Part 16 (1/2)
No adjective was needed to specify the glorious day of St. Quentin, when Flemish Egmont's chivalrous courage, seconded by Castilian bravery, gained for King Philip such a brilliant victory over the arms of France.
Carlos knew the story already from public sources. And it did not occur to Juan, nor indeed to Carlos either, that there had ever been, or would ever be again, a battle so worthy of being held in everlasting remembrance.
”But do you count the wound part of your good luck!” asked Carlos.
”Ay, truly, and well I may. It has brought me home; as you ought to have known ere this.”
”I received but two letters from you--that written on your first arrival, and dated from Cambray; and that which told of your notable prize, the French prisoner.”
”But I wrote two others: one, I entrusted to a soldier who was coming home invalided--I suppose the fellow lost it; the other (written just after the great St. Laurence's day) arrived in Seville the night before I made my own appearance there. His Majesty will need to look to his posts; certes, they are the slowest carriers to be found in any Christian country.” And Juan's merry laugh rang through the convent parlour, little enough used to echo such sounds.
”So I have heard almost nothing of you, brother; save what could be gathered from the public accounts,” Carlos continued.
”All the better now. I have only such news as is pleasant for me to tell; and will not be ill, I think, for thee to hear. First, then, and in due order--I am promised my company!”
”Good news, indeed! My brother must have honoured our name by some special deed of valour. Was it at St. Quentin?” asked Carlos, looking at him with honest, brotherly pride. He was not much changed by his campaign, except that his dark cheek wore a deeper bronze, and his face was adorned with a formidable pair of _bigotes_.
”That story must wait,” returned Juan. ”I have so much else to tell thee. Dost thou remember how I said, as a boy, that I should take a n.o.ble prisoner, like Alphonso Vives, and enrich myself by his ransom?
And thou seest I have done it.”
”In a good day! Still, he was not the Duke of Saxony.”
”Like him, at least, in being a heretic, or Huguenot, if that be a less unsavoury word to utter in these holy precincts. Moreover, he is a tried and trusted officer of Admiral Coligny's suite. It was that day when the admiral so gallantly threw himself into the besieged town. And, for my part, I am heartily obliged to him. But for his presence, there would have been no defence of St. Quentin, to speak of, at all; but for the defence, no battle; but for the battle, no grand victory for the Spains and King Philip. We cut off half of the admiral's troops, however, and it fell to my lot to save the life of a brave French officer whom I saw fighting alone amongst a crowd. He gave me his sword; and I led him to my tent, and provided him with all the solace and succour I could, for he was sorely wounded. He was the Sieur de Ramenais; a gentleman of Provence, and an honest, merry-hearted, valiant man, as it was ever my lot to meet withal. He shared my bed and board, a pleasant guest rather than a prisoner, until we took the town, making the admiral himself our captive, as you know already. By that time, his brother had raised the sum for his ransom, and sent it honourably to me.
But, in any case, I should have dismissed him on parole, as soon as his wounds were healed. He was pleased to give me, beside the good gold pistoles, this diamond ring you see on my finger, in token of friends.h.i.+p.”
Carlos took the costly trinket in his hand, and duly admired it. He did not fail to gather from Juan's simple narrative many things that he told not, and was little likely to tell. In the time of action, chivalrous daring; when the conflict was over, gentleness and generosity no less chivalrous, endearing him to all--even to the vanquished enemy. No wonder Carlos was proud of his brother! But beneath all the pride and joy there was, even already, a secret whisper of fear. How could he bear to see that n.o.ble brow clouded with anger--those bright confiding eyes averted from him in disdain? Turning from his own thoughts as if they had been guilty things, he asked quickly,--
”But how did you obtain leave of absence?”
”Through the kindness of his Highness.”
”The Duke of Savoy?”
”Of course. And a braver general I would never ask to serve.”
”I thought it might have been from the King himself, when he came to the camp after the battle.”
Don Juan's cheek glowed with modest triumph. ”His Highness was good enough to point me out to His Catholic Majesty,” he said. ”And the King spoke to me himself!”
It is difficult for us to understand how a few formal words of praise from the lips of one of the meanest and vilest of men could be looked upon by the really n.o.ble-hearted Don Juan Alvarez as almost the crowning joy of his life. With the enthusiastic loyalty of his age and country he honoured Philip the king; Philip the man being all the time a personage as utterly unknown to him as the Sultan of Turkey. But not choosing to expatiate upon a theme so flattering to himself, he continued,--
”The Duke contrived to send me home with despatches, saying kindly that he thought my wound required a little rest and care. Though I had affairs of importance” (and here the colour mounted to his brow) ”to settle in Seville, I would not have quitted the camp, with my good-will, had we been about any enterprise likely to give us fair fighting. But in truth, Carlos, things have been abundantly dull since the fall of St.
Quentin. Though we have our King with us, and Henry of France and the Duke of Guise have both joined the enemy, all are standing at gaze as if they were frozen, and doomed to stay there motionless till the day of judgment. I have no mind for that kind of sport, not I! I became a soldier to fight His Catholic Majesty's battles, not to stare at his enemies as if they were puppets paid to make a show for my amus.e.m.e.nt.
So I was not sorry to take leave of absence.”
”And your important business in Seville. May a brother ask what that means?”