Pedro had not been absorbed by the thought of de Silva, he would have been less direct. But the need for haste set him on tenter-i hooks. He had no time for flourishes.

"Well?" he said.

"My boy, as one who is soon to occupy the position of a second father to you, I have the right to demand your deference and command your attendance. I have explained why you should remain here this evening." The Marquis added a hint of the direst threat he could imagine. "Your union with my daughter is not yet consummated. I should be loath to have anything arise which might affect it. As you see, I have made a considerable sacrifice in your behalf."

"Then, sir," returned Pedro, "I shall be frank. I value your sacrifice as it deserves: at the weight of a counterfeit hlanca, or perhaps at the weight of your daughter's prayers, which are the only help I have had from your house. Go to Valladolid or return to Jaen as you please. I have more pressing matters to consider. But do not ever again, my lord, treat me as an imbecile who accepts false money for good coin and is grateful. In short, sir, you command neither my deference, my attendance, nor anything else of mine."

Amazement and shock struck Carvajal dumb. He could only stare back at Pedro. It was not until the latter had slipped the casque over his head and was on the point of turning away that the Marquis found his tongue again.

"Indeed, sir? And the betrothal? Do you think that vows once taken can be dafFed aside on a whim? That my daughter can be insulted and disgraced at your pleasure, ha? The law will have something to say to that."

Davila entered. "We're ready, Your Excellency."

An odd gleam showed in de Vargas's eyes. He knew that the Marquis would be open to a financial proposal; but he was damned if he would make one. Instead, a hankering which had beset him for a long time seemed on the point of fulfillment.

"The betrothal stands, if you please," he returned. "That's your affair."

And, reaching out, he indulged himself by pulling the Marquis de Carvajal's beard.

"Take note of that, Davila. And now, by God, we'll spur."

LXXXV

III luck attended the pursuers from the outset. They had not covered the nine miles to Herencia when Gampeador cast a shoe and another of the horses went lame. An autumn drizzle set in, which made the going no better; so that it was at a shamble that the little troop entered the outskirts of the village. Here Pedro called a halt, while one of the men went forward to reconnoiter the inn. He returned to report that a party of cahalleros had indeed stopped for a drink an hour and a half ago, but had then turned up into the mountains.

Gonfronted by an impossibility, de Vargas was forced to give in. Fatigue, night, weather, and unknown roads were all against him. He reasoned that de Silva, who had probably been hiding in one of the mountain ranges south of Valladolid—perhaps even in the near-by Montes de Toledo—had fresh horses as compared with his own, and that Tito el Fiero was enough in touch with other bandit leaders to insure a safe passage for their party through the sierras. Probably they would not hit the main road again until they had crossed the Sierra Morena and were in sight of Jaen. This meant that, while Pedro followed the highway, de Silva was taking short cuts which would increase

his lead. The one chance was that, not knowing himself to be pursued, he would ride at a more leisurely pace. But one could not count on that, and the cost of failure to reach Jaen before him came too high to think of calmly.

"Why is de Silva breaking cover just now?" Davila wondered that evening, as they talked things over in the wretched little tavern. "He's had over a month to get clear."

Pedro shook his head. "Man, I hate the fellow as I hate hell; but, to do him justice, he has the wits of fox, wolf, and snake in one. Go to earth until the hue and cry dies down, then make a dash for it. He has a better chance that way than when the hunt was hot."

Two long, anxious days followed. For the sake of speed, a selection was made from the available mounts; but even so, the party seemed to Pedro to crawl. And though he inquired at each crossroads, he got no news of de Silva's troop.

It was only at Linares, fifteen miles from Jaen, that they once more picked up the scent. Yes, a company of armed horsemen from the mountains had passed through two hours since. They had taken the Jaen road.

Two hours since and fifteen miles to go and darkness again falling. Pedro and his squire took council together under the eaves of the tavern yard. No fresh horses could be procured except at a prohibitive cost of time. The servants, less well mounted than de Vargas and Davila, had to be left behind.

"Well then, amigo" de Vargas concluded, "I'm riding on. You can come if you please, but I advise against it. Two against fifteen was considered big odds even in the company. I'll not think the less of you— in fact, you'll be showing sense—and it's not your quarrel."

The squire's answer was a laugh. "I thought Your Excellency knew that my name is Davila."

Pedro clapped him on the shoulder. "I apologize. I ought to know that men of your house never stay behind."

Having bid farewell to the servants, de Vargas swung into his saddle. "So then, Gipriano, adelante"

The rain had stopped, and the sky had broken into scattered clouds with a silvering of moon between. But the road was dark, so that the riders kept alert for any stumble on its uneven surface. They leaned well forward on the horses' shoulders to ease them of the weight of the armor as much as possible.

It was ten o'clock when the walls and towers of Jaen showed vaguely

to the right, and for a moment Pedro hesitated. Should he add another half-mile to the distance from the Rosario by riding to the city gate, rousing the watchmen, and calling for reinforcements? That would mean not only farther to go, when ever)' furlong made a difference to the jaded horses, but it meant a loss of precious time. So, deciding against it, he kept straight on along the mountain road.

At this point, Campeador and Davila's horse showed signs of collapse. They had covered three hundred miles from Valladolid in five days of poor weather and hard roads. They had been under saddle today since before dawn. Faced now by a steep climb, they came to a jog, then to a stiff walk.

"We'll hold up a moment," Pedro said desperately. "After that, if we kill them, they'll have to make it."

Reaching back to the cantle of his saddle, he unhooked a flask of aguardiente. "Here, Davila, pour this into them. It may do the trick." And while the squire, forcing open the jaws of the horses, emptied the flask, Pedro sat on edge with impatience.

"Friend Cipriano," he went on, "in what lies ahead (that is, if we're not too late) we must use our wits as much as our steel. Unless they're idiots, a troop like that, bent on such work, will have outposts to ward off surprise. I look for a couple before we reach the inn."

Fired by the brandy, the horses could now be worked up again to a labored gallop. Breathing like bellows, they got within a half-mile of the Rosario, when suddenly three riders, edging out from the blackest side of the road, seemed undetermined whether to challenge or to head toward the inn.

"Ha, homhres!" Pedro hailed. "The Sefior de Silva and Seiior Tito, are they at the appointed place?"

"Who are you?" returned one of the fellows.

Pedro and Davila rode up. "Friends from Valladolid, and a damned hard chase we've had. We've good news for the gentlemen. That dog de Vargas has got his. Our friend did for him."